Chapter Eight: Cooking with Deówyn

Deówyn motioned for me to walk around the table with her. She gestured to the dough-filled bowl.

"I am baking for the children's dinner," she told me. "It is strange that I, who have never married, work hard as any mother, is it not?"

I smiled sympathetically and rolled up my sleeves. "The ways of the world are strange indeed."

She looked up at me and smiled, her expression lightening as though a great burden had been lifted from her mind. I reached into the vessel and helped her knead, knocking the thick, heavy dough about forcefully.

"Your weakness seems to have disappeared," she observed, watching me pound the dough.

"And all due to the healing skill of the Elves," I answered. Suddenly, I remembered Duradarion and looked up, but he was gone.

Deówyn grinned wickedly and leaned over to whisper in my ear. "All the while you were sick, that Duradarion Elf stayed in this house. It was a welcome change to have a handsome man within these walls! Perhaps it was a good omen…"
I giggled. "And perhaps, with the advent of another fair maiden, more handsome men shall grace these halls!"

Deówyn stopped kneading and laughed heartily. I grinned at her and resumed kneading, and after a few moments she joined me again.

"I have never seen anyone with skin as dark as yours," she told me, eyeing my dark olive skin, still tanned from the summer.

"It seems that all of the people in your land are pale," I answered. "And their hair is yellow, as well. I feel out of place."

She smiled bemusedly at me, and I wondered how odd I must look with my curly dark brown hair and brown skin.

At that moment, a whirlwind of blond hair, small pattering feet and limbs swept into the room, separating itself into four separate children.

"Aunt! Aunt!"

" We heard the girl is awake!"

"Oh, oh!"

A clamor of small voices reached our ears. Deówyn rolled her eyes at me, and I grinned back at her. She whispered to me again, an edge of gentle laughter in her voice.

"Your coming was the greatest excitement they have seen in all their lives. I have been sore pressed to keep them from your room, for they love to marvel at the colors of your hair and skin."

I quirked my mouth wryly, taking this as further evidence of my oddity, and snorted softly.

"Her name is Thalia," Deówyn was saying sternly, and I marveled at the change from her wicked, girlish laughter only a few moments before. "And she deserves just as much courtesy as I, if not more, for she has been ill. Now, address her as Rohirrim, not savages!"

I almost burst out laughing at the odd parallel with my own mother at home. Some things never change, I guess, I thought. Poor Deówyn! Only twenty-five and bringing up three children alone. I wonder if Eothir knew what a burden he was dumping on her…?

I walked up behind Deówyn and tried to look stern. The children's eyes widened to dinner-plate size, and they appeared to be drinking in every detail of my appearance, a rather disturbing effect, actually.

Deówyn smiled at me bemusedly, and gently pushed forward the smallest boy, whom I remembered as the one whom I had woken up being stared at by. 

"This is Alfwine," she introduced him loudly, and whispered aside to me, "He has been sucking his thumb since he was born almost, and now he is nearly two! I wonder if he will ever take it out of his mouth for long enough to talk."

Next she pulled forward the chubby older boy who had questioned me incessantly.

"And this is Denherin," she told me. I could guess that he took after his father, even before Deowyn told me this- they had the same eyes.

"Freawine." A taller, thin boy who squinted as though he needed spectacles. Whispered, "That one is no warrior, for he loves his books more than anything- it is a labor to take him from his studies long enough to eat."

I was powerfully reminded of my dad, and smiled broadly, imagining Freawine nodding excitedly as my father prattled on about quasars and black holes.

And last, Deówyn brought forth the oldest, the girl who had offered to bring me milk. She was a lovely child, with long flowing hair like spun gold and high cheekbones, but there was a vacancy to her eyes which was reminiscent of the Abercrombie-wearing clones back at my school.

"Freawen." And, whispered, "A beautiful child indeed, but there is not a thought in her head…she lives for the latest dress and dreams about marrying one day."

There was a slight bitter emphasis on the word marrying, and I wondered about the torture it must be to remain unmarried in a society like Rohan's, where women lived the lives of brood mares.

The children were duly banished, and Deówyn and I went back to kneading bread.

"It must be a hard life, caring for your brother's children alone," I murmured sympathetically. She shot me a look of profound gratitude.

"Aye, that it is. But now I have a companion to speak with…and forget not the good luck charm you have brought upon this house! I expect that I shall be married before five winters pass!"

I grinned. "Ah, I am only new-come to this house, and already such a burden is laid upon my shoulders? I will do my best to live up to your hope."

Our conversation continued long after the bread was pounded beyond recognition and baked. We carried on speaking as I boiled a cauldron of water on the stove, got burned a few times, helped Deówyn (whom I had already begun to call Deó, and she to call me Thals) chop up vegetables and meat, and set trenchers on the table.

The kitchen was a happy, bustling whirl of noise and laughter, and I learned much of the cooking of Rohan and the customs of Rohirric womenfolk.

"Be careful, Thals," called Deówyn as I hefted two loaded wooden plates waitress-style. I had tried unsuccessfully to teach her this method, and in the process spilled a few platefuls of food; she had chided me playfully, and I had eventually given up.

"I do not need to!"

She chucked, throwing me a dubious look, and we shared yet another laugh. The table was set, the smell of food was in the air, and the children had not come back yet. But even before I had eaten, I felt very much more sated, full of an afternoon's worth of friendship. Rohan did not seem so frightening anymore, now that I had a friend.