She wandered slowly through the marble halls just at twilight, a gentle breeze marking her passage if anyone had known it. She lingered, unhurried, pausing to touch a trophy here, a keepsake there. So much to learn, so much to know. All so exciting. People she would know would bustle past her, almost in slow motion as she saw them both as they were, and as they would be….watching them, memories came to her and made her smile, but then she recalled that they had yet to occur, and they may never occur at all, so they could not be memories. Premonitions of memories?
She whispered a word to herself to test it out. “Premories?” and smiled to herself. She liked the word, she would keep it. She liked making up words. She was flooded with premories. More then that, as the House of Three Graces was full right now, everyone so serious and busy, she was surrounded by family. That thought, that she was home with those who loved her but did not know they did as of yet, also made her smile and then laugh out loud, though no one could hear her. Her laugh was not the bell like peals of her mother, more the soft, tenor chuckle of her father just accented by the light tones of her Amil. One day many would tell her it was pleasant.
Coming into the main hall, she saw Eduwiges hard at work, making the same thrust with her broad sword again and again. After a few, she would pause, and curse, and change her stance, and try again. Clearly an exercise from the Banshee. Watching her, she recalled how Eduwiges would teach her to ride. She recalled struggling to control the powerful warhorse she had settled her upon, with Eduwiges galloping beside, whooping out exhortations in Roherric that sounded very much like happy gibberish. Each time she tumbled and whined, Auntie Edu would pause, make sure nothing was broken, then mock her until she mounted up again. She earned so many bruises that day, but Papa just laughed at her afterwards. “If you are fool enough to let Eduwiges teach you anything, you can’t complain later that she beat you up…its what she does” he said…she supposed he was right, but she did learn to ride quite well.
Beyond Eduwiges, near the trophies, were Nethrida and Xandilif, arguing about something stupid. She paused to watch them, wishing she could crawl into Xandilif’s lap and feel as safe as she did as a little girl. The Banshee always smelled of warmth and steel and licorice…and told the best, most absurd stories of any of her Aunts. Full of blood and battle and bravery, monsters and mayhem, lots of drinking…and almost no kissing. Amil’s stories always seemed to involve kissing at the end, which grew tiresome when she was little. She would see so many things, both beautiful and horrible, with her Aunt Xandilif, before she realized that all the amazing stories she had ever told were true. That made her always envy her Aunt Xandilif a little…but feel bad for her as well. It must not be easy to be the Maiden of Madness.
Nethrida was always so proper with her, but taught her what she needed to know about battles of men and Gondorian history, protocols and tactics and who was who at court or in the Companies, either in Dol Amroth or Minas Tirith…however she was always afraid of saying the wrong thing. Always biting her lip and walking out of the room blushing. She asked Amil once where Auntie Neth was going….she replied that she was going off to throw herself into the sea. The next day, when her Auntie Neth blushed and walked out, she had followed her…and asked her if she was going for a swim again. Remembering the look on Neth’s face that day made her laugh more...but her Auntie Neth walked away less often after that.
In the next chamber, Aunt Addiela was putting out food on Emig’s long table. The Rohan woman always liked to keep busy, but as always, she could see the hint of sadness in Addie’s eyes as she worked. When she needed to cry, she always sought out Auntie Addie, she was the best to cry with. She also was taught to cook by Addie, which was wonderful fun since Addie was always endlessly patient with her. Addie said she learned everything she knew from her Grandmother in the Mark..and from Kithri the halfling…but also from Bryge and she could believe it. Everything always tasted better when Uncle Bryge cooked it even if he always got so nervous while she watched him bake. Dwarves were so funny.
As soon as Addie had the fresh bread placed out, there was Emig Finchley, with Papa close behind. Emig’s favorite hobby was eating…or thinking about eating...or waiting to eat. Watching Emig now, looking so happy and holding Papa’s hand, she wanted to hug her so badly. Everything about Emig was made to be hugged. She wanted to curl up under the blanket with her and talk about anything and everything…wanted to ramble through the fields near Dol Amroth with her as they always did and pretend they were giants, or lions, or rabbits, or great lords of men…Emig was always the most fun to dream with. Emig was so full of dreams, she was never sure where she was able to fit all that food.
And there was Papa helping Emig carry an extra plate back to her room, looking as he always did…a little unsure, a little uncomfortable, a little defiant. He was always so sure he did not count, or was not important…but she could never remember being in a room with him where he did not shine like a Gondorian beacon at sunset. He always made her so proud. He would shine in his own way sometimes but he was always so…alive. It made him like a tonic to be around. When she was feeling quiet and content, when she simply wanted to feel life flowing around her, those were the times she stayed near Papa and held his hand or sat watching him. Sometimes the weight of being who she was was heavy, but he never demanded anything of her, save that she be true to herself…and that she minded Amil.
Amil…where was Amil?
She slipped up the stairs to the Chamber of Stars and there in the big bed she always loved so much was Auntie Calidis, sleeping. It must have been a good day, it was rare to see her asleep so peacefully. Of all her aunts, Auntie Nighteye’s lessons gave her the most to think about. All of time and space seemed to be behind everything she said, and she seemed to know EVERYTHING even though she always claimed she knew nothing. When she wanted to lose herself in beauty and art, she would find Auntie Nighteye and ask to see what she was making. Walking with her through Imladris she always saw so much more then seemed possible, every secret glory, every hidden, majestic truth, could be pointed out by Calidis.
Curled up beside her, eyes wide open, was Amil. The two looked at one another, so similar yet so different, and Xanderian spoke though if Calidis had awoken she would have assumed Xanderian was speaking to herself…or dreaming. Perhaps she was.
“There you are, my sweet Isilme. What warning or message have you for me today that you have visited me.” Xanderian smiled and the girl seemed to almost shiver with pleasure. Even in a house so filled with love, there was none for her like her Amil.
Isilme looked at her, her brown eyes so much like Gwaelion’s, and played with her long black braid. “My Uncle Yanca is just dead…and you are about to depart for Eriador, yes? That is when we are?”
The huntress nodded softly, rising up on her elbow. “Yes my sweetest one…that is when we are.”
The girl shook her head, her softly pointed ears very apparent in the fading light. “No warnings, Amil. None that I can tell you that you don’t already know, at least. Just a reminder.”
“What reminder is that?” Rian raised her eyebrow, watching her daughter who might be carefully.
The girl smiled, already beginning to fade into the moonlight. “Nothing important…just that I love you, Amil...and Emig and Papa…I love all of you...thank them all for the Premories….and I am awaiting you.”
As the shade of the lithe young woman became just so much starshine, her voice still echoing in her mind, Xanderian laid back…finally allowing herself to sleep. It felt good to be awaited. Very good indeed.
Just as she slipped into slumber, a stray thought came to her.
"Premories?"
