Witnian for Elfara

Éowyn sat with Grima at a bench, desperately resisting the temptation to rub her temples.  She was exhausted, her eyes itchy with tiredness, and wanted nothing more than a good meal and a warm bed.  She had done very well in her lessons today, forcing Théodred to yield to her sword, but she almost regretted it now – her arm ached so from repelling him.  Grima spoke on, and she found herself wishing that he would not always use such impenetrable language.  She had not forgiven him, but he was a part of her daily circle – she saw more him than she saw even Éomer, and she had to keep the peace.

“Your nemnan-dogor shall be on the first day of the third month Lady Éowyn, and it shall be a very great occasion of course.”  Éowyn tried to summon up enthusiasm for the conversation – it was the first Grima had told her of his plans, which apparently were very great indeed – but she was just too tired, and the heated discussion between Éomer and Elfhelm, who had arrived scant minutes before, was drawing all her attention.

“Of course Boromir of Gondor shall be attending, as perhaps will representatives from Dol Amroth and Lossarnach and possibly Lebinnin.”  That caught her attention, for Éowyn dimly remembered the tales her mother had told her of Gondor, which Théodwyn had visited in her youth.  She looked at Grima carefully, “Why would Boromir of Gondor come for my nemnan-dogor?  He did not even come for Éomer’s, surely he is not so free as to come to mine?”

Grima lowered his eyes, and said, “My Lady I am not such a one as to understand the policy of Gondor’s Steward.  I am sure there are many reasons for his attendance?”

“But why…it is more than three months from now Grima, how would they even know that they would not need their Captain?  Éomer said that they are strained of late…”

“I am not a military man like your brother lady Éowyn.  In this matter you must forgive me – I have no explanation to grant you.”

She was about to demand that he make himself clear, when Éomer touched her shoulder.  His face was uncommonly serious, and she followed him to a small chamber.  Elfhelm stood inside, and Éomer closed the door.  She looked up at him, curious, and asked, “What’s this about?”

Éomer took her hands and placed a necklace in them.  She examined it as Elfhelm said, “Do you recognise it my Lady?”  She nodded, “Yes.  It’s Elfara’s.  Why?  What’s happened?”  Éomer gestured that she should sit down, but she looked at him with wide eyes, “Éomer?  What’s happened?”

He looked at her and sighed, “Éowyn, Elfhelm’s éored found the remains of someone’s camp today; this was almost all that was left.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was attacked by orcs my Lady.”

She glanced at Elfhelm sharply and he bowed his head, “What do you mean?  What’s happened to her?”  Éomer pushed her gently down into a seat with one large hand, and she looked up at him, numb with fear.  “Éomer, what’s happened?”

“It looks as though she was carried off by orcs Éowyn.”

“Carried off?  Not killed?  So she might still all right?”

“No, Éowyn.  Even if they didn’t kill her immediately, they will.”

“No!  You have to chase them, you have to find her”

“Éowyn!  We can’t.  She’s already dead.”

Éowyn looked at the necklace she still held clutched in her hand, “And the King would not waste men looking for a whore?” she said, her voice laced with bitterness.  Éomer exchanged a glance with Elfhelm and said, “What?”

“Did you not hear?  At Grima’s behest Uncle forbid me to see Elfara.  Grima called her a whore.  And she’s dead now.”  Éowyn could feel herself start to weep and she turned away from the two men, trying to hold in her sobs.  Éomer squeezed her shoulder, and she bent her head.

Silence filled the room for a moment and then Éowyn heard the door open.  Grima’s unctuous tones filled the room as he said, “I apologise but has something of moment occurred?”  Éomer turned, and Éowyn could feel his anger, “A friend of Lady Éowyn’s has been slain Grima.  The one you branded whore.”

“Oh.  Where did this happen lord Éomer?”

“In Fenmarch.”

“How dreadful.  It is truly shocking that orcs can act with such impunity within the Eastfold.”

Éowyn looked up and saw that her brother was so angry that he might strike Grima about the face.  She stood and grasped his arm, saying, “Éomer, do not strike at one who cannot hit back.”  He was still staring murderously at Grima and when Éowyn turned to look at the councillor for the smallest instant she saw a similar fury in his face.  She was suddenly sick of the pair of them, how could they be so caught up in their own enmity when Elfara was dead?

That knowledge, which had, for a moment, receded, hit her again with full force, and she turned and ran from the room, ignoring Éomer’s calls.  When she reached her room she slammed the bolt home; only then did she give into her sobs.

The next morning a hammering on her door awoke her.  After the first great burst of grief she had spent the night lying on her bed, staring silently into the darkness, alone with the terrible knowledge that Elfara was gone, she would speak or breathe or dance or work leather again.  That knowledge rested on her heart like a dull weight – sometimes it pulled tears from her eyes, sometimes it seemed to tug her heart from her chest – but she was in agony always from the pain of it.

She stood and opened her door.  Théodred stood outside haggard.  He looked at her and said, “Are you well Éowyn?”  The words felt strangely heavy as they fell from her tongue, and she had to search deep within herself to find them, “I am well Théodred.”  He looked her over and she said, “You heard then?”

“Yea.  Éomer told me after you left.”  She stood aside to let him in.  They sat together on the bed.  He opened her fingers, which had clenched around the necklace, “Éomer gave you this?”  She nodded, “It was all they could find.”

“You should keep it.”

Éowyn looked at him steadily, and felt a great rage at her cousin rise up in her breast, but she only said, softly, “She loved you know.”

“What?”

“She did.  She never said but she loved you, and she knew that you didn’t love her.”

“Éowyn!”

She felt a cold satisfaction in wounding him this way, in getting some belated justice for her friend, but then she saw his face.  He wept.  She reached over and hugged him, and he clutched at her.  She let a few tears fall, but an odd numbness had possessed her.  She did not feel as though any of it were real; she could not really touch him.

She left Théodred sleeping on her bed.  Aegyth sat with her while she picked at her food.  She did not want to eat.  Grima came to sit beside her and she shrugged her shoulders in irritation.  He spoke quietly, “I hope you fare well this morning Lady Éowyn?”

“I am fine.”

”I am sorry for your grief, and if I might, I would ease it.”

She glanced at him, “I thank you Wita Grima but I am fine at present.”  She turned to Aegyth and said, “I forgot, Magnus somebody needs to tell him.  Perhaps Hama could be sent?”  The older woman nodded, and Éowyn said, “And Aegyth, he is bedridden.  There will be no one to care for him now,” a sob threatened to break from her throat, but she restrained it, “Could you see if anyone would take him in?  I would, but…”

“Of course, Lady Éowyn.”

“If you tell them they would have the gratitude of Éomer and myself it might…”

“I understand.  I am sure someone might be found.”

Aegyth stood and left, her walk slow with arthritis, and after a moment Grima followed her.  Éowyn stared at her Uncle’s throne for many minutes until Éomer sat across from her.  She jumped in surprise.  He wore full armour, and ate quickly.  She spoke softly, “Are you going?”

“Aye.  The Eastfold must be scourged – I have received our Uncle’s permission to find the orcs and destroy them.”  Éowyn sniffed, and he looked at her, “You will be careful won’t you Éomer?”  Her brother nodded, and extended a hand to her “I promise Éowyn”

“And you won’t be gone long?”

“No sister.  Perhaps when I return you might stay for a few weeks in Folde?”

“Perhaps.”

She stood with him, and said, “Can you do something for me?”  He smiled, “What?”  She lifted the necklace and said, “Could you fasten it?”  He nodded and stood behind her, chuckling slightly as she shifted her hair out of the way.  When it was done he rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment and she smiled at him thinly.  She half thought she saw Grima behind a pillar but ignored it.

She walked with Éomer to the doors of Meduseld.  Before he left he hugged her close and said, “I will find them Éowyn.  I promise you, I will find them.”  She nodded and spread her thin smile across her face.  Éomer looked at her and said, “And you, you take care, all right?”

After he had left Éowyn wandered through the hall disconsolate.  There was no one about, and eventually she felt the heaviness inside her pulling her further and further down.  Théodred still occupied her bed, so she made her way to Éomer’s old room, curling up under his blankets.  A few tears slid down her cheeks but she had no time to indulge them, for swiftly she sank into sleep.

Scant hours later Grima would find her, and call her to Théoden’s side.  Her Uncle required her presence.  The business of Meduseld must go on, and she with it.

Glossary 

Witnian = lament

Nemnan-dogor = name-day