For some clarification - when SOTWT finished I wrote this for some consolation, called 'Seedlings.'

I'm on holidays now and am finding very little time to work on HF so I - and I cannot stress this enough - really, really, really hope people reading this like it.

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Now, in our previous history lesson we mentioned the Kings of the First Line of Eorl, and I asked you to try and remember them all for this lesson, where we will discuss them in more detail. First of all, Eorl the Young himself, son of Léod.... can anyone tell me the year he ascended the throne?"

The day was swelteringly hot, and Odhrán - the teacher appointed to the class of twenty or so children - being a kindly man, realised that it would be impossible to ask his class aged around nine or ten years old, to sit in a stifling classroom and recite history facts when the weather was so nice. He had therefore readily assented when several of his class had begged him to take their lesson outside for once. They were sitting on the mossy grass of a field on the outskirts of Edoras, close to the horse's exercise rings but not too close to be distracted by the goings-on there.

The boys had rolled up their shirt sleeves and lazed around on the warm grass, being more at ease in the outdoors than the girls. There were only a handful of girls, perching primly on blankets to protect them from inquisitive ants, hair tied neatly with clean aprons covering their precious dresses. The sky was a deep blue with not a cloud in sight, and patches of daisies dotted the grass here and there. It smelled fresh and was comfortably warm underfoot, like a new carpet. A fat bumblebee buzzed by occasionally, and every now and then a distant neigh could be heard - a regular sound in Rohan.

One of the girls, however, seemed more at home sitting on the grass than the three or four others. She was leaning back onto a mossy tree-stump - only half listening to the teacher, whose voice was low and droning - and focusing more on the half-finished daisy chain on her lap. She was very obviously daydreaming quietly to herself. If she had been anyone else, the teacher would have gently reprimanded her for her lapse in attention, but this girl was a special case.

Her name was Idis, and aged not yet nine, was not only the youngest in the class but also the youngest child of King Elfwine Éotan and Queen Almárëa, whose four other children had already passed through his class.

First there came Elfred, now aged seventeen and already the taking after his father in both looks and character - broad of shoulder and golden of hair. Odhrán, though he was still in school himself at the time of the Crown Prince's birth, still remembered the weeks of celebrations that followed - the 'breaking of the curse,' some people called it. King Elfwine had been utterly thrilled to have a son, after the years of uncertainty that followed his father's death. Young Elfred was handsome and kindly and daring all in one with excellent horsemanship. He treated not only the teacher but also his classmates with the utmost respect, and was loyal and proud of his family to the core. All the qualities, in fact, that suited a future King of Rohan - he would some day be as loved and respected a leader as his father and grandfather before him.

Then came Théoling, aged fifteen, who resembled his mother more than anyone, not only in looks but in skill of mind - during his time in this class Odhrán had been half afraid of Prince Théoling's ready responses and quick, sharp tongue. Even as a child he had seemed wise beyond his years and had an uncanny ability to choose correctly the winner of every friendly race or game organised after school. He was much cleverer, and more cunning, than his elder brother, but Elfred didn't mind - he was too amiable for that. 

Next, of course, came the twins, Easwith and Ardwyn, separated by their youngest sister by five years. Tall for their age and utterly similar in looks, they could quell the advances of every stammering young lord that approached them with a single glance, young though they were. They were capable enough to ride even the wildest of horses, and could brave fences of a height that even an experienced Rider would be wary of. This was the exterior they presented to strangers, and the few people that properly knew them could tell their true character, merry and spirited and daring. They were fairly clever but did not like lessons at all - they were too restless for that. One afternoon, Odhrán recalled with a shudder, they had played truant and sneaked to the stables to try their hand with a young, fierce stallion, not properly broken in yet. Easwith had been thrown with such force that she had both broken an ankle and sprained a wrist, and poor Ardwyn had to bear the brunt of their parent's anger that followed the incident as her sister stayed unconscious after the fall for nearly an hour.

The youngest was, of course, Idis. She was a small, soft-spoken creature, with a love of animals and nature. She was the coveted favourite of the whole family - Idis could do nothing wrong in anybody's eyes. If she even shed one tear, they would be upon her in an instant, demanding to know the trouble and how it could be put right. As a small child, she had been very ill for a long time, and the King and Queen had been so anxious she had been - almost literally - not let out of their sight for the next three years. She had begun her schooling much later than the other children of Rohan on account of her illness, and was quite far behind the rest her classmate's standard of education as far as her teacher knew.

At the moment, Idis was watching the training rings. She recognised her brother Elfred as he attempted to break in a new stallion - a huge, fearsome animal, but Elfred handled him skilfully and with ease. Idis often wished she could ride like her siblings. It took skill and bravery to even mount such a terrifying animal, let alone stay in the saddle when it galloped and bucked wildly.

Odhrán looked at her from the corner of his eye. Idis was indeed a curious child. She was so very unlike her siblings - she seemed so gentle and mild, but in all honesty, he could not read her expression at all. Was she clever or not? Was she even interested in the lesson? She hadn't made much of an attempt to socialize with the other girls, or even the other boys - she seemed content just to sit and daydream, but what was she thinking of? Even Théoling, who had often been a source of great frustration to poor Odhrán because of his clever tongue, had been easier to read than this mysterious little girl.

Idis was, for once, actually mildly interested in this lesson about her ancestors, and gradually became more attentive as the lesson progressed. The teacher noticed this, and decided to draw out a little.

"The heir to King Goldwine was Déor, his son. Can anyone remember the year he ascended the throne? Princess, perhaps you can tell us?"

Idis sat up slowly, a tiny line forming on her smooth forehead as she frowned in concentration. All eyes were on her now. None of the class, with the exception of the teacher, had been paying much attention to her - in fact, most of them had forgotten she was there. As she thought, she took a strand of her fine golden hair and tucked it behind her ear, her deep brown eyes staring into apparent nothing. Some of the rowdier boys grinned as the silence stretched on, and Odhrán glared at them, feeling rather sorry for the delicate, almost elflike, young girl. Eventually Idis nodded, as if remembering, and her expression cleared.

"Déor, son of Goldwine, was crowned King of the Mark in the year 2699 of the Third Age. His reign, which began with the prosperity that had been in place since King Aldor the Old drove out the remaining Dunlending people, soon became restless with increased Dunlending attacks and the discovery of hostile forces in Isengard. I think.... is that right?" Her voice was soft and lilting, almost as though she were singing, and one of the other girls elbowed her companion and giggled.

The teacher nodded, relieved and also slightly amazed. Her answer was completely fluent, as though she had learned it by heart. Her classmates tittered, but the teacher was too curious to let her off just like that. He patiently prompted her to speak again, although the peaceful look of someone who is miles away in spirit had already crossed her face again. 

"That was an excellent answer, Idis. Did your father, perhaps, tell you about King Déor before?"

"Father often tells us all stories about Kings from times gone by."

That wasn't quite what Odhrán meant, but he decided to let the matter drop. "I think that is enough for now, class. I think a short break is in order - be sure to come back in ten minutes, and we will continue our history lesson then." He strode off, still thinking about the little princess. Most of the children rushed off to watch some of the riders in the ring, but some stayed behind.

"Father often tells me stories of times gone by," whispered one boy, in a singsong mockery, and his companions sniggered spitefully. Idis didn't move or make any sign that she had heard, with her eyes properly closed now, humming to herself as she trailed a hand over the soft grass.

"Stupid little mouse, teacher's favourite. Just because she's a princess, doesn't mean it's right that he pays more attention to her," goaded another boy by the name of Alfen, wanting to see her react to the teasing more than anything else. She was as much a mystery to her peers as she was to her teacher.

Idis stood up, and faced the boy. He was taller than her, and obviously much stronger, but that didn't seem to bother her much. Her eyes were narrowed, but she didn't seem too angry.

"I don't understand you, Alfen. The teacher told us yesterday that we would be learning about the Kings of the First Line. I was interested in the subject so I hunted up some books in Father's library and learned a little about them. There is no harm in my doing that - in fact, the reason I prepared for the lesson at all is why the teacher prefers me to you, who couldn't even remember a simple fact like the names of Aldor the Old's daughters," Idis said. It was the way she said it that baffled the boys - had a different child said it, they would have automatically assumed they were jeering back at his insults, but Idis said it just as calmly and matter of factly as she had told the class about King Déor earlier. She forgot about the boys just as quickly and threw her hair over her shoulder in an unconcerned fashion, beginning to skip toward the training rings, waving merrily to Elfred, miraculously still in the saddle.

"Oi, don't think you can escape me so easily, mouse-girl. How dare you," Alfen easily caught up with her, evidently having decided that her placid speech was meant sarcastically.

"How dare I, what?" Idis stopped, beginning to get upset.

"How dare you say I'm stupid! I've been going to school years longer than you."

"I didn't!" Idis protested, trying to dodge around him.

The boy sniffed. He was already bored of her ridiculous show of innocence - she didn't seem to be able to get angry and fight back, or even show the slightest hint of temper that would give him an excuse to start a fight. He pushed her shoulder as he dashed away - but most unfortunately, Idis happened to be standing on her tiptoes in order to see over to her brother. She was caught off balance by the sudden shove. She stumbled, tripped over the hem of her skirts and fell hard on the ground, much to Alfen's secret horror.

Idis felt her eyes prick even though she knew the fall was entirely her own fault, and it really hadn't hurt. He really hadn't pushed her that hard, but she was standing with her feet too closely together. She thought of what her brothers and sisters would do in such a situation - why, even when Ardwyn had sprained her ankle falling from a tree and had to hobble all the way back to Meduseld to get it bound, she hadn't cried. So although Idis wasn't used to being teased in such a way, she gamely hopped up, much to Alfen's relief.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"And I'm sorry for pushing you," Alfen apologised just as naturally, for he was not really so bad at heart as his exterior made out.

And that would have been the end of the matter, but unfortunately Elfred had witnessed the entire scene unfold from the back of his great stallion. He left the skittish horse in the care of a nervous-looking stable hand and came running over.

"Idis, are you all right? I swear, if you've hurt my sister...." his voice trailed away angrily, but Idis came to Alfen's rescue, pleading with her brother, who was uncharacteristically fuming at the much younger boy. "Elfred, don't! It was an accident, and anyway, he's already said he's sorry."

"Fine, then. If I see you near my sister again, though, you will regret it. Come, Idis, I'm taking you home."

"What? But I still have school! See, there's the teacher coming back!"

"I don't care. Wait for me here and I'll tell the teacher. Be lucky I don't tell Father about your behaviour, you impudent pipsqueak," he said, addressing this last remark to Alfen, who was completely red in the face after being scolded by the usually amiable prince. Idis could only grimace in sympathy.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation once Elfred's back was turned. Idis knew she was young, naive, innocent, but she had to learn to fight her own battles. All her life it seemed as though her family were like guardian angels, protecting her from every evil - if there was a thunderstorm, her mother would come and sing to her to block out the tremendous crashes and heavy rainfall. If she had a nightmare and crept into her parents' apartments, seeking comfort, her father would pull her onto his knee in front of the warm embers of the fire and tell her all kinds of stories. If she fell or bumped into something, her sisters and brothers would be there to cheer her up and run around with her until the pain went away. Especially when she saw her extended family on holidays in Minas Tirith, she would have cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and great-aunts and -uncles to wrap her in cotton wool, so to speak.

Idis sighed. She had been very ill when she was little more than a baby, but that had been so long ago that she herself couldn't even remember. She understood why they all wanted to protect her, of course, but how would she ever learn to fight her own battles if she was being protected in such a way from all sides? 

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"How do you think this looks, dearest?" Almárëa held a simple golden necklace to her throat, the jewelled pendant swinging slightly as she fastened it. Idis put her head to one side, squinting critically from her perch on her parent's bed.

"I like it, Mother, but it would suit the darker green gown much better. Or if you are quite completely decided about the light green, do try the silver jewellery. It doesn't match your crown but you don't have to wear that to a simple dinner," Idis decided, swinging her legs. "Or you could approach it in a different way - draw all attention to the jewellery and put your hair up properly. You look much too young with it down like that."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or not," Almárëa laughed, bunching up her hair with her fist and holding it closer to her neck anyway. She always took her daughter's advice seriously - Idis was the only one in the family who truly understood the importance of one's clothing, taking after her grandmother Lothíriel in that aspect.

"A compliment, naneth, of course! You're beautiful!" Idis cried, going up to her mother and peering at their reflection in the tall looking-glass. And it was indeed so - Queen Almárëa had once thought herself plain in comparison to her sisters, but after years of being Queen of the Mark - and married, with many children into the bargain - she had blossomed into a real beauty, which was made all the more by her ready smile and eagerness. Idis flung her arms around her mother's waist as Almárëa decided to put up her hair after all.

"I don't see why you have to dress up so nicely today of all days. There's really nothing of much importance tonight," Idis complained, passing the box of hair pins.

"But there is, dearest." The queen's eyes shone with excitement. "I had a letter from your father this morning, and he's coming home tonight, two days early!"

Idis shrieked out loud at this bit of news, clapping her hands.

Elfwine had been away for nearly two weeks, meeting with various important lords and tradesmen at various towns all over Rohan. He'd taken Elfred with him, but Idis's eldest brother had returned some days ago with regretful apologies from their father that he would be delayed another week at least. Idis and her family had been dismayed, but they were used to their father leaving for what seemed like ages to do the kind of mysterious work that was associated with being a king. Nevertheless, it was always good news to hear he was coming home sooner than expected.

Idis went back to the bed and sank onto the mattress and watched Almárëa deftly and evenly braid and pin up her long hair, thick and dark as ever, from the corner of her eye.

"You look like a queen, nana," Idis remarked with a sigh of happiness as Almárëa twirled about, making her light green skirts float and shine in the orange glow from the sunset that washed through the open windows. They contrasted wonderfully with the golden embroidery on the sleeves, and with her dark hair. She often thought how she would manage without Idis - following her mother's tradition she always dressed herself, even as Queen of the Mark, relying on her fashionable daughter for guidance on her wardrobe and jewellery.

"There's Théoling calling, he must be here! Come quickly, nana!" Idis took her mother by the hand and looked up at her with excitement. That same excitement shone in Almárëa's own wise grey eyes - mature queen though she was, she was still very much in love with her husband as the day they had wed over seventeen years ago.

How the little scullery maid stared her queen and princess rushed by her in the narrow corridors of Meduseld, racing to be the first to meet their husband and father at the bottom of the great steps!

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