Snippet Saturday

I got a snippet! I got a snippet! For pHORSEuasion! Finally! (Excited dance of a slow writer who doesn't often have new material!)

It's the start of the third and final scene of chapter 2.

Rowena sat alone with Théoden. It was a cold and dreary day; the pale fire in the hearth did little to blunt the chill of the vast, damp hall. A clattering of jackdaws cawed on the roof, answering the creaks wrung out of the massive beams of Meduseld by a strong wind that had blown incessantly since in the morning.

Lady Éowyn had been all too happy to leave as soon as Rowena had appeared to take her watch, when the bells of noon were heard. Lady Bréda had stayed with her a few moments, enjoying having a sympathetic audience for her gossips and imaginations, but before long, she had also taken her leave to attend to a litter of new puppies born to Théodred’s pack.

The king’s initial wariness of Rowena had waned somewhat. The day before, during the first hours of her long watch, he had growled and scowled at her with unabated defiance. But gradually, he had lent an ear to her soft songs. He let her approach his throne, then touch him, and at last he had accepted food and drink from her hand. She observed his symptoms and attended to his comfort, passing time with the preparation of herbs and sewing. Every so often she filled the quiet with inconsequential remarks, for the comfort of hearing a friendly voice, even if it was only her own.

(...)

Théoden moaned. Rowena set her work aside to pull another fur onto his lap, and she looked up into his pale grey eyes. They appeared veiled and empty; their stare made her shiver. Reining in her uneasiness, she smiled at him and rose the cup of infused herbs to his lips. He took a few sips and blinked. She retreated to her seat, speaking gentle words and keeping a watchful eye on her patient. After a moment, reassured by his calm and regular breathing, she eased down. She picked up her thread and needle and sank again in her musings.

Éowyn had repeatedly rejected openings for intimate conversation; yet Rowena had distinctly felt that behind her cold, impregnable facade, the lady concealed a pain that she would not tell. A thought briefly crossed Rowena’s mind, that perhaps Théodred had called her to the capital not only to care for the king, but also with the veiled hope that she could comfort his overburdened cousin. But much as she knew about tending bodily ailments, none of the skills her mother had taught her held any power to relieve a hurting, desperate heart, all the more one that remained closed to her.

Suddenly, Théoden straightened up and his features animated, as though an unheard voice had called him to attention. His hands convulsed on his knees and his teeth clattered oddly. Alerted, Rowena looked round the hall, but it appeared empty, and straining her ear, she heard nothing but the gale and the hoarse cries of the birds. The king smiled with the most chilling, unnatural expression; an evil flicker lit up his eyes. Between the pillars of a dark side aisle, a shape stirred.

Tagging @sotwk, @emmanuellececchi, @dreambigdreamz, @dilettantefeminist, @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras if you haven't played yet and you want to, and whoever wants to show something!

A SNIPPET FOR PHORSEUASION!!! A SNIPPET FOR PHORSEUASION!!! A SNIPPET FOR PHORSEUASION!!! A SNIPPET FOR PHORSEUASION!!!

Again, this is so beautifully written I could cry 🥹🙂‍↕️ Can't wait for the next chapter!!

I love Bréda, even in this small snippet you showed her light personality *I love her she's my baby* (can I call her my baby?? Do I have your permission to call her my baby???)

Some pHORSEuasion landscape inspo

One of the hardest things for me to write in the first chapter of pHORSEuasion is undoubtedly landscape description. Those few paragraphs took me hours, and hours, and hours...

I thought it would be fun to show you a few pictures that come close to what I was trying to describe for the scene of Rowena arriving to Edoras from the West along the White Mountains, on a bright but cold day of January.

What I was trying to depict reminded me of a hike I took in northern Norway in February 2014, so I went digging for the pictures I had kept of that trip.

(Pictures taken with whatever potatophone I had back then, and obviously you have to ignore the water, because these mountains and slopes are supposed to be rising from the plains of Rohan, not next to a fjord or on an island... )

Then comes this passage, which I am sure must have puzzled many readers, as it is not a common sight and it is hard to describe:

But it is the striking impression I had ten years ago when walking along the wilted grass: it really looks like, and has the shape and size of, hundred of heads with blond hair, crowded and looking down! It's quite eerie if you stare and think about it too long...

And as an extra, some sunny views of the plains of southern Iceland on a frosty October morning

Horsey snuggles making everything and anything else more bearable. Right, Rowena?

pHORSEuasion - Chapter 1. Into the Very Fire

Éomer. Éomer.

Rowena’s heart rang with the name at every step of her weary mare. The crunch of chips of ice underfoot mingled with the tinkling of cattle bells and the clinking of chain mail. Muddy water spurted over the wilted grass around hooves and boots, pooling in the footprints behind. Sulking merchants and shepherds trudged silently in the cold sludge. Only the guards escorting the caravan, in turns riding ahead to look over ridges or knolls, exchanged a few words signaling that the way seemed safe.

Rowena sat half dreaming, looking down along Mjuka’s shoulder, past the puffs of mist rolling from her nostrils. For long hours since the morning, she had watched her hoof break ice, crush grass and splash mud.

Éomer.

Two days before, when they had started upon the grassy path that stretches south out of Glamsbjerg and joins in Grimslade the great road east along the lower slopes of the White Mountains, the travelers had exchanged songs to lift hearts and stories to stir laughter. But on this third day on the road, after uneasy nights in the damp and freezing camps, songs and laughter had turned scarce.

Rowena ached from the long, slow journey in the saddle, for she had not often left Glamsbjerg in the two years since her family had withdrawn there. Rare had been the occasions for a leisurely ride; she had shared old Mjuka with her mother and sister after misfortune had forced them to part with their best horses.

Folcred’s passing the month before had deepened their sorrow beyond measure, but the modest purse they had gotten from selling his war horse and his armour had granted them the means to pay their most pressing debts. They still had enough left to purchase warm clothes for all three, wood to keep their hearth burning for the rest of the winter, and they had bought another small, hardy mare. Her mother had then managed to part with the trusted Mjuka for her journey to Edoras, however long her stay there might be. But the beautiful, spirited mare she had reared, trained and ridden as a young girl was lost forever.

She steered her mind away from bitter recollections of the happy, careless days of her youth, from before she had known loss, disgrace, and privation. She curled her numb fingers in the scruffy short mane, saying a prayer in gratitude for her humble companion.

Éomer. Éomer. Éomer.

Read more on AO3

Taglist (I've included people who have shown interest on previous posts, let me know if you want to be added, removed, multiplicated, divided, notified only when the fic is done, etc) @emmanuellececchi @errruvande @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @erathene @mithrandirl @dreambigdreamz

If you see this, go and read, it's so beautifully written 😭😭😭😭

I love Rowena already 💖 The way the biggest horror of her life in Edoras is not Grima or any actual horrors, but Eomer (can't we all relate to this?? huh)

I loved the little chat with Theodred, a great dive into their friendship ✨ And Breda is... a little bit naive and simple for the future Queen? 😅 i couldn't wash off the thought of Charlotte from The Princess and the frog 😅