~ Wynne tries to stand up for herself against her mother. Mother is Not Happy™. ~
63. Home to Rohan
Her room smelled different. Dusty and empty, uninhabited. It was dim, the only light coming from a small window beneath the ceiling.
Wynne put down her bags beside her bed, too tired to unpack them. The long journey back home had been toiling; she had had to endure Mother's endless ramblings about the wedding and their married life in the Elvenking's palace.
It felt strange to have been separated for so long from Legolas, like some part of herself was missing. She longed to see him, touch him, talk to him.
Soon, she told herself.
The time had come to stand up to Mother and explain that none of her schemes would come to pass. Only, now when she must do it, Wynne felt weak and frightened. She hated loud voices and fighting and she knew that would be the result.
"Do you need help with your bags, love?" Grandmama entered the room and with a pang of sadness Wynne looked at her. It would probably take a long time before they could meet again, maybe never if Mother was angry enough to disown Wynne entirely.
Her grandmother was tall, her hair nearly black without a single strand of white despite her age. She looked like Wynne imagined Aragorn would have done if he were female. Father and Wynne had not inherited much of her looks; they took after Grandpapa.
"I'll unpack later. But thank you."
Grandmama sat on her bed. "I have missed you around the house. This place is so cheerless with only us old folks."
"Sorry." Wynne sat next to her, realizing she would soon be alone again. Grandpapa was nearly blind and spent most of his days just sitting in his chair while Grandmama made him company with her embroidery or poetry books.
It must be so boring, she realized. Did all married ladies have to endure such lives? No wonder Éowyn had wanted to be a warrior so badly she dressed up as a man.
"Don't be sorry, love. I was happy for you to go and to be on your own. See some of the world. How did you like Minas Tirith?"
"It was wonderful. So beautiful."
"Yes, it is striking. I went there once with your grandpapa to fetch our son's bride. Your mother." Her face clouded slightly. Did she regret the choice?
Wynne wondered how things would have been if her father had been allowed to choose a wife for himself. They would have been poor, probably. Poor but happy.
"Grandmama, I met someone."
"I know love, Morwen has talked of little else." She smiled. "I'm happy you chose one you like."
"I'm going to do something she will hate. We... We will not be royalty." She wondered if Legolas had abdicated already and how his father had reacted.
Grandmama looked surprised. "No? Why?"
When Wynne explained her grandmother listened in silence, nodding a few times. "I see. Dear me, yes she will be angry." An almost invisible smile hinted in the corner of the old woman's mouth.
When Grandmama had left, long skirts rustling and the familiar scent of lavender lingering behind, Wynne tried to muster willpower for her upcoming task. Her grandmother had not seemed angry, that was something at least. She wouldn't oppose Mother openly, nobody did, but she seemed to support the plan. And moral support was better than none at all.
With slow steps she went to the sitting room. Mother was busy writing a long list, betrothal feast dishes, it looked like. Father just came in from the stables and Grandmama had taken her favorite chair next to her husband. This was an opportune moment with the whole family gathered together.
"I have something to say."
At her serious expression all their eyes turned her way.
"Yes? Make it quick." Mother's goosepen hovered over the piece of parchment.
"Legolas has resigned his crown," she said bluntly, not bothering to wrap it in. At least she hoped he had. "Therefore we won't stay with his father or have a grand wedding. Éowyn and Faramir have offered Legolas a position as forester in Ithilien so we shall live there."
Mother stared at her in disbelief, face whitening. Red spots formed on her cheeks. "What did you say?"
"He's no prince anymore."
"What?" She slowly rose.
Wynne took a step backwards, wetting her lips. "He is–"
"I heard you," she snapped. "What is the meaning of this? He cannot do that."
"He can and he did."
"I don't believe you." Mother grabbed her arm, shaking her roughly. "I don't believe you. Tell me you are lying."
"I-I'm not l-lying." Her teeth rattled from the shaking but she didn't try to resist.
"Thranduil would never allow it. He is too proud!"
"L-legolas w-will not ask p-permission first."
"So he has not done it yet?" She abruptly let go of Wynne.
"He will when he gets home." The room spun around her and she tried to keep her balance. "If he came home sooner than us, he has done it, if not, he will do it shortly."
Wynne was not prepared for the slap and this time she fell, painfully tumbling into a chair.
"How could you? After everything, how could you?" Mother pulled her on her feet, slapping her again and again.
"Morwen, easy now." Father's voice sounded distant through the ringing in her ear. To her surprise she saw he had caught her mother's arm, stopping her from another strike.
"She thinks she is clever. Outsmarting her own mother. But I will not allow it, I will not have my daughter marry some common ranger." She shrugged herself free from Father but didn't hit again. She seemed to be slowly composing herself.
Suddenly she smiled cooly. "Well, seeing as the terms of betrothal have changed, I now oppose this marriage."
"No!"
"Yes. We have turned down Lord Gammal's offer for your hand several times, mostly because of his age. But I now see no other option than to accept him and at least increase our lands and wealth with the match. I believe he was handsome in his youth; with luck, your children will inherit his traits."
"I will marry Legolas." She tried to give mother her best Thranduil-stare imitation.
"Well dear, unfortunately you are in no position to refuse. You are an unwed woman and we are your guardians. We decide what's best for you. Now, go to your room."
Wynne had to obey but her mind was racing. She had planned everything so carefully with the ladies in Minas Tirith but none of them had thought of this possibility. That Mother might withdraw her approval of the match!
Then she had to run away. But could she manage it? It was far to the meeting place with Legolas and open grassland all the way. Mother would send riders after her who would find her easily and bring her back. And then she would probably be locked up until the wedding with that old fellow was due.
Why was she a woman? It was so unfair. A man could never be forced like this, but Wynne could. Mother had the law on her side.
She began to unpack her bag just to have something to do. The shock and adrenaline of the fight was slowly leaving her system and in its wake came despair.
Had Legolas abdicated in vain? If he came searching for her, he would find her trapped in a marriage to someone else. She knew her mother, she would act fast.
Legolas would sail from Middle-earth then – if his soul didn't wither first.
She had reached the bottom of the bag and soft, green fabric touched her fingers. She pulled out the garment, pressing it to her nose. Legolas' tunic, the one he had worn during the troll fight and that she later had washed and mended for him. She had forgotten to return it.
Her tears began to pour as she hugged his tunic to her chest. It smelled of soap now, not of him, but its color and cut brought forward the memory of him.
Something fell out of its folds; most of its tiny blossoms remained but they had lost their purple color. Heather.
There would be no cottage now, no heather, no honeysuckle, no Legolas. She had failed.
Hanging her head she began to sob, cheeks and ribs still aching dully from being beaten. The tunic fell from her limp hands and the sprig of heather landed on top of it.
Her eyes were drawn to the dry sprig. Somehow it encapsulated the future she had dreamed of. Would she give all that up without a fight?
No.
Resolutely she came to her feet, putting the clothes and the heather back into the bag. She couldn't let Mother win again. Not this day. Not this day!
She would leave immediately; steal one of the fastest horses and ride it hard. If someone followed her she would have to fight them. It was the only way.
A rustle of skirts and the smell of lavender told her Grandmama was back and she quickly hid the bag behind her.
"Come, love, your father has something to say."
"What?" Father never had anything to say.
"Just come." Again that hint of a smile played on her lips.
When Wynne returned to the sitting room, Mother had calmed down a bit and was back at her writing table. This time it looked like she wrote a letter. To their neighbor lord, presumably.
Her father stood with a stablehand in the doorway. He cleared his throat, which failed to cause any reaction from his wife, and then spoke anyway in an unusually firm voice. "I have decided Wynne shall marry Legolas of Greenwood. The union has my blessing."
That certainly got him his wife's attention.
"You..." She rose angrily, but after a glance at the stablehand and her mother-in-law she held back. Even if she could order her husband around behind closed doors – and perhaps be violent to him – she clearly didn't want anyone else to witness it. She wasn't stupid. It would effectively ruin Vinurs – and by extension, her own – power and influence in Rohan if people knew his wife didn't obey him. Gossip had a tendency to spread far and fast, and this particular stablehand was not known for his discretion.
"Pack your bags, Wynne, and say your goodbyes," her father continued. "Then come out to me."
Wynne didn't hesitate, she nearly danced away to her room, having a hard time believing what had happened. Her father had spoken so authoritatively, he who was always silent, and who would rather leave the room when Mother fought with her than talk back. It was like magic.
He would be paying for this later, she was fairly certain of that, but she couldn't feel bad for him, not now.
She was free! She had her father's official blessing, spoken in front of witnesses. Mother couldn't do anything about it because she was a woman too. Father was her legal guardian, just as he was Wynne's – until she married Legolas, who would then take over the role.
When she returned down to say her farewells, Mother had shut herself in her room and judging by the sounds she was trying her best to demolish it. Wynne gave Grandpapa and Grandmama long hugs, trying not to cry too much. She had only just come home and now she would leave the old couple to their silent, lonely lives again.
"Did you set Father up to this?" she asked Grandmama.
She only smiled slyly. "Bring your husband and visit soon."
Father was in the courtyard when Wynne came out, brushing Vatna's fair coat. "Take her," he said, smiling sadly.
Her breath caught. It was an extraordinary gift, Vatna was one of their finest mares. "Thank you," she breathed. Then a thought struck her. "Can I... can I have one more horse?"
"Anything. I owe you much." His eyes were misty and there was deep regret etched in his features.
"You have given me everything I need." She wrapped her arms around him, drawing in that comforting scent of leather and horses one last time. "Don't be sad. I will be happy now."
He hummed in reply, but she understood what he said without words.
"I love you too." She kissed him goodbye before smoothly jumping onto Vatna's back and taking off at a gallop with the other horse in tow.
She didn't look behind her.
A/N:
As I mentioned before, women didn't have it easy back in the day and there are many examples in Tolkien's stories too where daughters are under their father's (or another male relative's) guardianship and he controls them.
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