[I am quite surprised by the number of people who are interested in this
story. At present I am posting this in short chapters because the author
rambles a bit about scenery. I am trying to get this, the slower part of
the story, moving a bit more rapidly. It may seem a little choppy.
Someday I plan to post the first half of this journal as well. I realize that it may be a bit confusing to start reading in the middle like this, so I am putting a few facts about the author here:
Her name was Helen Thomkins. She and her family owned a large farm called Spruce Havens in Northwestern Virginia. At the time of her trip to Middle Earth, her younger brother Robert had been killed in a battle. She found this out and promptly rode out into a thunderstorm. She gives no attempt at an explanation, and as I do not have the answers either, I shall not try to explain how one can cross time and distance in that manner.
As near as I can figure, the author must have visited the Shire in (SR) 1420. That would explain why she found the shire-folk so happy.]
The Golden Hall
Now the serving women had explained to me what I must do upon being introduced to the king. When I expressed a lack of knowledge as to the was and what he did they set to talking so fast (they said I must be a poor country chick indeed not to know.) that I could not explain that I was new to this land. But, at least I need not make a fool of myself. I walked into the Hall and bowed as someone announced:
"Eómer, King of the Mark!"
Than I answered respectfully:
"Helen, daughter of Jeremiah, of Spruce Havens."
A new voice spoke, one I found oddly familiar. "Strange to us are these words and names, fair maiden of the Havens."
I dared lift my head for my first glance at a king. What should I find but that he was the Rider! I mentally went over everything I had done and thought to myself that it was not at all how one should act before a king. As I looked upon him I was surprised to find that he was a well-looking man. I had not noticed before. His shoulders were broad and his features noble. His face had a kingliness that I had never before seen on a man. His eyes bore into me intensely as though he was trying to read my mind. Perhaps he was. I do not know how long I knelt there looking upon him, but at last I gathered my wits enough to stand and speak.
"The king may well say that such names are strange, for they do not come from this land. They - I am from a far off country, though how far it is I do not know."
Eómer King looked at his advisors who looked back at him blankly. At last he rose from his throne and motioned for me to follow him as he walked out onto a terrace. Once we were both comfortably seated he spoke.
"And now, fair one, I would hear all of your tale. Perhaps it may be more strange and wonderful than the tales to us of late. Although, that would be a wondrous feat indeed."
So, taking a deep breath, I began.
Someday I plan to post the first half of this journal as well. I realize that it may be a bit confusing to start reading in the middle like this, so I am putting a few facts about the author here:
Her name was Helen Thomkins. She and her family owned a large farm called Spruce Havens in Northwestern Virginia. At the time of her trip to Middle Earth, her younger brother Robert had been killed in a battle. She found this out and promptly rode out into a thunderstorm. She gives no attempt at an explanation, and as I do not have the answers either, I shall not try to explain how one can cross time and distance in that manner.
As near as I can figure, the author must have visited the Shire in (SR) 1420. That would explain why she found the shire-folk so happy.]
The Golden Hall
Now the serving women had explained to me what I must do upon being introduced to the king. When I expressed a lack of knowledge as to the was and what he did they set to talking so fast (they said I must be a poor country chick indeed not to know.) that I could not explain that I was new to this land. But, at least I need not make a fool of myself. I walked into the Hall and bowed as someone announced:
"Eómer, King of the Mark!"
Than I answered respectfully:
"Helen, daughter of Jeremiah, of Spruce Havens."
A new voice spoke, one I found oddly familiar. "Strange to us are these words and names, fair maiden of the Havens."
I dared lift my head for my first glance at a king. What should I find but that he was the Rider! I mentally went over everything I had done and thought to myself that it was not at all how one should act before a king. As I looked upon him I was surprised to find that he was a well-looking man. I had not noticed before. His shoulders were broad and his features noble. His face had a kingliness that I had never before seen on a man. His eyes bore into me intensely as though he was trying to read my mind. Perhaps he was. I do not know how long I knelt there looking upon him, but at last I gathered my wits enough to stand and speak.
"The king may well say that such names are strange, for they do not come from this land. They - I am from a far off country, though how far it is I do not know."
Eómer King looked at his advisors who looked back at him blankly. At last he rose from his throne and motioned for me to follow him as he walked out onto a terrace. Once we were both comfortably seated he spoke.
"And now, fair one, I would hear all of your tale. Perhaps it may be more strange and wonderful than the tales to us of late. Although, that would be a wondrous feat indeed."
So, taking a deep breath, I began.