This chapter, like the past two, delves into Calahdra's past. Following this chapter in the End Notes are a few points I hope you'll take note of. Please enjoy :)
If a person's single purpose for existence was to destroy that of others, did they even deserve a second life?
My hand curled about the tassels tied loosely to the edges of my pillow.
Calahdra Medlinniel. A white horse running towards the unknown, fleeing from its past, rushing into battle. A symbol of Rohan.
Calahdra Medlinniel. A single name written in red, born of two races, of two heritages, of two lands. A heroine of three quarters of her kin.
Calahdra Medlinniel. An icon, a figurehead, a name. Written in the color of blood, above the epitome of freedom and innocence.
Tied to a background of endless blue with the very substance it was made of. A breakable, moldable substance that had no more significance than the fibers it itself was spun from.
A sharp knock upon my door finally jarred me awake.
"A moment," I called, simultaneously whipping a tunic over my head.
A rather scruffy messenger boy was waiting for me. "You have a visitor, my lady. He awaits you in Meduseld, in the East parlor room,"
"Did he give a name?" I asked.
The boy shook his head.
"Odd. Well, thank you,"
The boy remained even when I moved to close the door. It was then that I noticed the circles beneath his eyes and the state of his clothing.
I sighed and snatched several copper coins from my dressing table. "For food," I told him sternly.
"Yes, of course, my lady," and with a bow of his head, he left.
I dressed in my only remaining clean tunic and a pair of ragged riding breeches, all the while haphazardly throwing my dirty or torn clothes in a pile upon my trunk. When my good knife was hooked to my belt and my boots were laced I finally dared to look in my mirror, only to grimace at the reflection.
My hair honestly looked as though it wished to consume my head, and I had never seen more dirt on any living creature's surface than my own. I scrubbed violently until the mud was gone, but the bruises beneath could not be undone…nor could the scar upon my head be covered up. And my hair was tossed into a high horsetail that was possibly as unfashionable as could be.
I couldn't smile at the new face before me, but I could at least leave my room.
I chastised myself severely when, upon entering the courtyard outside my quarters, I realized I had slept until mid-afternoon. My stomach, too, was quite unhappy with my slovenliness.
But food would have to wait, for I had a visitor. A nameless, rather unsought for visitor who had resorted to hiring a needy street urchin as his messenger.
Upon entering Meduseld, I was greeted by many men whom I did not know. It seemed that my fame would take some getting used to.
And when an entire tray of lunch foods was brought to me by a maid, I realized that it was going to take a great deal of getting used to.
"Just an apple, thank you," I told her, plucking a rather large, green fruit from the tray.
"Are you sure, my lady? I was told you would be famished…,"
"Well, certainly. But I have a visitor. Could I sneak into the kitchens after, perhaps?" I asked, letting my tone lilt into the street cadence I reserved solely for my friends in the city.
The woman smiled and nodded, "Tell them Kelas sent you,"
I bid her thanks, but was consumed with a skewed sense of guilt as I walked away. Since when had I become an equal to royalty? Or rather, when had those I had once been equal to suddenly fall to a lower status than I? For I had done little more than fight. Like any other soldier, I had had my part to play.
A different voice, one that was a hint snider than all the others called out a different question; "Why couldn't you have been treated with this regard from the start?"
But I shoved that voice back into its place, fearful of becoming too spoiled in my new role.
By then, I had reached the place of my meeting, and I knocked on the great doors of the parlor with some hesitation.
The door was opened, and I stepped inside. Before me, lounging on a chaise in front of the fireplace was Huor.
My eldest brother was my nameless visitor.
He appraised me for a moment in silence, perhaps a little surprised at my appearance. But then he got up and came to me, his arms spread wide as if to hail me.
"Calahdra. I have missed you, sister,"
And he embraced me…something he had never done before.
"Huor," I returned, a catch in my throat suddenly twitching as his body enfolded mine.
When he pulled away, he did so only for a moment before catching my face in his hands and looking over me, as if I required his inspection.
It was then that I realized we had an audience.
It was then that I realized he was merely acting.
"You look as though you've seen more peaceful days, little sister," he announced with a chuckle.
"I have," I responded. "We all have,"
"That is very true. Come, join me," He motioned to the sofa he had been lazing on.
I did join him, but I was careful to maintain a more military stance than he had. Across a low table from myself and Huor was Barhime, a Marshal of equal rank as my father, and a man I recognized as an Orderly of the High Court.
Mother had not given up her fight. She still wanted Huor to take over father's position, just as Eofel had said.
And now that I held a position of power, I was just the sort of ally Huor needed in order to sway the courts.
It took me but thirty seconds to see through the shallow depths of my mother's plot. It took thirty minutes for the three men about me to so much as preface the importance of my support for their campaign.
And when they were finished, and my ears had just about shriveled and died with their overuse of the words 'duty', 'good of the people', and 'balance in a time of war', I responded quite simply.
"As a Shieldmaiden, I can do nothing but support the politics of my King. And in this time of war, what with death and assaults being foremost in everyone's mind, there is very little politicking to support. So I encourage you to pursue your suit in the court of law and I wish you the best, but there is nothing I can do,"
"But Calahdra, surely you hold some sway not as a Shieldmaiden, but as my sister. Don't the ties of family bind you to some endorsement of my plans?" My brother asked after a stunned moment was shared by all three men.
I gave Huor a cold, breathless stare. "Your sister and the Shieldmaiden of Rohan are now one in the same, Huor. Or perhaps you missed that crucial detail whilst plotting with mother. Regardless, I suggest you take your inquiries elsewhere,"
And I stood to leave, but not before Huor snatched at my wrist.
"You would sooner rot on some battlefield than aid your own kin? You would forsake the only member of your family who has yet the patience to speak with you?"
I took a deep, steadying breath before meeting his eyes once more.
"You are no kin of mine, Huor. You lost that privilege many years ago, upon the bank of a brook in the Firien Wood when I was but a child and you not yet a man,"
Huor dropped my arm as if it was branded with evil.
And I left the room, my pulse now laced with malice and my purpose that of destruction.
I unleashed many arrows upon the targets of the archery range that evening. And on an empty stomach, no less, with a bow and arrows that I had never touched before. For hours, I lay siege upon the hapless bull's-eyes. And my fury must have been clear to all, for no one said a word to me.
When darkness fell at last, and I could no longer see the targets, I fell to my knees. I was an awful mess at that point…a blob of sweat, tears, scars, and hormones.
Never before had I craved Legolas more, and yet I was grateful for his absence. If he had seen me then, he surely would have died of grief.
And after what seemed like several eternities of my noiseless sobs and maniacal howls, a cloak was draped about me and an arm lifted me up.
I was led by the waist to a bath somewhere, and later I found myself in a bed that was not my own. But beyond that, I knew only sleep.
Oddly enough, it was Eowyn who had been my savior. When I awoke the next morning, I found her curled up next to me in a very large, hideously comfortable bed.
I sat with a start and ran my hands through my hair, expecting to encounter snarls. But instead, my fingers met soft, newly washed waves. And, upon further inspection of my arms, I found that I had been dressed in sleeves of pale beige silk. In fact, I was wearing an entire nightgown of pale beige silk.
And when I stood from the bed, I found also that my wounds had been re-bandaged, a new set of clothes were awaiting me along with my jewelry, knife and boots, and a whole basket of green apples had been set on the desk across from the bed.
I placed my hands to my temples in wonder. Somehow, I would have to find a way to repay Eowyn. Never had anyone shown me such kindness.
"Good morning," Eowyn's voice greeted me from behind. I turned to see her now sitting up, gazing at me with her shockingly crystalline eyes.
"Eowyn, how did all of thi...?"
"I was out on my nightly walk when I found you, Calahdra. I could tell then that you did not need a healer or a soldier or a lover. I could tell that you needed a friend. And so I brought you back, gave you a bath, and managed to get you to eat," She told me, now stretching beside the great bed. Upon seeing the same bewildered expression on my face, she added "I'm sure you don't remember much of it, seeing as how you kept dosing off,"
"I remember nothing," I said, incredulous yet.
"Well, simply because you don't remember doesn't me it isn't true. Now come. Take breakfast with me. And then we'll get you dressed up properly for Legolas' return,"
At the very mention of his name, I was utterly alert and quite compliant. Eowyn, upon sensing this, laughed and beamed at me.
She led me through several hallways I had not encountered to a similarly unrecognizable dining room. It was small, cozy, and had many windows facing the plains of the south and the mountains in the west.
"You would have thought that I might have noticed this from the outside,"
Eowyn smiled. "This is the royal breakfast chamber. It was designed strategically so that we might be able to eat in peace during a siege,"
I chuckled. As we sat at the single, rather rustic picnic bench, a maid entered the room.
"What can I serve you, my ladies?" she asked.
"Porridge for us both, please. And some of that mead that I had yesterday morn," Eowyn said.
"Just water for me, please," I said.
The maid nodded politely and left us.
"Do you not drink alcohol, Calahdra?" Eowyn asked.
"I avoid it if I can," I said, suddenly uncomfortable. As I nervously ran my fingers over the rough edges of the table, I noticed an odd carving. Upon further inspection, I found it to read 'Theodred smells of skunk'.
With a laugh, I looked to Eowyn. "Did Eomer write this?"
She glanced at where I was pointing and gave me a mischievous grin. "It was either him or I,"
But I watched as her face fell, and I reached across the table to take her hand in mine.
"I have heard tales of how close the three of you were as children. The staff and city folk all told me such marvelous tales of your adventures. I am sorry Theodred was lost, Eowyn,"
She gave me a kind smile. "Thank you,"
Our food was then brought to us. Eowyn received her porridge and a small bowl of blackberries. I received mine with an apple.
"My love for these fruits must have become widely known,"
Eowyn smirked. "We thought it cute, the staff and I. For some reason, you lose all your deadliness and all your fierceness when people think of you munching away,"
We sat in a comfortable silence as we finished our rather delicious meal; I was delighted to find my porridge to be mashed full of all sorts of nuts and berries. Part of me was jealous of …owyn's good fortune. When I admitted this to her, she told me that I was welcome to the dining chamber any time I wished.
"Theoden's party should arrive soon," she said. "There's going to be a banquet this evening, you know,"
I smiled at her. "Your uncle guessed as much,"
Eowyn smiled too. "Do you have a dress to wear?"
I thought for a moment. My pale blue dress and my funeral attire were the only dresses I owned, and neither was quite appropriate for an honorary banquet. I shook my head, somewhat fearful of Eowyn's reaction.
She reacted as I thought she might.
"No? We must fix that at once!" she said, following a gasp.
And so I was rushed back to her dressing room and forced to sit upon her bed while she searched through her wardrobe.
"You're quite a bit slimmer than I, especially in the chest…," I heard her say, and I blushed girlishly, "But I think one of my older dresses might fit you,"
And with a dramatic swish, she pulled two dresses out from the closet and presented them to me.
Both were far more regal than anything I had worn before, but they were undoubtedly beautiful. One was deep burgundy, with a square neckline and a rather voluptuous skirt. I cringed a bit at the thought of dragging it about all night long.
But the second captured my heart at once. It looked much like something a true elf maiden was supposed to wear, for it was made of fine silk and had long, draping sleeves. I reached out to it at once, and ran my hands over the smooth, golden bodice.
"I like this once very much," I told Eowyn, and she grinned as she laid the fine garment over my outstretched hands.
"It has been a long time, you know, since I took much pride in my looks," I told her quietly, for my thoughts had turned to my mother and what her reaction might have been if she had ever seen me wearing such a dress.
Eowyn was quiet, too, perhaps sensing my distress.
I looked up at her. "My mother was bent on molding me into something beautiful. She wished for me to become her doll…a perfect picture of an elf maiden. But I did not grow to look the part. At least, not in her eyes. I was too human. Too average. And she loathed me for it. Or rather, hated me more for it,"
Eowyn sat next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. It was a foreign touch; a gesture entirely of friendship, which was not something I had been exposed to before.
"I always wondered, though, if I really could look the part. And this dress…it looks so much like the things she used to wear,"
Eowyn gave me an encouraging shove. "Try it on, then,"
I smiled, and strode to her dressing partition. Eowyn came with me. "You're going to need help with all of those laces," she explained.
Despite my initial embarrassment at disrobing before her, I truly did appreciate her clearly experienced hands. The corset-like bodice was crisscrossed with very fragile ribbons, and I would have had no patience at all with seeing to all of the loops, clasps, and knots.
When I was announced as dressed and prodded towards a mirror, I gasped.
I really did look like an elleth. And when I pushed my hair behind my telltale ears, Eowyn gasped as well.
I looked like something out of a fairytale; like Lúthien always looked in my mind's eye. A silhouette of pure gold, with the curves I had always dreamed of and the natural beauty of a woodland sprite.
I met Eowyn's eyes and whispered my thanks. Gently, she placed a hand on my cheek and ran her thumb in a circle about my jaw.
"You are very welcome, Calahdra," and in her voice was a very compassionate, almost motherly tone that would have instantaneously set me at ease had I been at all troubled.
The two of us then changed, and I dressed in my new attire. I was pleased to find that my new clothing fit much better than my last set, for I had lost a great deal of weight since last I had mended my clothing.
Eowyn herself was in one of her usual dresses. Not her white one…which I had always been vastly jealous of…but one that was more characteristic of typical Rohirric female garb.
We made our way to the main hall of Meduseld and sat upon the chaise near the throne. We were silent, mostly, for I suspected that both of us were anxious for the arrival of someone from Theoden's guard.
I wondered, then, if Eowyn knew of Lady Arwen and her impact on Aragorn's current state of mind. Of course, if Arwen had indeed sailed to Valinor, then the White Lady of Rohan would be perhaps the wisest choice of all the ladies of Middle Earth to court. But I knew Aragorn better than to think him capable of romancing any woman during a time of war.
In my reverie, I had absentmindedly taken to twirling my knife about in my hands. I awoke when it was plucked from my hands.
"This was your father's," she said, inspecting the carvings upon the hilt.
"How did you know?"
"I have met him. Many times, actually, for his sister was my mother's lady in waiting and moved with Eomer and me to Meduseld. She stayed with us until her passing, but he visited her many times before then. I had always admired this blade,"
"I did not know that, Eowyn. In fact, I had no notion of my father ever having a sister," I told her, flabbergasted.
Eowyn looked as if she was going to respond, but she was interrupted by a guardsman.
"Theoden's party has been spotted, my ladies. They are but a quarter hour away,"
We both jumped up at once. Eowyn made for the porch, whereas I made for the stable.
I raced as if I was a child, hunted by some unseen demon. And when I reached the stables, I immediately went to Meleare and leapt upon her back.
"I was napping, you know,"and I smacked my mare's rump in chastisement.
"I very much doubt that, you sassy creature,"
"What has you in such a mood?"she asked, stretching her neck to her hay basket.
"Legolas is coming home,"
I was in far too good a mood to correct my mental slip up. But Meleare was perceptive.
"He is not from here, Calahdra. He is not a man of Rohan,"
"I know that,"
"Then why do you treat him as such? Why do you act as though he is made of the same stuff as you or I or any number of the Horsepeople?"
Rendered mute by her question, I ran my fingers through her mane in silence.
And then a realization…the obvious answer to her question…came upon me like thunder: slow at first, but then with a momentous climax that left me stunned, awed, and humbled.
"Because he is my family, Meleare. As you are, or father was, or even Eowyn is now. Because he found a way into my heart and a piece of me is now in his. And for that reason, we are made of the same stuff,"
Because family was not a term that had any connection to bloodlines or origins. It was not a label to be placed next to names or faces.
Family was an honor.
Family was a definition.
Family was a substance that tied every living thing to its background, its name, its fate.
And unlike a thread, family was unbreakable.
Chapter End Notes:
Before the story progresses any further, there are several points I'd like to make that might widen your view and refresh your memory.
First of all, Calahdra's depression hasn't up and disappeared. As evident in this chapter (as well as practically every other), her past still haunts her and Legolas' presence in her life merely masks the pain. He really hasn't done much to heal her. And as anyone who has suffered from depression knows, you can't be magically cured of it. It generally fades away until you don't notice it anymore. Calahdra is a perfect example of that.
Secondly, Cal has many facets. Three, as I like to imagine. One is the human side, which has as many faults as it does strengths. Although it is this human side that makes her so relatable to both the readers and the writer, it is also the side that makes her vain, ignorant, stubborn, and bitter. It is this side that fuels her depression and damages her 'elven' side.
It is her 'elven' side that contains all the parts of her that we as readers can only dream of; the internal eloquence and wisdom, the beauty and the feline-like strength, the spirituality, and the passion. This is the side that she herself is both reverent and terrified of.
And lastly is the Shieldmaiden. The girl that is not a girl. The warrior that is more than a warrior. The icon, the idol, and the burgeoning celebrity. And(as brushed upon in this chapter, while this is what she believes is her destiny, it is not the side of her that she desires to become. This side is perhaps even more damaging than the human part of her. This is the side that would either descend into darkness and martyrdom, or ascend into godliness and martyrdom. Both sides, perhaps, are equally as tempting.
And finally, Legolas himself is not a saint. He, as mentioned before, has merely expressed his displeasure with Calahdra's grief, and has not acted to heal it. He also has a temper, which he claims is his a result of his love for her. And for all of his promises to tell her of his history and of the Fellowship, he has not fulfilled a single one. So is he the perfect elf that so many of us dream of? No. Not in this story. And where his faults will lead him and our heroine, I haven't quite decided. But let's just say that Calahdra will realize all of this in due time.
So, thank you for enduring that mini character analysis :) I wanted to share my thoughts with you guys, and please, leave me any comments or concerns you might have in regards to it. You can also formspring me any questions you might have at Whisper512.
Happy reading and many thanks!
