~Chapter Nine

Now I do what all life must do in the service of life.

Children of Dune by Frank Herbert

            Word was that we had won the battle- but that didn't really matter, did it? The evil forces were diminished, but they would return. I couldn't rejoice over the victory when I was dripping with sweat and trying to scrub the blood with a sopping towel from the floors of the Hornburg. Several waifs approached me, surprised looks on their faces- 'Highness, let me take care of it, you rest'- and I couldn't think of anything to say. I simply shook my head and returned to my work, ripping another patch of cloth from my skirt so that I could get something done.

            I would never have picked this life for myself, ever, when I was a young child living under the stern hand of my father. I dreamed of love and faraway places, and I had gotten both, but not in the way I had expected. Part of me marveled at how far Legolas had been pushed back in my mind by all that had happened. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined going two minutes without thinking of him, and wishing that he was with me. But here I was, on my knees, my hands chapped with lye and blood, my mind dwelling on a mortal.

            Somehow, without my knowing, Théodred had stolen my heart away from Legolas and kept it for himself. I don't know how it happened, or why, or even when, but it seemed that the envelope had been sealed the past night, and I was in love with him. I knew that part of me would always desire the kiss of the Mirkwood prince, and I can swear now that that part of my will never grow smaller, but the regions in my heart governed by resentment of my father and contempt for Théo were growing smaller by the minute, being taken over with my unconditional love for my husband. It was like being sucked into a gentle whirlwind, never letting go of your lover's hand, but then looking up from the love and the feeling of the whirlwind and seeing blackness overhead, and Legolas peering sadly down into the cyclone.

            I sighed and sat back on my heels, surveying my work and all the work ahead. Women walked ahead, piling corpses into a cart and taking them to the main hall for identification and then for burial. Blood oozed from the cracks in the sides of the cart, dripping onto the floor with faint tapping noises. I closed my eyes and tried to swallow another violent bout of nausea, and I squeezed the cloth in my hand, trying to find a source of strength. My hand wrung the saturated cloth of all the fluid it held, and it pattered into a grisly puddle on the floor, staining my skirt. Defeated, I dropped the cloth in a wet heap and wiped my hands on my skirt. My fingernails were crusted and grimy, but that did not stop my from pushing my hair out of my face and smoothing it back as best as I could. I examined the hems of my skirt and selected a fairly dry piece to tear off so that I could continue my work. The cloth came off with a rip and landed in the rusty bucket of lye with a resounding splat. Not bothering to shake the cloth of its excess, I dropped it onto the stone floor and continued scrubbing the stains away.

            Another hand reached into the bucket, drawing out a thick cloth. "I hope your skirt will be able to hold itself together by the time the day is done," said Éowyn with a brand of humor that seemed inappropriate for the circumstances. I managed a small smile as I looked at the clean white cloth Éowyn had brought with her- it was stained red from the dirty water in the bucket even before it touched the floor. She sighed, scrubbing the cloth in a wide circle. Red droplets spread in a rainbow shape as she continued to push the fluids around. "I don't think we'll ever be able to be completely rid of these stains," she said.

            "Don't complain, Éowyn," I said, a grin pulling at the corner of my mouth. "My knees are cramping from kneeling like this for three hours."

            "If you're tired, then go to bed," Éowyn said matter-of-factly. "I'm here now, I can work."

            "If I wouldn't stop working for the servants," I said, "I'm not about to stop working for you."

            "Suit yourself," said Éowyn. A young girl, no older than six, came with a fresh bucket and took away the used one. I could hear the cleaning substances inside slop against the sides of the bucket. Some spilled over the edge and dribbled down the sides onto the floor. Éowyn swept them in to her cloth and continued cleaning, around and around in a never-ending arc. She shook her head and resignedly tore a piece of cloth from her skirt, using it to dry the newly cleaned wet spot on the ground. The cloth was then tossed to me, and I dried my section of the floor before moving on to the next puddle. The different shades of blood mixed together, forming a disgusting rainbow.

            "You have a very interesting work ethic," said Éowyn. "I've never seen any of the workers clean with their eyes closed."

            "I've never seen so much blood in my life," I said, my voice shaking. I could sense Éowyn staring at me for a moment, and then she returned to her own piece.

            Minutes passed, an hour even, before Éowyn said, "the blood of your own countrymen is never a pleasant sight." She sighed and dropped her handkerchief into the now stained lye. "I just wish my blood could be among theirs." Her voice was quiet, but it had a subtle edge under it, as sharp as a knife. I knew that I would never share Éowyn's utter loyalty to Rohan, but simply being able to see her conviction was an amazing sight. She huffed once as she used a tattered sleeve to dry a strip of the stone.

            "Maybe one day, Éowyn," I said, smiling slightly at her. "You're time will come to serve your country in whatever way your country sees best." I stopped at my statement, the swish and swoosh of Éowyn working interrupting my thoughts. I dropped my own pad back into the lye as I sat back and thought about what I had said. Marrying Théo had been my calling, my act of service to my country. If only I had realized this earlier.

            My hands plunged back into the lye, searching blindly for the ragged cotton square. My fingers found it pushed up against the lower rim, and I drew it out and pushed it into the wet mess on the floor. The edges of this puddle were beginning to dry, and crusted blood pellets ground themselves into what was left of my skirt.

            The last rays of sunshine hit the puddle, making it glow a brilliant, nauseating shade of red. I dropped the cloth into the bucket, causing the liquids to splash out onto the floor. A drop landed next to Éowyn's hand. "I think I'm going to take you up on that offer, if you don't mind," I said, turning away from my friend. "I need to go to bed."

            "Alright," Éowyn said. I bade her a hasty goodnight and walked quickly down the glistening hallway to the room that I shared with my husband. Théo and the rest of the patients had been moved to the vast dining hall, which had been converted into a kind of ward when enough of the sick had died to fit the remainder of the living into one place. A servant filled the tub with steaming water and left a fluffy towel next to it. Nothing had ever looked better.

            I slid my toes into the water, the heat opening up the pores of my skin and sweeping away all the blood that had dried on it. I dunked my hair into the water, feeling the nausea wash away with the dirt and the grime. The water lapped against my collarbone as I slid in to heaven, closing my eyes as bits of moisture gathered on my eyelashes. The water cooled around me as I sat in the blurry realm between being asleep and being awake, but soon the water had settled a shade below room temperature and I got out and wiped my skin dry with the towel. I wrapped my hair in a cloth and slid under the covers of the bed that I had grown accustomed to sharing.