章 44: Pulling one's weight
Eowyn was quite a puzzle. While the lady of Rohan walked alongside Aragorn, calling his attention, Frances could not help but notice how beautiful she looked in a simple woollen dress. Daughter of Kings, Theoden had named her; very fitting. As elegant as she was cold, Eowyn evolved like a queen on the grassy hills of Rohan. Her people looked up to her; she had, after all, stood true through the King's sour days. And yet, beloved and admired as she was, she could not steer Aragorn's heart. No one ever could, for his affections were already engaged.
Of course, the Ranger was being kind and polite, yet his reserve hid his emotions well for Arwen. As they talked, making fun of Gimli who struggled with his horse, Frances could not help but feel angry. As high born as Eowyn was in her own realm, she could never measure up to Arwen, the Evenstar of the fair folk. Of what she seek, glory and battles, Frances feared that only the second one could be found. Rohan was fleeing before their enemies, all of its people to be encased in a fortress to keep them safe. How long would it hold? And what would Eowyn gain from Aragorn? Did she expect him to make her his bride? His mistress? His shield-maiden? To stand against the King for her sake?
There were so many things in Eowyn's eyes, so many contradicting desires that Frances could not make sense of them. Longing to be someone else, pride of her noble blood, hatred and frustration about her condition, boldness and, more than all, stubbornness. For the moment, she seemed to have crystallised all of this upon Aragorn. And despite the distance in his words, in his posture, she continued, undeterred, to seek his presence. Frances trailed behind, her blood boiling for Arwen, but silent. It was not her place to tell a daughter of Kings to get off her friend. The ranger was more than capable of handling this himself. And for the sake of diplomacy, she'd better shut her big mouth. No doubt that the lady Eowyn could be one to hold a grudge.
Frances walked away from the couple, huffing her disapproval, and earning a curious stare from Aragorn as she passed him. The man had definitely ears everywhere. Frances didn't want to stand in his way, answering his quiet interrogation with a smile of her own.
— "I will join Gimli and Legolas at the front," she said, pointing to the strange interracial couple in front of them.
Aragorn graced her with a bow of his own. Ever polite. He probably did not realise how kingly he behaved. Even in battle, his manners did not stray from the noble blood that flowed through his veins. Quite like Eowyn's attitude, and yet so different. Aragorn was a king in spirit and body. If she had to chose, one day, to answer to someone, he would the one she was proud to call her King. For the moment though, they were treading through high grass and barren hills like a set of beggars.
Frances increased her stride to gain some ground. She could hear Gimli's voice as he sat awkwardly atop his steed. Legolas walked beside him, his hands never leaving the animal. Sometimes, the elf talked a few words to the horse in his tongue, probably to reassure him that all was well despite the heavy and uneasy weight on his back. No sooner had she come a dozen feet from them that Legolas' eyes fell upon her. The young lady refrained from cursing. It was bad enough that Aragorn could hear her breathing in frustration, there was no need to add up supernatural senses to the situation.
At least, Gimli would not heed her presence until she sat on top of him. And if he was snoring, she could actually steal all of his equipment without him stirring. And probably cut his beard too.
As it was, Legolas' blue orbs were staring at her. She stared back for a moment, lost in their depths, until the elf realised his impropriety and turned to Gimli. Frances lifted one of her eyebrows, wondering what thoughts were plaguing him. It was unlike Legolas to behave so unfocused. At last, Frances came alongside Gimli, choosing the other flank of the horse to leave the elf in peace. The dwarf greeted her noisily.
— "Aye lass, it is good to see you. What news from Aragorn?"
— "I fear he may be trapped in a unwanted courtship," she answered sourly.
Gimli turned around brusquely, scoffing. But the horse would not have it, and the dwarf had to fight not to be toppled over as it tried to rear.
— "Oooh, ooh," came the elf's soothing voice.
Steadying the mount in a few moves, Legolas lectured Gimli on his abruptness. Somehow in the process, the elf managed to switch sides. Frances smiled. That was sneaky, even for him. Still, his face was too solemn to be mistaken at the moment.
— "You disapprove" were his only words.
For a while, Frances said nothing, stunned silent by his perceptiveness and subtility. Yet, Aragorn's relationship with Arwen was a discreet one. No matter how close the fellowship had been, she doubted that Gimli had knowledge of it, hence Legolas' veiled words. It was no secret, but intimate enough not to discuss it in public.
Frances reflected on her acquaintance with Arwen. They had known each other for a short time only, even from a man's lifespan. Less than the fleeting life of a moth to an eldar. In a century, or a thousand years, would Arwen remember her? How difficult for Frances to apprehend time, the way the elf handled it. How would she remember Aragorn, a millenia from here ? What kind of memory would he be ?
Frances shuddered; she was starting to understand life in Arwen's perspective. The elf had spoken about her father's reluctance to allow Aragorn into her life. At first, she had had trouble to understand. But now, she started to fathom the immense dilemma both Arwen and Elrond faced. And what of her brothers ? How would Elladan and Elrohir react to her choice ? Surely they could understand. To live in eternity a plain existence, or to accept death and embrace passion. Such was the price to pay for Arwen to choose a mortal life, to choose to follow her heart. A choice only bestowed upon Elrond and his siblings.
However short their time together had been, the affection Frances felt for the elleth held no boundaries. Arwen was, in every way, the Evenstar of her people. Kind, generous and loving were only three of her attributes among the million qualities she possessed. The elleth gave so much, with no consideration to status or appearance, to everyone around her. She shone as much from within as from the outside.
The white lady of Rohan could be as fair and noble as a queen, she would never come close to equal Arwen's soul. Aragorn himself was humbled by her love. So humbled that Frances knew, in her heart, that he felt like he did not deserve it. How mistaken he was!
Legolas' eyes were on her again, and Frances realised that she had not answered his question.
— "It is not my place to disapprove."
His face changed, a trace of disappointment marring his lovely feature before he composed himself. The young lady nearly frowned at that, but the elf gave her the reins.
— "If you do not mind, I would like to scout the area. Would it be too much to ask you to care for Gimli while I am away?'
A wave of dread suddenly filled Frances. Taking care of Gimli? Atop a horse? She stared at the cord in her hand, then yanked her head back to the elf. But he was gone. Turning around, she saw his retreating form walking away, or rather, flying to another mount. He climbed gracefully on the brown stallion, and took off without looking back. Shocked by his abrupt departure, Frances frowned.
— "Are ye all right lass?" came Gimli's rumbling voice aside her.
— "I think so. Just tired I guess,"
— "The pointy ears seemed as much. Couldn't get a proper conversation out of him. Strange, he tends to be merrier."
Frances' breath caught in her throat. What could have happened to Legolas to have him behave so? And that look. Had she mistaken it for anger rather than disappointment? What had she done to displease him?
— "Mmm. I guess we're all lost here."
Yes. From the fellowship to this mad dash across the plains, Frances felt like they had lost all purpose.
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