Break Point

Éowyn had her arms crossed over her chest and was gazing narrowly out of the workshop.  Elfara stood up, stretching her spine, “All right, what’s wrong with you?  You’ve been off all day.”

“I’m sorry Elfara, it’s just…” Éowyn’s voice trailed off.  Elfara eventually snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face.  Éowyn jumped and said, “You see, Poldon, I think he, he misunderstood some things.”

“But you like Poldon”, Elfara stared at the girl in shock.

“I do.  Exactly. I mean that’s why I won’t do anything”

“What do you mean?”

“Éomer says, and I think he’s right, that Uncle wouldn’t want me to marry him.”

“And you have to marry him?  You can’t just enjoy it?”

Éowyn sighed and looked her full in the eyes, “No, no you can’t can you?”  Éowyn interrupted her, “He wants me to be happy Elfara.  And well, after all.”

“Poldon’s just an ordinary rider”

Éowyn squirmed where she stood, “You know I like him Elfara, I do, but, well, you know what they want me to do.  And I, I do want to be that too if I can.  And I can’t do that if I’m married six months from now.  Besides which it’s not as if I’m in love with him.  I like him that’s all.”

Elfara slid an arm around her shoulders; Éowyn wiped a few tears from her cheeks, “I am doing the right thing?”

“For you, yes.  For Poldon?”

“I hate this Elfara”

“I know.  It’s certainly not pleasant.”

Éowyn leant her head on the older woman’s shoulder and Elfara stroked her hair.  A few quiet tears had been shed when they were interrupted.

Théodred, wild-eyed, collapsed against the wall and buried his head in his hands.  He was shaking.  Éowyn and Elfara exchanged looks, and Elfara moved to sit beside Rohan’s Prince.  She barely heard Éowyn leave, as she laid a hand on his shoulder, “Théodred love, what happened?”  His voice shook as he spoke, “There was an attack in Fenmarch.  Orcs found them and we got there too late.  There was a woman, a mother.  They cut the baby from her body to eat it while it was still alive.”

Elfara stroked the hair at the top of his neck, “Did you save the baby?”

“Aye.  But the mother, she was Éowyn’s age!  We couldn’t save her.  We couldn’t save any of them.”

Théodred leant his head back, and Elfara could see the tracks his tears had made on his face.  He spoke quietly, “What’s the point Elfara.  Everything I do, I’ve learned – it doesn’t mean any thing if…”  She caught his face by the chin, and said, “No Théodred, no.  It means something, it does.  You saved that baby, Théodred, you saved her.”

She moved to pull his head on to her shoulder, to cradle his pain, but he stopped her.  Something hung between them for a moment, and then his mouth was pressing hers urgently, his weight pinning her to the floor.  And she let him – for all Théodred’s faults, she loved him, and she could not refuse him what he needed so desperately.

Éowyn picked up her skirts and ran.  She’d never seen Théodred so upset, and she was afraid that something terrible must have happened.  When she reached Meduseld a stitch was burning through her side, and her breath rasped her throat.  Éomer and Helm were conferring, and Helm carried a small bundle.  Éomer’s face lit up when he saw her, and she came to stand beside them.  “What happened?” she asked between pants.  Helm unwrapped his bundle; it was a tiny, blood-stained, baby.  Éowyn took it in her arms carefully, saying, “Where did you find her?  She’s only a few days old.”

A significant glance passed between the two men and Éowyn joggling the baby in her arms, said “What, what happened?”  Éomer touched her elbow, “There was an attack, Éowyn, and it was bad.”

“How bad?”

He said nothing, and Éowyn turned and said, “Hama could you send someone to find Blostma?”  Helm seemed to stiffen, and he said, “Why Blostma?”

“She lost her babe three days ago.  Perhaps she could be prevailed upon to burse little Modwyn.”  Éomer cocked an eyebrow, “Modwyn?”

“Because she will be, for someone.”

Grima approached them from one of the side chambers, “What has happened?  I thought, Lady Éowyn, that you were spending the day with Elfara, Magnus’s daughter.”  Éomer turned to face him, and Éowyn could see the tension in his shoulders, “There was an attack Grima, a…bad one.”  Grima seemed to shrink into himself, “I beg your pardon Lord Éomer, I did not mean to cause offence.  I am curious though, Lady Éowyn how did you know that there had been an attack?”

Éomer looked at her, equally curious, and she said, or rather stammered, “Well Théodred, arrived in Elfara’s and I knew something bad had happened so I came back here.”

“Is he still there?”

Éowyn didn’t want to reveal this to Grima, some instinct told her it should be kept safe and private – but she could not communicate this to Éomer, “I think so, I don’t know.  He was very upset.  They were talking.”

She dared not look at Grima, and fortunately Hama arrived with Blostma.  The woman took one look at the bundle in Éowyn’s arms and turned to leave.  Éowyn called out to her, “Please Blostma.  Just listen to me.”

By some miracle she turned.  Éowyn gestured towards one of the benches, “Lets just sit and talk for a while, all right?”  Blostma sat beside her.  Éowyn clasped her hand, balancing the baby on one arm, saying, “This is little Modwyn.  Her parents were killed by orcs in Fenmarch.  She’s all alone now, and she needs someone to take care of her.”

Blostma spoke softly, “What happened?”  Helm spoke gruffly, “They cut her from her mother’s body, while she was still alive.”  Éowyn did not know who gasped loudest.  Blostma’s hand was at her mouth, and tears spilled down her cheeks.  Éowyn said, “I know how hard things have been for you Blostma, especially with Sitric gone, but this little one needs you now.”  As she spoke Modwyn’s mouth opened in a little mew of hunger.

Hurriedly Blostma took her from Éowyn’s arms – fumbling with her bodice, she started to nurse Modwyn.  The men turned away for shame.  Blostma spoke in a whisper, “Little one, I’m your mother little one.”

Éomer smiled at her, but Éowyn wanted to weep.  Somehow a feeling of foreboding had possessed her.  Something cruel had begun this day she knew it.

Glossary

Modwyn = Heart’s joy

Blostma = Flower