A/N: In response to questions regarding Seven's Borg implants, yes, she does still have them. They come up in this chapter, so I hope this will answer your questions. Thanks for the reviews so far, and please continue. Thanks!
Chapter 3: Acclimation
Interrupting Seven's musings, Éowyn came back into the room. "You're finished. Good. Your dress is being washed, so I've brought one of my own. It should fit you sufficiently well, though it might be a little short. It's a good thing your boots are tall. The king wishes to see you as soon as you're ready. There should be a comb for your hair in the other room."
Seven nodded assent, then Éowyn deposited the pale blue dress on the bed. After getting new undergarments from her pack, Seven went back into the bathroom and dried her hair as well as she could with the towel, then used the comb to straighten it out. The comb looked like it had been carved from some sort of shell. Returning to the other room, Seven took the clothes and walked back to the bathroom to dress. The dress fell several inches short of the floor and was a little tight across the bust, but it did fit.
Now dressed, Seven walked back into the main room. Éowyn gave her a little smile. "I'm sorry we couldn't find anything that would fit better. If I may be so bold as to ask, how did you come about your name, Seven of Nine? Is it common among your people? Does it have some meaning in your own language?"
"It does have meaning among my people, but it is difficult to explain." Seven didn't want to try to explain her life story to this woman. In this primitive culture, she would do well to explain as little as possible of herself. "You may shorten it to Seven if you wish." She would do well to be as friendly as possible.
"Thank you…Seven." Éowyn seemed uncertain about the whole thing, but she tried to be gracious. Seven almost wished she'd kept her name in Basic rather than translating it into Westron, but Q had done something that made Westron her native language, and it would have been awkward to try to constantly translate. "May I ask about your adornments? They are most unique. Do they have some meaning?"
"Again, it is difficult to explain. The simplest explanation is that they are integral to who I am."
Éowyn nodded, but she appeared confused. "Well, if you're ready, Théoden would like to see you."
Seven nodded, and Éowyn led her out of the room and back to the hall. While they walked, Seven asked Éowyn about how to address the king and how to behave in his presence, and Éowyn gave her a quick summary of the customs of the place. Seven did not wish to offend a potential ally (or make an enemy) through ignorance. Every culture had different traditions. They walked through a long room with tapestries on the walls. The lighting was dim and the effect was gloomy. At the end of the room, the women came to a dais of three steps, atop which sat a small human with white hair and a white beard. He was small and shrunken with age, but he appraised Seven with sharp eyes. The small man who had joined the argument when they first entered the settlement was sitting on the steps just below the king. The leader of the riders—Théodred, Éowyn had called him—was standing just behind the chair.
Éowyn was the first to speak. "Théoden King, this is Seven of Nine. She is the one your son found this morning."
The wizened king raised his head a little. "Seven of Nine. It is an unusual name. I would know how you came to be wandering in our lands. You are obviously a stranger—you do not speak our language, and your markings are strange. Why are you here in our lands?"
"As I told your son, my lord, I was separated from my companion and lost my way. I was searching for habitation of some sort."
"Where is your home?"
"I am from a place very far from here. It is a very long journey." It was the best answer she could give to people who did not understand space travel and without revealing too much about herself or Q.
The king grunted, not convinced. "Why did you leave?"
"I had no family or friends left there. The hope in leaving was to find a new place to exist where I might not be as alone." Again, it was true. With Chakotay's death, she had no close companions left on Earth. Voyager's crew was scattered around the Alpha Quadrant. She was interpreting Q's intentions somewhat liberally, but it allowed her to answer truthfully.
"And where were you going?"
"We had hoped to reach Minas Tirith." It was a lie, but she didn't know what else to say.
"Do you have friends there?"
"No. It was simply a place to start over."
"Hmph. You leave me quite a question. What am I to do with you? I cannot simply send you on your way, not alone, and I do not have the men to spare to escort you to Minas Tirith. Further, you have nowhere to go to even if you reach the White City. We do not willingly accept strangers in these dark days, so keeping you here is hardly an option. So, what should I do with you?"
The little man sitting on the steps spoke for the first time. "How do you know she tells the truth, milord? She could be a spy. Even women may be spies in these dark days, and she is very strangely adorned. Who knows what the symbols could mean?"
"Yes, master Gríma, I know. I cannot simply turn her out, either, or lock her up. The days are not yet so dark that I will do that to a defenseless woman."
In her own mind, Seven fumed about being treated as second class simply because she was female, and as a problem to be dealt with, like a child that needed babysitting. Still, it was apparently to her advantage; her captors would probably treat her better than they might a man. She kept her face carefully impassive, not revealing anything in her expression. Éowyn left her side and walked up to the dais. She started speaking to the king in their own language. Gríma quickly joined the discussion, and then Théodred. The foursome argued for a few minutes, then seemed to come to a consensus.
The king looked over at Seven. "Well, my niece has argued for you to stay here, and my son has joined her. My counselor Gríma is less convinced, but for the time, I will allow you to stay here. Éowyn will tell you where you may go and when. Do not violate our conditions, or we will treat you much more harshly. You will be Éowyn's companion until another decision is made. Perhaps your presence will calm her." The last words were dry and slightly sarcastic. He motioned to the back of the room with his head, and Éowyn returned to Seven's side, bowed slightly, then took her arm and led her out of the room.
"That went better than I might have hoped. My uncle listens to Wormtongue far more than he ought—Gríma, that is. All of us except Théoden call him Wormtongue—for good reason. You would do well to avoid him. He lusts after me, but he fears Théodred and Éomer too much to act. The men will not have the same loyalty for you as they do me, so be careful. It was because he wanted to send you away that Théodred joined me arguing for you to stay."
"Why did you ask him to keep me here?"
"I'm not entirely sure. I suppose you strike me as someone similar to myself. You must be strong and self-reliant to have journeyed several days on your own. Perhaps I read too much into it, but I hope we might become friends, however many or few similarities we do have. I know I should probably be suspicious, but I have the feeling you're not here to cause harm."
Seven paused a moment, considering her words. "Where I come from, women are not considered inferior simply because they are female. There are physiological differences, to be certain, but I am as strong as many men."
"Do you know how to fight?"
Seven looked over at the other woman, not certain what to make out of the question. "Explain, please." It came out curtly, and Seven instantly regretted the tone, but she couldn't take it back.
"Do you know how to fight in battle? Swords, or archery, or the like?"
Seven nodded understand. "I am adept at hand-to-hand fighting, but I am not familiar with weapons such as you might use."
"If you're interested, I could teach you. We would have to do it in secret—the men frown on me fighting enough, and they don't trust you in the first place, but I would like someone to spar with. None of the men will spar with me, so it is hard to maintain my skills."
"If you are not to be allowed to use your skills, why do you work to maintain them?"
"I will find a way to fight in battle. I don't care what they say. Anyway, with Wormtongue around, you would do well to know how to defend yourself. Also, watch your possessions closely. He has sticky fingers." The two of them arrived at Éowyn's rooms. The area was sparsely furnished, with a single small bed and a dressing table. "I'll have a pallet brought in for you. As you've seen, no one is sure quite how far you can be trusted. I hope you'll forgive the suspicion, but none of us is quite sure how far to trust you. I assume you know how to sew?"
"No. I do not know how to sew clothing or anything else."
"Oh, well. Perhaps I will have to teach you that, too. You'll have a difficult time getting anyone to do it for you unless you have some source of money I'm not aware of."
"No, I do not. I am certain I will adapt easily enough."
Éowyn nodded. "The dress you're wearing is an old one of mine that I don't need. You can keep it while you're here. It'll at least give you another outfit besides the one you brought."
"Thank you." Seven recalled that extra clothing was a luxury in medieval cultures. Éowyn must be at least moderately well off to have an extra dresses to give to Seven.
"We can work on letting the seams out on that dress tomorrow once your other one is dry. Until then, I'll show you some of the basics of sewing. You've never even held a needle before?"
Seven shook her head no, and Éowyn got out a needle and thread and started teaching Seven to sew stitches in scraps of fabric. Seven learned quickly, surprising Éowyn. She had nearly mastered the simple stitches by the time the two of them had to leave for dinner.