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<center> Shieldmaiden of Rohan
Chapter 1 - by ~Goldleaf~ </center>
Today is my sixteenth birthday.
What joy can I take from the addition of another year to my age, I wonder? Eomer has promised me a gift, and I can take some happiness from that, I suppose. I don’t know what I would do without my brother. The thought of ever losing him sends a chill throughout my entire being. But I must not think on such things. He would chide me, I know.
Our uncle the king approached me yesterday. He has not had the time in recent days to attend much to me, though he is always kind. I know there is much business for him to look to. But sometimes… to put it bluntly, I wish he was less of a king and more of an uncle. I often have to stand by his throne for hours on end whilst he talks with important people, my legs starting to ache, my mind numb. I have always supposed that he likes my company, even when he cannot always speak with me often.
Yesterday, he was smiling and seemed in a pleasant mood. I was sitting on a bench in the great hall, studying a book about military strategy. Knowing that he would probably be displeased at me for looking at such a book, I covered the title.
“Good afternoon, uncle,” I said, smiling up at him.
“It’s your birthday tomorrow, I understand,” he said. “Sixteen years old! How time does fly.” He sat down beside me and noted my book with interest. “What’s that?”
Reluctantly, I handed it to him. After a moment’s pause, he chuckled dryly and handed the book back to me. “I will not forbid you from studying warfare, Eowyn,” he said eventually. “But I will only advise you not to attend to it with so great a vigour.”
I nodded slowly, trying to curb my resentment. “Yes. But I do not understand why I should not be allowed…”
He raised a hand. “Back to the subject of your birthday,” he said, his smile not gone. “Now; I was wondering if you would enjoy some kind of a celebration in the great hall on the evening of your being a year older. Perhaps some music, and other festiveness of that sort.”
It is not often that uncle holds festivities, so I could see that he was offering me something obviously special. “I should like that,” I say. “Eomer says he will give me a gift. I don’t know what it is yet.”
He laughed. “I’m sure it will be something beautiful. You know how Eomer dotes on you.”
I couldn’t help but reflect his beam. “I could not hope for a better brother,” I said. Uncle nodded, seeming to be thinking about something.
“You know… I always meant, when your parents…” abruptly, he broke off, not finishing his sentence. Having caught my attention so swiftly, speaking of the very topic that I often long to speak of to him, mine and Eomer’s parents, I could not understand why he tightened his lips and said no more.
“Our parents,” I said, very softly.
“Forget what I said,” he dismissed the matter, obviously hoping to brush their memory aside, keeping it deep inside him, where it would hurt but not allow anyone else to share in the pain.
“How can I? You were going to say something about when you took us in, when we were children, weren’t you?”
“Perhaps,” he said, quietly. “But it is of no matter. Not at the present.” He rose from the bench. “I have many matters to oversee; I took a break in order to speak to you about your birthday celebrations. I have done so.” He stooped to kiss the top of my head, a goodbye, and then turned on his heel to walk away.
So here I am today, walking from my chamber in a new icy blue gown, a gift sent to me this morning from my uncle. Eomer has yet to present me with his gift. I wonder where he is? My footsteps echo in the otherwise silent corridor as I make my way towards the great hall. Perhaps he will be waiting for me.
A second pair of footsteps suddenly accompanies mine as somebody approaches from the hall. I stop in my tracks and step back. But I know the young man who goes forward to greet me with a wide smile, and my cheer instantly brightens considerably.
“Theodred!”
My cousin opens his arms wide and, laughing, I hug him. He is like a second brother to me. “Best birthday wishes,” he says. “Now that is a very grand gown! A gift from father?”
“Thank you,” I reply. “It most certainly is!” I look down at the richly embroidered skirts and the long, trailing sleeves. “I feel most encumbered. I do not think I should be able to run if I tried. But it is beautiful, certainly.”
He offers me his arm. “Let me accompany you. I was just on my way to find you, sent by a much impatient Eomer! We have both put aside whatever dull business we might have engaged in otherwise to spend the day celebrating with you.”
I lay my hand on his sleeve. “Oh, very well,” I sigh, pretending reluctance, as he knows very well I do. “But only on the condition that the both of you must do whatever I say for the whole of the day.”
“What a wager,” he comments as we walk along together. “However shall we withstand?”
I laugh as we enter the great hall. Theodred always cheers me up. Eomer and I have known him all our lives, and there has always been a steady bond of fondness between the three of us. I have always thought that we three are like a band of knights, sworn together in an oath of friendship and valour.
Except that I am the lady, and I cannot join in their world properly. I am not permitted to ride as a knight as I would wish to do. I must be proper, and attend to my uncle the king. And I do love my uncle. But sometimes… I feel so bitter, and alone. Here on my cousin’s arm, though, I must admit to a new surge of good cheer.
I catch sight of my brother glancing in our direction, an expression of happiness spreading over his features. I grin at him, and he starts towards us. “There she is!” he calls. “Theodred, how did you persuade her to join us? I had thought she might be lurking in her chamber, refusing to have a birthday.”
“I found her walking just this way,” Theodred says. “The only success on my part was that she so kindly allowed me to accompany her.”
I hug Eomer. “Now, where might be my present you’ve told me about?” I enquire.
“I have it here.” He reaches into his tunic pocket and carefully holds out a long, slim, black velvet box in his hands. The sense of reverence for whatever it contains is almost tangible. My breath is suddenly caught in my throat, and Theodred, too, is suddenly somber.
“Come and sit down.” Eomer takes me by the hand to lead me over to a bench seat. He and Theodred sit beside me. Smoothing my skirts, I sit and wait, words quite escaping me. Can he possibly be giving me what I think he is?
He still holds the box in his hands. “Now, I will give it to you in a moment,” he says. He smoothes the velvet, pausing. “I think you have already guessed what my gift to you is. A few days ago the idea struck me, and I went to our uncle to ask permission. As you know… our mother’s possessions have long been in our uncle’s safekeeping. He allowed my request, as he thought that it was only proper that this was passed down to you.” And with those words he passed the box into my hands, which are trembling slightly.
I can feel the tears building up in my eyes. “Eomer…” I begin, but he stops me.
“Don’t say anything yet,” he says gently. “Just open it.”
My shaking hands open the silver latch, and I lift the lid, taking a deep breath. Inside I see our mother’s golden necklace, as bright as in my memories; a beautiful gold flower inset with a deep blue stone, and two matching blue stones set on either side on the chain. I gently stroke the necklace with my fingertips, hardly daring to touch it. I remember how lovely our mother looked with this stunning necklace round her throat; the turn of her neck when she laughed, the way the chain swung. The glimmer of the stones, even in the dark.
“It belongs to you now, Eowyn,” Eomer says.
Finally, I manage to find words. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you so much, Eomer. It is the best gift I could ever ask for.” Instantly, I reach down and unhook the fastener of the necklace. I fit the jewelry round my neck, settling the golden flower at the base of my throat. I close the box and hold it close.
Theodred smiles. “It looks lovely. You look just like her.”
Eomer nods, slowly. “You do. I wanted you to have it,” he says.
I smile at him and take his hand. We have never forgotten our mother. She died when we were both very young, very soon after our father’s death. The hurt was doubly painful, to lose both our parents. There is a very long stretch of silence between us three; not awkward, but a sense of memory.
The evening that follows is filled with music, laughter and singing. I listen intently from the high table to the minstrels chanting of great battles, long ago, so enraptured that I am almost there, amidst the glory of war, my sword in my hand, stained with black orc blood, defending those who I love. I am so deeply caught up in this fantasy that when Eomer puts a hand on my arm, I almost flinch.
He laughs. “I’ve been trying to get your attention, but you don’t seem to hear anybody,” he says. I lift my goblet of warm, spiced wine to my lips and take a sip.
“Forgive me,” I say. “I was daydreaming.”
“Oh yes? What about?” he grins. I roll my eyes, since he seems to have got the entirely wrong idea.
“If you think I was dreaming of being swept off my feet by a dashing prince, you can think again,” I correct him. “As you know I have no intention ever to marry.”
“Is that really so, Eowyn?” he teases me. “You know that uncle is sure to plan a grand marriage for you someday.”
“And you know that my only intention in life is to fight, for valour and glory,” I retort.
He almost chokes on a laugh. “You sound so serious when you say it.”
“That’s because I am,” I say.
He pauses for a moment. “It would never be allowed,” he says finally. “You know uncle would never allow it. And I would never allow it. I would never forgive myself if you were ever hurt.”
“I am perfectly capable of defending myself,” I say. “You have seen me practicing my sword work! How can you doubt that I am as capable as any man?” I know he only wants to look after me, but I am still slightly stung.
Eomer sighs. “Let us change the subject,” he says. “You’re quite fiery when you get in this mood. It’s too difficult to argue with you, Eowyn.”
After a pause, I decide that it’s probably best not to get into an argument on my birthday, especially when we’ve been having such a lovely time. Eomer has gone to a lot of trouble to ensure we celebrate the occasion as a family.
The musicians strike up a new tune and Eomer suddenly rises, offering me his hand. “Come now, Eowyn,” he says, grinning. “It’s your birthday and it is my wish that I should have at least one dance with you.”
I stare at him, aghast. “You know I never dance!”
“There are first times for everything,” he retorts, his hand still outstretched. Realising that he is quite determined, I rise up and he leads me out into the middle of the hall. There is a general cry from the revelers of approval and they make way for us, finding partners of their own to join in. Eomer spins me by the hand and together, we launch into a traditional Rohan dance.
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~~Siggy by Lembas~~
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