The Feast

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"Are you quite sure about this Eowyn?" I asked uncertainly. Eowyn nodded, concentrating on brushing back my long, black curls.

It was early evening and, as soon as I had returned to Edoras from Isengard, Eowyn had half dragged me back to her chambers in search of a dress. There was to be a feast to commemorate all those lost in the battle of Helm's Deep, and to celebrate the victory of the Rohirrim.

It had taken the rest of the day and most of another to ride the distance back to Edoras. We had spent the night sheltered amidst the rocky landscape of Rohan, but I had not slept. I sat on the edge of the camp, alone, guarding although I was sure it wasn't needed. Apart from Saruman revealing my birthplace to the Rohirrim, I had a lot to think about. He had suggested that, apart from the little, empty bottle of poison in my pack, there were going to be more things along the way to scare me into submission. I sat all night pondering how I would react. Furthermore, there was clearly another of Saruman's spies in Edoras, if not more. I had swallowed my doubts and shown Théoden king the little bottle, explaining that one of his people was in the service of the enemy. I could only hope that he would take my warning seriously.

I mentally shook myself out of my sleepy head as Eowyn finished plaiting my hair. Even I had to admit it looked pretty. She had taken two strands from either side of my head, braiding them skilfully into my head so they wouldn't fall out in the night. Tracing my hand over the back of the plats, I found that they had been joined together and seemed to form some sort of intricate knot. Eowyn pushed my hand away and tucked a final piece of my hair into the knot.

"There" she said triumphantly, stepping back. I looked up and into the mirror in slight surprise.

My hair was braided away from my face, and hung down my back so that the front of my borrowed dress could be seen. It was a deep green with a lower neckline than I was used to, along which a gold thread, forming a complicated pattern, looped itself around my neck. Looking closer, I saw that the pattern was formed of many, tiny swirls, in groups of three, all connected by a tiny golden line. This pattern also showed halfway down the arms of the dress, just above the elbows. The dress itself sat comfortably on my hips, the dark green, soft material reaching my feet.

"Eowyn, are you absolutely sure you don't want to wear this?" I asked. I looked, for once in my life, like a highborn lady.

"No, of course not!" Eowyn insisted "It is a little too long for me, in any case, whereas it fits you perfectly. Anyway, you cannot go to a feast such as this in breeches"

"But it's beautiful" I breathed. Eowyn's smile was a little too understanding.

"And you look beautiful in it" she said quietly. "Don't you have a prince to impress tonight?"

I smirked at her comment. "Maybe".

Eowyn giggled then, noticing that my left sleeve was slightly twisted, she moved to put it right. I moved my arm slightly away, only noticing afterwards what I had done, then, swallowing, I twisted it to where it was supposed to be myself. I looked up to see Eowyn staring intently at me. Éomer her brother must have told her what I revealed at Isengard.

"Sorry" she half-smiled. I could see her hesitation as she wondered if she should say more.

"Are you... okay?" She asked eventually, confirming my suspicions that she knew what had happened to me. I smiled with effort and nodded.

"I have my friends. They help an awful lot"

Eowyn took my right hand in hers and squeezed "I admire your courage".

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