Author's Note:
This was a fun chapter. I'll have you all know that I wrote it while drinking mead. Yup. Mead. It seemed appropriate while writing a scene where everyone of these characters is drinking it too. lol
A tid bit of more plotty goodness here. If you happen to catch them, there's some subtle plot points here too.
Please review!
- In Amber Clad
Chapter 13: High Spirits
Bards sang songs of merriment and played on gilded lyres. The tables were lined with food and the pig roast turned over the pit, its juices falling into the fire with a delicious sizzle. There was people sitting, standing, in corners and among the open spaces. Not a single spot was empty from the laughter and entertained talk of the Rohirrim. The mead hall had not met its full use in quite some time.
Many years ago, it would be filled many nights of the week. Rohan was prosperous and enjoyed many seasons of relative peace. Four years ago, the health of the King began to dwindle, and the land of Rohan dwindled with him. The winters became longer. Crops were lessened due to the shorter summers and although the people did not starve, the strain was grasping at their will and morale. Among these things, Orcs found their way into the plains. The King would ride out less and less with his Éored, as he was the First Marshal of the Mark. His health had steadily declined, and so he remained at Edoras. Then he ceased his patrols altogether, leaving the protection of his lands to his son Théodred and to his nephew Éomer, the Second and Third Marshals respectively.
Since the King no longer ventured from the Golden Hall, he no longer saw his people. He no longer saw the failing crops. He no longer saw the increase of Orcs, and the bloodshed thereafter. Since he no longer saw these things, Théoden did not understand the need to strengthen his borders or to increase the amount of Riders to protect them. And because he could only hear the reports of his men, he became wary of those he could not meet. Strangers in the land of Rohan were no longer welcome. All who travelled though the Gap of Rohan, though the plains or merely to visit or trade were barred away, unless they came to Théoden to ask his leave.
The King came to rely heavily on Éowyn. When she was not away, tending to the people or to herself, she was tending to him. She was at his side, answering to his beck and call. When she was not at his side, another took her place. A shadow of a man named Gríma. As the years went by, Théoden regarded Gríma as highly as Éowyn for his helpful words and insight. Although Gríma was uncomfortable among crowds, he was there, ever by the King in this night of celebration.
"It has been many weeks since I last saw the King laugh. Look at him. The wrinkles of his eyes could fold no further!" Éowyn said. She had her arm wrapped in Théodred's, not letting him leave her sight. She had missed her cousin.
Théodred agreed. "Yes, he looks happy. I wish Gríma would lighten with him."
"Moths would mistake him for the moon," Éomer scoffed. "Although I share your wish that he be ill." The friends laughed at his jest.
Réodwyn smirked, "Hey now. Didn't you tell me earlier not to insult him?"
Éomer replied, "Wormtongue holds no power over me. What would he do? Hiss at me?" He took a swig from his tankard.
"He could challenge you," Théodred mused. "Imagine the absurdity. Gríma in a duel." Éomer almost choked on his mead. "Careful, now, cousin! You don't want to give the man an advantage over you! Quickly, Gríma, while he's buckled down from mead in his windpipe!" Théodred illustrated an imaginary duel, "That's it. All you have to do is lift the sword off the ground and swing it… No, no, use the other end! Have you been drinking too? Oh, the Valar…" Théodred could not continue. He grasped his sides in laughter. "Ah, I think the mead has finally gotten to me. Haha. Just listen to me, how ridiculous."
"Nay, nay! Keep on!" Éowyn said, trying to regain her composure.
"I cannot!" Théodred said, catching his breath. "The thought of him holding a sword, hahaha!" He burst into laughter again.
"Looks like he's having a good time," Réodwyn said to Éomer, amused.
"He is at that," Éomer said. "What say you, Théodred, are you keen for another round?"
"Only if our new Lady joins us," Théodred said, raising his drink to Réodwyn. "Join us to the tap, my Lady. Drinks…" he paused, checking his balance, "are on me." He put his hand on his chest, and looked at her expectantly. Though his offer was not an offer at all, since the feast was on the house.
Réodwyn waved her free hand, "Oh no. I'm done. I'm good."
"But you've only had one!"
"Yeah, I know…" she said, pouting her lip, "I'm a lightweight. You go ahead though. I'm going to wait for this to wear off before having another."
Théodred frowned, "Suit yourself then." He raised his tankard again and grabbed Éomer. Éomer half carried the Prince to the tap near the tables. The two Ladies watched them disappear into the crowd. Réodwyn came up to Éowyn and laid her forehead on the blonde's shoulder.
"Éowyn?" Réodwyn asked.
"Yes?" Éowyn looked down on the head of red hair.
"I feel it now," she giggled. The alcohol had seeped into through her system.
"On one serving?" Éowyn half disbelieved the girl.
Réodwyn raised her head and she had a large grin on her face. "Yup. I'm in a happy place. How about you? You there yet?" Éowyn looked at her tankard, which was nearly empty. She frowned, thinking perhaps she should have asked them to fill it for her.
"No," she said. "Well, maybe. I've had more than you, at least. What is this? You still have some left!"
Réodwyn shrugged, "More for me to enjoy." She looked into it. "You know, I like mead a lot better than beer or wine. I could never get used to those. But I could drink White Russians and Manhattans… those were amazing."
The men returned with another beside them before Éowyn could inquire after the drinks the red head had mentioned. Éothain joined them, adding to the smiles. "I think our friend over there has drowned himself in mead. Poor man! He misses mead more than is own wife!"
"Who?" Réodwyn asked.
"Over there," Éothain pointed to the tables near the hearth. A larger man sat there that wore a most impressive beard.
"Well, if it isn't Duck's Bane!" she smiled.
Éothain and Éomer exchanged large grins. Éomer shook his head, "I cannot believe you remember that."
Théodred and Éowyn exchanged a look of their own. Théodred asked, confused, "Duck's Bane? Is that a new one?" To satisfy his curiosity, Éothain and Éomer recounted the night where the Éored had sat around the fire, eating soup and duck. The Prince was humored all the more.
"So this is the blueberry mead I've heard of," Éothain exclaimed, having taken a few gulps. "The tartness of it, I did not expect."
Réodwyn lit up. "Blueberry mead? Can I try?"
Éomer, who was closer, leant her his tankard. She took a sip and handed it back. Her face fell after letting the taste roll over her tongue. "Aww… that one is so much better. I'll have that one next time."
Éomer smirked, "Or we could find you one with onions brewed in it." The faces of all with him turned to disgust.
"Eeeww, no!" Réodwyn said, "You make that here?"
"Why? Do you want us to?" Éomer teased.
"Onions!" Éowyn said, "What a ghastly ingredient to honey wine."
Réodwyn said to Éomer, "I like to eat onions, not drink them!"
"You are fond of them are you not?" Éomer asked.
Éowyn slapped Éomer's arm. "Quit teasing the poor girl!"
"How can I not? She makes it so easy," Éomer confessed.
Réodwyn's face went blank, "You were teasing?" She snapped her fingers, realizing the alcohol was affecting her wits. She buried her face in Éowyn's shoulder, laughing at herself.
Théodred asks, "Aren't you rather warm in all that?" He was referring to her layered dress. She wore more clothes than most, even without her thick coat. It was warmer than usual in the Hall tonight, with so many bodies close together.
Réodwyn grinned and said, "You obviously don't know me very well."
Éomer repeated Réodwyn's words, "Théodred, you obviously do not know her very well."
Théodred looked between them, noting they had known each other longer. He agreed, "… Obviously."
Éothain suddenly remembered news he was to give to his Marshal. "Oh yes! Éomer, my Lord, all is set for tomorrow. And the horses couldn't be happier."
"Good!" Éomer replied. "Now fill your stomach while you can."
Éothain laughed, "Like Duck's Bane!" He raised his drink and left in good humor.
"You leave so soon?" Théodred asked, disappointed. "I've just gotten here naught this afternoon."
"I was overdue to return to Edoras," Éomer said, "Now I am overdue to patrol. If you had retuned a day sooner I would have liked to have enjoyed a ride to the river."
"Next time, I suppose," Théodred clinked his tankard against Éomer's making a promise for the next they met. "Where will you go?"
"I shall return to the village at Entwash. I wish to see how the people fair," Éomer said.
"Entwash? Isn't that where…?" Théodred began to ask, but Éomer shot him a warning glance. Théodred saw Réodwyn holding Éowyn's arm tightly. Although Théodred had thought the red haired maiden might shrink from the topic, she added to it by asking,
"Say hi to Earthang for me."
Éomer too had thought she would not speak, so he paused before nodding. "I shall, my Lady."
Not two tables from them, an older man named Gamling stood by the King. He voice was full of concern when he asked, "My Lord! Are you feeling well?" The group turned at this, and saw Théoden had spilled his tankard on the wooden table, its golden contents dripping to the floor.
"Yes, of course," Théoden brushed the question as if it were rude. "Though I think I shall retire. Gamling," he said, giving the man a nod. The King strode away to the door, saying farewells to the joy givers as he passed. There was carefulness to his step, from tiredness or mead, one could not say.
Réodwyn spoke up amongst them, who had grown quiet while watching. "I think he has the right idea. I'll go to bed too." She set her tankard down on the table behind her. Éomer did the same.
"I'll escort you," he said. He offered his arm and she took it gladly. Her step was unsure. Réodwyn said goodnight to the others and let Éomer guide her through the crowd. They reached the inner hallway to find it clogged with people as well. They were quieter, but having just as good a time as those in the main hall. That is, until a dispute arose between two men. It immediately broke into a fist fight. Éomer positioned Réodwyn behind him when one of them stammered backwards toward them. He caught the man and pushed him back into the fight. He looked back at Réodwyn and said, "And this is why I escorted you. Excuse me." Éomer barged in to break up the fight. The two who were involved only heated more, and would find ways even with an intimidating example of a man like Éomer between them. Réodwyn shrunk away and found her back was to a door. She opened it and found herself outside in the night air.
She folded her arms against the cold that met her. The air was dry save for the breath that escaped her. Lights could be seen sparkling from torches down the hill, from homes all celebrating along with Meduseld. The wind still blew, even at night. It drew her skirts to play around her legs. The flapping noise could be heard along with the dulled laughter and cheers (from the fight inside she guessed). Then she noticed her clothes were not the only clothes creating sound. She looked to her left and found she was not alone. It was difficult to make him out since he was dressed in black. Only the face of Wormtongue was visible in the moonlight, pale and white as the light it was given. He had noticed her too, and hastily fastened and put away a small flask in his fine robes.
"Stashing away some mead for tomorrow?" she smirked.
Gríma did not answer. His eyes looked at her, and he stood as though he were a deer listening for predators. "Yes…" he finally said.
The door opened behind her and Éomer came through. Gríma turned and briskly walked away. "There you are," Éomer said. There was a spill on his sleeve, most likely from one of the drunken men, but otherwise not a scratch or bruise was on him. Then Éomer saw Gríma, his robes billowing behind him. Éomer's upper lip twitched. "Come," he offered, "Before you catch cold."
Gazing out to the stars, she said in Westron under her breath, "Liddel dippur?"
Intrigued, Éomer stepped beside her and followed to where her eyes fell in the heavens. It fell onto a small constellation of seven stars. " 'Little Dipper'?" he asked, having translated her words.
She looked at him and then back to the constellation. "Yeah..."
Éomer nodded. He supposed it did look like a ladle. "You know those stars?" he asked. The maiden nodded. Éomer returned his eyes to the walls of Meduseld. He found Wormtongue had vanished from his sight. Unease beset his stomach. He shifted on his feet and set his hand on the pillar. He took a moment before saying, "Réodwyn, may I ask something of you?"
She broke her gaze from the heavens and met his face to see his furrowed brows. "Sure," she said, seeing he was quite serious.
Éomer hesitated, but knew he must continue since he had already spoken. "Would you watch over my sister?" he asked in a hushed voice.
The maiden's face grew concerned. She said, "Yes, of course. But why?" She saw Éomer's eyes flicker to the empty shadows. Her head lifted higher on her shoulders, understanding. "You don't like him."
"I don't trust him," he corrected. "Would you, Réodwyn?" His eyes betrayed his deep concern for his sister, "You can go with her where Théodred cannot. I am to be away for many days, if not weeks. Éowyn only braves to be alone for the sake of Théoden, but Théoden does not see her distain." Réodwyn hushed him with a hand to his shoulder and a smile.
"Éomer, I already said yes. It's okay."
The tall, blonde man relaxed and drew a sigh of relief. He had not wished to burden her with his troubles, but Gríma unnerved him with every sighting. He let his hand fall from the pillar to his side. He said with a newfound calmness, "Thank you, Réodwyn."
"You're welcome," she said, folding her arms again with a shiver. "Come on. It's cold out here."
They went inside. He escorted her to her room and she went to bed. Éomer returned to the hall, and drank. His heart was now content in the knowledge that his sister would be looked after. He gave a silent toast to the Valar. He thanked them for bringing Réodwyn to Rohan.