LotR fic, 'I Know' (Théoden, Éowyn)
Oct. 29th, 2004 09:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ciirceeThis has been sitting on my computer for months. I keep meaning to continue it, but Real Life has a way of getting in the way. That and I keep getting caught up in other fics and other fandoms. ^.^
Disclaimer: Characters, places, etc. copyrighted to J.R.R. Tolkien, the line that inspired this fic probably belongs to Peter Jackson or New Line. Yay!
Notes: Obviously movie inspired, but fairly well based on the book.
Dedication: Edward, for buying me movie tickets.
I Know
“Hush,” the King lifted the crying babe into his arms. “Shh, now.” The babe settled in his arms, eyes wide, and the King smiled.
Slim and bright, like a star in winter, the woman lying on the bed turned onto her side, lashes fluttering at her cheek before rising. “Brother?” her whisper was weary. The King smiled.
“I have her, Théodwyn. Rest, you’ve done a great thing this day.” He moved to her bedside, the swaying walk of parents with young children in arms, and touched his sister’s cheek lightly. “When Éomund returns is soon enough for you to resume your duties. Let an old man hold his niece while his baby sister sleeps.”
Théodwyn smiled faintly as her quilts were settled at her shoulders. “My dearest brother, you could no more be old then you could be the horse upon which you ride.”
“I have been horse to certain small ones often enough, have I not?” The two shared a warm smile. “Sleep, sister.” He stood when her breathing evened into slumber once more. He left the bedchamber to walk the halls of his home.
The King looked down at the newborn he held as he settled at last into the richly carved throne of the Golden Hall. “Éowyn.” Gentle fingers smoothed the blankets back from the baby’s face and head until the King cradled the softness and warmth of the babe’s head in the palm of his hand. “New you are to this world, sister of my sister’s son,” he murmured, “but you look of a face now twenty years gone. You are the daughter of great Kings. Thengel and Folcwine and Brytta, known long as Léofa, Aldor the Old and Brego and…” The baby yawned widely, eyes narrowed to a squint and the King laughed softly, stroking soft skin and bringing the blanket close to the babe’s cheek. “Ah, but what care you for the affairs of men? You are the daughter of proud and strong women, valiant and fierce. Queens and shield maidens, such as you shall be.”
He stood and carried the now sleeping infant back to the cradle he had lifted her from. Eyes that already held the hint of the green fields of Rohan opened once more and sleep was deep in them. “Though the blood of the past runs quick in you, you are precious and beloved of yourself, so says Théoden King. I am he, Éowyn, and whomever you might look to be, whoever you might become, I will know your face.”
Disclaimer: Characters, places, etc. copyrighted to J.R.R. Tolkien, the line that inspired this fic probably belongs to Peter Jackson or New Line. Yay!
Notes: Obviously movie inspired, but fairly well based on the book.
Dedication: Edward, for buying me movie tickets.
I Know
“Hush,” the King lifted the crying babe into his arms. “Shh, now.” The babe settled in his arms, eyes wide, and the King smiled.
Slim and bright, like a star in winter, the woman lying on the bed turned onto her side, lashes fluttering at her cheek before rising. “Brother?” her whisper was weary. The King smiled.
“I have her, Théodwyn. Rest, you’ve done a great thing this day.” He moved to her bedside, the swaying walk of parents with young children in arms, and touched his sister’s cheek lightly. “When Éomund returns is soon enough for you to resume your duties. Let an old man hold his niece while his baby sister sleeps.”
Théodwyn smiled faintly as her quilts were settled at her shoulders. “My dearest brother, you could no more be old then you could be the horse upon which you ride.”
“I have been horse to certain small ones often enough, have I not?” The two shared a warm smile. “Sleep, sister.” He stood when her breathing evened into slumber once more. He left the bedchamber to walk the halls of his home.
The King looked down at the newborn he held as he settled at last into the richly carved throne of the Golden Hall. “Éowyn.” Gentle fingers smoothed the blankets back from the baby’s face and head until the King cradled the softness and warmth of the babe’s head in the palm of his hand. “New you are to this world, sister of my sister’s son,” he murmured, “but you look of a face now twenty years gone. You are the daughter of great Kings. Thengel and Folcwine and Brytta, known long as Léofa, Aldor the Old and Brego and…” The baby yawned widely, eyes narrowed to a squint and the King laughed softly, stroking soft skin and bringing the blanket close to the babe’s cheek. “Ah, but what care you for the affairs of men? You are the daughter of proud and strong women, valiant and fierce. Queens and shield maidens, such as you shall be.”
He stood and carried the now sleeping infant back to the cradle he had lifted her from. Eyes that already held the hint of the green fields of Rohan opened once more and sleep was deep in them. “Though the blood of the past runs quick in you, you are precious and beloved of yourself, so says Théoden King. I am he, Éowyn, and whomever you might look to be, whoever you might become, I will know your face.”
