A/N
Firstly, thank you once again for the fantastic reviews! I really, honestly cherish each and every one short or long and they are very helpful in overcoming this awful writer's block that comes and goes. I take every comment or opinion into account. It has been a good while since I started this story and my updates are not always timely, so thank you for sticking with me and this story. I will finish this story, I know a vague area I am taking it to. I am mainly writing for my own enjoyment but of course I want you all to enjoy it to, but then I can't expect to make everyone happy.
A small note on Éomer's tearful scene as I know PetiteJeanne (whose review I immensely enjoyed once again, thank you) was uncomfortable with it. I'm a full believer that no human being, no matter how warrior hardened, will go through life without having a good cry, whether that be fueled by sorrow, anger, frustration, despair or drink. I don't believe there are people who never cry or never will, I think people hide such signs of supposed weakness well. If it made you feel uncomfortable then my intent was achieved, I wanted it to feel strange and for people to relate to Aedre's own horror at seeing a man she thinks is so strong lose himself for a small moment in his own feelings. Just as when you find out your parents are not the all knowing beings you believe in youth... and drunkenness goes hand in hand with this kind of culture I believe, so no doubt many outbursts of tears, violence or of a sexual nature etc would go on within the walls of the Mead Hall. So I hope that helps to reason why I included that scene. You can still disagree of course ;)
Anyway, this will be my last update before the new year. I hope you enjoy the chapter and I am sorry to leave it here, it will be updated asap and hopefully the wait will not be long.
Happy holidays :)
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Aedre stayed in the dim little room, for how long she could not say. Minutes or hours, the time felt numbingly the same. What had she done? Éomer was displeased and her little world of comforts and kind words was slowly beginning to crumble around her very being. She could almost feel it flaking and drifting away on the strong winter breeze... all she could do was watch helplessly as it was wrenched from her grasp.
At the thought she shuddered, feeling the chill of the unheated room. She wrapped her arms about her and rubbed the woollen material of her clothing, trying to gain a little heat back into her heavy limbs. She replayed the events that had just occurred over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of her confused feelings. Was that really what he had wanted from her? What the Orcs had wanted from her was what Éomer wanted? She shook her head, hating the feel of the thoughts that enclosed her, she knew them to be true and his prior words came flooding into her memory. She reached out and grasped the side of the table, wrapping her fingers about it and digging her nails into the wood. She shook her head violently... she couldn't... she wouldn't do it, not for him, not for anyone... couldn't he understand what a punishment those hateful actions were to her? The awful, terror filled images they brought screaming to her mind?
She finally allowed her body to give in to the grief and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Again time slid by as she cried softly and self pityingly, clutching her hand uselessly at her breast as if this act would somehow still the pain that seemed to course through her. She finally wiped at her sore eyes and tear streaked cheeks before pulling herself onto her feet. She gave a loud sniff and reached for an old bronze plate that sat upon a nearby shelf and studied her reflection in its polished surface. Her eyes were puffy and her face held a swollen quality to it. She again brushed at her cheeks and eyes before doing her best to tidy her hair. Once she was satisfied she replaced the plate and straightened her skirts, she too would be missed at the feast and would no doubt already be in for a harsh scolding. She exited the room and made her way back up the corridor; she came across her abandoned wooden jug and felt relieved that no one else had been down this way. She picked the weighty object up and prepared herself for the hustle of the feast.
It seemed she had been gone long enough for the music to change from sweet, sad ballads to bawdy battle songs, an occurrence that only happened when the drink had been flowing for a good few hours. She wanted to just do her duty and not look at him, but it was an impossible task, she instantly sought his form and found him to be in the full throes of actions to the current song with the men around him. He laughed and drank as though he had never met her in that tiny room but a short time past, no sorrow or anguish clouded his expression. Aedre bit her lip uncertainly before she felt a sharp pat upon her shoulder.
"Where have you been?"
The harsh reprimand made her spin around to face the person who addressed her.
Aedre bowed her head in shame, as the elder serving woman gave her an angry, vexed look. "Well, just get back to work, if I catch you again..." She didn't need to finish her warning and Aedre nodded meekly before returning to her chore of filling mugs.
The hours slipped by, the men and women who celebrated grew more intoxicated and merry laughter boomed around the great hall. Aedre still couldn't prevent her gaze from finding him and now with a small moment in which to rest in the shadows she could watch him to her heart's content. She frowned as she saw Guene hovering around the group. She bent over Éomer's shoulder, giving him an unashamed view of her bosom. A remark was made that Aedre could not hear and laughter erupted from the men, Guene too was chuckling, her hand lingering teasing on Éomer's shoulder. When he did not move to remove her touch she moved to the nape of his neck, caressing gently. Her pretty features glowed in the warm firelight, her rosy cheeks full of cheer, youth and beauty.
Aedre felt a strange emotion fill her, one she had experienced many times in her life but never over another being, only ever over want of food, warmth - the things she wanted but the Orcs kept from her... Envy was a bitter feeling and this time it was also hazed with anger. She clutched her hands into balls, allowing her fingernails to bite painfully into skin. Why was it that Guene could do as she wished, while she, Aedre, was allocated to secret meetings and shadowed corners! She wanted to suddenly fling her fists at the wall, to throw the jug by her feet harshly upon the floor, watch it break and the contents flow, to scream until all in the room stared at her in shocked surprise. But instead her eyes were fixed upon Éomer and Guene, unable or unwilling to tear herself from the scene before her.
Suddenly Guene moved, her lips crashing against Éomer's in a long, lingering kiss. When she had finished this act of seduction she whispered something into the king's ear. Éomer let out a bark of a laugh and pushed the woman from him, signifying that he did not need or desire her company. Guene stared at his back as Éomer returned to drinking, her dark look speaking of bitter spite. Within that small moment Guene's eyes connected with Aedre's and her look darkened further, disgust and malice hinting at the corners of her mouth. She rushed from the great hall to the sound of more laughter from the king's table.
Aedre joined the many other serving maids in clearing the great hall. The hour was late and many of the participants of the feast had retired, a few remained, unwilling to give up their fun or drink. She found her thoughts swam, the mere feeling making her feel a queasiness that seeped through her stomach. She wanted to be far away from the great hall and back in her own little room. When she was finally allowed this rest it very soon became apparent that no matter which way she laid upon her soft bed her restless limbs could not find ease. She quickly rose and dressed, suddenly aware that she needed to feel the bitter chill night air against her skin. She rushed through the corridors, pulling on a dark gray woollen cloak as she made her way to the side entrance near the kitchens; she had no wish to find herself confronted with a familiar face on this night. She fetched the key and unlocked the large bolt, easing the wooden door open a mere crack, she quickly glanced about, seeing only the guards at their posts. They did not pay her much attention; many maids used this exit to have secret meetings with lovers. She pulled the hood of her cloak further forward, shadowing her face completely and slipped out, closing the door noiselessly behind her. Her soft steps were sure and made little noise. She had intended to just stand in the cool air a moment but her legs seemed to have a different plan in mind. She allowed herself to walk until the path began to slope slightly; she shied away from the bright flames of torches that burned around the great structure of Meduseld, keeping her way to the shadows.
She began to shiver as the icy wind easily found chinks in her armour of warmth and her teeth began to chatter. Finally the stables came into sight, the warm musty smell of horseflesh welcomed her in, and she did not hesitate but quickly entered. The many horses stabled together made for a cosy building and slowly she began to feel the feeling return to her numb body. She glanced around, the stable seemed empty; it was unusual, normally two stable hands were on duty through the night but it was not unheard of for the young boys to drink a little too much on feast nights and end up in a stupor among the hay. She did not have time to dwell on such thoughts for long as she became crushingly aware that with the renewed heat this place offered, without the cold to preoccupy her mind, the emotions of this night came rushing back. She tried to take in a lungful of air to calm herself but found her breaths were harsh, panicked and fast, the whole world appeared to spin as her body seemed to attack itself with sheer fear. She grasped on to a nearby stable, trying to gain any kind of control but her mind instead brought up images of the horse in the Orc's camp, its eyes rolling white and terrible as the dread covered its heart... and her own heart felt as if it would burst. She fell softly to her knees, trying to control her breathing. Just as quickly as the awful emotion came it began to subside and ebb, leaving Aedre gasping for much needed air and tears streamed from her eyes. She gulped a few times before feeling steady enough to look up at her surroundings once again. The stable no longer wavered before her sight, but was still and solid as it had ever been.
Slowly and with uncertainty she stood to her full height, her hand sought her breast, her mind wanting to check that her heartbeat was as it should be. She fixated upon the sights around her, the stables nearby her were for the warriors that would depart on the morrow; a patrol of the surrounding area was carried out as often as possible. These stables were not the boxed, wooden kind, but each horse was tethered to a wooden pole, each compartment separated by another wooden pole, it made it easier for the men to quickly ready their mounts. Aedre's eyes travelled further to the boxed stable she knew to be Firefoot's. With unsteady steps she made her way to it, not pausing until the large gray stallion was before her. She studied the animal for a long time as it in turn cast a curious eye over her. Finally Aedre reached up and Firefoot allowed her to caress his muzzle. The soft, familiar contact made Aedre smile, calmness washing over her as pleasant memories caressed her thoughts. She wished in this still night she could impart all her thoughts and secrets to the noble looking animal before her, but instead she offered him a scratch between his ears.
"Where are the stable hands? Why are you here?"
The voice startled Aedre and she turned quickly, upsetting Firefoot who gave a displeased whinny. Aedre's own surprise increased as she saw the woman standing before her.
"Why are you near Éomer King's horse?" Guene asked accusingly. "This late hour is not for creeping around the stables, do you not agree!" Spite coated her words.
Aedre made no move to answer; she found in this moment that she did not care for Guene's presence, she had no desire to talk to her or listen to what the serving woman had to say. Guene cast a suspicious narrowed eyed look towards Aedre before suddenly she spat forcefully upon the ground in the direction of where Aedre stood.
"You are no better than the manure that is piled within here!" Guene said in a dangerous hiss. "You are but a lowly servant and not only that but you hold no beauty!" Guene took a step forward and Aedre retreated. "What gives you the right to hold his heart? For many nights I asked myself this over and over." Her look twisted further in anger, making her features seem distorted. "You upset our whole city, you will have Éomer King at war with his own people... you will tear our land apart... and for what... a scarred Orc plaything!"
Aedre's eyes widened in horror at her words.
"Oh yes" Guene whispered menacingly. "I know, I know all about your past! What is more I know what you are!"
Aedre rushed forward, forgetting herself for a moment, she grasped the woman's hands in her own, her eyes begging. Aedre had to make her understand, she couldn't tell anyone, Anborn had told her not to allow anyone to know the truth of her past!
"Get away from me you filthy thing" Guene said, violently shaking Aedre off. "I heard it all!" she said, pointing a finger accusingly. "That night he told you he loved you, I heard it all!" She sneered in disgust. "What noble man would want such a tainted thing as you, you are not of the race of man, you are Orc, you lay with them!" She shivered in disgust. "There is no place for something as wrong as you in this world!" As if she couldn't stand being close to Aedre another moment she began to walk away and Aedre followed, whimpering lowly, unsure what exactly she could do in this awful situation. Finally Guene placed one of the wooden pole stables between herself and Aedre and glared heatedly at the young girl.
"You made me doubt my own lord, my king! I could not see how Éomer King could be all that Rohan needed and wanted from a ruler if he would allow himself into your defiled bed!" She gave a small, insincere chuckle. "But then it came to me, I had been so blind! You, you abomination, you have bewitched him somehow, you are wrong... what woman of man could not go completely mad if an Orc had carnal knowledge of her?" She pursed her lips in mock thought. "No woman could stand that and be as sweet as you deem us all to believe you are, you'd be howling at the moon and talking to the livestock... But you don't talk, do you Aedre, nor do you seem mad."Again she laughed. "You think you have bewitched our king, but you shall not bewitch me, I gathered protection before I confronted you this night, magic talismans from the wise woman." She fingered a pretty trinket around her neck. "I know not what evil spirit you are but I will see you cast from Edoras before the sun sets, all in Rohan will know of you, your past and what you have done to our ruler!" She smirked. "I caught you at your evil games this very night; you were doing ill work upon the king's own steed... I have but to tell them of you and your wicked ways..."
Aedre stared at her wide eyed... shock slowly turning to a cold curling numbness. How could this be happening, how could Guene think she was an evil spirit sent to destroy Edoras? Aedre frowned at the thought... was she indeed wicked? No, no, she couldn't allow this, she had to protect Éomer, Sunniva and herself... she wouldn't be cast out again, not now when she had so much to lose.
She finally looked up at Guene, knowing somehow she had to make her understand; she had to stop her from destroying everything...
