Part 19, Chance Encounter
Feb. 22nd, 2005 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dreamflowerEowyn and Eothain finish remembering...
PART 19
The next morning, Éowyn woke all on her own, before it was quite light. In spite of the snack brought by her cousin, she was ravenous. She put on the oldest of the dresses she had brought with her, and headed down to the kitchens. This would not be much fun, but it was only for a day, and would soon be over. Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she would believe it.
The head cook had been alerted by the mistress to expect this wayward girl, and she gestured for Éowyn to sit down with the servants for breakfast. It consisted of porridge, sausages, bread, jam and fruit juice, and she ate her fill.
As soon as she had finished, she was directed over to the large sink, where there were piled a mountain of dirty dishes and pots. Heaving a sigh, she set to doing the unpleasant work. It was not long before her face was covered in soot, and her hair fallen into her eyes. It seemed that the pile never diminished. For every dish that she washed, it seemed another was added to the pile. She was working very slowly, for her arm was stiff and painful, as was her leg, where she had been bruised. One more reason to remember why armor was a good idea.
“Good morning, my dears!” said a cheerful and unfamiliar male voice, with a bit of an accent.
She cast a glance back, and saw that the bard had entered the kitchen. She turned back around hurriedly. She hoped he would not notice her.
“Master Menelcar!” cried the head cook. “Please have a seat, and I will bring you some breakfast.”
“For the price of a song of course?” he laughed.
“Well, we would not say no to a bit of a song if you cared to give us one when you have finished breaking your fast.”
Éowyn turned all her attention to the mounting pile of crockery. Perhaps he would not see her there. She listened as the kitchen staff plied him with food, and easy banter. It seemed they *had* forgotten she was there, after all.
After a while, another pile of dishes was placed at her elbow, and she sighed. Then she heard the sound of a harp, and the bard’s voice was raised quite pleasantly in song. She found herself working more quickly and easily to the sound of the music. All too soon her pile of dishes began to come to an end. So had the songs. The minstrel excused himself and left the kitchen, and Éowyn wished that it could have gone on.
But at least she had an opportunity to hear him after all. Suddenly, she felt a bit guilty. She knew that Éothain had also been looking forward to hearing him, and now her cousin would have no chance to do so.
There was a break from the pot scrubbing as luncheon was served. Éowyn sat at the table and ate the bowl of soup and chunk of bread she had been provided. When she rose once more to her task, she was as stiff and sore as she could ever remember being. The afternoon dragged, but finally her aunt entered the kitchen.
Leofgifu spoke to the head cook. “Has she performed her tasks satisfactorily?”
“Aye, Mistress, she has worked hard all day, and without complaint.”
Leofgifu smiled then. “Éowyn, you may go to your chamber now. I have had a bath prepared for you, and a tray will be brought up to you with your evening meal. Tomorrow your punishment is ended. I hope that you have learned from this. Next time you get the itch for some swordplay, please tell me.”
Éowyn felt tears sting, and she bit them back. “Thank you, Aunt Leofgifu. I am sorry I caused you so much trouble.”
Her aunt gave an indulgent chuckle. “Not you alone, niece. I daresay my son bears some of the responsibility as well. Now off to your chamber; I think that a hot bath will do much for your bruises and sore muscles.”
It did. As well as the meal and the cup of willow bark tea brought by a servant.
But Éowyn could not help thinking about her cousin. She had a chance to hear the bard in the kitchen. Éothain had not; and he had so wanted to hear him. She rose from her bed and cracked the door, listening carefully. The evening meal had begun in the great hall--she could hear the bustle of servants and the murmurs of conversation.
Éothain had brought her food the night before. She should do something nice for him. Slipping quickly into her clothes, she peered out, and then darted down the passageway to her cousin’s chamber, where she tapped softly.
He cracked the door open, and looked surprised to see her. “Éothain? Do you want to hear the bard?”
“We will be in even more trouble if we are caught.”
Éowyn grinned. “Then we should take care *not* to get caught. It is unfair that you not get to hear him sing. I got to listen to him sing in the kitchen.”
And so the two of them had slipped out, carefully keeping out of sight, they took the back passages until they came near the Hall. It was crowded, and so they were managed to find a vantage point next to a tapestry, out of the line of vision of anyone who might know they were not supposed to be there.
Except for the bard himself. He saw them soon enough, but except for a small smile twitching at his lips, he made no sign that he had seen. He began to sing, and quickly everyone was listening raptly.
He sang a number of songs without much pause in between, and then announced one last song. There was no doubt he was looking right at the cousins, for he tipped them a wink before he began to sing.
They had taken that as their signal to slip away. They returned to their chambers, and no one else ever realized they had been there.
____________________________________
Éomer had listened in bemusement as his sister and his cousin finished the story. “And why did I never know all this before?” he asked.
Éowyn laughed. “Because, dear brother, by the time you came back it was all old news.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know why it took me so long to remember Menelcar.”
Her cousin grinned. “Well, we never got a chance to actually speak to him. Nor did we ever see him any closer than about ten feet away.”
“I wonder did he remember me? But I have changed a good deal since I was fifteen.”
Éomer shrugged. “If he does, he will doubtless tell you.”
His sister blushed. “I am not too sure I want him to remember me. He did not see me at my best.”
____________________________________
Next up: Aragorn and Faramir discuss minstrels and other folk...
PART 19
The next morning, Éowyn woke all on her own, before it was quite light. In spite of the snack brought by her cousin, she was ravenous. She put on the oldest of the dresses she had brought with her, and headed down to the kitchens. This would not be much fun, but it was only for a day, and would soon be over. Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she would believe it.
The head cook had been alerted by the mistress to expect this wayward girl, and she gestured for Éowyn to sit down with the servants for breakfast. It consisted of porridge, sausages, bread, jam and fruit juice, and she ate her fill.
As soon as she had finished, she was directed over to the large sink, where there were piled a mountain of dirty dishes and pots. Heaving a sigh, she set to doing the unpleasant work. It was not long before her face was covered in soot, and her hair fallen into her eyes. It seemed that the pile never diminished. For every dish that she washed, it seemed another was added to the pile. She was working very slowly, for her arm was stiff and painful, as was her leg, where she had been bruised. One more reason to remember why armor was a good idea.
“Good morning, my dears!” said a cheerful and unfamiliar male voice, with a bit of an accent.
She cast a glance back, and saw that the bard had entered the kitchen. She turned back around hurriedly. She hoped he would not notice her.
“Master Menelcar!” cried the head cook. “Please have a seat, and I will bring you some breakfast.”
“For the price of a song of course?” he laughed.
“Well, we would not say no to a bit of a song if you cared to give us one when you have finished breaking your fast.”
Éowyn turned all her attention to the mounting pile of crockery. Perhaps he would not see her there. She listened as the kitchen staff plied him with food, and easy banter. It seemed they *had* forgotten she was there, after all.
After a while, another pile of dishes was placed at her elbow, and she sighed. Then she heard the sound of a harp, and the bard’s voice was raised quite pleasantly in song. She found herself working more quickly and easily to the sound of the music. All too soon her pile of dishes began to come to an end. So had the songs. The minstrel excused himself and left the kitchen, and Éowyn wished that it could have gone on.
But at least she had an opportunity to hear him after all. Suddenly, she felt a bit guilty. She knew that Éothain had also been looking forward to hearing him, and now her cousin would have no chance to do so.
There was a break from the pot scrubbing as luncheon was served. Éowyn sat at the table and ate the bowl of soup and chunk of bread she had been provided. When she rose once more to her task, she was as stiff and sore as she could ever remember being. The afternoon dragged, but finally her aunt entered the kitchen.
Leofgifu spoke to the head cook. “Has she performed her tasks satisfactorily?”
“Aye, Mistress, she has worked hard all day, and without complaint.”
Leofgifu smiled then. “Éowyn, you may go to your chamber now. I have had a bath prepared for you, and a tray will be brought up to you with your evening meal. Tomorrow your punishment is ended. I hope that you have learned from this. Next time you get the itch for some swordplay, please tell me.”
Éowyn felt tears sting, and she bit them back. “Thank you, Aunt Leofgifu. I am sorry I caused you so much trouble.”
Her aunt gave an indulgent chuckle. “Not you alone, niece. I daresay my son bears some of the responsibility as well. Now off to your chamber; I think that a hot bath will do much for your bruises and sore muscles.”
It did. As well as the meal and the cup of willow bark tea brought by a servant.
But Éowyn could not help thinking about her cousin. She had a chance to hear the bard in the kitchen. Éothain had not; and he had so wanted to hear him. She rose from her bed and cracked the door, listening carefully. The evening meal had begun in the great hall--she could hear the bustle of servants and the murmurs of conversation.
Éothain had brought her food the night before. She should do something nice for him. Slipping quickly into her clothes, she peered out, and then darted down the passageway to her cousin’s chamber, where she tapped softly.
He cracked the door open, and looked surprised to see her. “Éothain? Do you want to hear the bard?”
“We will be in even more trouble if we are caught.”
Éowyn grinned. “Then we should take care *not* to get caught. It is unfair that you not get to hear him sing. I got to listen to him sing in the kitchen.”
And so the two of them had slipped out, carefully keeping out of sight, they took the back passages until they came near the Hall. It was crowded, and so they were managed to find a vantage point next to a tapestry, out of the line of vision of anyone who might know they were not supposed to be there.
Except for the bard himself. He saw them soon enough, but except for a small smile twitching at his lips, he made no sign that he had seen. He began to sing, and quickly everyone was listening raptly.
He sang a number of songs without much pause in between, and then announced one last song. There was no doubt he was looking right at the cousins, for he tipped them a wink before he began to sing.
They had taken that as their signal to slip away. They returned to their chambers, and no one else ever realized they had been there.
____________________________________
Éomer had listened in bemusement as his sister and his cousin finished the story. “And why did I never know all this before?” he asked.
Éowyn laughed. “Because, dear brother, by the time you came back it was all old news.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know why it took me so long to remember Menelcar.”
Her cousin grinned. “Well, we never got a chance to actually speak to him. Nor did we ever see him any closer than about ten feet away.”
“I wonder did he remember me? But I have changed a good deal since I was fifteen.”
Éomer shrugged. “If he does, he will doubtless tell you.”
His sister blushed. “I am not too sure I want him to remember me. He did not see me at my best.”
____________________________________
Next up: Aragorn and Faramir discuss minstrels and other folk...