Sorry about the long wait, I suddenly realised that I probably should do some kind of revision for my exams, in a 'better late than never' kind of spirit oops

Anyway, I think now is the time to introduce Éowyn as more of the character she rightfully is.

They headed out of the stables in the direction the guard who had helped them had gone. He now stood outside the great doors that led into the hall, but he was no longer in such a gregarious mood and when Brasfain approached him he scowled.

"Do you know what kind of fatigue duties I've got to do; and all because I was helping the pair of you." He returned his gaze to the wide plains that stretched on either side. "One of the new men had to take my place and the captain was not happy! So scram!"

"No, no, honest, Jake has found out something! You have to listen!"

"What is it? Something else you think I should do the work of a carpenter for?" his expression didn't lighten.

"No, spies!"

That got his attention. He swung around to face them once more, his face mottling with an angry flush.

"You and your spies! Look what your spies got me into before, hey; extra shifts on top of everything and all those new men there grinning all over their faces while the captain tells me exactly why I've got them. You're more trouble than a pack of spies you are!"

"No! It's true." Jake tried to back up his friend who seemed rather abashed at this rebuttal of what he knew was fact. The guard screwed up his face into a sarcastic sideways frown of concern.

"Oh it's true is it? And who's the spy? Seorwyn this time, Gandalf again, or maybe it's that new King Freiser was telling us; oh better yet is it our lady herself? Go on, I told you to scram once, I won't tell you again!"

Jake glanced at his friend, and was relieved to see that Brasfain also viewed the best option was retreat. They quickened their pace around the side of the building, and Brasfain slid down against the stone foundation wall, scowling at his clenched fists. Jake also sat down, and fished in his pocket for a roll he was pretty sure he had secreted earlier upon having it pressed upon him by Mistress Leesa. He broke it in half and handed one piece to his friend, tearing off chunks of the tough black bread, heedless of the slightly less than hygienic condition of his fingers.

"What'll we do now then?"

"I'm thinking. There must be someone who'd believe us."

Jake leapt to his feet. "Seorwyn!"

"Why would the old bat believe us?" Brasfain grumbled, still staring at his hands, now empty of bread again.

"Why indeed!" Brasfain leapt up as though the wall behind him was red hot, stumbling in his haste to give the respectful bow that Seorwyn required of all the males who worked under her.

"Pardon me Mistress…I…we…were just…"

"Just lazing; I know! What I would like to have explained is exactly what you have been doing all morning, wool gathering?"

"No mistress, you sent us to the smithy for the swords."

"I believe I sent you there rather earlier than it is now. Who would like to explain that to me? You!"

Jake gulped. The woman had not paid much attention to him since his arrival but he had seen that stare before, at maids who burnt the bread, at boys who dropped sacks of meal, at Gertwyr when she failed to peel the carrots. It was even less pleasant when directed at him. "The smith wanted us to sharpen the swords ourselves, mistress. And then I…we were invited to take our midday meal at the inn and…"

"Invited to take your midday meal at the inn? Invited to take your midday meal at the inn?" her voice had grown slightly higher pitched and Jake winced at the early warning signs of a shouting fit. "You are not a little lordling who is invited anywhere! You have duties to carry out and jobs to do; you have no cause to go anywhere, much less an inn!"

"We're sorry Mistress Seorwyn, honest we are!" Brasfain had taken advantage of her need for oxygen and was staring down at the tufty grass on which they stood, piggling a hole in the turf with his toes. It was at this point that most of the maids and older kitchen helpers would let him off whatever charge he was accused of, but Seorwyn was made of sterner stuff.

"Well you'll be a good sight sorrier when you've finished scaling the porridge pots which didn't get done yesterday!" Jake winced inwardly. The porridge that was served here in Meduseld wasn't just oats and milk; there were also flour, dried fruits and treacle to thicken it. When hot it lined the stomach like cement, and when cold it showed a sticking power equal to tar. Nor was it just one small saucepan; the inhabitants of the great hall consumed three cauldrons of the stuff at one sitting. Glancing up he saw Seorwyn was not going to let them off any time soon- the sentence held and the two boys scurried off to serve it.

They scraped at the slightly ingrained oat flakes and smears of honey in silence, Jake still smarting from Seorwyn's glares and Brasfain deep in thought; over what Jake didn't know but could only suppose it was about the eastfoldings' plans. It was quite hard to remove from the already crusty iron pots, carbuncled as they were with decades of hard usage. The hygiene was different to what Jake knew; so long as it did not affect the taste then it was thought good to eat. He had long since stopped looking at the kitchen business from his previous modern point of view, and as he didn't seem to have come to any harm from any of the daily evils; bread brushed off with a casual hand when it fell on the floor, a lack of teeth brushing and most markedly a lack of toilet facilities, he did not see any reason to worry unduly about the state of the cooking utensils.

It was not until they had cleaned one of the cauldrons each, and were working together on the third that Brasfain spoke.

"Jake, I've been thinking, you know you said that you knew my lord Éomer?"

"Hmm?" he was trying to scrape off a particularly tenacious blackened currant from the base, not wholly paying attention to his companion.

"Well if you know Éomer as well as you make out."

"Hmm?"

"Do you?"

"Oh!" Jake looked up at the sharp dig in the ribs, "Oh…oh yes"

"Then couldn't you go and ask the lady Éowyn herself about all this stuff?"

Jake nearly dropped his pallet knife into the pot, choking on nothing. "The lady Éowyn!" was all he could splutter as his friend clapped him on the back so hard he thought his kidneys would come out the front. "I couldn't ask her anything! She's about as friendly as Seorwyn!"

"Éowyn? Like Seorwyn? Don't make me laugh! Eowyn's the fairest woman ever to come to Meduseld according to my father. Discounting my mother that is. Kind as well, though there are some that say she's not as ladylike as others, I've never seen ought lady in my life with manners as sweet as my lady Éowyn's."

Jake looked sideways at his friend. Brasfain's voice had become softer, and he was gazing off over the rubbish heaps where they had been sent with the pots as though they were piles of roses, not table scrapings.

"No one as sweet as lady Éowyn hey? I'll bet there's no one sweeter on her either!" laughing he dodged the playful blow Brasfain aimed at his head, wondering whether Brasfain's calf love would change if he was actually to meet any other lady than Éowyn for he doubted that this time usually let their noble women fight and stride around as ably as did the men.

Brasfain meanwhile had returned his attention to the business of scraping, hiding his blushes by bending over his work as far as he was able.

"Close your mouth fool!" this sally was not quite as effective as it had been meant, the tone a strange mix of embarrassment and sulkiness, but he at least lifted his head form the contemplation of the pot bottom.

"Look! You can ask her now." Sure enough, when Jake followed the direction pointed out to him by Brasfain's finger he was able to discern the figure of Lady Éowyn, dressed in a serviceable leather pinafore effort over grey wool under dress. She was tramping up the hill from the far stables, where the horses were permanently stabled when their riders did not bear messages to the council. From the black look on her face the tidings she had so lately received, and they had heard part of, had not been overly favourable. How to begin telling her more bad news?

"Err, milady?"

Deep in thought and continuing her fierce contemplation of the turf she walked on Éowyn did not hear, and Jake was forced, by a dig in the small of his back by Brasfain, to repeat his enquiry.

"Lady Éowyn?" Looking up she registered the two boys and flushed angrily at the tone of voice addressing her.

"Yes?"

"We think, uh, that is we know, well we heard…" he tailed off under her gaze which was as cold as any 'no timewasters' sign.

"We think there's a plot against you, my lady." Éowyn raised an eyebrow at Brasfain's much more lucid explanation.

"You think that there's a plot against…me?"

"Spies, my lady, in the city already, my lady."

"Indeed? And what exactly do these spies want?"

"Well, from what we've heard they want to take over Meduseld, and kill everyone in line to the throne."

"The King's son is already in his grave, and the first marshal is out leading the army with my brother; they couldn't do anything against them from here. Anyway, how could they possibly have already infiltrated Edoras? We've had nothing but trails of refugees all week." Her voice was not altogether disbelieving, or at least, not in contrast to the door ward they had spoken to before, but Jake could see they had a long way to go before they had her convinced of any danger.

"There is you, my lady." Brasfain sounded puzzled that she did not rank herself alongside the Kings son and her own brother.

"How am I any danger? After all, I am just a woman." Her voice was as bitter as the horseradish they put in the stew.

She turned to stare out over the plains and the boys exchanged glances.

"But my lady…"

"And stop calling me that!"

"Please, my, uh," Brasfain stuttered over the title, unsure of how to address her but left with only her name. Éowyn rolled her eyes and waved her hand impatiently, cutting off any further conundrum and Brasfain settled for avoidance as the best policy. "It's Grima Wormtongue's men!"

"What?" Eowyn's face was whiter than the dress he had first seen her wearing. "Wormtongue was thrown from the city by my uncle and lord Aragorn." Her voice was hoarse. "He will never crawl back here!"

"But he has allies here, among the eastfolding refugees. They've been sent to back up the guard, and been given weapons, and everything; even the blacksmiths in on it!"

"The eastfoldings?" Éowyn seemed to be in a state of shock, but at least she was no longer dismissing them.

"Yes! They say they've got friends on the council and there was something about a distraction."

"On the council! Did they say who?" the shield maiden looked like she was capable of walking right in and skewering the traitors. Brasfain turned enquiringly to Jake to supply the answer.

"No milady." She didn't even register the renewed use of her title.

"What else did they say? No, wait; who said it?"

"Well, first I heard two men talking down by the inn, near the gate,"

"Was the watchman there?"

"Yes, but they were whispering, so he couldn't hear them."

"How could you hear them then?"

Jake considered; the men had been at an equal distance from both him and the guard, so why hadn't the guard heard as well?

"The guard was wearing a helm, milady, and they were hid in the shadow of a roof."

"Hmm." The question of the helm seemed to give her pause for thought. "I shall have to see about that. Could you describe the men?"

"No, it was dark where they were standing. I can describe the blacksmith and his friend though."

"Yes, well I'm sure the blacksmith can be identified easily enough; what did the eastfolding look like?"

Jake thought back to the man. "He was quite tall, with a tanned face,"

"Tanned?"

"Darker than normal, from the wind and sun; it's a word they use up in the north apparently." Brasfain cut in, eager to show his aptitude at understanding some of Jake's less translatable words.

"Ah! Swarthy."

"Yes Milady. Anyway, he was wearing a brown jerkin, and carrying a knife; you know Brasfain, the one you picked up. He'd darker hair than most, and…and…and that's all I can remember."

"You didn't see his face?"

"Well, a bit; he's got quite a long nose, with a break halfway up, and just a bit of a beard on his chin."

Éowyn nodded, evidently satisfied. "Right, you two aren't to tell anyone of this, you understand? I'll deal with it, but if you see anything else suspicious, you're to come to me."

She strode off into the kitchens, and Jake was left with a disconcerting sense of having done something vaguely right for a change.

Well presumably you've done the first 'R', so I'd appreciate molto if you fulfilled the second 'R' too, i.e. review. Thanks :)