RESPONSES:
Climesse: Thanks for pointing that out. Paris what's-his-last-name doesn't look like a forty-one-year-old prince in the movie (one of the many things I want to scream at Peter Jackson for), so I was kind of confused about that (I focus mainly on the timeline in the appendices). I think, now that the story is started, I am going to stick with Ardeas. It doesn't mean anything, as far as I know, but I like it.
Mariette: No, the last thing I'm going to do is make Ardeas fall in love with a member of the Fellowship (this is 2 years before Grima Wormtongue makes his appearance in Meduseld). If I did so, it would have to be either Legolas or Merry, and neither option appeals to me (Éowyn would claw her to bits if she even tried Aragorn). Legolas is bad, because there are way too many Legolas/OC stories out there, and Merry is bad, because of vertical plane differences, not that I don't like Merry. As I said before, I'm not even sure she'll even fall in love with someone, even if I did, there's no one in Rohan except my own characters (Éomer marries Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil, and Théodred is 20 years older than her).
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
So yep, Chapter three... because I was (thankfully) corrected before I made a huge mistake about Théodred, Théodred will be perfectly Tolkien, leaving me to fill in the empty parts, as everyone does with all the characters. So right now, Théodred is an elderly 34 (anything over 22 is old to me), Éomer is 21, leaving Éowyn at 17, though she is much more mature having lost both her parents, one of whom slowly died before her (that would be inevitable in any person). Our beloved King Théoden is an aged 64 (almost time to put the old dear in a nursing home).
Chapter III
The kitchen staff were more than pleased when I had eaten all that I could. I never quite got done saying how delicious everything was, and all of it was the most delicious things I had ever eaten. A person in particular, a slightly plump woman at least fifty named Rhya, was beaming in pride as I complimented the latest pastry she gave to me. I had never eaten so much in my life. I took a bite of the pastry. It was a berry of some sort that I had never tasted or seen, I assumed. Needless to say, I loved it.
"Delicious!" I said between mouthfuls.
She beamed even brighter if that was possible. She offered me another pastry, but my stomach was finally beginning to protest.
"I'm afraid my stomach isn't ready for more until dinner," I said, after swallowing the last mouthful.
"I understand, dearie," she said, but I could tell she was unhappy.
I didn't take to this 'dearie' stuff too well, but she seemed nice enough, so I let it slip by. Anyway, I should at least be grateful. After all, they really didn't have to treat me so nicely.
Éowyn sat watching me in horror at all the meat, pastries, vegetables, and fruit I ate. Apparently, she expected nothing less that I should just swell into a giant foodstuff and explode.
I started to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, but, as if she just couldn't take it any more, she reached out, and stopped my hand, picking up the napkin from my lap and putting that in my hands, and then turning away, nearly afraid I might do something atrocious. I just smiled, but used the napkin to wipe my mouth and the surrounding area of berry stains that were sure to be there.
Éowyn turned back precisely as I had finished, taking the linen napkin from my hands, spitting on it, and rubbing it furiously over the spots that I had not managed to clean. I felt embarrassed at being uncouth, as Findulwyn had called me at more than one occaision. But when she finished, she just set the napkin down and smiled at me.
"What would you like to do?" she asked, pulling me out of my chair.
What was I supposed to say? Did she really expect an answer? She might have asked me what Elves did when they were feeling very pompous. But luckily, she didn't expect an answer, and instead, she just pulled me out of the kitchen toward a door that apparently led outside.
We were on a sort of uncovered porch facing the westward as the sun slightly pointed more in that direction. The wind was still blowing the same direction, and because we were on the opposite side of the Hall, our hair was blown in front of us, westward toward the sun. I looked at her questioningly. She had brought me out here for this? It's just the sun and the wind.
"The sky is most beautiful at sunset," Éowyn said matter-of-factly.
"I don't doubt it."
We stood in silence as the wind blew across our faces. She, looking at the glories of the plains around us, while I called back memories of times gone by.
I remembered the very first time I had seen Rourn and Findulwyn. I must have been four-years-old then. And that was the oldest memory I could recall. I remember stumbling down the path to their cottage, feeling hungry and homesick, and missing someone whom I now couldn't remember. I saw their cottage, faltering wearily toward it. I remembered Findulwyn rushing toward me, concern, the only time I had seen it, covering her face. It was then I fell forward, and I guess blacked out because I couldn't remember anything happening after that.
My next memory was quite clear indeed. I remembered Rourn picking me up and tossing me into the barn. I vaguely recall that Findulwyn argued with Rourn over something, but I couldn't hear. At my current age, I entertained thoughts that possibly she was arguing over his treatment of me, and that possibly she had wanted a daughter so bad, and that she had had a miscarriage before this, and she was mad how he expected me to be their slave. But most likely, he wanted an all vegetable dinner (he did, for some odd reason), and she wanted some meat.
For the first few weeks, Findulwyn was neutral to me. She didn't hate me, but neither did she treat me like a friend, or an acquaintance. She fed me well and made sure I was warm. She even made me a new blanket, in some urge of maternal broodiness, I'm sure. But after a month or so, Rourn finally convinced her not to become, I think the word was, "attached," to me, even though I don't think she ever was in the first place. After that it was work for Rourn, and if he wasn't calling me, it was slave away for Findulwyn who took to having me massage her stinking feet. And if I didn't do it exactly right, I might get lashed with her very long stick. If I didn't do Rourn's work exactly right, I received no food for two days. I had learned pretty quickly that there was no stubbornness with them. Rebellious thoughts were repressed if I didn't want to turn away empty, silent, and hungry. I was a slave, now able to admit it, though I did learn a lot from their talking at night, when they were finished with me.
Few good memories came with me to Edoras. Being at the creek was by far the best, but there were still other good ones. When Rourn would tell me how old I was, after I had worked harder than him in the field. When Findulwyn would give me a biscuit for scouring the floor and being sure not to get some of the blood from my knuckles on it. Once when Findulwyn and Rourn had gone away for the day, I had climbed Rourn's prized tree, sitting in the branches at sunset as the wind blew my hair behind me, with bees buzzing lazily around me, too full to bother stinging me.
When I had been little I had thought Rourn and Findulwyn were my parents and that this was how all of the other children were treated. I soon learned this was wrong when the first family came for counsel. The parents were strict, but they treated their children with dignity, respect, and love.
Rourn was livid later that evening when I had asked if he loved me. I took that for a maybe when he didn't answer, the naïve six-year-old that I was, unaware of anything, really.
I had always wished that I was a princess of some sort, and that one day my parents Mr. King and Mrs. Queen would come sweep me away to their hidden, large, and prosperous kingdom. That faded with time and was replaced by slightly different version. That Mr. Prince Charming would come sweep me away to get married. Mr. Charming was slightly based off my first crush, a young man, four years ago, probably about Brannen's age, had come to the house, seeking advice and counsel, as they always had done. He rode a horse, and dressed well, though not princely, but came with no envoy of some sort. I now realized he was probably the son of an upper middle class merchant, send here by his father for some economical or finance question. I had had one dream in particular where the man was actually a prince in disguise, and that he had come to marry me, and take me away from them, but Rourn had convinced him that I was not really here, and that he should look somewhere else, and that is why he left without me. Of course by now, thank whoever controlled these things, I had got over him, and currently was very pleased with staying by myself.
Éowyn motioned toward a stone bench that sat next to the building, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding area. I sat down next to her, watching some men practicing archery below and spear/javelin throwing below.
"Don't you have any Princess duties to attend to? I don't want to hold you up."
Éowyn laughed, "I have no real duties to do. Women are to be wed a man with either potential or wealth. I myself have only to wait."
"So you're just here for a wedding?"
"I suppose you could put it that way. 'Tis not as bad as it sounds, however. I have not become acquainted with anyone I would prefer to be married to as of now. It could be worse."
"What do you mean 'it could be worse'?"
"I could be married to someone involuntarily. An arranged marriage, some call it. But as a woman, you should be ready for such a situation. These marriages are not unusual."
"Arranged marriage?" I said. That was a concept I had never heard before.
"Marriage to someone not of your choosing. Although they are not always what we like, they usually work. I would detest such a marriage, however.."
"Fun," I said sarcastically.
"'Tis not so bad. One of my close friends was in an arranged marriage. She had never met the man, but she is happy now. My father had been part of an arranged marriage until the other family backed out."
"Your father?" I hadn't seen him here, and surely I would have met him by now, "Where is he?"
She didn't answer but instead looked away, leaving us in an awkward silence. I surmised correctly that she didn't want to talk about it. Either he was dead/missing or had done something extremely humiliating the family. I didn't want to find out if she didn't want to talk about it. I think I geniunely liked Éowyn. She was the only person to really listen to me (except for Brannen).
I changed the topic: "Am I really going to live here?"
She smiled, "I would imagine so. Uncle has taken a genuine liking to you. He never had a daughter. He had always wanted a daughter like his wife."
"I'm like his wife?" I didn't know whether to be pleased or not so pleased.
"In a way, yes. The looks are not the same, but she had a hint of audacity."
I was rather worried at that bit. "Audacity?"
"Do not let it worry you," she said smiling.
There was a slight pause in the conversation. I began to wonder if Éowyn had any admirers.
"Do you have any admirers," I asked, "Do they fall at your feet and kiss your toes?"
She chuckled, "Yes, all too many. They are rather amusing to trick, however."
"Really?"
"I once convinced a young man that the only way I would love him would be if he serenaded me at dinner. 'Twas quite funny indeed as he is a frightful singer. I have never seen so many men burst into laughter at one time."
I snickered, "Is he still infatuated with you?"
She smiled in amusement, "Surprisingly, yes. He believes that I was so moved by his performance, and that I am secretly harboring feelings of affection toward him. But if getting them to sing is funny, it is even better getting them drunk." Her smile brightened as if remembering past memories.
"Why is that funny?" My most experience with overdrinking was Rourn who would sway and talk very loudly, and go to bed about ten minutes of staring blankly at the wall. Amusing, but not hilarious.
"They swagger about insisting upon declarations of love. They are quite easy to trip. And depending how much alcohol you give them, they have to be dragged to their rooms." She laughed lightly, and I joined her.
I looked down at the men still practicing archery and "long pointy stick" throwing, though some had broken away into pairs and were sword-fighting with wooden swords.
Éowyn sensed the quiet in the conversation and decided to point out the men she knew below.
"Ardeas, do you see that man at the target third to the left?"
I nodded. The man who was facing away from me so that I could not see his face had just hit the exact center of the target whenever my gaze fell on him.
"That is Prince Théodred, the King's son."
"Oh." I recognized Brannen next to Théodred. It looked like they were laughing at something along with five or six other men. She pointed them out to me.
It turned out most of the men down there were either sons of the King's advisors, sons of provincial lords, or the one who was the son of an ambassador from Gondor. A few of them were non-royal non-wealthy, but the only reason they were there was because of exceptional skills with either spears, bows and arrows, or with a sword. There were at least thirty, possibly forty all together down there practicing.
She pointed out the young man who had tried to serenade her. It appeared that the young man was a very good friend of Kirith, the son of the ambassador and Séthan, some distant provincial lord's son. The three were the only ones not practicing. Anden appeared to be writing something and Séthan and Kirith were advising him.
"'Tis probably another declaration of eternal love," Éowyn mused outloud, "I receive them nearly every day, the fool. If he'd just listen to me, instead of himself, he would understand that I care no more for him than I do for the Steward's son. He is, however, very insistand and very persistant, leaving me wearied at his foolish proclamations."
I only half listened. I was busy watching, trying to figure out what Théodred, Brannen, and the rest of their group were laughing at. I heard their voices but I couldn't discern what they were saying. I couldn't see anything that looked out of the ordinary. They were probably laughing at a story or a joke.
Brannen looked up at me where I was, and I didn't miss the start of surprise at me entirely cleaned up, looking much better.
He smiled broadly and waved at me. I guess I was forgiven for hurting his gut.
I smiled and waved back.
Théodred looked over at me upon seeing Brannen waving at me. He looked at me with puzzlement, as if deciding who I was and what I was doing. He was probably wondering what I was doing in Meduseld.
Brannen suggestively winked at me, and I'm glad I could tell he was joking.
I stuck out my tongue and made a face, which instantly broke when I laughed.
He waved again as if to say, Nice talking to you, and turned back to his companions.
I looked up at the sky again, not noticing Théodred was still looking at me with confusion plastered all over his face. Brannen said something to him, he nodded, as if understanding, but still looked puzzled.
I flicked lint off of my dress, now becoming bored. I wish I could do something to help out, now that I was living under the King's generosity.
(AN: I know this chapter was rather short, as my creative juices were running short at 1:30 AM. Reviews are always welcome, including suggestions to what should happen next. I like to know I'm pleasing at least someone other than myself at my writing. And as I've said before, I never write with an outline, so the plot can go anywhere, meaning, go right ahead and suggest anything. I'm also thinking of starting another Lord of the Rings story, so I'm open to suggestions about story ideas. I can generally write anything, though I try to steer clear of Mary-Sues (stories like: She is attractive. He is attractive. The look at each other, have sex, and with a few I-don't-think-you-love-me's along the way, they get married) and stories where violence is what the plot exists for.