For Ringprov challenge 31 mix two or three of the older challenges and see what comes out. I used
challenges 6 (shallow, tall, fire, tangle; aggressive) and alternative 7 (the characters talk about
a lost loved one). Time Limit 60 minutes.
Kith and Kin
Eowyn noted the roughness of Eomer's fingers that night, as they sat together in what
once was their playroom, a tangle in her long, bright wind-blown hair being
unraveled with the deftness of much practice. Before them burned a fire she had lit upon the
ash-stained hearth, a shallow basin underneath once intended for the storage of winter kindling.
"If you are to ride this much, sister, perhaps we should get you a helmet to tuck your
hair up in," said Eomer, as he has always said. But his voice is quiet,
and solemn.
Eowyn did not reply. 'Aye, brother, 'twould be grand,' another voice teases
in her memory. But tonight is not as before.
The dim flames crackled, and Eowyn turned 'round. "Brother-" her voice broke, as she
choked on the welled up tears in her throat.
Eomer's fingers tightened in her hair. Eowyn appreciated his attempts to soothe her,
while he embraced her as he did when they were younger ('Hush, Wynnie,' lisps a boy
to a small child with scraped limbs, ''tis safe now.' 'There is no need for tears little one,'
says a soothing voice), crooning tunelessly.
Perhaps, when the world still had some good in it, the motion would have made them
both feel safe. Perhaps, when their father had long been dead, and their mother gone
all too soon, and there was always the warm, comforting grin of their cousin to cheer
them when they themselves could not.
Yet now their fears no longer inhabit night-ghasts, and have proven themselves
to be too real.
"Do you remember his face?" said Eowyn with a slight hiccup, her eyes shut to the
world around. "Do you remember his smile; when he taught you and me how to
track on the plains?"
"I remember his features scarred, and bleeding," said Eomer, his voice turning colder
and colder. "I remember him maimed, with the pale mask of death already covering
his face. I remember it-"
"No," whispered Eowyn. "Do not remember it that way, brother." Her eyes opened
widely, seeing beyond him; hands reaching out. "Do not remember him dead, Eomer!"
Eomer looked aside, eyes downcast, his own hands loosening and coming to rest
in his lap. 'Once a child,' warns the fond voice of their ancient nurse. But though
the same spirit is there, they are no longer. Eowyn grasped his arms with a frantic
strength. "You cannot!"
"And why not?" Eomer snapped. "That is what he is! Did you not see him, lying there?
Did you not hear his moans? Did you not notice that his own father could
not - did not - even care that his son is gone?"
Eowyn can remember easily that he was the one to have found Theodred, still alive.
But it was she who had to watch him die.
"You speak of seeing him," cried Eowyn fervently, "and you speak of Theoden king
being unable to understand. But where were you as it happened? Coward! You could
not bear to see him any longer, could you?"
Theodred is dead, she can say to herself. Never again will his tall shadow waver
across the doorways of Edoras. But to admit it to her closest blood relation is
the deepest betrayal of the kind soul who was the only one to take notice of her
at that time. The one to keep her from the predatory gaze of the court, that
prowled and watched her and dogged her every step. Where was her
brother, then, indeed? Where--
But Eomer is silent. His golden head is down, his shoulders shake.
Eowyn reached out, and tilted his face upwards. She could see the tears run down his
cheeks, and ceased to be angry with him. Dark are her thoughts, but dark are the times.
Soundless, smoothly, she embraced him and spoke soothing words, in her turn,
in place of the one who has been lost to them.
Eowyn awakes in the morning to loud hammer-taps on her door. She steps outside
to see parchment nailed there, and reads the decree of her brother's banishment.
Awaiting her in a corner of the stables is the helmet that was Theodred's, and Eomer's
in turn, along with the other pieces of his practice-armor. They are in need of polishing
(and some adjustment), but she dons them anyway, and feels comforted.