"Chance Encounter" Part 15
Feb. 15th, 2005 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dreamflowerLet's check in on Eowyn, and see what she has remembered...
PART 15
Éowyn headed for the wing of the Citadel where the Rohirrim were housed. But when she arrived, she found only one of the men there.
“Where is everyone, Elfhelm?” she asked.
“They’ve all gone down to the stables, Lady Éowyn.”
She nodded. She should have known. None of those from Rohan were happy staying in this great stone City, where horses were seldom seen, and there was so very little green and growing. Her brother, King though he now was, was no exception.
She took herself to the chamber that had been set aside for her use, and changed from the dress she was wearing to a man’s tunic and breeches. She didn’t see any reason to go to the stables in one of the few dresses she had right now. More were being made for her, but it took time.
Tying her hair back, she came back to where Elfhelm still waited. “I am going to the stables myself. I expect to see my brother there, yet should he return, and we have somehow missed one another, please tell him where I have gone.” She slipped back out, and headed back down into the City. She knew the way to the stables well. They all did. Having the horses so far away had not been at all appealing to the Rohirrim.
It was a long walk back down, after having already gone half that distance and back, earlier in the morning, but she made better time now than she had then. For one thing, she could stride briskly, rather than abating her pace to the smaller strides of her hobbit friends. And for another, she could hurry, rather than simply strolling by the side of her love.
She smiled. It was still strange to think of Faramir in that fashion. Until she had met the Lord Aragorn, she had never thought to love any man in that way. And when he had clearly shown her that his heart was otherwise occupied she had not thought to ever feel that way again.
And in a sense that was true. For what she felt for Faramir was different altogether from what she had felt for Aragorn. Aragorn was a hero out of legends, however real, and for all his kindness, he seemed to loom distant and larger than life. Faramir was a hero as well, yet he seemed so much more approachable. He had a warm heart, and an abiding sorrow that made her wish to comfort and protect him. She knew that grief for his brother and father lay heavily on him, as well as shame for what his father had done, and a long and deeply felt hurt for the way his father had always scorned him. Sometimes she found herself wishing that Denethor yet lived, so that she could have the chance to visit her own scorn upon him, to heap upon his head reproaches for the way he had treated his younger son. The thought of him made her scowl fiercely, had she but known it, and the expression served her well as protection from the coarser sorts of men who saw her comely form, clad in the breeches, and might have been tempted to accost her, but were put off by the fierce expression on her face. It was as well for them; accosting a shield-maiden is not wise.
She came finally to the stables. She could hear the laughter and talk of the men, including her brother, and she went herself to join them.
“Brother,” she said, by way of greeting. He was leaning over the stall gate where his own horse was, and talking to their cousin Éothain.
“Sister,” he said, unsurprised to see her there. For though she spent much time in the company of the Steward who had won her heart, yet she was still a shield-maiden and woman of Rohan, and would miss the horses.
She climbed up, to sit atop the stall’s partition. “Éomer, does the name ‘Menelcar’ mean anything to you? I met today a minstrel of that name, and I am sure that I have seen him sometime before.”
Éomer shook his head. “I do not recall the name. I might perhaps know him if I saw his face.”
But Éothain laughed. “No, you would not remember, my lord cousin. You were off with my father at the time, riding over the Eastfold, becoming familiar with the country that would come into your charge when you became Marshall. But I am not surprised that *you* remember, Éowyn. We were both in disgrace at the time…”
Éowyn’s eyes widened. Of course. She had been, just barely, fifteen at the time…
PART 15
Éowyn headed for the wing of the Citadel where the Rohirrim were housed. But when she arrived, she found only one of the men there.
“Where is everyone, Elfhelm?” she asked.
“They’ve all gone down to the stables, Lady Éowyn.”
She nodded. She should have known. None of those from Rohan were happy staying in this great stone City, where horses were seldom seen, and there was so very little green and growing. Her brother, King though he now was, was no exception.
She took herself to the chamber that had been set aside for her use, and changed from the dress she was wearing to a man’s tunic and breeches. She didn’t see any reason to go to the stables in one of the few dresses she had right now. More were being made for her, but it took time.
Tying her hair back, she came back to where Elfhelm still waited. “I am going to the stables myself. I expect to see my brother there, yet should he return, and we have somehow missed one another, please tell him where I have gone.” She slipped back out, and headed back down into the City. She knew the way to the stables well. They all did. Having the horses so far away had not been at all appealing to the Rohirrim.
It was a long walk back down, after having already gone half that distance and back, earlier in the morning, but she made better time now than she had then. For one thing, she could stride briskly, rather than abating her pace to the smaller strides of her hobbit friends. And for another, she could hurry, rather than simply strolling by the side of her love.
She smiled. It was still strange to think of Faramir in that fashion. Until she had met the Lord Aragorn, she had never thought to love any man in that way. And when he had clearly shown her that his heart was otherwise occupied she had not thought to ever feel that way again.
And in a sense that was true. For what she felt for Faramir was different altogether from what she had felt for Aragorn. Aragorn was a hero out of legends, however real, and for all his kindness, he seemed to loom distant and larger than life. Faramir was a hero as well, yet he seemed so much more approachable. He had a warm heart, and an abiding sorrow that made her wish to comfort and protect him. She knew that grief for his brother and father lay heavily on him, as well as shame for what his father had done, and a long and deeply felt hurt for the way his father had always scorned him. Sometimes she found herself wishing that Denethor yet lived, so that she could have the chance to visit her own scorn upon him, to heap upon his head reproaches for the way he had treated his younger son. The thought of him made her scowl fiercely, had she but known it, and the expression served her well as protection from the coarser sorts of men who saw her comely form, clad in the breeches, and might have been tempted to accost her, but were put off by the fierce expression on her face. It was as well for them; accosting a shield-maiden is not wise.
She came finally to the stables. She could hear the laughter and talk of the men, including her brother, and she went herself to join them.
“Brother,” she said, by way of greeting. He was leaning over the stall gate where his own horse was, and talking to their cousin Éothain.
“Sister,” he said, unsurprised to see her there. For though she spent much time in the company of the Steward who had won her heart, yet she was still a shield-maiden and woman of Rohan, and would miss the horses.
She climbed up, to sit atop the stall’s partition. “Éomer, does the name ‘Menelcar’ mean anything to you? I met today a minstrel of that name, and I am sure that I have seen him sometime before.”
Éomer shook his head. “I do not recall the name. I might perhaps know him if I saw his face.”
But Éothain laughed. “No, you would not remember, my lord cousin. You were off with my father at the time, riding over the Eastfold, becoming familiar with the country that would come into your charge when you became Marshall. But I am not surprised that *you* remember, Éowyn. We were both in disgrace at the time…”
Éowyn’s eyes widened. Of course. She had been, just barely, fifteen at the time…