Disclaimer: Can cheese dance? No. When it does, let me know because then I'll own LOTR.
A/N: Not much to say…hmm. Oh yes, Happy Easter to those who celebrate it. And the little girl's name…one site said it was Freda…the other said Freya. I'm going to use Freya. It sounds Tolkien-like…
This chapter has taken so long due to school. But there's only seventeen days left!!
Okay I got some questions/corrections in some reviews and I'm going to answer them now…several people have inquired about Haley's need to sleep. She does sleep more than the average elf, but I attribute most of that to habit and her circadian rhythm. She doesn't sleep heavily either—more of like a really light doze. I hope that makes sense. If I'm violating major Tolkien laws, let me know. There are so many contradicting theories about elven sleep it's hard to keep them straight. Sidereus Phoenix also asked why Haley's hearing and eyesight seems inferior to Legolas'. I think as a general rule, Haley is pretty oblivious, and just doesn't notice some things. Legolas is more patient and observant—and he is also more familiar with his abilities in those areas. I hope that answers your question.
Also, Éowyn of Ithilien corrected a mistake I made in Chapter Twenty-Four. I'm really not a horse person—I've always wanted to ride, but I've already got too much stuff going on—so I know diddely squat about horses. Éowyn of Ithilien informed me: "Your character leans on the horse's flanks. This is suicide. The flanks are the horse's ticklish part and would drive the horse to kicking, shoving, biting, etc." Oops. Thank you for pointing that out—I'm going to correct it ASAP, but I gotta write this chapter fast. Thank you for preventing the near death of my main character. That would have been interesting:
Aragorn: Fool! Didn't she know not to do that? Now the readers will NEVER know about the romance.
Legolas: That's what happens when you let authors like Blue Kat near a computer.
Gimli: Yay! No more sarcasm!
Thank you all. I appreciate your questions and feedback. You guys have been wonderful…I'm going to do a Reviewer Appreciation thing in the next chapter or so.
Hint: Helm's Deep: very, very, very significant developments…("Love is in the Air" starts playing)…well, that should be enough of a hint…
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Five minutes later, Celia was escorting me down to dinner, which was presumably with the King, as she was muttering non-stop about etiquette. For example, I was absolutely forbidden to pick my teeth with a knife at the table (presumably punishable by death). Upon inquiring if I was also discouraged from scratching my underarms with the fork, I was told to stop being fresh—sarcasm does not become a lady. I remarked that I must be pretty hideous then, but Celia simply rolled her eyes heavenward and said that if I wasn't a guest, she'd give me a good slap upside the head.
She also advised (in interest of preventing some sort of civil war, no doubt,) that I not sing at the table.
We eventually came to the entrance of the hall where Celia quickly smoothed my hair and gave me some last minute instructions, including how to politely conceal a sneeze, the correct way to address the king, and a reminder to not to spill on my dress.
"…and behave…" she warned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. If she had just a little bit more of an accent, she would have sounded like Austin Powers. I desperately tried to hold back a grin, but failed. Celia didn't look too surprised.
"I don't even want to know what you find so amusing," she said, opening the door for me. I grinned in response. "Now get along before I take the belt to you," she commanded, nudging me out the door. I grinned happily and stepped over the threshold, throwing a few words of thanks over my shoulder.
A dark wooden table and several long benches had been set up close to the throne. Gandalf had not yet made his entrance, but Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were all seated at the table. They all looked as though they had a bath and a fresh change of clothes and for that I was extremely grateful. Traveling without bathing is a smelly process—more so when your company is made entirely up of men.
"Hello," I greeted cheerfully, plunking down beside Aragorn.
"Haley!" Aragorn replied, glancing up in surprise, looking wide-eyed at my fine attire and clean hair. Naturally, I rolled my eyes at the evident surprise on Aragorn's face. It was like he hadn't seen me clean in weeks.
Wait, he hadn't. Well, he still looked…shocked…
"Yes Aragorn, it's a dress. Sometimes girls wear them. If you haven't forgotten already, I am a girl," I replied sarcastically. "It's quite a difficult concept."
"Well you look very different. But in a good way! Not that you—" Aragorn began, looking slightly flustered for a change and seeming to ignore the fact that I had insulted him (or maybe he just didn't pick up on it). Aragorn the courtier—this was quite an interesting development. The transition, as one can imagine, was not exactly smooth, despite the fact that he is supposed to be this big, macho, manly ranger/king/hero guy. This was another one of those moments where I desperately wished I had a video camera.
"You look very nice, Haley," Legolas interjected, most likely in an attempt to save Aragorn's ass. Despite that reoccurring thought, fire burned in my cheeks as I desperately fought to remain expressionless. I attempted to brush it off with a laugh.
"I'll take you off my hit list, Legolas," I replied, pasting a forced smile upon my lips. It appeared to be convincing enough, as Legolas smiled and Aragorn mumbled thanks, the slightest hints of relief reflecting in his eyes.
But Gimli looked at me suspiciously for a moment, his beady little eyes overly inquisitive, searching my expression for some sign only visible to him. I thought about interrogating him later, but shook the thought away and attempted to direct the conversation toward something neutral, like the weather.
"Do not use wit to shield you…" Galadriel's voice echoed throughout my mind.
What the—how could she have this kind of range? I asked myself, suddenly feeling very vulnerable as I commented on the distribution of clouds in the sky. It was like the Verizon Wireless guy that walks around and asks: "Can you hear me? Good!" was stalking me. Only it was a female elf that had the ability to read minds and discover your infatuations with certain individuals that exceeded beyond common congeniality. However, the reply to my questions of "Why won't you leave me alone?" was an irritating silence.
Then again, I continued, maybe I have to pay a visit to the room with the padded walls…
Whoever made telepathy possible in Middle-earth needs to be whapped soundly over the head with a baseball bat. It is a serious threat to one's sanity.
*
Éowyn entered the room several minutes later, her white dress replaced by a longer one of a reddish color and her long hair wound about her head in braids. Two young children followed timidly. The first, a brown-haired girl, looked to be no more than seven, her face smudged with dirt and her dark wide eyes darting frantically about the room. Her small hand tightly clutched the hand of the other, a boy, presumably her brother. He looked to be eleven, but the quiet light that reflected in his eyes made him seem older, as if he had already borne the troubles of an adult. It made me wonder if he had gone through one of those big rites of passage that my ninth grade English teacher constantly rambled on about when we read The Odyssey.
"Good evening," Éowyn greeted smiling warmly, seemingly to mask the worry that clouded her eyes. "I trust you received good care." Aragorn nodded in response and Éowyn smiled softly. "Good. This is Freya and Eothain," she replied, gesturing to each child in turn. "They will be joining us for supper tonight." There was something about her voice and the overly friendly nature of her conversation that seemed to indicate that these two children had not just dropped in for the hell of it—there was something wrong. "Freya, Eothain, this is Lord Aragorn, Prince Legolas, Master Gimli, and…" She looked at me expectantly.
"Eh, it's just Haley. Nothing fancy," I replied shrugging, flushing slightly for my lack of prestige.
"Miss Haley, then," replied Éowyn, her manners getting the better of her. Freya and Eothain nodded quietly in recognition. Pity washed through my veins. They looked so forlorn, and me being an avid babysitter, I felt I couldn't let the problem go uncorrected.
"Freya?" The little girl looked up at me quietly at the sound of her name. "Do you want to come sit with me? I can braid your hair…" A flicker of interest sparked in her eyes as result of the cherished invitation to come hang out with a big girl. She looked up at Éowyn, who gently nudged her forward. She sat down next to me on the bench and turned slightly so her back was facing me.
"I have some things to attend to, but I shall return shortly," Éowyn said as I began to work the tangles out of Freya's hair. Her little forehead wrinkled in worry. "Miss Haley will take good care of you," Éowyn reassured, offering a warm smile. Freya nodded slowly, her wide eyes similar to that of a deer caught in the headlights. I gently patted her shoulder.
"Would you like to see an elven blade?" asked Aragorn, directing his question at Eothain. The boy nodded and Aragorn withdrew a small knife from a sheath that was still attached to his waist. The boy inspected it with wonder, tracing his fingers along the runes etched into the blade.
"He got it off a man in Reno. Killed a man just to see him die," I said as Aragorn began explaining the meaning of the runes. Aragorn looked at me irritably, but Eothain seemed interested—his face had an expression that clearly said "Whoa…" (complete with surfer dude accent).
"I don't know where this 'Reno' is, but I certainly never killed a man to watch him die, as you suggest," Aragorn replied, giving one of his infamous looks. Eothain looked slightly disappointed—I suspect a medieval mafia career was quite rare.
"You need to lighten up, 'Gorny," I responded, gently working out a particularly unruly snarl of hair.
"'Gorny…" Aragorn replied, looking slightly disturbed.
"Catchy isn't it?" I couldn't help but grin.
"That's not what I meant…"
"Oh you know you love it…"
"This is the most preposterous piece of nonsense I've ever heard!" Gimli interjected, his eyebrows furrowed at my display of silliness (which I suspect violates some sort of Dwarven Code of Conduct).
"Oh, you're just jealous, Gimlet," I replied, gathering Freya's hair in a ponytail, smoothing out the bumps. Her hair was neither thin nor thick, seeming to reach the median between the two.
"WHAT?!" demanded Gimli, his expression an amusing combination of disgust and anger. I separated a section of hair from Freya's dark locks, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips.
"You're right. Gim-Gim the Gumdrop fits your personality better. It just screams 'Gimli'…"
"I'll show you screaming—" Gimli's rant was interrupted by Aragorn clearing his throat loudly. Gimli took this oh-so-subtle hint and began muttering to himself in Dwarvish. Judging from the expression on his face, I would be going to Dwarf Hell if he had his way about things.
"There is no need for foul words, Master Dwarf…" Aragorn reprimanded. Gimli glared at him for a second before emitting a loud "Harrumph!" and gesturing to Legolas.
"Give the Elf some idiotic name!" he grumbled in surrender.
"Lassie already has a nickname, and it is not 'the Elf,'" I informed him, gathering another strand of hair into Freya's braid. A loud and full-bellied laugh echoed throughout the hall as Gimli rejoiced in Legolas' misfortune. I believe that this was the first time I had ever seen Gimli laugh and I had a feeling that his current behavior was similar only under the influence of alcohol.
After a moment or two, the Dwarf was able to compose himself and reach a nearly sane state. Legolas gave me a look that clearly questioned my sanity as Gimli tried to regain his breath.
"A suitable name for a prince," he declared, clapping Legolas on the shoulder.
"I agree, Gimlet," Legolas replied seriously. I laughed at the expression on both of their faces and retreated back to my braiding.
"Give her a name!" Eothain suggested timidly, with a slightly impish grin upon his lips. Freya allowed herself a quick giggle before lapsing into her shy silence again. A slow grin crept onto Aragorn's face and Gimli looked like he had just won the lottery. Legolas smirked slightly and gave me a knowing look.
"You, my lad," Gimli said to Eothain, giving him a look of approval, "are very clever for your age."
"Silence is golden," I said in reply.
"You must be in trouble," Aragorn replied. I stuck my tongue out in response.
Thankfully, my name isn't easy to twist into something bizarre. It took them nearly ten minutes to come up with a sufficiently embarrassing name for me, which was…Duck. I have absolutely no idea where they came up with it—Gimli insisted it was because I sounded like a duck and that people should duck when they see me coming, but I think they chose it because it was stupid and random. When I was officially christened as "Duck," Éowyn had returned from her errand with Théoden and Gandalf close behind.
Because Théoden and Gandalf were both so special, they got to sit at the throne (well Gandalf sat on the chair next to it) while everyone else was forced to sit on hard wooden benches, from which I acquired several splinters. As soon as the Fantastic Two sat down on their special chairs with special little tables that special little footmen brought up, servants suddenly materialized out of the walls bearing enormous platters and various other table settings. A mug of frothy ale was set down in front of me, along with a cloth napkin, a fork, and a knife.
"Uh, excuse me?" About twenty heads swiveled in my direction and said, "Yes m'lady?" all at different times. "I…uh…don't," I began in the silence that followed, slightly uncomfortable with all the eyes turned upon me, "I…could I just have some…coffee or something?" I asked, pointing at my mug. There was a chorus of "Right away," and a pair of hands lifted the offending mug from my place setting and everyone went on with his or her business. I flushed and hastily stuffed my napkin onto my lap.
Minutes later my ale had been replaced with a steaming mug of coffee and the soup had been set out. I identified a few limp looking vegetables among the hunks of meat in the dark broth. It looked edible—just not very good.
"Legolas," I whispered as softly as I could manage. He looked up expectantly.
"Yes?" he inquired quietly.
"I miss elf food," I replied. He smiled softly and went back to his soup.
Dinner passed uneventfully. The courses were set out, people talked amongst themselves, and I attempted to subtly dissect my food, removing bones, gristle, and all that other fun stuff you find in unprocessed meat. Legolas thought my antics were funny. I suspect his portion of turkey didn't have any suspicious little lumps. If I could have gotten away with flinging a slice of potato at him, I would have done it in a heartbeat.
Freya and Eothain ate silently and slowly and were still picking at their dinner when the servants cleared our plates. I received a fresh cup of coffee and the mugs of ale were all generously replenished—for which I was worried because Gimli had consumed nearly one and a half mugs already and was looking slightly tipsy.
I soon realized that this point at dinner could be effectively titled as "Everyone Talks and Argues a Lot and the Vein in Gandalf's Forehead Starts to Bulge When Théoden Says Something Stupid." My roll in this conversation was virtually nothing except sit, pretend to look interested, drink large amounts of coffee to prevent me from going completely insane, and make faces at Legolas when no one is looking (the aforementioned elf did not find this very amusing). As far as I could tell, a town had been raided by some psycho wildmen that Saruman had recruited to wreak even more havoc on Middle-earth because he's an evil wizard and he said so (or something like that). Of course, they (meaning those present in the room) had to artfully dodge around the decision at hand, which was: do we toughen up and go kick some bad-wizard ass or sit in Edoras like frightened bunnies? Gandalf would persist that we needed to attack Saruman because he's evil and destructive (bear in mind that this is my summary of his complex speeches) and Aragorn would agree and say our time has come to beat the crap out of that loser. And sometimes Éowyn would say something like "But we must save the environment!" and Gimli would counter with his ever popular "Let's hack 'em all into tiny bits and feed them to Haley!" (I'm exaggerating, but it was something heinous like that). Legolas would observe and occasionally give a one-worded response or perhaps an insightful comment about evil in general. Then Théoden would say something like "But war is scary and what about the people of…" and suddenly, they're discussing the political issues at hand while Gimli continues to insist that we just go into Orthanc, beat up Saruman, and steal his ale (or at least, I think that was his point).
It was so hard not to go bang my head against the wall repeatedly.
A very long time later (I'm not sure how long it was), Éowyn had somehow managed to direct the conversation back to the main point. How she did that, I'm not sure, but I suddenly found myself assaulted with conversation that had a point and I was forced to stop counting how many sips of ale Gimli had consumed in the last minute (I think it was thirty).
"They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through westfold, burning as they go, every rick, cot, and tree," Éowyn explained, gesturing to the children (who had apparently escaped from the wildmen).
"Where's mama?" asked Freya, looking up from her dinner, her eyes frightened and craving the security of her mother.
"Hush," Éowyn instructed, gently stroking her hair.
"This is but a taste of the terror Saruman will unleash," Gandalf began. Théoden cradled his forehead in his hand, deeply frustrated. "All the more potent for he is driven mad by the fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Drive him away from the women and children. You must fight." Théoden made no reply and Aragorn stepped in with his advice.
"You have two-thousand good men riding north as we speak Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."
"They will be three-hundred leagues from here by now," Théoden replied tiredly. At that point I wished I knew how long a league was and why people had to constantly use it as a measurement. "Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is that you want of me. But I will not bring further death upon my people. I will not risk open war."
"Open war is upon you whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn replied, a noticeable frustration creeping into his voice.
"When I last looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."
I took another swig of my coffee as tension mounted in the hall. But Gimli quickly cured that by letting a loud belch erupt from his mouth. The coffee I had been in the process of swallowing threatened to come spurting out my mouth as I fought to contain my laughter. My mouth clamped shut, there was only one place for the coffee to go, and that, unfortunately, was out my nose.
Coughing, sputtering, and laughing with coffee all over my face and the table and some on my dress, I quickly reached for my napkin and attempted to mop up my face while everyone looked on in a disgusted, yet fascinated manner. I wrinkled my nose in response to the unpleasant sensation the liquid had left in my nasal passages and tried to look as unashamed as possible, which didn't really work.
"Can you do that again?" Eothain asked, clearly fascinated.
"Shh…" Éowyn commanded gently.
"Ahem…then what is the king's decision?" asked Gandalf loudly, most likely in attempt to reroute the conversation and prevent a demonstration of thevarious tricks of my nose.
Théoden sat in a troubled silence for a moment while everyone looked on nervously. I tried to discreetly wipe the coffee from my dress while I watched conflict occur within the expression of Théoden's face.
"We will go to Helm's Deep," he said finally.
A/N: Wow, that was seven pages. Go me. Anyhow, R/R. Significant developments in the next chapters…