A/N: I was waiting for LothirielofRohan to do a new letter as Eowyn, since several of you had been asking why we hadn't updated in awhile. After I nudged her a couple of times, she suggested that maybe "Lothiriel" could write first this time. No problem there, except my evil sense of humor took over and I sent her this tongue-in-cheek letter. Thought you all might get a laugh out of it, also. (Yes, I did eventually write a serious one – it became chapter 4 of Leaves of Our Lives.) She may or may not ever respond to this one so, for the moment, just consider it a one-shot.
Leaves of Our Lives: The Twisted Edition
Dear Eowyn:
Even though you never respond to my letters, Eomer keeps whining that I should still write to you, and rather than listen to his annoying arguments any longer I'll bow to the pressure, you lazy... But, I digress.
So, how the heck are you, girlie? Things are going rather swimmingly here. Well, unless you count that skirmish with the Dunlendings that left some of our guys dead, maimed, etc. and Eomer bedridden for over a week. The big baby! Whine, whimper, moan! It about drove me mad having to listen to him. I took to sleeping in the nursery and left a servant to watch over him. I mean, come on, it's not like he was missing any valuable body parts or anything! Sheesh! You'd think one of the "mighty Rohirrim" could tolerate a bit of pain from 3 or 4 arrows piercing him and a big sword wound in his side. I think being King has made him go soft.
Gamling continues to get on my nerves, always skulking around. I'm never sure he isn't plotting something he shouldn't - sort of like that Grima fellow you told me about. Yikes! He gives me the willies! Maybe I can get Eomer to take him into battle next time and conveniently "lose" him to the enemy...
The kids are all fine, if you can call screaming brats "fine". At the rate he's going, Elfwine may never see puberty. I'll kill the little... Bless the gods that created the system of nurses for royalty. I can stay as far away from these spawn of Mordor as possible most of the time. I blame Eomer for the way they are turning out! He spoils them miserably, feeding them ale all the time. Have you seen drunken toddlers? Not a pretty sight, I assure you! Well, likely you have. You had to live in this hellhole long before I ever came. Aren't you glad you were able to escape to a civilized place like Gondor? Heck, Gondor doesn't even make you sleep in the same bed as your husband (well except when they demand their "husbandly rights" now and then), meaning most nights you can get a good night's sleep without listening to snoring so loud it would wake the dead. I have seriously considered smothering Eomer with his pillow some nights!
Well, must run. I have a hair and nail appointment in an hour, and then will be off to the marketplace to spend Eomer's fortune on more clothes that I never get to wear. He doesn't know it yet, but I sold that horse...what was his name - Firefoot? I made a pretty penny on that deal and now can afford far more frocks than the measly monthly allowance Eomer gives me will provide for.
Do write (you do still know how, don't you?) when you find time.
Your sister in marital misery,
Lothiriel
