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dreamflowerA little side-trip down memory lane for our shield-maiden...
PART 16
The summer when she had turned fifteen, she had been quite a hoyden. Her aunt, one of the King’s sisters, Éormangilda, was in despair over her increasing reluctance to spend time learning the various “ladylike” skills that would someday be required of her. She had thrown herself into riding and weapons practice, something that was not denied to any high-born girl of the Mark who showed the inclination to become a shield-maiden. But as her uncle was forced often to remind her, it did not mean she was to neglect the more traditional duties of womanhood.
This was not something she cared to hear. Surely she had spent enough time on stitchery and in the kitchens and in the still room. What else could she possibly need to know that was more important than riding or learning how better to use her weapons? She was insolent and sulky by turns, oftentimes flatly refusing the tasks set before her, which of course, only resulted in losing the privileges for which she was aching. It did not help that her brother thought it was funny, or that, for once her indulgent cousin Théodred and her usually patient uncle the king did not support her.
It had finally resulted in both she and her aunt losing their temper one day, resulting in a deplorable shouting match, which Théoden had to put a stop to personally.
It was decided that when Éomer went to Aldburg to stay with his father’s brother Éodred, Éowyn would accompany him and be put in the charge of her aunt Leofgifu. Éormangilda was quite frankly out of patience with her, and was more than ready to let someone else deal with the stubborn child.
Éowyn was at first subdued and remorseful. She had been a bit shocked to have actually been sent away from Meduseld, and she resolved to turn over a new leaf, and be cooperative. She dutifully attended to the tasks set by her aunt. For her part, Leofgifu wondered what Éormangilda had found to complain of; as far as she could tell, the girl was too quiet and compliant.
It lasted for all of three days.
More embroidery. Éowyn looked at the fabric in her hands, and shook her head. How much embroidery could one person be expected to do?
But she had made up her mind to behave properly. It was just that her brother had ridden out that morning with their uncle, and would not be back for a week to ten days.
“Éowyn,” said her aunt.
“Yes, Aunt Leofgifu?”
“I must needs leave you here for a bit. A traveling bard has honored us with his presence this day, and I wish to go and see to having a chamber prepared for him. He is going to honor us with song at the evening meal.”
“Yes, Aunt,” she replied dutifully. A bard. That would be nice.
Her aunt went out, leaving her there alone. She took about three more stitches, and then impatiently flung the work down and went to the window. From there she could look down into the courtyard.
Her cousin Éothain was down there, on horseback, tilting at the quintain. And she was stuck up here *embroidering*. She gave a huff, and then left the room.
“Éothain!” she called out, as she approached the practice yard.
He startled at her cry, and missed. “Now look what you made me do!”
Éowyn laughed. Her cousin was within three months of her age, though she was by that amount the elder. Before her parents’ deaths, the two had been playmates, but she had not seen him in several years. And since her return, he had been somewhat arrogant over the fact that he was a boy, not to mention boastful of his own abilities.
He flushed and dismounted. “It’s not funny!”
She giggled, which infuriated him the more. “It’s not like *you* could do it. You’re just a girl!”
She didn’t say a word. She tied up her skirts in a most unladylike fashion, snatched his spear, and mounted his horse before he could do more than shout “Hoy!”
With a grin, she launched herself at the target and gave it a fair stroke, sending it spinning. She galloped back and dismounted showily, tossing the spear back to her flabbergasted cousin. “I guess I can’t,” she smirked.
He goggled at her, torn between rage and admiration.
She looked over at the rack of wooden practice swords, and grabbed two. “Let’s spar!”
“With you?” he said incredulously.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
Something about the look on her face made him swallow the words “Because you’re a girl” unsaid. Instead he said “Why not?”
They started out cautiously enough. Her training from the finest weapons master of the King’s court and her quickness made up for her slightness and lesser strength. He had a longer reach, and was quite strong, so they made a more or less even match, and soon forgot caution completely as they battered one another happily. Neither of them had bothered with armor, and any strokes that hit home were painful indeed. They were enjoying themselves quite thoroughly when they heard a shrill voice shouting “Enough!”
They faltered, and turned to see that they had gathered an audience.
Leofgifu did not look amused.
“Mother!” Éothain cried, his voice breaking into an undignified squeak.
Éowyn flushed. And then said defiantly “We weren’t doing anything wrong!”
PART 16
The summer when she had turned fifteen, she had been quite a hoyden. Her aunt, one of the King’s sisters, Éormangilda, was in despair over her increasing reluctance to spend time learning the various “ladylike” skills that would someday be required of her. She had thrown herself into riding and weapons practice, something that was not denied to any high-born girl of the Mark who showed the inclination to become a shield-maiden. But as her uncle was forced often to remind her, it did not mean she was to neglect the more traditional duties of womanhood.
This was not something she cared to hear. Surely she had spent enough time on stitchery and in the kitchens and in the still room. What else could she possibly need to know that was more important than riding or learning how better to use her weapons? She was insolent and sulky by turns, oftentimes flatly refusing the tasks set before her, which of course, only resulted in losing the privileges for which she was aching. It did not help that her brother thought it was funny, or that, for once her indulgent cousin Théodred and her usually patient uncle the king did not support her.
It had finally resulted in both she and her aunt losing their temper one day, resulting in a deplorable shouting match, which Théoden had to put a stop to personally.
It was decided that when Éomer went to Aldburg to stay with his father’s brother Éodred, Éowyn would accompany him and be put in the charge of her aunt Leofgifu. Éormangilda was quite frankly out of patience with her, and was more than ready to let someone else deal with the stubborn child.
Éowyn was at first subdued and remorseful. She had been a bit shocked to have actually been sent away from Meduseld, and she resolved to turn over a new leaf, and be cooperative. She dutifully attended to the tasks set by her aunt. For her part, Leofgifu wondered what Éormangilda had found to complain of; as far as she could tell, the girl was too quiet and compliant.
It lasted for all of three days.
More embroidery. Éowyn looked at the fabric in her hands, and shook her head. How much embroidery could one person be expected to do?
But she had made up her mind to behave properly. It was just that her brother had ridden out that morning with their uncle, and would not be back for a week to ten days.
“Éowyn,” said her aunt.
“Yes, Aunt Leofgifu?”
“I must needs leave you here for a bit. A traveling bard has honored us with his presence this day, and I wish to go and see to having a chamber prepared for him. He is going to honor us with song at the evening meal.”
“Yes, Aunt,” she replied dutifully. A bard. That would be nice.
Her aunt went out, leaving her there alone. She took about three more stitches, and then impatiently flung the work down and went to the window. From there she could look down into the courtyard.
Her cousin Éothain was down there, on horseback, tilting at the quintain. And she was stuck up here *embroidering*. She gave a huff, and then left the room.
“Éothain!” she called out, as she approached the practice yard.
He startled at her cry, and missed. “Now look what you made me do!”
Éowyn laughed. Her cousin was within three months of her age, though she was by that amount the elder. Before her parents’ deaths, the two had been playmates, but she had not seen him in several years. And since her return, he had been somewhat arrogant over the fact that he was a boy, not to mention boastful of his own abilities.
He flushed and dismounted. “It’s not funny!”
She giggled, which infuriated him the more. “It’s not like *you* could do it. You’re just a girl!”
She didn’t say a word. She tied up her skirts in a most unladylike fashion, snatched his spear, and mounted his horse before he could do more than shout “Hoy!”
With a grin, she launched herself at the target and gave it a fair stroke, sending it spinning. She galloped back and dismounted showily, tossing the spear back to her flabbergasted cousin. “I guess I can’t,” she smirked.
He goggled at her, torn between rage and admiration.
She looked over at the rack of wooden practice swords, and grabbed two. “Let’s spar!”
“With you?” he said incredulously.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
Something about the look on her face made him swallow the words “Because you’re a girl” unsaid. Instead he said “Why not?”
They started out cautiously enough. Her training from the finest weapons master of the King’s court and her quickness made up for her slightness and lesser strength. He had a longer reach, and was quite strong, so they made a more or less even match, and soon forgot caution completely as they battered one another happily. Neither of them had bothered with armor, and any strokes that hit home were painful indeed. They were enjoying themselves quite thoroughly when they heard a shrill voice shouting “Enough!”
They faltered, and turned to see that they had gathered an audience.
Leofgifu did not look amused.
“Mother!” Éothain cried, his voice breaking into an undignified squeak.
Éowyn flushed. And then said defiantly “We weren’t doing anything wrong!”