Chapter XIII

(language warning)

What light that had made Meduseld a cheery place was rapidly disappearing. It had been only two months since Wormtongue assumed his position as Chief Advisor, and he had already had the windows on the roof covered with pitch and then straw. He claimed it was hurting his eyes. Yet, sadly, the large group of ignorant people who though he was the best chief advisor they'd had in years, mostly due to the fact that they had had no Chief Advisor of the King to look to, still had hope in this large sack of potatoes, who had noticeably gained a few pounds. Nothing like being corpulent, but thick all the same. He made me sick.

One thing that had improved (improvents in life were pretty goshdarn miraculous those days) was that Éowyn and I spent a lot more time together, for even with our very differing views on certain subjects, she was still my only real friend. Friendships between men and women were not really encouraged unless it was courtship, which was a little uncommon considering most marriages were arranged, so I could not have really be friends with Éomer or with Théodred, though even if I could have, Théodred was still giving me the cold shoulder because of my adoption. That didn't bother me very much. He was not very nice to a lot of people.

Éowyn and I escaped to the plains outside the city for whole days at a time. Mind you, we never went so far as that we could not have made it back to the city in a minute at a gallop (our compromise with Father when he found out, rather than taking armed guards), but it was still a ways away from everything. We talked for hours, only us, the wind, and the tall grass, and the occasional tick that I had had so much fun pulling out of Éowyn's skin, though sadly, she got used to them, and they don't bother her near as much as they did before. It was times when we watched the clouds pass by and the wind whistle through the grass that I wished Morwyn was with me. I could never really connect to Éowyn the same way that I had to Morwyn in just that short span of time that I had known her. I could never really open up to Éowyn. She had always been changing, and I had never felt that I could tell her safely of my problems with the King's rules and laws, or anything like that which was personal and might be considered treasonous or dangerous to say or even think.

---

"Do you ever miss her?" I had asked Éowyn one day as we watched the sky as our horses grazed nearby.

"Miss who?"

"Your mother."

"Yes, once in a while. It's not something I think about much."

"How much do you remember of her?"

"Only a little. She was a very quiet woman. Beautiful and self-possessed. I don't think she ever could be violent or wrathful. Disappointed, but not really angry. All that I remember of her is the pain of her illness. But even then, she always was trying to smile, as she lingered on. She had always been weak, sacrificing her best years toward myself, Éomer, and Father. And then while her health and dignity was hanging on by a thread, the illness just hacked it off like firewood. My last memory of her is when she was coughing up what looked like black syrup. I hope that never happens to me. I would prefer to die quickly with honor and valor, not in my bed when all is silent and no one is near, no one to say goodbye. Death is detestable by itself. It ruins lives, separates families and friends, and leaves what's left of the living languishing in its wake. But the worst death is the lonely death, with no valor and no comfort, where no one cries as you're buried, and no one cares either way."

Sounds a bit familiar. Hmmm... I wonder who died and Éowyn didn't give a horse's ass about it..., I thought sarcastically. The other side of my mind told me to be nice.

"But people cared when your mother died. People cried at her funeral. And she didn't die alone."

"Perhaps that is what occurred," Éowyn spat bitterly and not a little cynically and sarcastically as if remembering a contradicting anamnesis.

We didn't talk much more after that. There was too much emotion in that little patch of plains so we left. It was one of those days where nothing really works, and you feel like horse shit.

We rode back to Edoras in silence. The wind whipped through everything and stung my eyes, and I couldn't see very well. I just wanted to stop and go to sleep right then. A nice easy sleep is what I wanted then, one to forget everything and everyone just for a few hours, screw the consequences of staying outside of the city over night. The horse knew however that if it didn't make it back to the city, it would have to do without a warm, cosy stable and hot mash and apples, so it wearily trudged alongside Éowyn's horse. We made it to the gates with no explosive arguments between us and only hard feelings on my part for the last part of Éowyn's little speech. The guards saluted smartly to Éowyn and myself, one of the perks of being female, though I would have preferred women to have more respect earned socially and politically rather than in just formal manners.

The city had always seemed a little happy before Wormy's untimely appearance. Now it was turning dark and dismal. People stopped and watched us like we were a funeral march for some unknown noble faraway. They looked appropriately sad but a little empty as well because they did not care for the dead man. People wore black, and the only sound of communication was a little girl who was being chased about by slightly older boys. Usually children were gently scolded for such teasing of each other, but none of the adults stopped them, or even said anything. They just watched us as our horses marched up the hill toward Meduseld. The Rohirrim were a solemn people, but was not this a bit much?

If Éowyn noticed the uncanny silence of the people, she did not remark on it.

---

Watching sunsets in Edoras are very painful, so I do not do it frequently, but on the rare occasion that I do sit on the steps, trying to pretend that I am alone without the two guards on duty next to the doors (put there by Théoden after much cajoling by Wormtongue), it is an experience that I remember. The way that the sky turns this glorious symphony of pinks, oranges, reds, and blue with Sun streaming his bright yellow light across a sky so vast, as if he were dying, yet desperately trying to make one last and final mark on the waking world cannot be described as less than magnicifient, if it can be described at all. The light seems to reach out like a hand, touching everything in sight, brushing and fondly caressing old memories of a time so long forgotten, like someone returning to their homeland many lifetimes after they had left, but unable to stay for a moment longer than to glance, touch, remember, and then smile.

I cannot tell you why I find this utter perfectionate beauty to be painful, but if you were here with me to watch the sunsets, I think that you would understand.

---

My little memory time was interrupted by some footsteps behind me. The guards never moved, or at least I had never seen the guard change, so I looked behind me to see who would approach me in my private time to myself.

It was him.

My eyes narrowed in revulsion at his black furs and his greasy hair, but I stood and curtseyed respectfully to Wormy. He smelled of liquor, though he did not look drunk.

"My dear, my dear: there is no need to stand for me." That was a lie. But I gave a fake smile like I loved doing it anyway. His eyes glinted in his joy over his supposed control over me. "Please sit down."

I sat.

"Would you mind it ever so terribly if I joined you?"

I felt like slapping his face, but that would have resulted in very dangerous repercussions. I lifted my hand and indicated a spot beside me on the step. I tried not to give my opinion of him as I was a horrible liar, and he seemed like a person who would see through lies immediately, considering how hee made most of them.

When he sat down, his furs took more than half of the seat, and I was forced to move over a good ways so it would not look inappropriate to any passers by.

He did not look at me when he spoke, for which I was eternally thankful.

"You have grown into a beautiful young woman, Lady Ardeas."

I held my chin in my hands, pretending to be calm and casual, like I was talking to an old friend instead of a political and social enemy. I didn't like where this was going. I wanted scream and begin to sob and run back to my room and cry in my pillow like a little girl.

I didn't respond and hoped that was the right thing to do.

"Have you considered the fact that a few women your age are already married, and that the rest will be married soon?"

Ahh, the old marriage gag. I considered marriage in the same way a five year old considered marriage: something that was too far ahead in time to really give much thought to in practical terms. Éowyn had finally explained how babies were made, as much as she knew at least which was little. I had so many questions, but I could never really discuss it with anyone. It was a taboo subject, only spoken of under extreme duress, and that was hardly common.

"A little," I admitted.

"A little?" he asked, clearly astonished, "I should have thought marriage to be one of the most defining occurrences in a female's life!"

So he did have some intellect behind those pale eyes, pallid skin, and cruel, twisting mouth. I would have thought otherwise.

"It concerns me little."

He gave a sigh of dismay that sounded a not a little feigned. I hope he didn't think that now because we were having a conversation we were becoming friends. And whenever I looked into his eyes, he seemed so soft and kind, like Éomer or Théoden. It seemed like he tried to weave a magical spell around whomever to whom he was speaking. Nay, not a spell. A spider's web, with the promise of happiness and glory at the depths of his eyes. But I knew it was a lie. It made me trust him all the less, which of course did not overly concern him if he guessed. I had no power in the court. Théoden did not listen to my "radical" ideas, mostly because I was a female, and then because they usually contradicted what he had already done in his career as king, and heaven forbid that the king should be wrong.

"My lady, I feel I should be frank with you. There are several men of the court of whom I would like you to take exceptional notice. Perhaps a journey to Gondor may help you choose a mate."

It took every ounce of strength to stay in my seat. I held my hands together to keep him from seeing that they were shaking. Marriage? I had thought something along the lines of "take a look at that fine gentleman over in the corner," but by golly he was utterly serious about everything.

Shit.

I looked at him in a composed manner, as if he had just told me he expected light rain tonight. The fading light struck his face in an ominous fashion. He turned to me and smiled. I saw straight through it. It was almost as if he wanted me out of the picture. He had probably heard about some of my radical ideas, of which since his arrival I had kept mostly to myself. He might have seen me as a very potential threat. Fat lot I could do, I thought caustically.

"Myself, for that matter, Ardeas. I am, after all, Chief Advisor to your King and Father."

He reached out an white hand to my face, as his smile faded into something else altogether. This was my breaking point.

I pulled back and stood up away from him. I was going to say what was on the tip of my tongue, damn the consequences. He needed to learn that I was not going to marry anyone for a while, and that I was not the least interested in his advances or almost-proposal.

He looked me in a fashion that I could not quite place.

"Do not flatter yourself, Lord Wormtongue," I said as maliciously as I could. I could just barely hear the gasps of the guards.

His face turned furious, and I regretted my sentence.

He made to stand and opened his mouth while doing so, but I did not care to hear what he had to say.

With a "If you will excuse me, my lord," I used my skirts to maximize my dramatic departure and swept back into Meduseld and retreated to the library. I smiled grimly when I heard a faint call from outside that sounded liked a furious Wormy.

---

Krane was in the library, but took no notice of me when I entered and began copying the next day's lesson. I was in such a state that I botched the neatness of handwriting twice, violently scratching out the writing with my quill before finally shoving the paper aside with an irritated sigh followed by the plop of my pen onto the desk beside the ink well. I laid my head on the desk.

Krane got up from his desk and moved behind me and laid a comforting hand on my back. He pulled the paper back toward me and then handed me a white handkerchief. How had he known that I had been crying?

"Ardeas, you know that you can do better than this." He pointed at my writing.

I nodded, blew my nose, and wiped my eyes.

He glanced at with my runny nose and my wet eyes staring blankly at the book shelves.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Krane could be a typical male at times, but he goshdarn knew when something was up and when it was time to play sensitive and protective father/older brother figure. He patted my back softly as I supported my head with my arms.

"Wormtongue asked that I look around for single men of stature, even journey to Gondor for an alliance to strengthen Gondor and Rohan's ties."

"That is expected, Ardeas. I cannot imagine why that would put you in tears. Surely you knew that that would be expected of you, a woman now considered a noble."

"Of course, but not this soon. I had expected it to always be a little later. But that was not what upsetted me."

He rubbed my back in a comforting manner with his one hand. He waited for me to continue.

"Well, he suggested that I might consider marrying him."

Krane choked back a laugh which turned it into a ridiculous confused sort of chortle.

"'Tis not funny! I find him thoroughly vile, and I am almost certain he knows of that oh-so-minor detail. It almost could be called a proposal."

"Well? What did you say?" Krane said, with a amusement very evident in his voice.

"I told him to not flatter himself."

Krane burst out laughing. In fact, he had to sit down on the couch to keep from falling over. I turned around and scowled at him. This was completely serious, and not a little disturbing. I did not find it all funny.

When he had finally calmed down and wiped his own tears from his eyes, he said to me while smiling, "I wish you could see the humor in the situation, Ardeas. I am certain you would die laughing."

I glowered at him. "As of right now, death sounds like a wonderful option compared to marrying Gríma."

Krane sobered instantly. "I do not think you would find death a more pleasant choice than marriage to anyone. I think you naïve to even consider death as an option. Remember what it was like to see Morwyn die. Do not ever let me hear you say you would rather have death again."

That completely ruined whatever cheerfulness there was in the room. He pointed vaguely in the direction of the desk and muttered "Continue working," before leaving me alone in the room.

"Brilliant, Ardeas," I murmured to myself. I did not quite agree with Krane. There could be some matrimonial situations worse than death, but I made a pledge to myself to never argue the point again as I was wary to see the wrath of Krane who could easily kill me/maim me sans any weapons.

I sighed, but it was not an irritated sigh, but rather a frustrated sigh. I was so stupid sometimes. I should have been polite to His Malodorous Wormtongue, and I definitely should have tried to find some humor in the situation so death would never have been brought up with Krane. And he had all the nerve to mention Morwyn too, as if he expected me to cease to remember the look upon her face when she died.

I stopped talking to myself inside my head. It was probably not healthy.

AN: I have recently discovered that odd music does wonders to my incentive to write. I just listened to Klaus Nomi's Total Eclipse and I feel like exploding with all the ideas I could write right now. He's really cool, but if you don't think he appears to be really weird, look up a few pictures of him on Yahoo! or Google. You'll know what I mean when I say that I doubt that he is a member of the human race. 

C'mon people, I'm really getting depressed over lack of reviews. A writer can write without feedback, but it really helps (thanks to chou-fleur for being one reviewer who still reads). As pointed out to me by Angelica and Bast, my story does need a whole lot of work, but I do think that it has noticeably improved in the later chapters. I promise everyone that I plan on revising as soon as I finish it, but it's depressing when only one person reviews consistently to tell me about my story, and with fewer than expected reviews on my last chapter, I don't know if I'll feel motivated enough to finish this story on schedule, though I desperately want to. So if you can, please write me a note on Ardeas. Thanks.

Yours,

Regnet