[Authoress's Notes:
[The title is from "When You Believe," which slipped into my head when I was writing. The full quote is "In this time of fear/when prayers so often proved in vain/hope seemed like the summer bird/too swiftly flown away." Which I thought was appropriate.]
25 February
The Riders have returned, but not under the circumstances we all hoped for. Their numbers are diminished, and Prince Theodred is most grievously injured. My poor lady has been at his side nearly since he was brought home. She watches his condition worsen – a stomach wound, not often recovered from. She weeps openly now, though we handmaidens have the good sense to pretend not to notice. Lord Eomer is distressed as well. All the Riders are made melancholy – the loss of their brave Prince now looks certain. Some mourn as though he were already dead. (It makes little difference, the entire city has been swathed in black for ages now anyway). And the king?
The king does not seem to notice, only sits on his throne in a mindless stupor. I watched as Lady Eowyn knelt at his side, clasping his hand, begging, pleading with him to return to his senses.
And for me? It is the herald of the approaching storm I have seen. I have slept but little of late… my mind is filled with fire and the stench of death, fear and hate and jealousy and power. I do not wake screaming anymore – more often I just do not sleep. It is beginning to show. "You look like hell," Neyn said upon returning. I'm sure he meant no harm my by it – it's true. I am now as worn and tired as the rest of the city.
27 February
Whatever hope was left for Edoras is, I fear, now lost. Mayhap even for the entire country.
Lord Eomer was banished today, sent from the city, told to leave Rohan on pain of death. Will he really? He has left the city, certainly, but I do not believe he would abandon his country.
The Riders have gone with him. Not all. Some are too afraid, some have fallen under Wormtongue's spell. But the good and noble men, true to Rohan and to the memory of their king… they have gone with him. They have chosen exile over a life here – because life here is not only dismal, but full of lies and deceit. Neyn, of course, has gone. Eomer did not even have to ask him; he was saddling his horse the instant he heard what happened to his lord.
And so they have left. Behind them are those loyal to Grima, those too scared to contradict him… and the women. Neither here nor there. The halls are empty now, cold and quiet, the city still. It seems so very lonely – so many women whose men have gone.
I do not know if I will see him again. It has not really hit me yet, that possible truth. I was numb when he left – unable to cry or shake or plead with him to stay. (I could do no such thing, anyway – a man's noble duty is to stand by his convictions, but I did see other women begging their mates to remain in the city). I simply looked at him. "Be brave," he said. "Be brave, my dearest Lyn. We travel to fight what battles we may, but the danger is truly still here." He jerked his head towards the Hall. Then he dropped a kiss on my forehead, swung into his saddle, and looked down at me. "I hope to return soon." The I may not return at all remained unspoken, but the truth of it hung in the air. "Always remember I love you." I nodded dumbly, too saddened to speak. He put on his helmet and went in search of his fellows.
28 February
Blood, blood, blood… always blood in my dreams…
I have learned the specifics of why Lord Eomer was banished. He crossed Wormtongue one time too many, it seems. He confronted his uncle and did not get past a few words before the viper intercepted. He may have escaped banishment… but apparently there was some discussion of Lady Eowyn. Lord Eomer loves his sister well and is quite protective of her and her interests. I do think Wormtongue threw him out more for interfering with her than with the king. I do not think I have words in my vocabulary suitable for that viper. I shall be sure to ask Neyn for some fitting curses (if I ever see him again). Wormtongue is foul, base, scheming… once he was merely a disgusting sycophant, but now… now he holds the reins of power. And he is more dangerous than ever. And so it was he, far more than Theoden-king, who sent Lord Eomer from the realm.
All this I learned from Eilyn, who was attending the lady at the time.
And as for the Lady Eowyn… she leaves her room now only to see to Theodred and the king. She takes all her meals alone, hardly speaks… her brother's banishment has struck her to the core.
30 February
One of the coldest days yet this winter. The other handmaidens and I spent most of it huddled together by the fire in a pile of blankets. Lady Eowyn spent all day with Theodred, who is steadily worse. We could hear her crying when she finally returned to her chamber. Poor lady…
[Authoress's Notes:
[I swear to everything holy the book says there are thirty days in February.
[It should be well noted that the views and opinions set down here are expressly those of the authoress. And so far as I'm concerned, so far as this point of view goes, it's the truth. You don't like it, bite me.
[Next time: March. The beginning, anyway. I'm not sure how much I'll get through in the next installment, but we're about to get into the return of what's left of the Fellowship, the abandonment of Edoras, and the Battle of Helm's Deep. I just don't know how long it will take me to tell you all of that.]