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・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
IN THE VIBRANT Golden Hall of Meduseld, the heart of Edoras, Éowyn's graceful gesture as she presents Théoden with a cup is a poignant symbol of respect and celebration. Théoden, his bearing regal and commanding, raises the cup high, his voice cutting through the hushed atmosphere of the hall.
Turning from my place beside Legolas, opposite Aine and Khellan, I am drawn into the solemnity of the moment. My hand seeks Legolas's, finding solace in the comforting touch as his thumb gently strokes the back of mine.
As Théoden speaks, his words resound with reverence for the fallen heroes who sacrificed everything to defend their homeland. "Tonight," he declares, his voice carrying the weight of history, "we honor those who shed their blood for our freedom. Hail the victorious dead!"
In unison, we echo his sentiment, our voices merging into a solemn chorus, "Hail!"
Once Theoden turned away we all went back to our business. Still holding Legolas's hand, I rest my head on his shoulder as Elmer begins to speak. With a firm yet jovial tone, he lays down the rules of a drinking game: "No pauses, no spills."
I have to take my head off his shoulder so Legolas can join, and he looks happy to do so. I notice Gimli, Khellan and a few others have joined too, raising their mugs of ale in the air.
Laughing I turn to Gimli, "this game must be right up your ally, correct?" I smirk, laughing again when I notice Gimli rolled his eyes. "Why don't you join us Princess? Unless you're too scared to join?" Another man called, one of Rohans survivors.
I narrow my eyes at the man and snatch another ale off the table, many of the men letting out an 'ooo' noise at my eagerness to prove them wrong. "No pauses or spills right?" I say, preparing to chuck down the ale.
Legolas appeared concerned, halting me momentarily with a gentle touch. "If you're not up for it, my love, you don't have to," he reassured me kindly. But I wasn't having any of it. "Shut up," I retorted, tipping my cup to my lips and letting the ale slide down the back of my throat.
"Hey, she's cheating!" came a protest from another man, but the others paid no heed, quickly joining in, downing their ales as swiftly as they could.
It was the most dreadful taste I'd ever experienced, but my stubbornness prevailed over any discomfort. I persisted, determined not to let these men win, no matter how close I felt to retching.
With a final gulp, I slammed down my cup, grimacing at the unpleasant aftertaste. Aine's cheer rang out from across the table, her enthusiastic encouragement spurring me on as others began to set their cups down as well.
