***Chapter the Second- In which our Heroine comes to the Capital of the
Kingdom of Rohan, and is Introduced to a Princess of Some Determination.***
"This is Edoras, my Lady." As Prince Éomer tugged the reins, he called back to her, against the shrieking sounds of the frigid winds that whipped across the steppes. "Capital city of the Horse Lords, and jewel of Rohan!"
"Jewel?" she wanted to yell. "More like a piece of dung!" But she held her tongue- and said, merely, in a voice sweet as honey:
"It is truly a balm to my tired eyes, O Prince." She was glad, at least, that she was sitting right behind him, because she grimaced wildly. She was glad she hadn't been expecting much, yet even then, Edoras was much less than anything she could have imagined.
She supposed she had been spoiled by the sights of Bozisha-Dar, caravanserai supreme and gem of the Raj; Umbar, vast teeming port of the Corsair Kings, and the towering seven-walled citadel of Minas Tirith, all of which qualified as actual cities. One could hardly call this hole a city, Madiya thought crossly. Like a flea which clung stubbornly to the back of a mangy dog, Edoras clung to the side of a steep hill; and as the prince and his men rode up it, through the mud and garbage-strewn lanes, the townspeople ran out of their thatched huts to gape at the warriors in their gilded helms and glittering armor. They goggled especially at her- she must look incredibly exotic to these white-skinned folk with their dreary rags and hair like dry grass. She even heard one child screech, "Mama! Mama! What's wrong with that lady? Did the sun burn her?"
Well, she'd been living in the northern lands for almost five years- she should be used to that reaction by now. Madiya sighed.
As they stopped at the foot of a steep staircase that led to the palace at the top of the hill, Prince Éomer, ordering his men to halt, dismounted, with much metallic clanking. Madiya was about to get off herself, but she remembered just in time she was supposed to be a lady. She waited for him to offer his hand to her. When he did so, she sweetly smiled, murmured a demure "thank you," grasped his manly fingers and alighted daintily onto the ground.
At least, that had been the plan. As she was hardly as graceful as an elf, as soon as she stepped on solid earth again, she stumbled- badly. As her posterior was killing her, and her legs- O Goddess!- felt as stiff as two pieces of wood, she supposed she was just lucky she didn't fall flat on her rear. "My lady!" the prince exclaimed. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes," she said quickly, regaining her balance. "Just a bit tired, that's all. From that hellish ordeal that constantly haunts my innermost thoughts! But you- your Highness- you are more than kind to me-!"
"It is nothing," the prince said gruffly, taking off his helmet as he peered intently down at the ground, "to come to the aid of a maiden. Especially one as, er, lovely as yourself." And- under the grime and scraggly beard- he actually blushed.
By the Triune Goddess, Madiya thought, amazed. He's acting like a tongue- tied adolescent! She then remembered, rather abruptly, how she had kept her arms about his Royal Highness for much of the journey. Obviously it had affected him much more than it had affected her. But, she was pleased, none the less. It was rather flattering to have caught the eye of a real live prince, even if he was prince of a dunghole such as this (and although he was hardly correct about her being a maiden).
"Oh," she murmured, "your Highness is ever gracious! To compliment a poor damsel so profusely. Your chivalry knows no bounds!" She fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously, as the prince grew ever more crimson. Indeed, he had been chivalrous to allow her to ride behind him, but she was not used to spending that much time in the saddle. But- although her backside was still protesting at her treatment of it- Madiya forebore a groan, as that would be far too plebeian. She merely proceeded, with noble nonchalance, to examine the regal residence in front of her. "But hark!" she exclaimed, turning from the blushing prince. "What yon great building is that?"
"That is the Golden Hall of the Meduseld," said Prince Éomer quickly, as if relieved to change the subject. He spread out his hand towards the steeply gabled wooden building, where the façade and columns of the porch were carved and gilded with an elaborate, interlocking maze of vines and sinuous serpents. "Have you not heard of it? Is it not the wonder of the land?"
The Golden Hall was exceptionally impressive, even more so considering that the town around it was so dismal. Madiya wondered briefly how much it had cost to build it, and how much it took to keep it up. No doubt all the money came out of the pockets of the adoring populace. "I have indeed heard of it, my prince," she replied sweetly. "And it makes me wonder indeed."
And at that moment, a young girl ran down the stairs towards them. "Éomer!" she cried. "My dearest brother! You're back!"
The prince turned towards the girl, his face brightening. "Sister! You are a sight for sore eyes!"
The girl- Princess Éowyn, if Madiya remembered her Rohan royalty correctly- stopped in front of them. This one, she thought sharply, is the one in possession of the necklace; so it would behoove her to make nice with her. Not to mention, pay attention to her every move.
Madiya supposed she was about nineteen or so. Like the heroine of a northern romance, she had milky skin, doe-like eyes, and long golden hair, rippling down her back, as the poets would say, in seven tresses like horse- tails, or a veil of light. For all her beauty, though, this young noblewoman also possessed the most depressingly virginal air. She even wore white- it was an elaborate gown of fine-combed wool, with long sleeves that cascaded to the ground, and much swirling trapunto-style embroidery on the bodice. Madiya thought: I bet some old woman lost her eyesight sewing that. I could get, hmmm, a hundred dinars for it? But as the princess was talking, she curbed her mental commentary and made sure to look attentive.
"You have returned safe and sound!" The princess was saying. "I thank the powers above for answering my prayers. Did you run into any orcs on your scouting mission?" When Éomer shook his head, she turned and gazed at Madiya, her green-gray eyes wide and questioning. "But I see, dear brother, that you also ran into something else!"
"Indeed, Éowyn. Instead of orcs, rather the survivor of an orcish raid: the Lady Madiya." The prince gestured to her. "We found her in Westfold, at the Hangman's Crossroad some leagues from the Deeping Coomb. The monsters had slaughtered her entire party," he continued grimly. "I told you that these foul slaves of Saruman grow more daring with each day...!"
The princess gave her brother a worried glance; then turned to Madiya, with both her hands extended. "Dearest Lady Madiya," she said, gently and solemnly. "I am Éowyn, sister of Éomer; and sister-daughter to King Théoden. Much wickedness has torn our fair land asunder, and although many have suffered as you, it distresses me to no end, that you have been forced to undergo such anguish in the Kingdom of Rohan. Please be our guest at the Golden Hall; please partake of our wine and bread and warm yourself by our hearth-fire. My home is your home."
Madiya clasped the princess's hands. "My lady," she declared, "I am honored to enter your gracious abode. There is no obligation more blessed and revered than that of hospitality. As the poets say, 'The guests' slave am I, 'tis true, as long as he bides with me/ Although in my nature also no trait of the slave is shown.' For your benevolence, my princess, may the gods smile upon you, and make sweet with milk and honey all the days of your life."
She must have recited her lines well, because the princess smiled warmly at her. "Brother," she said to the prince, "I must take Lady Madiya to the guest quarters, where she may be able to rest and refresh herself, after her ordeal. I am sure that you have things to attend to elsewhere."
"Indeed I do," said Prince Éomer. He bowed. "My lady. I look forward to your company at the banquet this evening." And with that, he was off- to the stables, or the armory, or the warriors' quarters, or whatever suitably virile places that princes in these parts went to in their spare time. Certainly, he would scarcely be lounging on a divan, stuffing sweetmeats in his mouth as he critiqued last night's performance at the Peach Blossom Theater. As she imagined Prince Éomer in a silk robe, munching on candied pomegranate seeds and going on about how overweight the dancers were, Madiya had to bite her lip from giggling.
She walked up the staircase, as Princess Éowyn pressed her for questions about her life story, as well as her "ordeal." Madiya responded in much the same manner that she had with Prince Éomer, but when she saw what a good audience she had, she couldn't help but add a bit of embroidery to her tale. "The orcs took us by surprise!" she cried, waving her arms for dramatic embellishment. "With their axes and swords, our men were cut down like grass falling to the scythe! With every sweep of a villainous blade, a severed head flew; with every chop of a perfidious axe, a spouting trunk tumbled, bleeding, onto the ground. They were merciless! Even the strongest, bravest warriors fell like trees toppling in the forest- their eyes were glazed, their mouths open with horror as they fell to the blood- soaked earth, their heels drumming in agony as they breathed their last. And the children! Oh, my Lady, that was but the worse sight of all! I remember one, a fair-haired boy, a blue-eyed wagoner's child, who had been gathering pansies in the field but yesterday; and the last thing I saw, before I was knocked unconscious, was how his blade had been crushed into splinters by these despicable monsters; and that he had been beaten to his knee!..."
"Oh!" Princess Éowyn gasped. "What ghastly events you have witnessed, Lady Madiya! If I been there with my sword-" And the fair maiden's face contorted. "I would have taught those filthy brutes a lesson or two!"
Madiya looked incredulously at her royal host, who seemed so slender and fragile in her virginal white frock. "You can fight- with a sword?"
"Very well too." The princess drew herself up proudly. "I am a shield maiden of Rohan. I am as doughty a warrior as any man ever born."
Madiya scoured her mind for an appropriate way to respond to such a definite-sounding statement, when Éowyn said flatly:
"You don't believe me."
"What?" Madiya exclaimed. "No, your Highness, I- am not doubting your veracity, it's just that- I am so utterly inept with any weaponry myself, that I find it hard to imagine how another lady can be so- talented with it." Oh, Goddess, she was sticking her foot in her mouth... "I mean, it's not that hard to believe, since you are a Northerner, and from Rohan, and raised by men. I mean- since it is mostly men that I see around here- and very few ladies, and I suppose- I mean, I suppose- oh, forgive me, your Highness, I have offended you!"
"You have not offended me." Éowyn turned around, looking out over the windswept plains that surrounded Edoras. "You are merely speaking your mind, Lady Madiya, and that is not an ill trait to possess. One wishes that there were more honest people in the world."
Honest! At that, she felt herself turning red. "My lady, you are, ah, very kind to say that-"
"It is the truth. One should not be complimented for saying the plain truth." The princess looked at the cloudy sky, and the hazy, snow-capped mountains in the distance. "It is true, Lady Madiya, that I was raised by men. In my younger days, I was trained to wear a corselet and wield a blade; but now that I have become a woman, they seem to take- discomfort at this desire of mine, to continue as a warrior. They now insist on sending me off to do women's things- tending the household, supervising the servants, acting as chatelaine. But I was taught to use a sword!" Her voice grew thick with emotion, as her fists clenched at her side. "And, by all that's holy, I shall fight with a sword, in defense of my people!"
Madiya stared at the princess, who was trembling, from her fit of passion.
"I believe you," she said with utter honesty- which was rare for her indeed. "Your Highness, I have no doubt that when you set your mind to something, you shall do it. And- I wish you the best. I truly do."
The princess gazed at her, her round eyes brimming with- what was it- gratitude? "Lady Madiya," she said quietly, "you have traveled much, I know, and I have grown up- only here, in this small, tucked-away corner of the world. But you must believe me. This land is my home; and although it may not look that much to one who has seen so many greater sights- it is all the earth to me. I know this country like the palm of my hand; and if darkness were to overtake it-" She closed her eyes, just for a moment- yet when she opened them, she had a look of stark, blank despair on her face, that made Madiya's blood run cold. "I would sooner die."
"Oh, my lady," she choked.
"Lady Madiya, I thank the gods that you were brought here. We do not get guests very often- especially not ladies." She raised a delicate eyebrow, with some amusement. "I look forward to extending the hospitality of Edoras, and continuing our acquaintance. I should dearly love to hear more stories of your homeland, and of Minas Tirith..."
At that moment Madiya felt more acutely miserable than she had in a long time. Why couldn't this Princess be a silly, stupid bitch, like most high- ranking ladies she had met? Instead, she was a strong, admirable young woman, stuck, rather unfortunately, in a kingdom that was on the brink of a savage, all-out war. And this was the very woman from whom she had to steal the Rubies of Rohan. The very woman who was so kindly offering her the use of her household. For the sake of the Rubies, she was going to break the sacred rules of hospitality! With a sick, sinking feeling, she could well imagine what her mother would have said about that. All of a sudden, Madiya felt a surge of self-hatred. She began to wish that she had never had thought up this adventure.
But, look here, dearest, she told herself angrily, the only reason why this Éowyn is giving you the time of day is that she thinks that you, too, are of gentle birth. If she knew better- if she knew you were the daughter of a tavern-dancer and a Gondorian sailor- she'd treat you like a dung-hauler. These women are all like that, no matter how noble they seem. Steel yourself. You must get those Rubies. Can you imagine what a price they'll fetch in the Court of Sellers? Ancient rubies and mithril-work, all intricate dwarven handicraft. Why, you'll be able to buy a mansion in the Katedrala! With carpets and cool fountains and marble tiles... you'll be able to spend the rest of your life drinking wine and plucking the guzla. Think of that when your will grows weak, Madiya. You'll never have to starve or whore yourself again.
"Lady Madiya?"
Madiya suddenly snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, um, I am quite sorry, your highness. I was merely, ah, lost in thought."
"I do hope that nothing is the matter," said the princess with some concern.
"I was merely thinking of the events of the day." She sighed. "And how I am glad to be here, finally, in a place of warmth and hospitality-"
"Indeed," a voice behind them hissed. "The Golden Hall is, as ever, a place of much hospitality."
Startled, Éowyn and Madiya whirled around to see a black-clad figure, emerging- like a cloud of greasy smoke- from behind one of the gilt-carved columns of the palace portico.
"Gríma Wormtongue!" breathed Éowyn, her eyes widening in horror.
***Author's Note: *grin* How's that for a cliffhanger?
"This is Edoras, my Lady." As Prince Éomer tugged the reins, he called back to her, against the shrieking sounds of the frigid winds that whipped across the steppes. "Capital city of the Horse Lords, and jewel of Rohan!"
"Jewel?" she wanted to yell. "More like a piece of dung!" But she held her tongue- and said, merely, in a voice sweet as honey:
"It is truly a balm to my tired eyes, O Prince." She was glad, at least, that she was sitting right behind him, because she grimaced wildly. She was glad she hadn't been expecting much, yet even then, Edoras was much less than anything she could have imagined.
She supposed she had been spoiled by the sights of Bozisha-Dar, caravanserai supreme and gem of the Raj; Umbar, vast teeming port of the Corsair Kings, and the towering seven-walled citadel of Minas Tirith, all of which qualified as actual cities. One could hardly call this hole a city, Madiya thought crossly. Like a flea which clung stubbornly to the back of a mangy dog, Edoras clung to the side of a steep hill; and as the prince and his men rode up it, through the mud and garbage-strewn lanes, the townspeople ran out of their thatched huts to gape at the warriors in their gilded helms and glittering armor. They goggled especially at her- she must look incredibly exotic to these white-skinned folk with their dreary rags and hair like dry grass. She even heard one child screech, "Mama! Mama! What's wrong with that lady? Did the sun burn her?"
Well, she'd been living in the northern lands for almost five years- she should be used to that reaction by now. Madiya sighed.
As they stopped at the foot of a steep staircase that led to the palace at the top of the hill, Prince Éomer, ordering his men to halt, dismounted, with much metallic clanking. Madiya was about to get off herself, but she remembered just in time she was supposed to be a lady. She waited for him to offer his hand to her. When he did so, she sweetly smiled, murmured a demure "thank you," grasped his manly fingers and alighted daintily onto the ground.
At least, that had been the plan. As she was hardly as graceful as an elf, as soon as she stepped on solid earth again, she stumbled- badly. As her posterior was killing her, and her legs- O Goddess!- felt as stiff as two pieces of wood, she supposed she was just lucky she didn't fall flat on her rear. "My lady!" the prince exclaimed. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes," she said quickly, regaining her balance. "Just a bit tired, that's all. From that hellish ordeal that constantly haunts my innermost thoughts! But you- your Highness- you are more than kind to me-!"
"It is nothing," the prince said gruffly, taking off his helmet as he peered intently down at the ground, "to come to the aid of a maiden. Especially one as, er, lovely as yourself." And- under the grime and scraggly beard- he actually blushed.
By the Triune Goddess, Madiya thought, amazed. He's acting like a tongue- tied adolescent! She then remembered, rather abruptly, how she had kept her arms about his Royal Highness for much of the journey. Obviously it had affected him much more than it had affected her. But, she was pleased, none the less. It was rather flattering to have caught the eye of a real live prince, even if he was prince of a dunghole such as this (and although he was hardly correct about her being a maiden).
"Oh," she murmured, "your Highness is ever gracious! To compliment a poor damsel so profusely. Your chivalry knows no bounds!" She fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously, as the prince grew ever more crimson. Indeed, he had been chivalrous to allow her to ride behind him, but she was not used to spending that much time in the saddle. But- although her backside was still protesting at her treatment of it- Madiya forebore a groan, as that would be far too plebeian. She merely proceeded, with noble nonchalance, to examine the regal residence in front of her. "But hark!" she exclaimed, turning from the blushing prince. "What yon great building is that?"
"That is the Golden Hall of the Meduseld," said Prince Éomer quickly, as if relieved to change the subject. He spread out his hand towards the steeply gabled wooden building, where the façade and columns of the porch were carved and gilded with an elaborate, interlocking maze of vines and sinuous serpents. "Have you not heard of it? Is it not the wonder of the land?"
The Golden Hall was exceptionally impressive, even more so considering that the town around it was so dismal. Madiya wondered briefly how much it had cost to build it, and how much it took to keep it up. No doubt all the money came out of the pockets of the adoring populace. "I have indeed heard of it, my prince," she replied sweetly. "And it makes me wonder indeed."
And at that moment, a young girl ran down the stairs towards them. "Éomer!" she cried. "My dearest brother! You're back!"
The prince turned towards the girl, his face brightening. "Sister! You are a sight for sore eyes!"
The girl- Princess Éowyn, if Madiya remembered her Rohan royalty correctly- stopped in front of them. This one, she thought sharply, is the one in possession of the necklace; so it would behoove her to make nice with her. Not to mention, pay attention to her every move.
Madiya supposed she was about nineteen or so. Like the heroine of a northern romance, she had milky skin, doe-like eyes, and long golden hair, rippling down her back, as the poets would say, in seven tresses like horse- tails, or a veil of light. For all her beauty, though, this young noblewoman also possessed the most depressingly virginal air. She even wore white- it was an elaborate gown of fine-combed wool, with long sleeves that cascaded to the ground, and much swirling trapunto-style embroidery on the bodice. Madiya thought: I bet some old woman lost her eyesight sewing that. I could get, hmmm, a hundred dinars for it? But as the princess was talking, she curbed her mental commentary and made sure to look attentive.
"You have returned safe and sound!" The princess was saying. "I thank the powers above for answering my prayers. Did you run into any orcs on your scouting mission?" When Éomer shook his head, she turned and gazed at Madiya, her green-gray eyes wide and questioning. "But I see, dear brother, that you also ran into something else!"
"Indeed, Éowyn. Instead of orcs, rather the survivor of an orcish raid: the Lady Madiya." The prince gestured to her. "We found her in Westfold, at the Hangman's Crossroad some leagues from the Deeping Coomb. The monsters had slaughtered her entire party," he continued grimly. "I told you that these foul slaves of Saruman grow more daring with each day...!"
The princess gave her brother a worried glance; then turned to Madiya, with both her hands extended. "Dearest Lady Madiya," she said, gently and solemnly. "I am Éowyn, sister of Éomer; and sister-daughter to King Théoden. Much wickedness has torn our fair land asunder, and although many have suffered as you, it distresses me to no end, that you have been forced to undergo such anguish in the Kingdom of Rohan. Please be our guest at the Golden Hall; please partake of our wine and bread and warm yourself by our hearth-fire. My home is your home."
Madiya clasped the princess's hands. "My lady," she declared, "I am honored to enter your gracious abode. There is no obligation more blessed and revered than that of hospitality. As the poets say, 'The guests' slave am I, 'tis true, as long as he bides with me/ Although in my nature also no trait of the slave is shown.' For your benevolence, my princess, may the gods smile upon you, and make sweet with milk and honey all the days of your life."
She must have recited her lines well, because the princess smiled warmly at her. "Brother," she said to the prince, "I must take Lady Madiya to the guest quarters, where she may be able to rest and refresh herself, after her ordeal. I am sure that you have things to attend to elsewhere."
"Indeed I do," said Prince Éomer. He bowed. "My lady. I look forward to your company at the banquet this evening." And with that, he was off- to the stables, or the armory, or the warriors' quarters, or whatever suitably virile places that princes in these parts went to in their spare time. Certainly, he would scarcely be lounging on a divan, stuffing sweetmeats in his mouth as he critiqued last night's performance at the Peach Blossom Theater. As she imagined Prince Éomer in a silk robe, munching on candied pomegranate seeds and going on about how overweight the dancers were, Madiya had to bite her lip from giggling.
She walked up the staircase, as Princess Éowyn pressed her for questions about her life story, as well as her "ordeal." Madiya responded in much the same manner that she had with Prince Éomer, but when she saw what a good audience she had, she couldn't help but add a bit of embroidery to her tale. "The orcs took us by surprise!" she cried, waving her arms for dramatic embellishment. "With their axes and swords, our men were cut down like grass falling to the scythe! With every sweep of a villainous blade, a severed head flew; with every chop of a perfidious axe, a spouting trunk tumbled, bleeding, onto the ground. They were merciless! Even the strongest, bravest warriors fell like trees toppling in the forest- their eyes were glazed, their mouths open with horror as they fell to the blood- soaked earth, their heels drumming in agony as they breathed their last. And the children! Oh, my Lady, that was but the worse sight of all! I remember one, a fair-haired boy, a blue-eyed wagoner's child, who had been gathering pansies in the field but yesterday; and the last thing I saw, before I was knocked unconscious, was how his blade had been crushed into splinters by these despicable monsters; and that he had been beaten to his knee!..."
"Oh!" Princess Éowyn gasped. "What ghastly events you have witnessed, Lady Madiya! If I been there with my sword-" And the fair maiden's face contorted. "I would have taught those filthy brutes a lesson or two!"
Madiya looked incredulously at her royal host, who seemed so slender and fragile in her virginal white frock. "You can fight- with a sword?"
"Very well too." The princess drew herself up proudly. "I am a shield maiden of Rohan. I am as doughty a warrior as any man ever born."
Madiya scoured her mind for an appropriate way to respond to such a definite-sounding statement, when Éowyn said flatly:
"You don't believe me."
"What?" Madiya exclaimed. "No, your Highness, I- am not doubting your veracity, it's just that- I am so utterly inept with any weaponry myself, that I find it hard to imagine how another lady can be so- talented with it." Oh, Goddess, she was sticking her foot in her mouth... "I mean, it's not that hard to believe, since you are a Northerner, and from Rohan, and raised by men. I mean- since it is mostly men that I see around here- and very few ladies, and I suppose- I mean, I suppose- oh, forgive me, your Highness, I have offended you!"
"You have not offended me." Éowyn turned around, looking out over the windswept plains that surrounded Edoras. "You are merely speaking your mind, Lady Madiya, and that is not an ill trait to possess. One wishes that there were more honest people in the world."
Honest! At that, she felt herself turning red. "My lady, you are, ah, very kind to say that-"
"It is the truth. One should not be complimented for saying the plain truth." The princess looked at the cloudy sky, and the hazy, snow-capped mountains in the distance. "It is true, Lady Madiya, that I was raised by men. In my younger days, I was trained to wear a corselet and wield a blade; but now that I have become a woman, they seem to take- discomfort at this desire of mine, to continue as a warrior. They now insist on sending me off to do women's things- tending the household, supervising the servants, acting as chatelaine. But I was taught to use a sword!" Her voice grew thick with emotion, as her fists clenched at her side. "And, by all that's holy, I shall fight with a sword, in defense of my people!"
Madiya stared at the princess, who was trembling, from her fit of passion.
"I believe you," she said with utter honesty- which was rare for her indeed. "Your Highness, I have no doubt that when you set your mind to something, you shall do it. And- I wish you the best. I truly do."
The princess gazed at her, her round eyes brimming with- what was it- gratitude? "Lady Madiya," she said quietly, "you have traveled much, I know, and I have grown up- only here, in this small, tucked-away corner of the world. But you must believe me. This land is my home; and although it may not look that much to one who has seen so many greater sights- it is all the earth to me. I know this country like the palm of my hand; and if darkness were to overtake it-" She closed her eyes, just for a moment- yet when she opened them, she had a look of stark, blank despair on her face, that made Madiya's blood run cold. "I would sooner die."
"Oh, my lady," she choked.
"Lady Madiya, I thank the gods that you were brought here. We do not get guests very often- especially not ladies." She raised a delicate eyebrow, with some amusement. "I look forward to extending the hospitality of Edoras, and continuing our acquaintance. I should dearly love to hear more stories of your homeland, and of Minas Tirith..."
At that moment Madiya felt more acutely miserable than she had in a long time. Why couldn't this Princess be a silly, stupid bitch, like most high- ranking ladies she had met? Instead, she was a strong, admirable young woman, stuck, rather unfortunately, in a kingdom that was on the brink of a savage, all-out war. And this was the very woman from whom she had to steal the Rubies of Rohan. The very woman who was so kindly offering her the use of her household. For the sake of the Rubies, she was going to break the sacred rules of hospitality! With a sick, sinking feeling, she could well imagine what her mother would have said about that. All of a sudden, Madiya felt a surge of self-hatred. She began to wish that she had never had thought up this adventure.
But, look here, dearest, she told herself angrily, the only reason why this Éowyn is giving you the time of day is that she thinks that you, too, are of gentle birth. If she knew better- if she knew you were the daughter of a tavern-dancer and a Gondorian sailor- she'd treat you like a dung-hauler. These women are all like that, no matter how noble they seem. Steel yourself. You must get those Rubies. Can you imagine what a price they'll fetch in the Court of Sellers? Ancient rubies and mithril-work, all intricate dwarven handicraft. Why, you'll be able to buy a mansion in the Katedrala! With carpets and cool fountains and marble tiles... you'll be able to spend the rest of your life drinking wine and plucking the guzla. Think of that when your will grows weak, Madiya. You'll never have to starve or whore yourself again.
"Lady Madiya?"
Madiya suddenly snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, um, I am quite sorry, your highness. I was merely, ah, lost in thought."
"I do hope that nothing is the matter," said the princess with some concern.
"I was merely thinking of the events of the day." She sighed. "And how I am glad to be here, finally, in a place of warmth and hospitality-"
"Indeed," a voice behind them hissed. "The Golden Hall is, as ever, a place of much hospitality."
Startled, Éowyn and Madiya whirled around to see a black-clad figure, emerging- like a cloud of greasy smoke- from behind one of the gilt-carved columns of the palace portico.
"Gríma Wormtongue!" breathed Éowyn, her eyes widening in horror.
***Author's Note: *grin* How's that for a cliffhanger?