The Day Nothing Happened

When I came into milady's service, I did not know what to expect. There were many tales being told, rumors of her wantonness, whispers behind hands as eyes watched her walk in the company of her Orc. All were certain Éomer King had gone mad, allowing them house room in the Golden Hall itself.

Even those such as myself, who remembered her brief stay during the war, could not fathom the depravity she must possess, to lie abed with one of them. She'd seemed strong-willed then, more fiercely so now. I could not help but admire her, in spite of all else.

I began tending to her needs at the behest of Erna, who had trained me to assist in all manner of healing duties. The first time I was in their room with the Orc, I could not bring myself to look upon him. A quick glance was all I could bear, for even his gentlest expressions filled me with fear.

Yet I had no choice. I was not from a family of any means, and so could not choose my employment. In truth, until the day when Erna called me to this duty, I had no reason to complain. I served the Lady Eowyn herself, until that day she disappeared from Dunharrow along with the men marching to Gondor. Soon after her return to Edoras, she departed for the last time in the company of Lord Faramir, her husband. I remained in Rohan, for I am Rohirrim, and I do not wish to be anywhere else.

There were no ladies in need of a maid in Meduseld for the longest time, it seemed, until the winter they came. I was assigned within days of their arrival, and dreaded that first moment in the Orc's company as though walking to my own execution.

To my surprise, he was quiet. He kept his head bowed and his eyes down. He had frightening eyes, and I found myself glad of his concession. He never spoke to me or came near me, and eventually I was able to manage, though I feared being alone with him.

A few months ago, I was in their room while he was at Holger's forge. Milady Lynn was scratching away at a parchment, composing a letter to the King of Gondor, of all people! She was gone with child by the Orc, her belly beginning to show. Though many thought poorly of her for it, I could not. She was a good woman and kind. I simply... overlooked the making of the child. I was young, only having sixteen summers, and still believed any child a blessed gift. Yet I dreaded the coming of hers... and his, for there would be no mistaking how it came to be.

By that time, however, I already considered her a great lady, for she had done brave deeds for Rohan during the war, and was always friendly to me. It was strange to be considered the equal of a woman who wrote casual missives to kings, yet she seemed to think of me as such. She wanted me to call her simply Lynn, and huffed with impatience when long habit made me forget. She took to calling me by my childhood nickname, Dagga. My younger brother was never able to say Dagmær and bequeathed me with a much easier name. I suspect Lynn had as much difficulty as he did.

It was an unseasonably cool day. The Orc was at the forge, and would be there at least another hour. I'd brought out the tub and ordered water delivered to fill it. Most folk unknowingly commented on his filthiness, yet I found him to be just the opposite. Every day, he wanted a bath to scrub away the sweat and soot of the forge, even before he took his evening meal.

The windows were open, the breeze undoing what the late autumn heat had done to the room. I was about my duties, exchanging the spent linens for crisp and clean, when Erna arrived to fetch Lynn for a walk.

"You have been cooped up for weeks," the woman chided. "The exercise will do you good."

"All right, all right, don't rush me," Lynn grumbled, and rose stiffly from her chair. "Please tell me feeling like crap is all part of the wonders of motherhood," she added, rubbing her back.

"Tis a blessing in disguise," Erna told her. I could hear the amusement in her voice, and see the small quirk of a smile on her face.

"That is one stupid-ass disguise," Lynn observed. "Why can't the boys dress up like this? Or at least get my hemorroids. That would be nice. I could deal with that."

"Come along now," Erna laughed, taking milady's arm. I smiled to myself as they left.

I was at work removing her clothing from the closet to air them out when he returned unexpectedly. I was so startled that I turned and looked at him fully. He did not immediately look away, likely as startled by my presence as I was by his.

I noted his weariness to begin with. Glances I had taken furtively over the last several months told me of his height and build; today his shoulders drooped and his back was bent. His short, sweaty hair was standing up in places where he must have shoved a hand through it. When he looked at me, I stood frozen in terror.

He simply nodded in what must have been polite acknowledgement of my presence, and went to the washstand. He took up the white pitcher and filled the matching bowl. Bending down, he scooped up handfuls of the cold water and poured them over his head. I could hear his groan of relief.

When he was satisfied, he leaned on his hands over the bowl and let the water drip. He took deep breaths, filling his lungs, and released them steadily. I did not learn until later that he had overheard hurtful words said about milady, and Holger kindly allowed him the remainder of the day so that he might calm himself.

At the time, I only desired a reason to be quit of his presence, and hurried off to the kitchens to ask for the water for his bath to be brought as quickly as could be managed. It was a brief respite; there was still work to be done in their rooms, and so I was obliged to return.

He was sitting leaned back in a chair, his boots taken off, his head resting on the chairback. It was the first time I had seen his bare feet, and I was arrested by the sight of the same claws on his toes as were on his fingers.

It came to me in a blushing rush that those hands worked upon milady's body, and were welcome to do so. I did not know what to think, for my mind had gone blank.

Thankfully, the kitchen servants arrived with bucket after bucket, filling the tub with steaming water. I found myself hurrying through my duties, not even attending to what I was about, so desperately did I wish to depart before he availed himself of the bath. It was common among those above us to ignore our presence and simply go about their business. I expected he would do the same.

To my surprise, he did not rise from his chair. I felt his eyes on me, and turned slightly, expecting a leer or an invitation. There were maids I'd known who told of Men who pressed their advantage upon a servant; it seemed more likely of an Orc.

His expression was one of waiting... waiting for me to leave, I realized. I swiftly hung out the last of milady's trousers to air, then headed for the door. I had to pass by him, and half expected him to grab my arm. The fear was deep in me that he would do some mischief upon my person.

"Thank you, Dagga," he said in his harsh-sounding voice. I was so surprised, I stopped and stared at him. One side of his mouth twitched up in a rueful smile.

It was the first time he had said anything to me. Usually he kept his distance and his silence. For the first time, I understood how much he wished to put me at my ease, and how hard it was for him to do so, being what he was. I also realized I had not made it any easier for him, ignoring what was before me and only seeing what rumor and history told.

So it was on that day that I faced the Orc and curtsied. Though my voice was hoarse from only recently set aside fear, I said, "You are most welcome." I began to turn away, then added, "Ghrudur." His smile broadened slightly, encompassing his full mouth, and twinkling in his yellow eyes.

They did not seem quite so intimidating after that day.