Disclaimer: I own nothing that Tolkien or Fröding has written.
Summary: Gandalf makes a statement that Gríma Wormtongue was once an honest man who truly served his King and his country.
I wanted to describe an early meeting between Gríma and Éowyn, picturing the man he might have been before he was corrupted.
A/N: Inspired by/borrowed from Swedish poet Gustaf Fröding's "A German girl" (My translation). Some lines in the text are picked as they were from the poem.
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The king of Rohan holds a banquet; friends and allies are cheering and bellowing in Meduseld.
There is an atmosphere of gaiety, and the volume is loud; laughter and music jostles one another for more space. But once the dinner is over the long tables are moved aside; it is time for the dance. Noble ladies are sweeping across the floor in their long dresses and the music plays up with a cheerful tune.
Near the door stands a man, he is watching the dancing couples with a faint smile on his lips. He is the king's new advisor, and he is not yet used to these spectacular banquets.
Let's follow him as he turns, bows slightly towards Théoden king, and leaves the hall;
"In the hall, the bards are playing, sweet tones ringing from their lips. Sweeping tones, flowing tones –dripping with romance. They speak so much of 'sweetness', and of 'love' and, naturally; of "brave riders'.
How tiresome.
I suppress a yawn, excuse myself and head for the yard.
From here, the music's quite faint. I sit down on a bench and let my mind wander. The fountain cries out with its melancholic splash and drowns the noise from the Golden Hall; I'm so bored with this feast and its guests.
Suddenly, I hear a noise, like a hiss –what now, is it a cat? Curious, I look around. Ah, behind that tree I see someone, peeping out, someone's giggling there, in the shadows.
And yes, out comes a little one, coquettish and graceful. A dainty funny girl in a white night-gown, blond hair falling down over her shoulders; it's a little lady, about eight or nine years old.
A little lady who should, no doubt, be in bed by now... but I get an idea of the very discreet exhortation her smiling eyes speak of...
We can read each other; we can both understand what game we've got in mind.
Yes, hide-and-seek it is for sure! She whirls around in her white dress, flies away quick as a snowflake, and as I sneak after her, with long and silent steps, she runs away and hides and remains quiet...
Behind a flowerbed she's lurking, -it's very dangerous now, you see. We pretend that she has stumbled into a giant's halls; she is the princess Simbelmynë, and I a huge darkish troll.
And the poor princess was discovered; oh torment, oh distress, oh sorrow! The big bad troll was salivating!
'Come out, come out, princess, come out and be as sweet as you can, for now I wish to eat you!'
And as the princess she is, she comes crawling out in a dignified manner, on hands and knees and with spots of grass on her dress. She runs, and I hunt her; we dance on the yard to the music as were it the grandest ball, -the white lady Simbelmynë, the dark troll!
Then, the music stops; the melody is through, and all of the romantic guests comes stumbling out, red and sweaty in the fresh air.
We must part at once; the princess must hurry to her chamber and the troll to his master's side before the sun rises!
We bid farewell, I bow to the ground and she is curtseying; and no noble lady could be more graceful doing that.
Alas, separation! You, dainty creature, you do not sweat as easily as do these ladies of the court, and their cavaliers with their red faces!
And neither are you the human daughter of kings and queens or their kin; but a fairy, possessing the beauty of eternity! You, the princess Simbelmynë!"
Neat and quick as a snowflake, the young princess runs across the yard, a white light that flees into the nightfall. The king's councillor returns to his duties, but this time, the smile on his lips is wider.
Soon, music and laughter is heard again from the hall, and stars are shining over Edoras.
In her bed sleeps the child, the princess, the white flower.
Éowyn of Rohan dreams of Simbelmynë.
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A/N: Fröding writes about the princess Edelweiss and the giant Rübezahl, my guess is that this is a more or less well-known tale. (Has anyone heard of it?)
Anyway, I thought that it would be suiting to rewrite Edelweiss as Simbelmynë.
I think that the poem (tragically enough) reflects a playful prelude of what would become a bitter game in Edoras, thus describing Gríma as a troll. A picture that came true, I'm afraid.
Reviews and CC appreciated. Great thanks to my Beta, fondued jicama!