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Chapter 16
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Funerals suck.
Seriously. All of them. It doesn't matter if you it's someone you know, someone you don't know, someone you like, someone you don't like, someone who did you a favor or someone who done you wrong.
I listen to way, way too much country music.
But, anyway. The funeral for Theodred (at least I think that was the name of the King's son) is over, and the day has not improved.
We are now sitting in the ...throne room, I guess. Eowyn is tending the children. Gandalf and Aragorn are trying to convince Théoden that war would be better than locking yourself in a box, like pigs in a pen, waiting for the slaughter.
Am I being pessimistic? Why, yes. I am. In the words of my big brother, 'Paranoia will keep you alive. All courage gets you is dead.'
Except, y'know, in this case it's the lack of courage that's going to wipe out Rohan. Dammit, why won't that son of a bitch listen to reason?
Ah, this would be frustration. I recognize it now.
"I will not bring open war upon my people," Théoden says firmly.
"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn argues.
"Last time I looked, it was Théoden, not Aragorn, who was king here," Théoden says, shooting Aragorn a steely glare.
I push my way to my feet. Boromir lightly touches my arm and I smile at him, shaking my head. I'm fine. Pissed, but I'll be fine. I walk out.
I wander most of Edoras for the rest of the afternoon. When I get back, just before sunset, I find the boys, minus Gandalf, out on the training grounds. Legolas is practicing his archery. I don't know why, I haven't seen him miss a shot yet. Gimli's sitting on a bench. Aragorn and Boromir are standing nearby, talking quietly. As I get closer, I realize that they're talking about what could possibly make Legolas miss a shot.
When I get up next to them, Boromir turns and smiles at me. "What say you, Kayli? Could you perhaps use your feminine wiles to make our Elven companion miss a shot?"
Feminine wiles? What the hell is he...Oh. Oh, I get it.
Wipe that smirk off your face or I'll remove it for you, buddy boy. I decide to go for it, and smile at him. "I don't know about feminine wiles," I say, and I start to walk over towards our 'Elven companion.'
I wonder if match-making is a Gondorian trait or if it's just Boromir.
I stand next to Legolas for a moment, arms folded over my chest, just watching. His eyes flicker towards me every few seconds, like he's afraid I'll snatch the bow out of his hands.
I have absolutely no interest in his bow.
As he draws the string back, sights along the arrow, prepares to shoot, I lean over and, very, very softly, blow into the tip of his ear.
His arms jerk, and the arrow misses its target by just under a mile. It shoots about five or eight feet from the edge of the target, sails over low to the ground, and buries itself in the side of the stables, halfway to the fletching.
I can hear Boromir and Gimli laughing behind me. Legolas has gone very still. There's a slight tightening around his eyes.
Ooh, I think I've pissed him off.
He squeezes his eyes shut, lowers his bow, and actually shivers. "Was that TRULY necessary?" he asks, and his voice is a little bit tight.
I actually stop and think about it. Was it necessary? "Well, no," I confess. Then I grin at him. "But I've been wanting to do that for WEEKS." I lean over and kiss his cheek. "Sorry, you're the only Elf I've got to torture."
Legolas smiles at me, a gentle, almost fond expression. "Perhaps I should have convinced Lord Elrond to send one of his sons instead."
"Now there's a horrifying thought," I reply, and he laughs.
~
ARgh! Travel-time. Doesn't that just suck.
We're riding! And riding and riding and riding. Legolas is being all studly- Elf-guy, Gimli's quiet, and Aragorn's getting to know Eowyn.
I'm starting to wonder if I'm going to have to use Arwen's knitting needles on HIM. Were they this cuddly in the book?
In other news, Eowyn can't cook. I'm not even sure what this stuff IS. It's got white bits floating in it, and it tastes TERRIBLE.
"Is it good?" Eowyn asks me nervously, twisting her hands.
I smile weakly. "It's delicious," I manage, lying through my pearly-whites.
She smiles hugely, ladling up another bowl. "Would you like some, my Lord?" she asks Legolas.
The Elf shakes his head, a little too quickly. "Nay, my Lady. I have no hunger."
Gimli mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'lucky you.'
Eowyn accepts this, however, and picks up the bowl. "I'll take this to Lord Aragorn." She pauses, looking uncertain. "Do you think he'll like it?"
Legolas smiles. If you look closely, it looks really vicious. Or maybe that's just me. "He'll love it," the Elf assures her.
Eowyn hurries off, grinning. As soon as she's out of sight, I dump the bowl out. "Don't tell her I said so, but that was nasty."
"She seems rather taken with Aragorn," Legolas says softly.
I smirk at him. "You noticed."
~
Yawn.
Rohan's pretty, and all that, but...still. I'm not the outdoorsy type.
"What is it?" Théoden yells suddenly. "What did you see?"
"Wargs!" Aragorn hollers back. "We're under attack."
Ah, fuck. Shit.
"All riders to the head of the column!" Théoden calls out, wheeling his horse.
Do I stay or do I go? I'm on a horse. Does that make me a rider?
I see Boromir swing up on his horse. If he gets his ass killed, I am going to be so pissed.
I'm about to follow when I see one woman with about eight kids. Most of them are old enough to know to hurry, but one is a little girl with messy blond braids, and she's only about four.
I sigh, ride over, scoop her up, and take her over to her mother. I'm about to hang around, offer the mother my horse...
She glares at me. "Take my baby and go. I don't need your horse! Go!"
I nod and ride. You do not mess with mommas. It's just not something you do.
~
I talk to her as we ride. Her name's Dalen, and when I ask her how old she is, she smiles hugely, holds up three fingers, and says 'this many.' She's adorable.
"I wanna be just like Lady Eowyn when I grow up!" she says.
So...you wanna grow up to...what, hang all over Aragorn, not be able to cook, and worry too much about honor?
No, I can't say that. "You wanna be a lady a of Rohan?"
Dalen nods excitedly. "Uh-huh! And she can ride really good and I bet the orcs are afraid of her she can fight so well."
I smile and ruffle her hair, trying not to think of the battle that I know is coming. "You just be a kid first, let other people worry about orc- smashing. OK?"
She nods, and leans back against me, almost immediately going to sleep. Kids like me for some reason. Really sucks for them, 'cause I don't like kids.
"Helm's Deep!" someone calls. "We've made it! We're here!"
Glory hallelujah.
~
I dismount in the courtyard, then lift Dalen down and carry her. "Do you see your momma, honey?" I ask softly, pulling her long braids back off of her face.
"Dalen!" I hear a cry, and I turn to see her mother hurrying over. "Oh, Dalen, my little one..."
I smile and hand her over.
"Thank you, my Lady," the woman says, clasping one of my hands. "Thank you."
I squeeze her hand in return. "It's just Kayli, and you're welcome."
"I beg your pardon?" she asks, looking confused.
"Kayli," I clarify, pointing at myself. "I'm just Kayli, not 'my Lady.'"
She smiles. "My name is Freyja."
I give Dalen's braids a tug and she giggles. "Your daughter's beautiful, Freyja. Take care of them."
"I will. Thank you," she says, smiles again, and walks away.
I close my eyes, sigh, and take a deep breath, trying to tune out all of the noise.
"My Lady? Lady Kayli?"
See? It doesn't even sound right.
I turn back, look at Eowyn, and sigh. "What can I do?"
~
"Make way for Théoden!" Somebody hollers about half an hour later. "Make way for the king!"
Eowyn grabs my hand. "They have returned!" And she takes off down the corridor. I follow behind her, slower. I don't run unless I'm in mortal danger. Like from a giant meat cleaver or a chainsaw. And yes, I do watch too many horror flicks.
I skid to a stop in front of Legolas. If I hadn't put my hand on his chest to stop him, I don't think he would've seen me. I smile at him, but at the expression on his face, the smile slips a bit.
"What?" I ask, laying my hand on his wrist. "What's wrong?"
He doesn't answer, just lowers his eyes to his hand. It's clenched in a tight fist, and I know what I'm going to see even before I pull his fingers away.
Arwen's pendant. Which Aragorn would never, ever part with, and everybody knows it.
Shit. Here come the doubts again.
I close his hand back over the pendant and meet his eyes. "Oh." I run a hand through my hair. "OK. I have...stuff. Yeah."
I turn and all but flee.
TBC...
Chapter 16
~
Funerals suck.
Seriously. All of them. It doesn't matter if you it's someone you know, someone you don't know, someone you like, someone you don't like, someone who did you a favor or someone who done you wrong.
I listen to way, way too much country music.
But, anyway. The funeral for Theodred (at least I think that was the name of the King's son) is over, and the day has not improved.
We are now sitting in the ...throne room, I guess. Eowyn is tending the children. Gandalf and Aragorn are trying to convince Théoden that war would be better than locking yourself in a box, like pigs in a pen, waiting for the slaughter.
Am I being pessimistic? Why, yes. I am. In the words of my big brother, 'Paranoia will keep you alive. All courage gets you is dead.'
Except, y'know, in this case it's the lack of courage that's going to wipe out Rohan. Dammit, why won't that son of a bitch listen to reason?
Ah, this would be frustration. I recognize it now.
"I will not bring open war upon my people," Théoden says firmly.
"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn argues.
"Last time I looked, it was Théoden, not Aragorn, who was king here," Théoden says, shooting Aragorn a steely glare.
I push my way to my feet. Boromir lightly touches my arm and I smile at him, shaking my head. I'm fine. Pissed, but I'll be fine. I walk out.
I wander most of Edoras for the rest of the afternoon. When I get back, just before sunset, I find the boys, minus Gandalf, out on the training grounds. Legolas is practicing his archery. I don't know why, I haven't seen him miss a shot yet. Gimli's sitting on a bench. Aragorn and Boromir are standing nearby, talking quietly. As I get closer, I realize that they're talking about what could possibly make Legolas miss a shot.
When I get up next to them, Boromir turns and smiles at me. "What say you, Kayli? Could you perhaps use your feminine wiles to make our Elven companion miss a shot?"
Feminine wiles? What the hell is he...Oh. Oh, I get it.
Wipe that smirk off your face or I'll remove it for you, buddy boy. I decide to go for it, and smile at him. "I don't know about feminine wiles," I say, and I start to walk over towards our 'Elven companion.'
I wonder if match-making is a Gondorian trait or if it's just Boromir.
I stand next to Legolas for a moment, arms folded over my chest, just watching. His eyes flicker towards me every few seconds, like he's afraid I'll snatch the bow out of his hands.
I have absolutely no interest in his bow.
As he draws the string back, sights along the arrow, prepares to shoot, I lean over and, very, very softly, blow into the tip of his ear.
His arms jerk, and the arrow misses its target by just under a mile. It shoots about five or eight feet from the edge of the target, sails over low to the ground, and buries itself in the side of the stables, halfway to the fletching.
I can hear Boromir and Gimli laughing behind me. Legolas has gone very still. There's a slight tightening around his eyes.
Ooh, I think I've pissed him off.
He squeezes his eyes shut, lowers his bow, and actually shivers. "Was that TRULY necessary?" he asks, and his voice is a little bit tight.
I actually stop and think about it. Was it necessary? "Well, no," I confess. Then I grin at him. "But I've been wanting to do that for WEEKS." I lean over and kiss his cheek. "Sorry, you're the only Elf I've got to torture."
Legolas smiles at me, a gentle, almost fond expression. "Perhaps I should have convinced Lord Elrond to send one of his sons instead."
"Now there's a horrifying thought," I reply, and he laughs.
~
ARgh! Travel-time. Doesn't that just suck.
We're riding! And riding and riding and riding. Legolas is being all studly- Elf-guy, Gimli's quiet, and Aragorn's getting to know Eowyn.
I'm starting to wonder if I'm going to have to use Arwen's knitting needles on HIM. Were they this cuddly in the book?
In other news, Eowyn can't cook. I'm not even sure what this stuff IS. It's got white bits floating in it, and it tastes TERRIBLE.
"Is it good?" Eowyn asks me nervously, twisting her hands.
I smile weakly. "It's delicious," I manage, lying through my pearly-whites.
She smiles hugely, ladling up another bowl. "Would you like some, my Lord?" she asks Legolas.
The Elf shakes his head, a little too quickly. "Nay, my Lady. I have no hunger."
Gimli mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'lucky you.'
Eowyn accepts this, however, and picks up the bowl. "I'll take this to Lord Aragorn." She pauses, looking uncertain. "Do you think he'll like it?"
Legolas smiles. If you look closely, it looks really vicious. Or maybe that's just me. "He'll love it," the Elf assures her.
Eowyn hurries off, grinning. As soon as she's out of sight, I dump the bowl out. "Don't tell her I said so, but that was nasty."
"She seems rather taken with Aragorn," Legolas says softly.
I smirk at him. "You noticed."
~
Yawn.
Rohan's pretty, and all that, but...still. I'm not the outdoorsy type.
"What is it?" Théoden yells suddenly. "What did you see?"
"Wargs!" Aragorn hollers back. "We're under attack."
Ah, fuck. Shit.
"All riders to the head of the column!" Théoden calls out, wheeling his horse.
Do I stay or do I go? I'm on a horse. Does that make me a rider?
I see Boromir swing up on his horse. If he gets his ass killed, I am going to be so pissed.
I'm about to follow when I see one woman with about eight kids. Most of them are old enough to know to hurry, but one is a little girl with messy blond braids, and she's only about four.
I sigh, ride over, scoop her up, and take her over to her mother. I'm about to hang around, offer the mother my horse...
She glares at me. "Take my baby and go. I don't need your horse! Go!"
I nod and ride. You do not mess with mommas. It's just not something you do.
~
I talk to her as we ride. Her name's Dalen, and when I ask her how old she is, she smiles hugely, holds up three fingers, and says 'this many.' She's adorable.
"I wanna be just like Lady Eowyn when I grow up!" she says.
So...you wanna grow up to...what, hang all over Aragorn, not be able to cook, and worry too much about honor?
No, I can't say that. "You wanna be a lady a of Rohan?"
Dalen nods excitedly. "Uh-huh! And she can ride really good and I bet the orcs are afraid of her she can fight so well."
I smile and ruffle her hair, trying not to think of the battle that I know is coming. "You just be a kid first, let other people worry about orc- smashing. OK?"
She nods, and leans back against me, almost immediately going to sleep. Kids like me for some reason. Really sucks for them, 'cause I don't like kids.
"Helm's Deep!" someone calls. "We've made it! We're here!"
Glory hallelujah.
~
I dismount in the courtyard, then lift Dalen down and carry her. "Do you see your momma, honey?" I ask softly, pulling her long braids back off of her face.
"Dalen!" I hear a cry, and I turn to see her mother hurrying over. "Oh, Dalen, my little one..."
I smile and hand her over.
"Thank you, my Lady," the woman says, clasping one of my hands. "Thank you."
I squeeze her hand in return. "It's just Kayli, and you're welcome."
"I beg your pardon?" she asks, looking confused.
"Kayli," I clarify, pointing at myself. "I'm just Kayli, not 'my Lady.'"
She smiles. "My name is Freyja."
I give Dalen's braids a tug and she giggles. "Your daughter's beautiful, Freyja. Take care of them."
"I will. Thank you," she says, smiles again, and walks away.
I close my eyes, sigh, and take a deep breath, trying to tune out all of the noise.
"My Lady? Lady Kayli?"
See? It doesn't even sound right.
I turn back, look at Eowyn, and sigh. "What can I do?"
~
"Make way for Théoden!" Somebody hollers about half an hour later. "Make way for the king!"
Eowyn grabs my hand. "They have returned!" And she takes off down the corridor. I follow behind her, slower. I don't run unless I'm in mortal danger. Like from a giant meat cleaver or a chainsaw. And yes, I do watch too many horror flicks.
I skid to a stop in front of Legolas. If I hadn't put my hand on his chest to stop him, I don't think he would've seen me. I smile at him, but at the expression on his face, the smile slips a bit.
"What?" I ask, laying my hand on his wrist. "What's wrong?"
He doesn't answer, just lowers his eyes to his hand. It's clenched in a tight fist, and I know what I'm going to see even before I pull his fingers away.
Arwen's pendant. Which Aragorn would never, ever part with, and everybody knows it.
Shit. Here come the doubts again.
I close his hand back over the pendant and meet his eyes. "Oh." I run a hand through my hair. "OK. I have...stuff. Yeah."
I turn and all but flee.
TBC...