[Distant memories often flow into Mearhe’s dreams. The event in this tale takes place ten months before the birth of Léofara and the death of Léofwine. Mearhe and Léofwine, as representatives of the Kindgdom of Rohan, have attended the coronation of Imrahil 'The Fair' as the twenty-second Prince of Dol Amroth.]
SOUTHERN GONDOR - February T.A. 3010
The first thing he heard was the soft morning call of the early songbirds outside the window and rolled over, into the warmth of her body next to his. A smile formed gradually on Léofwine's lips as he gently snuggled close to her with his eyes closed. Still asleep, she turned toward him and golden hair caressed his skin.
Her scent was sweet and fruity, a blend of fresh lemon and orange blossom and the remnants of their love. Léofwine opened his eyes to glimpse her face for the first time that day, and was met with an equally happy smile."Good morning..." His fingers gently moved the hair away from her cheek.
The last few stars were still glistening in the dark blue sky, dawn had yet to appear. In the distance Léofwine could hear the soothing sound of the ocean. Mearhe kissed him softly. He held her into a strong embrace and they lay there as a new dawn began to change the dark blue sky into a violet first, then gradually into pink, and then finally into a glowy warm orange - the sun began to rise.
Léofwine reached for his shirt and slipped into it as he turned to see Mea stretch, and then getting up, wrapping a sheet around her necked body. His heart jumped a beat at the sight of his wife, wondering, as he often did, how he had ever been so lucky to have found her. Mearhe turned and saw him looking at her. " Ah, my love, those thoughts will not get any of your work done this morning....” She laughed.
Witha a wink, he responded, " Nor will they get our breakfast on the table..." As Mearhe strode past him, Léofwine took hold of her arm gently and wrapped her into an embrace, looking down, he kissed his wife, lifting her to her toes. " I am starving..." he whispered in her ear.
Dressed in a simple white linen tunic without sleeves, ideal in the warm climate, Mearhe went into the kitchen and was pleased to see one of the maids had already started the fire and filled the kettle with water. She unlatched the shutters and pushed them open, letting the salty breeze fill the room. The sky was just beginning to change and the last stars were fading.
The maid came back from the yard with a basket full of fresh eggs, a few oranges, and a jar of milk. The warm hair was a reminder that another hot day was about to begin. Rohan would never be this hot, not even in the summer. Léofwine came into the kitchen and went out on the shaded balcony, sitting at the table.
The house was not far from the coast, and from his seat he could see the ocean. He turned to look at her busy in the kitchen. In the past two years, since he had met Mearhe, he had discovered contentment for the first time in his life. He reveled in the peace and happiness she provided.
Léofwine's work kept him away for the rest of the morning. Just before midday he went to look for Mea. In the early afternoon they sat together with their backs resting against a tree, happy to be in the shade - now that the sun was high, it was hot. Mearhe rested her head on his shoulder. With the warming of the day, the scent of the flowers and of the sea became stronger. The sound of the rustling of leaves in the ocean breeze, a distant call of seagulls and the buzzing of bees nearby.
Music someone was playing mixed with the gentle swish of the sea's waves and a warm salty breeze that carried a song down the pink sandy beach somewhere along the coast of Southern Gondor. Their land was a distant memory in the warm air.
"This place is so beautiful but...." Mearhe said,
"...but I do miss the mountains, the forests, and the snow, and the smell of horses."
Léofwine smiled at his wife.
"I miss Rohan!"
