It was somewhat of a shock when Elanor went out into the city with her father and found that men bowed before them. Men, women; wearing fine silk and velvet, or the city's emblem on burnished breatplates, or simple homespun. Sam-dad always bowed back, which posed a problem -- it took them at least three times as long as it ought to have to get from the east gardens back to the tower, which left Elanor equal parts frustrated and proud.
"Mum," she said later, after King Elessar had excused himself to see to 'matters of state' (Elanor just thought he'd had enough of Rosie's interrogation with regards to healing herbs). "Why didn't Uncle Frodo come to Minas Tirith?"
Rosie was silent for a moment, not breaking her leisurely pace, head high and eyes thoughtful as they drifted through the thick grass beside the gravel path. Elanor half-expected the 'you're too young for the truth' answer of *"*Someone* had to stay and take care of the others."* Sam was further ahead of them, not on the path either but rather with his toes dug into the rich, dark soil, fingers carefully cupped around a white rose; they could see the glowing colour of it from that far away.
"Remember that time when you and Frodo-lad were playing hide-and-seek, and Fro decided to hide in the party tree?"
Elanor frowned a little, nodding. "And I could never find him, until I came out to yell for him at dinner and he fell out." She shivered at the memory, so clear; little Frodo pale against the gold trunk of the tree; white bone splintering out and stained with red.
Rosie hooked an arm into hers. "It healed quickly enough, as broken bones are wont to do, but you know how it is, when winter comes."
Elanor nodded thoughtfully, remembering with a slight quirk in her lips her brother's proud proclamations of "rain's coming" as he rubbed his forearm knowingly. They were closer to Sam now, Elanor could catch snatches of a familiar tune hummed under his breath.
"Old wounds can heal, but sometimes they never go away," Rosie murmured. "It isn't always winter that brings up old pains." The city rose above them, snow-white and gleaming so bright it almost hurt her eyes.
"But it can't be summer forever," Elanor retorted, not quite knowing what she was arguing about.
Rosie's arm tightened for a moment, a brief squeeze before she withdrew. "But you can make sure you're rugged up for the cold," she grinned; her face transforming almost startlingly into something similar to what Elanor saw in the looking glass every morning, then gone just as quick as Rosie turned and ran the short distance further, laughter rising with the fresh scent of roses in the garden as Sam caught her and held her fast.
~