Here Be The Wedding. Muahahahahahaaaaaaa.....
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Warning: Male Pregnancy Fic. No making out, maybe some kissing... why do I even bother with a warning this late in the fic?
Gondor: With the onset of labour, Legolas can no longer remain in denial about his pregnancy. RoTK, post coronation but before Faramir marries Eowyn. Movieverse, cos bookleggy isn't so fun to toy around with. He'll kill me before I even *think* about messing with him. Movieleggy is much MUCH more fun to bully..... Also starring Faramir & Eowyn, with some reminders of Boromir thrown in.
And as before, //..... \\ indicates a person's thoughts. (Responses to reviews at bottom.)
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Life!
Chapter 11
The day of the wedding dawned bright and lovely, and cheerfully oppressive. At least it seemed that way to Eowyn. She had never been so unsure of anything in her entire life, and she was certain that it showed in her face and expression.
All around her the women bustled, making some last minute adjustments to her clothes, to her hair, rubbing soft cream into her arms and chest, sprinkling her all over with rose oil..... She felt suffocated. The fragrance of the oil choked her and the beauty cream made her feel like she was being coated in a thin layer of cold grease.
They meant well, she was sure they did, treating her with venerability that befitted only the highest of royalty. Many of them actually *were* the queen's women, part of the elven company that Arwen kept with her, but their presence only unnerved Eowyn even more. She might have been born and bred as a noble, but she had never been from a truly wealthy house. She had never experienced such luxuries, and it unsettled her.
She missed her sword, she realised with a shock. She never thought she would, but she did. She missed the adrenaline rush that brandishing a length of cold hard steel gave her. She missed the power it made her feel. And mist if all, she missed the masculinity that it entailed. All her life she had been trained to take on duties an ordinary noblewoman would never dream of having, duties of politics, of regent, of shieldmaiden and of caregiver, but it seemed as if her days in the sun would soon be over, and all her training would be put to waste. Would she ever be allowed to put her skills into use anymore?
Once more, she thought of Faramir's new house of Ithilien and shuddered. Prince of Ithilien. Surely that was more formal than anything she was used to. She would have servants to oversee the household, and most likely servants to oversee those servants as well, and all the more manly affairs will be settled by the man of the house. There will be little for her to do but sit and sew. Would she even be allowed to take up a weapon again? She had heard that some houses thought it ill luck for a lady to bear arms. Would his house be one of them?
And even if it was not, what of her? Would she be reduced to acting the part of a loyal wife and faithful companion to the prince? How could she undertake that helpless, stifling role and still retain that part of her soul that was so distinctly her?
And what of children? She would have to bear him children, otherwise he would be forced to cast her away. It didn't matter if he still loved her or not, it would be as a duty to his house, and here Eowyn was stuck. What if all her days as taking on a masculine role had left her barren?
Oh, her head swam with a million and one thoughts, each more distressing than the last, so that when one of the women dabbed some of that godawful cream onto her neck, she twisted free and screamed at everyone to leave her be. One by one, they filed out of her chamber, each giving her sympathetic looks and murmuring something about "the poor girl and her wedding jitters".
Finally allowed some space to herself, Eowyn collapsed weakly onto her bed. Her bed. Her bedroom. Her private space. Soon it would all be taken away from her, and everything she owned would belong to Faramir. And he would own her, heart, body and soul. Part of her felt like ripping her dress off and shredding her headdress to pieces, but she knew that the only thing it would achieve would be to get her yet another unbearable grooming session, courtesy of the Rivendell waiting women.
"Help me," she whispered to the silent walls. "Somebody, help me!" She felt tears prick at her eyes. //NO!\\ the thought, firmly swallowing any visible signs of her distress. Crying would only smudge the awful powder they had dusted her with, and then she would have to be made up yet again. The last thing she wanted was another dusting. And so there was nothing left for her to do but gather her dress about her and run all the way down to Legolas' room.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Back at last in his own personal chamber, the elf stared at his reflection in the glass. He looked good, he decided. Well, good enough to disguise his ordeal at least. Satisfied with his reflection, he turned to see his child, and found his eyes welling up with tears. His son! His precious son! He loved his son so much..... so much so that he was willing to do anything in his power to save the child from the wretched life Legolas had to offer him.
He had made up his mind three days ago, shortly after Eowyn had left, and though it stabbed him to the soul, he knew he had little choice. His love for his son would force Legolas to let him go.
He lifted the child from it's makeshift crib and cradled it for awhile, singing softly in elvish. He knew his son liked to be sung to, and so he did, even though the weight of his grief made every syllable choke him as it left his lips. "Oh, my love, my heart," he breathed. "Remember your Ada. Remember that your Ada loves you. Remember that he always will....." And though he had plenty more to say, he stopped, too overcome continue. "Oh my most precious little darling....."
"Legolas!" Eowyn cried, pounding on the door. "Legolas! Legolas, open up! Open up NOW!"
Legolas looked up and hurried to let her in, but not before he wiped his tears dry. It would not do to let anyone see him cry. Not even her. "What's the matter?" he called out, holding the baby with one hand as he worked with his other to push back the bolts. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for your wedding?" He somehow managed to slide the bolts back and swung open the door. "What are you doing here?"
Eowyn entered without being asked and closed the door behind her. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be at the wedding!" she screamed. "You promised! You promised....." she trailed off wretchedly, her anger giving way to sobs. "You promised, you promised, you promised."
"And I am," he said soothingly, cupping her face in his hand. "I will be. I'm getting ready," he said. "Shouldn't you be getting ready as well?"
"I don't want to." she said. She looked like she was having trouble breathing. "I'm scared."
Legolas sat her down and handed the child to her, knowing from her reactions these past four days what a calming effect his son had on her, and true enough, Eowyn soon quietened down. After awhile, a sunny smile played on her lips as she looked down into the tiny face in her arms.
"Now tell me calmly, what's the matter."
"I don't know. I don't want to get married."
"But I thought you love Faramir."
"I do. I don't know. At least, I think I do. But what if it's a mistake? What if I don't? What if I just think I love him? Oh, I don't know, I can't love him, it's impossible to be in love with two people at the same time, but then I do. I am," she said in a small voice. "I don't know what to do. Legolas, I feel so lost."
"You belong with him, Eowyn. You were made for each other. Anyone who's ever seen you together would know that much."
"But I love you..... well..... I think."
"Hush, you think too much," he said, laying a hand on wound that rested above her heart. "Feel, Eowyn. What does your heart tell you?"
"That I love you. And that I love him. But--"
"No buts. Your heart doesn't lie," he said and kissed her. "It's perfectly normal for one heart to love two people, Eowyn. What else does it tell you?"
"That he's waiting for me."
Legolas smiled sadly. "Good girl."
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Well, this is certainly an interesting fic to write. It felt like an odd cross between the rather liberal (tho power centred) Middle Earth of the books, the extremely liberal Middle Earth of the movies and the choking medieval climate of our reality. Really, it felt odd. Oh well, what can I say? Tolkien was a lit prof, not a historian or a sociologist, and some of the practices of his peoples were really out of sync with what I've come to learn about the past. And although I know that this IS a Tolkien fanfic, I felt inclined to go with the attitudes and practices of our world.
By 'practices' I include stuff like how the birthing was carried out in chapter 8 (if any of you know of tolkienesque childbirth, PLEASE email me!), the treatment of women (so Eowyn is a little toned down, a little more weepy and sees herself mainly in relation to the men around her. But even the toned-down Eowyn would be outrageous modern/ feminist as a real world medieval chick.).
In the next chapter, I'll be dealing again with the rights and position of women in marriage (she belongs to him, and she has no power of her own and so she speaks not as herself but as F's wife.), the idea of an average noblewoman as hostess rather than as politician (but as everyone knows, Eowyn being Eowyn is not an average noblewoman.) and the overall patriarchal atmosphere of the time.
And no, I don't think I'm a feminist. I don't downright *resent* that it we used to have a patriarchal system. I just recognise to what extent that it was different, that's all.
M'Ress: Awwww..... you don't like het? Hehe. *Fazy cracks brains* well, I guess if there's any consolation, there's not *that* much of it? Err..... then again, maybe that wont work. You can always see Eowyn and Legolas as belonging to a sort of cult or brotherhood or something. I know I do. It's like, the two of them constantly need to project an appearance of outward calm and strength, and that's incredibly draining on the soul..... think of it of more like a mutual support group. It isn't love the way it is with Eowyn/ Faramir or Legolas/ whoever-ada-is. But Legolas and Eowyn do develop a kinda funny sorta relationship tho.
CandiX: Yay! glad u liked it! haha, and i'm glad u liked where it was going. i was afraid a lot of your guys wont! lol! haha. and more comming your way very soon.
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Warning: Male Pregnancy Fic. No making out, maybe some kissing... why do I even bother with a warning this late in the fic?
Gondor: With the onset of labour, Legolas can no longer remain in denial about his pregnancy. RoTK, post coronation but before Faramir marries Eowyn. Movieverse, cos bookleggy isn't so fun to toy around with. He'll kill me before I even *think* about messing with him. Movieleggy is much MUCH more fun to bully..... Also starring Faramir & Eowyn, with some reminders of Boromir thrown in.
And as before, //..... \\ indicates a person's thoughts. (Responses to reviews at bottom.)
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Life!
Chapter 11
The day of the wedding dawned bright and lovely, and cheerfully oppressive. At least it seemed that way to Eowyn. She had never been so unsure of anything in her entire life, and she was certain that it showed in her face and expression.
All around her the women bustled, making some last minute adjustments to her clothes, to her hair, rubbing soft cream into her arms and chest, sprinkling her all over with rose oil..... She felt suffocated. The fragrance of the oil choked her and the beauty cream made her feel like she was being coated in a thin layer of cold grease.
They meant well, she was sure they did, treating her with venerability that befitted only the highest of royalty. Many of them actually *were* the queen's women, part of the elven company that Arwen kept with her, but their presence only unnerved Eowyn even more. She might have been born and bred as a noble, but she had never been from a truly wealthy house. She had never experienced such luxuries, and it unsettled her.
She missed her sword, she realised with a shock. She never thought she would, but she did. She missed the adrenaline rush that brandishing a length of cold hard steel gave her. She missed the power it made her feel. And mist if all, she missed the masculinity that it entailed. All her life she had been trained to take on duties an ordinary noblewoman would never dream of having, duties of politics, of regent, of shieldmaiden and of caregiver, but it seemed as if her days in the sun would soon be over, and all her training would be put to waste. Would she ever be allowed to put her skills into use anymore?
Once more, she thought of Faramir's new house of Ithilien and shuddered. Prince of Ithilien. Surely that was more formal than anything she was used to. She would have servants to oversee the household, and most likely servants to oversee those servants as well, and all the more manly affairs will be settled by the man of the house. There will be little for her to do but sit and sew. Would she even be allowed to take up a weapon again? She had heard that some houses thought it ill luck for a lady to bear arms. Would his house be one of them?
And even if it was not, what of her? Would she be reduced to acting the part of a loyal wife and faithful companion to the prince? How could she undertake that helpless, stifling role and still retain that part of her soul that was so distinctly her?
And what of children? She would have to bear him children, otherwise he would be forced to cast her away. It didn't matter if he still loved her or not, it would be as a duty to his house, and here Eowyn was stuck. What if all her days as taking on a masculine role had left her barren?
Oh, her head swam with a million and one thoughts, each more distressing than the last, so that when one of the women dabbed some of that godawful cream onto her neck, she twisted free and screamed at everyone to leave her be. One by one, they filed out of her chamber, each giving her sympathetic looks and murmuring something about "the poor girl and her wedding jitters".
Finally allowed some space to herself, Eowyn collapsed weakly onto her bed. Her bed. Her bedroom. Her private space. Soon it would all be taken away from her, and everything she owned would belong to Faramir. And he would own her, heart, body and soul. Part of her felt like ripping her dress off and shredding her headdress to pieces, but she knew that the only thing it would achieve would be to get her yet another unbearable grooming session, courtesy of the Rivendell waiting women.
"Help me," she whispered to the silent walls. "Somebody, help me!" She felt tears prick at her eyes. //NO!\\ the thought, firmly swallowing any visible signs of her distress. Crying would only smudge the awful powder they had dusted her with, and then she would have to be made up yet again. The last thing she wanted was another dusting. And so there was nothing left for her to do but gather her dress about her and run all the way down to Legolas' room.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Back at last in his own personal chamber, the elf stared at his reflection in the glass. He looked good, he decided. Well, good enough to disguise his ordeal at least. Satisfied with his reflection, he turned to see his child, and found his eyes welling up with tears. His son! His precious son! He loved his son so much..... so much so that he was willing to do anything in his power to save the child from the wretched life Legolas had to offer him.
He had made up his mind three days ago, shortly after Eowyn had left, and though it stabbed him to the soul, he knew he had little choice. His love for his son would force Legolas to let him go.
He lifted the child from it's makeshift crib and cradled it for awhile, singing softly in elvish. He knew his son liked to be sung to, and so he did, even though the weight of his grief made every syllable choke him as it left his lips. "Oh, my love, my heart," he breathed. "Remember your Ada. Remember that your Ada loves you. Remember that he always will....." And though he had plenty more to say, he stopped, too overcome continue. "Oh my most precious little darling....."
"Legolas!" Eowyn cried, pounding on the door. "Legolas! Legolas, open up! Open up NOW!"
Legolas looked up and hurried to let her in, but not before he wiped his tears dry. It would not do to let anyone see him cry. Not even her. "What's the matter?" he called out, holding the baby with one hand as he worked with his other to push back the bolts. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for your wedding?" He somehow managed to slide the bolts back and swung open the door. "What are you doing here?"
Eowyn entered without being asked and closed the door behind her. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be at the wedding!" she screamed. "You promised! You promised....." she trailed off wretchedly, her anger giving way to sobs. "You promised, you promised, you promised."
"And I am," he said soothingly, cupping her face in his hand. "I will be. I'm getting ready," he said. "Shouldn't you be getting ready as well?"
"I don't want to." she said. She looked like she was having trouble breathing. "I'm scared."
Legolas sat her down and handed the child to her, knowing from her reactions these past four days what a calming effect his son had on her, and true enough, Eowyn soon quietened down. After awhile, a sunny smile played on her lips as she looked down into the tiny face in her arms.
"Now tell me calmly, what's the matter."
"I don't know. I don't want to get married."
"But I thought you love Faramir."
"I do. I don't know. At least, I think I do. But what if it's a mistake? What if I don't? What if I just think I love him? Oh, I don't know, I can't love him, it's impossible to be in love with two people at the same time, but then I do. I am," she said in a small voice. "I don't know what to do. Legolas, I feel so lost."
"You belong with him, Eowyn. You were made for each other. Anyone who's ever seen you together would know that much."
"But I love you..... well..... I think."
"Hush, you think too much," he said, laying a hand on wound that rested above her heart. "Feel, Eowyn. What does your heart tell you?"
"That I love you. And that I love him. But--"
"No buts. Your heart doesn't lie," he said and kissed her. "It's perfectly normal for one heart to love two people, Eowyn. What else does it tell you?"
"That he's waiting for me."
Legolas smiled sadly. "Good girl."
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Well, this is certainly an interesting fic to write. It felt like an odd cross between the rather liberal (tho power centred) Middle Earth of the books, the extremely liberal Middle Earth of the movies and the choking medieval climate of our reality. Really, it felt odd. Oh well, what can I say? Tolkien was a lit prof, not a historian or a sociologist, and some of the practices of his peoples were really out of sync with what I've come to learn about the past. And although I know that this IS a Tolkien fanfic, I felt inclined to go with the attitudes and practices of our world.
By 'practices' I include stuff like how the birthing was carried out in chapter 8 (if any of you know of tolkienesque childbirth, PLEASE email me!), the treatment of women (so Eowyn is a little toned down, a little more weepy and sees herself mainly in relation to the men around her. But even the toned-down Eowyn would be outrageous modern/ feminist as a real world medieval chick.).
In the next chapter, I'll be dealing again with the rights and position of women in marriage (she belongs to him, and she has no power of her own and so she speaks not as herself but as F's wife.), the idea of an average noblewoman as hostess rather than as politician (but as everyone knows, Eowyn being Eowyn is not an average noblewoman.) and the overall patriarchal atmosphere of the time.
And no, I don't think I'm a feminist. I don't downright *resent* that it we used to have a patriarchal system. I just recognise to what extent that it was different, that's all.
M'Ress: Awwww..... you don't like het? Hehe. *Fazy cracks brains* well, I guess if there's any consolation, there's not *that* much of it? Err..... then again, maybe that wont work. You can always see Eowyn and Legolas as belonging to a sort of cult or brotherhood or something. I know I do. It's like, the two of them constantly need to project an appearance of outward calm and strength, and that's incredibly draining on the soul..... think of it of more like a mutual support group. It isn't love the way it is with Eowyn/ Faramir or Legolas/ whoever-ada-is. But Legolas and Eowyn do develop a kinda funny sorta relationship tho.
CandiX: Yay! glad u liked it! haha, and i'm glad u liked where it was going. i was afraid a lot of your guys wont! lol! haha. and more comming your way very soon.