A dim light poured into her mind, prying her from a dreamless sleep,
wrenching her from calm, and peace. Her second sensation was pain: it
rushed through her body and her muscles throbbed. She wanted to cry out,
but her throat was parched and dry. Her breathing was stilted. She felt
miserable. It was dark in the room. She lay surrounded by dark wooden
walls, above her stretched an intricately carved headboard depicting horses
with probing black eyes, nightmarish and frightening. Her body lay in the
midst of white sheets, yet she felt excruciatingly cold, and was sweating
profusely. A blur beside her took shape.
It was the queen of Rohan, Lothiriel, the wife her brother had took after the fall of Mordor, the fair daughter of Imrahil of Dol Amroth. She was a beautiful woman, and good, kind, virtuous...Eowyn couldn't tolerate her. It was her simplicity and her willingness to accommodate any requests that annoyed Eowyn.
"My lady?" Lothiriel patted a damp cloth across Eowyn's forehead. Eowyn appreciated the gesture, and attempted a smile.
She felt delusional, out of sync, not able to grasp his words. They almost felt foreign, and it took her mind several seconds to translate the meaning. Even then, she could not muster a reply.
"We were worried. The King only just left your side, and asked me to attend to you."
"Thank you," Eowyn replied hoarsely. She could barely speak. "My...brother..." she managed.
"I will get him immediately, my lady."
"Thank you, brother-wife," Eowyn closed her eyes.
The door let in a strand of white light. It was at least midday. This had been the sick-room, Eowyn noted, where Theodred had spent his final days. It had been more than a decade since she had set foot in it. She remembered her days avoiding it, making excuses not to clean up the bed or sweep out the dust. Her brother had probably forgotten her hatred of this room, and carelessly housed her in it to recover.
She heard his footsteps in the hall, and he swept into the room. Lothiriel stood in the doorway as Eomer walked towards Eowyn. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. His beard was graying and his face was disturbed with wrinkles, but he looked the same as he always had. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, then reached for her hand as he sat in the chair next to her.
"Oh, Eowyn," he said after a long silence. "I would you could tell me what happened, but you are in a great deal of pain. I sent two messengers to Minas Tirith."
"And Eldarion?"
"The boy is in good health physically, but I fear he is mentally disturbed. He lies in bed all day, looking at the wall. Elfwine would play with him, but Eldarion does nothing. The only words he has spoken since his arrival were demands to see you. When you came I thought Sauron had returned!" He tightened his grip on her hand. "You have been feverish for four days, two of which you were standing on some brink of death."
She could say nothing. The squeeze had been painful.
"What happened? Why did you come in such a state?" He asked.
Eowyn let out a long, hissing breath. "It's a long story."
"No, and it is ridiculous of me to interrogate you, in this state."
"It is not ridiculous," Eowyn sighed, and her muscles screamed at her in pain. "For all you know, Sauron could still haunt our steps, like he does our minds."
"You need water."
"I need to tell you the tale. I only ask that I may see Eldarion, after I am finished, and that you send two more messengers to Minas Tirith, if you can spare them. The King deserves to know."
It was an effort to speak, but the words soothed her.
"Both are granted. Lothiriel," he gestured to his wife. "Give us a few moments. Bring the prince here at once, and ask the cooks if they can make some soup." He turned back to Eowyn. "And let me tell you, sister, they can make soup. Nothing like your improvisations."
She laughed forcefully, and her ribs reprimanded her in pain. Eomer eased some pillows under her neck and raised her up so that she faced him. She opened her mouth to speak.
The words came tumbling out. Her throat began to burn as she recounted Arwen's capture as Eldarion watched helplessly from atop the hill. When she finished, Eomer was looking resolutely at the ground, silent and solemn.
"The King's wife is dead, then?" Eomer said finally.
"Yes," Eowyn murmured.
"It's a wonder how you made it out alive," Eomer looked up at her. "What are you to do, Eowyn?"
"What do you mean, what am I to do?" Eowyn asked. Eomer said nothing. "You know what? I think I will have a drink of water. And then I will sleep. I am in no mood for ambiguous rhetorical questions."
"It's not rhetorical," said Eomer softly. "You have harbored feelings for the King since he first entered the halls of Edoras."
"It's been ten years, Eomer."
"But your arm has never fully healed, Eowyn."
"What exactly is your point?"
"That feelings do not disappear entirely. Time only heals so much."
"I am married, Eomer. I have a child."
"Yes," Eomer turned away, and changed the subject. "I have not seen her for a long time. Is she much grown?"
"Yes, and looks more like me than she ever has," Eowyn felt a flicker of happiness, talking of Theodwyn. It was comforting. "How is Elfwine?"
"He has his mother's piety and my courage," Eomer said proudly.
"What courage, brother?"
"At least you can manage some humor," Eomer smiled and touched her forehead with his palm. "You're still feverish, but you are improving. You will recover soon, I hope."
There were footsteps in the hall, and Lothiriel entered, encouraging Eldarion in. The boy paused at the entrance, and looked around the room wildly. Wordlessly he bounded across the room and onto the bed, throwing his arms around Eowyn.
The pain was agonizing, but she held Eldarion tightly to her as he let out a muffled sob. She soothed him, talking into his hair, trying to assure him things were going to be all right. She heard the door shut, and the little boy and the woman were left along in the room, the only sound his muffled sobs and her soft whispers, and the echoes against the still walls.
Author's very apologetic note:
SO SO SO sorry for not updating for the past six hundred weeks or so. I have been very busy—term papers and other b.s. they put us through. I cannot WAIT until summer. But I hope you like the chapter—if you have anything to say, DO review, because it encourages me to write more. The more you review, the more I write. Deal? Heeheehee. Mother's Day is in thirty minutes! I'm on a sugarhigh right now. That's what eating an entire eight inch ice cream cake does to you. My suggestion is...don't.
Thank yous to all my reviewers, for the praise and especially the helpful advice:
JesusFreak, Lady Phedre, ladyhawke57 (reiterate the apology for not writing soon enough...hope you liked this one and sorry if I let you down), Lady Sezza (normality is more fun than stuck up Tolkein, as I've come to realize...), Leah (well, yes, Arwen had a feeling), Eregriel Gloswen (really enjoyed hearing your opinion, and thanks for the advice...namaste to you too), eowyn the fair (so sorry, but no author reveals their story, you should know that...), deedumdum (enjoyed hearing your rants and raves, they were enjoyable to read but I guess we don't agree on some points, therefore, CONTROVERSY! Which is always very fun), flipperjlw (glad I got you to like Arwen a lil' bit!), Starbrow (very thorough, thanks for advice and, as always, I love hearing peoples opinions), Aerlinnuial (thanks for reading), And finally, Mercury Gray! (my first review and I couldn't have been happier about it!)
Thanks for all the support and everything, and keep reviewing!
It was the queen of Rohan, Lothiriel, the wife her brother had took after the fall of Mordor, the fair daughter of Imrahil of Dol Amroth. She was a beautiful woman, and good, kind, virtuous...Eowyn couldn't tolerate her. It was her simplicity and her willingness to accommodate any requests that annoyed Eowyn.
"My lady?" Lothiriel patted a damp cloth across Eowyn's forehead. Eowyn appreciated the gesture, and attempted a smile.
She felt delusional, out of sync, not able to grasp his words. They almost felt foreign, and it took her mind several seconds to translate the meaning. Even then, she could not muster a reply.
"We were worried. The King only just left your side, and asked me to attend to you."
"Thank you," Eowyn replied hoarsely. She could barely speak. "My...brother..." she managed.
"I will get him immediately, my lady."
"Thank you, brother-wife," Eowyn closed her eyes.
The door let in a strand of white light. It was at least midday. This had been the sick-room, Eowyn noted, where Theodred had spent his final days. It had been more than a decade since she had set foot in it. She remembered her days avoiding it, making excuses not to clean up the bed or sweep out the dust. Her brother had probably forgotten her hatred of this room, and carelessly housed her in it to recover.
She heard his footsteps in the hall, and he swept into the room. Lothiriel stood in the doorway as Eomer walked towards Eowyn. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. His beard was graying and his face was disturbed with wrinkles, but he looked the same as he always had. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, then reached for her hand as he sat in the chair next to her.
"Oh, Eowyn," he said after a long silence. "I would you could tell me what happened, but you are in a great deal of pain. I sent two messengers to Minas Tirith."
"And Eldarion?"
"The boy is in good health physically, but I fear he is mentally disturbed. He lies in bed all day, looking at the wall. Elfwine would play with him, but Eldarion does nothing. The only words he has spoken since his arrival were demands to see you. When you came I thought Sauron had returned!" He tightened his grip on her hand. "You have been feverish for four days, two of which you were standing on some brink of death."
She could say nothing. The squeeze had been painful.
"What happened? Why did you come in such a state?" He asked.
Eowyn let out a long, hissing breath. "It's a long story."
"No, and it is ridiculous of me to interrogate you, in this state."
"It is not ridiculous," Eowyn sighed, and her muscles screamed at her in pain. "For all you know, Sauron could still haunt our steps, like he does our minds."
"You need water."
"I need to tell you the tale. I only ask that I may see Eldarion, after I am finished, and that you send two more messengers to Minas Tirith, if you can spare them. The King deserves to know."
It was an effort to speak, but the words soothed her.
"Both are granted. Lothiriel," he gestured to his wife. "Give us a few moments. Bring the prince here at once, and ask the cooks if they can make some soup." He turned back to Eowyn. "And let me tell you, sister, they can make soup. Nothing like your improvisations."
She laughed forcefully, and her ribs reprimanded her in pain. Eomer eased some pillows under her neck and raised her up so that she faced him. She opened her mouth to speak.
The words came tumbling out. Her throat began to burn as she recounted Arwen's capture as Eldarion watched helplessly from atop the hill. When she finished, Eomer was looking resolutely at the ground, silent and solemn.
"The King's wife is dead, then?" Eomer said finally.
"Yes," Eowyn murmured.
"It's a wonder how you made it out alive," Eomer looked up at her. "What are you to do, Eowyn?"
"What do you mean, what am I to do?" Eowyn asked. Eomer said nothing. "You know what? I think I will have a drink of water. And then I will sleep. I am in no mood for ambiguous rhetorical questions."
"It's not rhetorical," said Eomer softly. "You have harbored feelings for the King since he first entered the halls of Edoras."
"It's been ten years, Eomer."
"But your arm has never fully healed, Eowyn."
"What exactly is your point?"
"That feelings do not disappear entirely. Time only heals so much."
"I am married, Eomer. I have a child."
"Yes," Eomer turned away, and changed the subject. "I have not seen her for a long time. Is she much grown?"
"Yes, and looks more like me than she ever has," Eowyn felt a flicker of happiness, talking of Theodwyn. It was comforting. "How is Elfwine?"
"He has his mother's piety and my courage," Eomer said proudly.
"What courage, brother?"
"At least you can manage some humor," Eomer smiled and touched her forehead with his palm. "You're still feverish, but you are improving. You will recover soon, I hope."
There were footsteps in the hall, and Lothiriel entered, encouraging Eldarion in. The boy paused at the entrance, and looked around the room wildly. Wordlessly he bounded across the room and onto the bed, throwing his arms around Eowyn.
The pain was agonizing, but she held Eldarion tightly to her as he let out a muffled sob. She soothed him, talking into his hair, trying to assure him things were going to be all right. She heard the door shut, and the little boy and the woman were left along in the room, the only sound his muffled sobs and her soft whispers, and the echoes against the still walls.
Author's very apologetic note:
SO SO SO sorry for not updating for the past six hundred weeks or so. I have been very busy—term papers and other b.s. they put us through. I cannot WAIT until summer. But I hope you like the chapter—if you have anything to say, DO review, because it encourages me to write more. The more you review, the more I write. Deal? Heeheehee. Mother's Day is in thirty minutes! I'm on a sugarhigh right now. That's what eating an entire eight inch ice cream cake does to you. My suggestion is...don't.
Thank yous to all my reviewers, for the praise and especially the helpful advice:
JesusFreak, Lady Phedre, ladyhawke57 (reiterate the apology for not writing soon enough...hope you liked this one and sorry if I let you down), Lady Sezza (normality is more fun than stuck up Tolkein, as I've come to realize...), Leah (well, yes, Arwen had a feeling), Eregriel Gloswen (really enjoyed hearing your opinion, and thanks for the advice...namaste to you too), eowyn the fair (so sorry, but no author reveals their story, you should know that...), deedumdum (enjoyed hearing your rants and raves, they were enjoyable to read but I guess we don't agree on some points, therefore, CONTROVERSY! Which is always very fun), flipperjlw (glad I got you to like Arwen a lil' bit!), Starbrow (very thorough, thanks for advice and, as always, I love hearing peoples opinions), Aerlinnuial (thanks for reading), And finally, Mercury Gray! (my first review and I couldn't have been happier about it!)
Thanks for all the support and everything, and keep reviewing!