It was the eve of the Winter Festival. She knew she should be joyous like the others. The snow outside of the Great Hall was growing ever deeper, and the chill in the room was perfectly complimentary to the fires that burned warmly. Her cheeks were blushed rosy against the warmth. She had been bundled into a warm shawl and sat near one of the fires. She wasn't completely positive who had pressed the mug of mulled wine into her hand, but she had drunk much of it. She was sure the rosy color of her cheeks was from more than the fires. But she could not feel the joy that the other Rohirim did.
Here, she felt safe, she felt warm. She was protected. But beyond these doors lay a danger she knew was growing in the world. She was no child, she was a trained swordswoman and a skilled rider. She knew where she wanted to be when the shadow that threatened finally fell. She felt the cage closing around her, like the layers of skirts she wore. She was a woman, yes, and that was not something she was unhappy with. She would not, however, hide while a man fought for her. She would not hide behind anyone. She thought fondly of her mother, as she usually did at moments like this. Her dear uncle had often told her that she was the embodiment of her mother's spirit.
As a mind steadily numbed by mulled wine will do, she let it wander from her bitter thoughts. She let them pass over her people.
They danced to a merry tune played by a small company of musicians. Her brother was even laughing, having taken favor with a young maid from the village and the two were merrily dancing around one of the fires. She felt the ghost of a smile upon her face as seeing his joy. If any, he deserved this happiness.
The children, those who were not already contentedly asleep in a mother's warm lap or near one of the smaller fires, played games. The whole of Edoras had gathered to celebrate the Winter's Eve, the greatest celebration of Rohan, the coming of the King of Winter and the grace of the Lady.
Scanning her sharp eyes over the crowded room, she was startled to note that even her uncle, the king, was laughing merrily with an older woman, near his age. Eowyn blushed faintly at the conotations, but said nothing. She smiled at it.
She was happy, but not joyous. This was the happiest time of year, she knew, the dearest celebrations of her people.
"And what is this, an unhappy maiden left alone to wilt near the fire? None have claimed her hand for a dance?"
She started, glancing up to see a smiling young man above her. Her smile grew to mirror his. When she said nothing, he knelt to sit next to her.
"Are you hiding from a certain young man? I would certainly be happy to chase away attentions unwanted." he prodded, though she was quite certain he wasn't serious. Not that her cousing wouldn't have stood up for her virtue. That, he most certainly would have done.
"No, Theodred. You jest with me." she stated. He held out his hand.
"If I must be the first to claim a dance, then so be it. A white rose such as this one will not wilt by the fires all night."
So she consented to the merry dance with her cousin. She did not realize that many eyes fell upon the two of them as they danced. She did not realize that her dear uncle and brother both smiled at her joy.
"There, now 'tis time for the white rose to find her own partner." Theodred spoke with a gleam to his eye. Eowyn smiled.
"You tire of my company so quickly, dear cousin?" she suggested, sombering slightly but clinging to the joyful mood. He bowed over her hand.
"Nay, I do not wish the ill favors of the men around me for having claimed the hand of so beautiful a maiden the whole evening." With that, her hand clasped firmly in his, he turned her to the right to find that another of the young men awaited a dance with her. Sending a half hearted glare over her shoulder at him, she agreed to the next dance.
She did not mind being led through the motions of the evening, in fact she begrudgingly began to enjoy it.
At some point, for she could not clearly remember after her third or fourth large gulp of wine, her brother placed upon her head a holly crown and named her, at the top of his lungs, the Lady of Winter. She admonished him, but did not remove the crown. She was rather enjoying herself.
But the fires began to burn lower, and the music began to become long ballads that were played much softer. Too slow for dancing, the Great Hall was soon full of very sleepy fellows who would only half listen to the stories being told.
Eowyn smiled dazily, eyes half closed. She could not remember a Winter Festival quite like this one so far. She was just pondering this when there came a rather loud knocking came at the doors. Her uncle, being less adled by the wine than his son and nephew, was the first to call out "Throw open the doors. On a night such as this, all are welcome who bring peace to the Hall."
Two men rushed to throw open the doors. The man who entered was non-descript. He wore a heavy cloak, boots. His hood was drawn around his face. Eowyn was sure he was nearly frozen. Recovering some lost wits, she stood and poured a mug of warm wine and hurried to the guest. She offered it to him. "Merry Winter to you, good sir. Welcome to the Great Hall and our festivities." she greeted. The man accepted the wine and drank deeply. She took back the empty mug and she led him to the fires where he sat to warm himself thoroughly.
Eowyn thought little of the man's entrance. After all, it was not a rare thing for people to show up late at night on the Winter's Eve. This happened nearly every year.
She felt her mind returning to earlier bitter thoughts, and fought them away. She did not want to spoil the joy of the evening with her thoughts. But she felt it, the cage closing around her. Her hand slid up to remove the holly crown from her head. A cage like this holly.
"Greetings, Winter Maid." a rough voice greeted. She started, seeing that it was the man she had greeted earlier.
"And greetings to you, good sir." she returned. He smiled slightly. He was a rough looking man, his voice well suited him. His hair was dark and thick, but had begun to gray at the temples. He sat near her and she wondered at him.
"You are the neice of the king." this was not a question. "You are the one in despair of a cage."
At that she started. She looked up at him, suddenly wary. "Who are you?" she stated, sounding formal though her voice was tense. He smiled half heartedly.
"A friendly soul." he looked at her. "You are not to fear, little rose. You will not die unchallenged and untried. I would wish it otherwise."
She stared at him. "What do you mean?" she asked tersly. He looked at her. His expression was forlorn and saddened by a heavy grief.
"The end will not burn brightly in glory. Be glad of the time you have." the man looked purposely from Theodred to Eomer and then to Theoden. Eowyn tensed further. She opened her mouth to speak, but upon looking at the man, he was gone. She shivered, standing. Looking around, she realized no one had noticed.
She walked over to her brother's resting place. "Eomer." she whispered. He looked lazily up and exclaimed upon her removal of her crown. She shook her head, and spoke. "Eomer, the man disappeared."
Eomer, whom had obviously had a few mugs of wine himself, looked puzzled. "What man?"
"The man whom arrived a few moments ago." she spoke. She was getting rather annoyed.
Eomer again was puzzled. "No one has arrived since the beginnings of the festivities." he assured her. She paused. How could he not remember the man?
She stood and looked at the great doors. "No... He was real. He was..."
She never did finish her statement. She did, however, feel a weight lifted from her chest. Shaking her head slightly, she wondered to herself about the man.
Eowyn returned to her place by the fire with a puzzled expression. She hadn't imagined him, she found herself assuring. He had been real.
By the end of the night, she didn't remember him at all.
Here, she felt safe, she felt warm. She was protected. But beyond these doors lay a danger she knew was growing in the world. She was no child, she was a trained swordswoman and a skilled rider. She knew where she wanted to be when the shadow that threatened finally fell. She felt the cage closing around her, like the layers of skirts she wore. She was a woman, yes, and that was not something she was unhappy with. She would not, however, hide while a man fought for her. She would not hide behind anyone. She thought fondly of her mother, as she usually did at moments like this. Her dear uncle had often told her that she was the embodiment of her mother's spirit.
As a mind steadily numbed by mulled wine will do, she let it wander from her bitter thoughts. She let them pass over her people.
They danced to a merry tune played by a small company of musicians. Her brother was even laughing, having taken favor with a young maid from the village and the two were merrily dancing around one of the fires. She felt the ghost of a smile upon her face as seeing his joy. If any, he deserved this happiness.
The children, those who were not already contentedly asleep in a mother's warm lap or near one of the smaller fires, played games. The whole of Edoras had gathered to celebrate the Winter's Eve, the greatest celebration of Rohan, the coming of the King of Winter and the grace of the Lady.
Scanning her sharp eyes over the crowded room, she was startled to note that even her uncle, the king, was laughing merrily with an older woman, near his age. Eowyn blushed faintly at the conotations, but said nothing. She smiled at it.
She was happy, but not joyous. This was the happiest time of year, she knew, the dearest celebrations of her people.
"And what is this, an unhappy maiden left alone to wilt near the fire? None have claimed her hand for a dance?"
She started, glancing up to see a smiling young man above her. Her smile grew to mirror his. When she said nothing, he knelt to sit next to her.
"Are you hiding from a certain young man? I would certainly be happy to chase away attentions unwanted." he prodded, though she was quite certain he wasn't serious. Not that her cousing wouldn't have stood up for her virtue. That, he most certainly would have done.
"No, Theodred. You jest with me." she stated. He held out his hand.
"If I must be the first to claim a dance, then so be it. A white rose such as this one will not wilt by the fires all night."
So she consented to the merry dance with her cousin. She did not realize that many eyes fell upon the two of them as they danced. She did not realize that her dear uncle and brother both smiled at her joy.
"There, now 'tis time for the white rose to find her own partner." Theodred spoke with a gleam to his eye. Eowyn smiled.
"You tire of my company so quickly, dear cousin?" she suggested, sombering slightly but clinging to the joyful mood. He bowed over her hand.
"Nay, I do not wish the ill favors of the men around me for having claimed the hand of so beautiful a maiden the whole evening." With that, her hand clasped firmly in his, he turned her to the right to find that another of the young men awaited a dance with her. Sending a half hearted glare over her shoulder at him, she agreed to the next dance.
She did not mind being led through the motions of the evening, in fact she begrudgingly began to enjoy it.
At some point, for she could not clearly remember after her third or fourth large gulp of wine, her brother placed upon her head a holly crown and named her, at the top of his lungs, the Lady of Winter. She admonished him, but did not remove the crown. She was rather enjoying herself.
But the fires began to burn lower, and the music began to become long ballads that were played much softer. Too slow for dancing, the Great Hall was soon full of very sleepy fellows who would only half listen to the stories being told.
Eowyn smiled dazily, eyes half closed. She could not remember a Winter Festival quite like this one so far. She was just pondering this when there came a rather loud knocking came at the doors. Her uncle, being less adled by the wine than his son and nephew, was the first to call out "Throw open the doors. On a night such as this, all are welcome who bring peace to the Hall."
Two men rushed to throw open the doors. The man who entered was non-descript. He wore a heavy cloak, boots. His hood was drawn around his face. Eowyn was sure he was nearly frozen. Recovering some lost wits, she stood and poured a mug of warm wine and hurried to the guest. She offered it to him. "Merry Winter to you, good sir. Welcome to the Great Hall and our festivities." she greeted. The man accepted the wine and drank deeply. She took back the empty mug and she led him to the fires where he sat to warm himself thoroughly.
Eowyn thought little of the man's entrance. After all, it was not a rare thing for people to show up late at night on the Winter's Eve. This happened nearly every year.
She felt her mind returning to earlier bitter thoughts, and fought them away. She did not want to spoil the joy of the evening with her thoughts. But she felt it, the cage closing around her. Her hand slid up to remove the holly crown from her head. A cage like this holly.
"Greetings, Winter Maid." a rough voice greeted. She started, seeing that it was the man she had greeted earlier.
"And greetings to you, good sir." she returned. He smiled slightly. He was a rough looking man, his voice well suited him. His hair was dark and thick, but had begun to gray at the temples. He sat near her and she wondered at him.
"You are the neice of the king." this was not a question. "You are the one in despair of a cage."
At that she started. She looked up at him, suddenly wary. "Who are you?" she stated, sounding formal though her voice was tense. He smiled half heartedly.
"A friendly soul." he looked at her. "You are not to fear, little rose. You will not die unchallenged and untried. I would wish it otherwise."
She stared at him. "What do you mean?" she asked tersly. He looked at her. His expression was forlorn and saddened by a heavy grief.
"The end will not burn brightly in glory. Be glad of the time you have." the man looked purposely from Theodred to Eomer and then to Theoden. Eowyn tensed further. She opened her mouth to speak, but upon looking at the man, he was gone. She shivered, standing. Looking around, she realized no one had noticed.
She walked over to her brother's resting place. "Eomer." she whispered. He looked lazily up and exclaimed upon her removal of her crown. She shook her head, and spoke. "Eomer, the man disappeared."
Eomer, whom had obviously had a few mugs of wine himself, looked puzzled. "What man?"
"The man whom arrived a few moments ago." she spoke. She was getting rather annoyed.
Eomer again was puzzled. "No one has arrived since the beginnings of the festivities." he assured her. She paused. How could he not remember the man?
She stood and looked at the great doors. "No... He was real. He was..."
She never did finish her statement. She did, however, feel a weight lifted from her chest. Shaking her head slightly, she wondered to herself about the man.
Eowyn returned to her place by the fire with a puzzled expression. She hadn't imagined him, she found herself assuring. He had been real.
By the end of the night, she didn't remember him at all.