The Eastern Woman

Night in Rohan

"He loves another woman. You know this." Éowyn whispered, looking at the large mirror in her room. "Yours are meaningless speeches."

"Who, the daughter of Elrond? Yes, they probably had a love story ... but there is no future for them. She is a female Elf, she is not a woman. She is immortal, he is not. And I believe... that they broke up.The Elves are slowly leaving Middle-earth, and I would not be surprised if Elrond had persuaded his daughter to go to the West. You know...there are vessels that bring Elves to Valinor. With Arwen gone, he would be free." said Goneril. "It would be a perfect union. Imagine if Aragorn seriously became King of Gondor. If you married him, the two great Kingdoms would become an immense one. Think of the power you would have, once Queen of this vast territory. "

Éowyn got lost in those fantasies. Her gaze was distant and dreamy and for a moment, for a brief moment, Goneril saw an exaltation so strong on her face that it almost transfigured her. Then she returned to reality.
"... weren't you the one who hated kings and aristocracy?" She asked Goneril.

"Correct, and I don't change my mind. What I described to you could be your future, not mine. I'll be very far from Rohan and Gondor in a few years. But you, you should think about it." retorted Goneril. "So, are we going to this damn celebration? Your uncle is waiting for you."

"How does that story end?" asked Éowyn. "The King with his three daughters ... what happens to Cordelia, the young rebel?"

"Well, in short: she leaves the realm, and marries the King of another Kingdom, and then, at the head of that Kingdom's army, she goes to war against her two sisters, who meanwhile have turned against their father. She is moved by her love for him, you understand, despite the fact that he disinherited her. In the end Cordelia and the old King reconcile ... but they both die."

"It's beautiful." commented Éowyn. "Your stepmother should have called you Cordelia. It seems more suited to your personality. And I see relevance to your story."

"You're wrong. Goneril, the princess I took my name from, poisons her sister Regan at some point, out of revenge and envy. And you know what? It's exactly what I would do." the woman smiled. "My stepmother did the only right thing in her life, by giving me that name."

Éowyn shivered. Although she was trying to make a connection with that mysterious woman, her creeping treachery, which occasionally reappeared, still frightened her.
She heard the sound of lutes.
"Come on. The celebrations have begun." said the young princess.

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There was an incredible confusion, as if  the Palace of Meduseld had been a tavern.

The King had delivered a solemn speech before the beginning of the feast, with Éomer at his side who all the time had done nothing but look at her sideways.  The young nephew had withheld a curse, when the King had raised the chalice in honor of the victory and of the "family bonds".  Goneril was in the front row, representing her legion.

Her four hundred and sixty-eight men, with the soldiers of Rohan, filled the great main hall.  The smell of wine, beer, barbecued food mixed with the scent of flowers, that Éowyn had given orders to bring inside, had spread throughout the air.

Goneril had made her entrance enjoying the glances of the knights of Rohan, struck by her suddenly revealed beauty, and by that triumph of  body curves.  Her mercenaries, on the other hand, had remained impassive as usual.  They knew all too well what was hidden under that attractive body.

"You really look like Margery."  the King had murmured, once the banquet began.  He had approached her and taken her hand.  "Thank you for choosing to stay."