[Authoress's Notes:

[The mark of a good servant is that she is not seen unless meant to be seen.  At least that's the excuse I'm working with.]

2 February

I have suddenly been thrust from peasant girl to a higher position than I could have hoped for.

Lord Eomer happened to need to speak with Hathneyn while we were out walking today.  Introductions were made, and somehow the lord made the decision that I would be a good companion for his sister.  "Of late she has grown too solitary, too confined.  Perhaps a new handmaiden would serve to draw her out."  I doubt the possibility and my own abilities, but who am I, Abelyn of Alewyth, to argue with the nephew of the king?

And so tomorrow I go to take up residence in the Great Hall, with the rest of the lady's maidservants.  My mother, I think, could not be happier.  This pleases her more than my betrothal to Neyn did.  My father congratulates me.  "I knew you were for better than this."  Even Asther has been subdued.  Neyn could not be prouder of me – I know not why, I did nothing to earn the position but exist and be the beloved of one of Eomer's trusted men.  But, I am to be handmaiden to the greatest lady in Rohan.  It pleases me well.

3 February

Eilyn, Halnith, Freithyn, Aesith.  These are my fellows now, the other handmaidens.  I think it fitting to say some small things about each.  Eilyn is small and sweet, younger than me, with hair far more towards white than gold.  Halnith is an older lady, a distant relation of Lady Eowyn's, very much the mother hen type.  Freithyn is plain in appearance and rather severe in manner.  Aesith has darker hair than many in our land, and is, like me, new – she has been with the lady but two weeks.

Lord Eomer spoke true of his sister.  She is so quiet, so very… alone.  Surrounded by people, and yet alone.

9 February

Lady Eowyn may be distant and even cold, but she is kind as well.

I attended her this morning, helping her to dress and arrange her hair, and we were speaking meaninglessly.  Until she told me the tale she had heard of a peasant girl who had strange visions.  I flushed – probably to the roots of my hair – and told her the truth of it.  "Aye, a peasant girl, but on recently raised above her station."  She smiled weakly.  I told her all that I had seen – beyond what I had told anyone but Neyn – and she listened.  I don't know what made me trust in her so implicitly, confide in her completely… but she listened, and neither declared me mad or bothersome.  She seemed concerned, and expressed her hope that the darkness I saw could yet be stopped.

I hope so, too.

14 February

The wizard is… not dead?
I'm not sure I understand.  But it seems that he is… re-alive.  If that is possible.  I suppose it must be, for a wizard.

Truly, this is no longer at the forefront of my mind.  There is… a darkness rising.  I can't tell what, but it threatens closer now… not these nameless people in my dreams, but my own people…  I see Neyn and Lord Eomer and the Riders meeting some great dark force… but I can not see the outcome.  Perhaps there is none, yet, and it is for all of us to make…

17 February

I know now what the darkness is.  In a way, at least.  From dreams, confirmed coldly by reality.

Darkness spreads into the land from all borders.  (Well, perhaps not all, but I have a very poor grasp of geography).  I don't know what comes from the east… but anything out of Mordor can not bear good tidings.  And the wild men, little better than savage beasts, have started attacking our smaller villages.  Reports have begun coming in daily.  Rohan is in great danger, I am sure of it.

Everyone in Edoras seems nervous.  Even those who don't know of the danger, or don't understand the severity… it is like we can all of us sense the trouble coming.  The city grows bleaker by the day.  The lady grows more distracted and distant, her time spent trying to coax her uncle the king back into being a leader.  Lord Eomer and all the Riders are busy figuring out how to handle the problem.  And of the other handmaidens, only Aesith thinks I am not crazy or, at the very least, worrying over nothing.  And so I have been spending my hours with her, stitching and talking and not spinning.  I am fearful of it… I have no wish to have more doom haunting my head.

23 February

The situation in Rohan grows steadily worse.  Every day we hear tales of terror from the provinces.  Prince Theodred and many of our warriors (Lord Eomer and my dear Neyn included) have ridden out, to try and defend our lands from the coarse invaders.

And here in Edoras…

I have been attending Lady Eowyn when she requires my help.  She is so removed… but I admire her strength.  Another woman in her position might have fallen to pieces by now.  She may be cold, but she is still whole.  Parents gone, her aunt as well, and her uncle… withered and old, little more than a puppet to Grima Wormtongue's whims.  I perceive from Lady Eowyn a double hatred for the man – I have seen in his glances a dark lust, one I believe she seeks desperately to escape.  It makes my skin crawl.  Would that he might crawl back to whatever pit from whence he came, and leave my lady, land, and king alone.  All the citizens of Edoras have seen the king's rapid decline these past few months, and we all know… no matter the actions, it is Wormtongue behind them.  Our king is a shadow of the man he once was.

I think my lady weeps in silence, without tears.  She is crying inside, too proud and strong to let it show.  For what, though?  A woman may cry over many things.  Loss, then?  Or lack of hope… She has such a spirit, my lady.  But I think it may be suffocating.  She is alone so often, only calling on someone to attend her when she absolutely needs it… To be alone with her thoughts… it surprises me not at allthat she is so distant and melancholy.

I miss Neyn already.  They only left early this morning, but already I miss him.

24 February

Lady Eowyn has taken to keeping a woman near her at all times when she is from her chamber.  Wormtongue is less likely to wind his way into her company when she is accompanied by one of us.  She has not confided so in me – nor, from what I can gather, in Eilyn, Halnith, Freithyn, Aesith, or indeed anyone at all – but I believe she deeply desires to avoid him.  I can not blame her.

He is deceptive, manipulative.  I have had the opportunity now to see him near the king… he weaves his words as a spell, designed to make the king believe whatever he says.  Our once proud ruler has been reduced to a mewling kitten at Wormtongue's feet.  It makes me sad to see.

[A/N:  Eilyn = ai-lin, Halnith = hall-neeth, Freithyn = frey-lin, Aesith = eh-sith

[Next chapter:  The rest of February.  Wounding, banishment, ill omens… and that's all *before* things get really bad.]