AN:
Miriel's mother, Inzilbeth, originally was from the Mark. Her childhood there was awful (described in Ch.25 of Ashtuzual) and once she ran away to the Angle she cast her origins away. She never used her Eorling name and - once she had learned Sindarin - she never spoke Rohirric. Her hate of Rohan and things Rohirric was pathological and she instilled such sentiment into her four daughters and two sons. Hence the oath to give No Drink, No Food, No Shelter.
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Minas Tirith, year 8 FA
Langon son of Helgon was was one of the Dunedain of the North called by his ex-Chieftain Aragorn son of Arathorn and now King, Elessar Telkontar, to serve him in the Southern Kingdom. Everybody knew that men like him, in second tier posts, were to ensure greater fealty of Gondorian bureaucracy. He had three sons with his wife, Miriel daughter of Tarkil. After the move to Minas Tirith two years after the war the family had acclimatised themselves in the White City and partook in social life as befitted their station.
Life was good until he argument with his wife over entertaining a visitor from Rohan.
"No, I will not have this man under my roof."
"But Miriel, there is nothing wrong with him .. "
"He is a Rohirr! That is reason enough. Never was a man of Rohan to be let under our roof! Remember our oaths!"
"But he is a good friend of ... "
"I don't care what it will do to our advancement or standing at Court. That man shall not dine under my roof as long as I am lady of this house!"
And so the dispute went on for some time, with Langon over-riding the Mistress of the House.
"And this, Athelstan Hengistsson, is my Lady wife Miriel ... "
"Milady", the well mannered, handsome blond from the plains of Rohan addressed the equaly blond Lady of the House, waiting to be acknowledged, greeted and for her to extend her hand for him to graze with his lips.
The previously smoothly running greeting of guests by the hosts hit a snag at this point, the graceful and polite hostess ignoring the noble Rohirr, kinsman to Eomer King.
Her eyes were on the next pair of guests and her hands were firmly by her side.
Langon hissed at his wife – "Miriel!"
The hissing was ignored. The pile up of guests forced the baffled Rider to move into the house.
The guests were filling out, saying their compliments and farewells to the hosts. These were flanked by their two older, already grown sons. They were of contrasting looks, with the eldest, favouring his father, looking like Isildur reborn, only hazel eyes marring his classical Numenorian features. The other, taking after the Lady Miriel, looked like plucked from the ranks of the Royal Guard at Edoras, blond and blue eyed.
"It was a delight to meet your family, Langon", the Eorling aristocrat said and looked at Miriel.
"The dishes were exquisite; I've never tasted the like before."
This time she looked upon him with her blue eyes.
"Do not bother calling for your horse. You ate it. The servants and dogs liked it too. You have to walk."
"Wha ... WHAT!?"
"Miriel, what!?"
The Rider made a move towards the lady of the house but was intercepted by her sons. They grabbed him by the elbows and dragged - rear to front, with his legs trailing - out the door, while their parents started yelling.
"I swore an oath at my mother's deathbed! And I will keep it! And you swore to keep it too! But your word was for naught, you peed all over your pledge and you trampled and spat on mine! For a shitsmeared footstool of the filthy horse stealer! I'm leaving for Bree tomorrow!"
