Chapter 5
Carriage-Driver Bircwine
I smelled the comforting aroma of Mother's tonic before my eyes opened to a piercing white light. My head had swam through clouds of sticky sweat and I felt as if I could not move my legs, for they were in a thick swamp or mire or vat of solid butter. But still I felt cold, cold and bruised. My skull pounded.
There, lass, be sleeping easy... don't be waking yeself before ye be ready...
I tried to turn, to get my throbbing head into a more comfortable position, but I could not. My limbs seemed unattached to my body. My eyes fluttered open again and the light stung and made them water, but I squinted and tried to recall where I was and why I was there. Mother's hand felt my forehead and sang to me a song of days gone by in Rohan, a sad sweet ballad I had hazy memories of having sung to me by my mother. I finally moved my hand to grasp Mother's but the hand I found was plump and young while Mother's had always been thin and frail. Realization swept through me as Bircwine's apple-round face swam into view.
There, lady, she said, softly stroking my hair. 'Ow like ye are to ye father in nature, lass, but oh, ow my lady lives on in ye fair face! Her gentle pink fingers brushed on my forehead again and I felt a fierce stab of pain. I realized that, in waking, I had also reawakened the hurts in every muscle of my body. My cry of pain caused Bircwine to draw back instantly and drop the motherly tone which she had assumed and slip back to her somewhat daft, naïve figure.
Bircwine...I do not remember why I hurt so, I mumbled thickly. She clucked pathetically and patted my arm, a comforting gesture that nevertheless shot spears of pain through my arm.
Well, Éowyn, I'm not knowing for meself, nay, tho' I ave been told... she bit her lip.
They're saying ye could ave died, she whispered, eyes open in horror. Ye and ye brother both--bless the lad! And bless that Gríma, sich a dear man; if not for im, coming to find ye down sich a dark place... Ye both the two of ye would join the Queen, bless er, in the royal mounds, the maid finished dramatically with much gesticulation.
Gríma? That courtier who practically lives on bended knee to Fædera? I have seen him skulking about, though I have not thought much about him--
Neither as any of us all, nowt til recent. E is with ye fædera now, I am thinking. Bircwine snatched a cup from a tray that rested on an oak table and poured herself some hot water, not bothering to add the tonic. I sipped my own. How it reminded me of winters in Aldburg clutching a warm cup whilst gazing out at the snow-covered plains, safe in the arms of Mother and talking to Éomer!-- In any case, now e is being treated as quite the
You still have not told me what he has done, I pointed out, and almost spilled the piping hot tonic all over my itchy shift, which, I noticed, was slightly tattered.
Éomer's hand, cold and clammy...
My heart sped up. Yes! Our quest for an inn fire had led us down that snowy alleyway....My untied boot... The hooded man, the one in furs, his sweat making such a stench--how could I not have recalled that?
Sensing my nervousness and excitement as I began to remember, Bircwine stood up and walked over to the window, pulling the heavy green draperies away.
Strange, I--I cannot quite remember waht e told me, Bircwine said, puzzled. But I do know it was quite eroic, that I do remember!
He must have saved us from that man-- I stopped myself. I wasn't so sure I wanted to let Bircwine know about the man who had captured me and injured Éomer, for surely when my brother just fell away like that it couldn't have been his own doing. Éomer! Where was he? I clapped my hand to my forehead, ignoring the pain.
What is it, lass?
Éomer! I must see him.
But e's not...Oh, child...
Without waiting for approval, I sat up painfully and fell out of bed onto the floor. Looking at the gleaming wood up close, I realized something.
Yes, child?
Am I a princess now?
Yea, child, as the foster-daughter of the King some call ye a princess. Bircwine peered down at me curiously. Might ye be needin' a bit o' help getting yeself to ye brother's chamber?
Yes, please, Bircwine. She bent over and pulled me up by the wrists, and I tried not to scream as my arms became aflame. Bircwine's thin eyebrows furrowed in concern.
She pulled a blanket from my bed and wrapped me in it, and then sat me down in Mother's old embroidered chair, the one I sat in each morning as Bircwine braided my hair. Well, ye canna walk, and ye're much too big to carry. Ye are sich a princess o' the Mark that ye'll travel round on ye throne. Courtesy o' Bircwine Brembel's daughter, the throne-carriage-driver.
She took a great running start from across the room and pushed the chair out the open doorway and into the winding stone stairway. We would have to go all the way to the base of my southwest tower to Éomer's southeast one.
'Old on tight, missy, Bircwine growled, grinning, This carriage willna be stopping for nowt. I laughed gaily and clutched the velvet armrests nervously. And off we slid, thumping down the winding stairway with ease, Bircwine wrenching the headrest round the curves and sometimes standing on the supports and coming for the ride with me. Our shrieks of laughter and sometimes fear echoed in the dark tower until we shot through the southwest archway into the Golden Hall, where apparently a meeting was being conducted. Fædera Théoden sat at his chair with that Gríma man and a few of his councillors. All of them stared at us as we flew into the immense hall on the late Princess Théodwyn's heirloom chair, panting and shaking with laughter.
Bircwine was first to compose herself. When she looked up, she immediately stopped laughing and straightened her back. I knew I should not laugh, but one last frightened giggle escaped me before Bircwine erupted in breathy apologies.
My--my gravest regrets, sirs, for interruptin' ye council--the Lady Éowyn and I, we, well, twas under no fault o' the Lady's that this came to appen. Twas all for fault of mine. See, I jsut thought the lass needed a laugh, for what she's just been through...
Worry not, Bircwine Brembel's daughter. Éowyn, rise from the chair, the King commanded, and I rose uncertainly to my aching feet. Are you hurt, my daughter? He himself had risen from his grand throne and approached me cautiously.
No, fædera, uncle, I whispered.
I am glad. Where, might I ask, had you and Bircwine been heading on such a... his golden beard quivered as he struggled not to show his amusement, unique chair?
To Lord Éomer's bedchamber, Fædera Théoden.
On Théodwyn--on your mother's chair?
Yes, Fædera.
He inspected me for a moment, still wrapped in a woolen blanket and shifting my weight from foot to foot, and I saw him suppress a laugh.
Very well. You may be off to the Southeast Tower, Éowyn. But pray do not use anymore heirlooms of the House of Eorl for carriages! Bircwine, you may accompany her. I shall speak with you when I am finished discussing the matter of your young mistress's rescue with my councilmen. He strode back to his seat, and I could have sworn he winked at me before rejoining the conversation.