The Eastern Woman

Night in Rohan

"Once upon a time there was a king who ruled a great kingdom." Goneril began, while Éowyn helped her in the dressing. The young woman had insisted that her new friend, and alleged cousin, wore one of her gowns for the celebrations in Edoras.

Éowyn was curious.
In those hours spent in her room, she had done nothing but ask Goneril questions about her life and her adventures, drinking her stories like a thirsty man in the desert. At one point, she had asked her what the origin of the name Goneril was.
"It's unusual. It doesn't sound like a feminine name." she had said.

The warrior had had to remember childhood, and rediscover, in the depths of her mind, the moment when she had asked the same question to her stepmother, who had told her a story. The woman who raised her had a real passion for ancient legends about realms and princesses.

"... this King of a distant kingdom, beyond the borders of Arda, had three daughters: Regan, Goneril and Cordelia. One fine day, he chose to abdicate and to redistribute the realm into three distinct territories, on which each of his daughters would have full control. He decided to start a stupid contest: the daughter who would have shown him more love, would have received the biggest portion of their  realm. Goneril and Regan accepted, while Cordelia, the youngest and the only one not yet married, refused. Angry at her , the King banished her from the realm." She explained. The warrior was hardly breathing in that dress, it was so tight on her. It was made with wood-colored velvet, and matched beautifully with her fair skin and black hair. "... I can't breathe, loosen the bodice." She said to Éowyn.

"No. It must be like that. It will slip over your shoulders if I untie the laces." answered the blonde princess.

Goneril stretched her lips in a smile. "Perhaps you're hoping to kill me this way? By blocking my circulation and breathing?"

"This is something you would do." the young woman answered. "Do you want to go to a feast wearing an armor?"

"It wouldn't be a problem. Vanity isn't part of me."  she said.  "Listen, now: you have to stay with Aragorn, tonight. You have to make him talk."

From the sudden blush on Éowyn's face, the woman realized that the idea wasn't wrong at all.  "Make him drink, get him drunk. And then, ask him about that Ring. Let him tell you what kind of mission they are carrying on. Try to discover the truth."

"I'm not going to do that. I don't want to lure him."  answered Éowyn.  "We will get the answers in another way."

"What other way? I have already tried to talk to the two Hobbits: they are determined to defend the secret. Gandalf would not say a word on the matter, I suspect he is the leader of this Fellowship. I do not trust even that Gimli: the Dwarves are cunning, he would tell me lies to confuse me, and as for Legolas ... he would prefer to have his arm cut off, rather than talking to me. Aragorn is the only way to get the truth."

"I can not."  murmured Éowyn.  Then she looked into her eyes.  "I don't want".

Goneril got closer to the girl.  "You're in love with that guy, aren't you?"

Éowyn stepped back and turned away abruptly.  "No."  She lied.

"Yes, you are. And he knows." the woman smiled.

The young princess opened her eyes wide.  "What ... what does he know ?!"

Goneril sighed.  "My dear, for a man there is nothing more irresistible in the world than a woman in love with him. They are vain, you know? Much more than us."

"I never did ... I never did anything to make him think this!"  Éowyn tried to reply, livid with embarrassment.

"But it is not necessary. Your eyes speak for you. What are you ashamed of, can you tell me?"  Goneril asked. She really didn't care about that girl's romantic fantasies .  But her infatuation for Aragorn could turn out to be very useful.
"See, he is in a phase of change. He is deciding whether to prepare for a future as a King or return to be a ranger. He needs someone to understand him and to comfort him. Maybe it could be you, that someone, hm?"