Unforgotten

It scares me how miserable King Théoden looks. I’m still kneeling in front of him and gazing at him silently, one hand placed over my heart in wordless greeting, ignoring the chatter of his sleazy advisor, as I hear the wooden creaking of a heavy door. I don’t turn to it, because I feel that it isn’t *you*.

“My Lord Boromir, welcome,” a voice resounds through the high hall. Ah, your little sister... I bow my head to the King of Rohan for one more time, rise slowly, turn around, and my gaze meets the most beautiful and also most sorrowful young woman that has ever crossed my eyes. I step towards her. “Lady Éowyn, it’s an honour to see you again,” I say politely as I carefully pick up her white hand and breathe a light kiss upon the back of her hand. A reserved smile plays along the lines of her pale lips.

“It’s my pleasure as well,” she responds well-educated, and without inhibitions she links arms with me and drags me back towards the door, away from her sickly seeming uncle and the raven-haired figure that throws unpleasant gazes after her.

“Come, you must be hungry and thirsty,” she says thoughtfully, and truly, she is right.

Only little later we sit opposite to each other at a table in another great hall. We are all alone, it’s almost eerie, and the only sound that breaks the silence every now and then is the scraping of my fork on the plate, or the dull noise when I put down the jug after refilling our goblets. Oh yes, she almost drinks like a man, but that doesn’t surprise me in the least. She has always been like this, and even though the child from then has by now grown to a true feast for the eyes, she’s still different from those women that I usually tend to meet. Now that is something I probably welcome more than anyone else here, since I have never really felt comfortable in the company of common women. I shed of the thoughts on the pretty and extraordinary Éowyn, because it is not her who has turned my journey here to pure torture.

“My Lady,” I pick up a conversation, after I’ve taken another sip, and she looks at me with grievous eyes that are as beautiful as I remember yours... so big, so expressive, so dignified... I clear my throaTellTell me, will your brother meet us during my stay? I haven’t seen him for a while,” I say as casually as I can manage and quickly put some more food in my mouth so I won’t add anything that I would regret later on.

“When you favored us with your visits the last times, my brother, unfortunately, was always hindered,” she says excusatorily. Now I could tell her that it wasn’t meant as accusation, or I could insinuate that “visit” is actually the wrong term for mesenesence, or I could point out to her that she hasn’t really answered my question... Instead, I swallow down all those thoughts, as well as the piece of bread in my mouth, and give her a smile.

“Well, I daresay that we can create some entertainment during this dinner without the help of your brother. Don't you think so?”

~ ~ ~

I’m still on the corridor when I hear her laughing. *Laughing*! What a rare gift this is. A smile unfolds on my sweaty face; I’m so happy to know her cheerful. But it dies away again when I shortly afterwards hear another one’s laughter... louder, deeper, more open than hers... More *masculine*. My eyes narrow while an unpleasant feeling develops in my stomach. Is my mind playing a trick on me, or is *he* really here...?

I quicken my pace, almost run to the dining-halls, despite my heavy armour, but before I push open the thick, high doors, I pause for a moment and take a deep breath. I want to come across as composed. And stalwart. Experienced. I want to prove myself; I want to show you that I am no longer young and weak and lowbrow, like I was then, eight years ago, when you and I...

No. Barely noticeably I shake my head. Not you and I, because *I* hardly made a contribution to it. I was too scared to do something wrong, to embarrass myself... Without noticing that exactly this paralyzing fear, this cowardice, was my greatest disgrace. Yes, I remember well, because for me it was the first time that I didn’t reach the peak of sensual pleasures through my own hand but with the help of another ones. And the way I remember this short-lived yet drastic experience of my youth, you must have done this to many before me; nobody is born with such skill and dexterity. Also, it would be foolish to think that nobody warmed your bed during the last eight years. So I was nothing but a short-lived adventure to you... and even “short-lived” is quite a generous formulation, and maybe it was adventurous for me, oh yes it was, but surely not for you. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, you already have forgotten about it all...

Holding on to this last thought with vehemence, I take another deep breath and open the doors, that seperate me from my beloved sister and our guest from Gondor.