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curiouswombat.livejournal.com) wrote in
b2mem2015-03-14 11:33 pm
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How the Maidens Got Their Swords... By curiouswombat.
B2MeM Challenge: From
ladyelleth; Lothíriel is about to marry Éomer and become Queen of Rohan, but grows nervous the night before the festivities. She seeks out Éowyn for comfort, who tells stories to pass the time and to familiarize Lothíriel a little more with Rohirric culture and tradition - among them Éowyn's favourite about the first Shieldmaiden of the Rohirrim, and how that tradition began.
That story could be based on Germanic myth (Hervor (II) from the Hervarar Saga, maybe?) and history, or canon (or both). Encyclopedia of Arda has some interesting thoughts, and there's a reference in HoMe VIII stating that Éowyn says that women must ride now, as they did in a like evil time in the days of Brego [> Aldor], when the wild men of the East came from the Inland Sea into the Eastemnet.
Format: Ficlet (approx. 700 words)
Genre: Narrative
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Characters: Éowyn, Lothiríel, Arwen.
Pairings: None
Creators' Notes (optional): This owes its style to both the Saga of Noggin the Nog (Oliver Postgate) and the Anglo-Saxon tradition of story telling by the scops (or bards).
Summary: Éowyn tells how the tradition of Shieldmaidens began.
The men were still carousing in the great hall, singing songs, raising mugs of ale, no doubt, and telling stories of their bravery and derring-do. There would be some sore heads and bleary eyes in the morning – it was well that the wedding ceremony was not ’til after noon.
In Éowyn’s room was a smaller gathering. Arwen and Lothíriel had joined Éowyn and her cousin (daughter of her father’s sister), for none felt ready yet to sleep.
Lothíriel was nervous. The others were prepared.
“Drink this,” said Arwen, passing her a large glass of wine, “and Éowyn will tell us a story.”
Éowyn smiled, sat straight in her chair, and then began her tale…
Whisht! Listen to me and I will tell you of the coming of the shield maidens.
In the lands of the Éorlingas, where the Black Rocks stood guard against the men from the Inland Sea, in the dark nights that were very long, the Men of the Mark sat by their great log fires and they told many tales... But this is the tale that the women tell of those days.
Brego was the king of the Mark, and strong was his hand in battle. Strong too were the arms of his men, and powerful their horses. Oft they rode out to guard their lands and herds, out to defeat the wild men from the East, and often they came home bearing wounds, home bearing the bodies of their comrades.
“Give us swords and shields that we can ride out to fight the wild men from the East,” said their wives.
“Give us swords and shields that we can ride out to fight the wild men from the East,” said their daughters
“Give us swords and shields that we can ride out to fight the wild men from the East,” said their sisters.
“No,” said Brego, King of the Mark.
“No,” said the Marshals and the Men of the Mark.
“For you are our wives, our daughters and our sisters, and your place is to stay by the fireside, to tend your pots, your kettles and your pans, to care for our children and wait for us to return.”
And so the men rode out, and the women stayed, until the day when the wild men from the East, who had dwelt by the Inland Sea, met not the Éorlingas in battle but came instead to the houses, came to the firesides, came to where the women waited.
Here they thought to wreak havoc, to spill blood and burn the houses. Here they thought to despoil the women and enslave the young.
But the women of the Mark took up their pots and kettles, and flung them in the faces of the wild men from the East. They took up their pans and held them to their chests as shields. They took up their kitchen knives, and the hoes they used to tend the crops, and they fought off the wild men from the East who had dwelt by the Inland Sea.
When Brego King and the Éorlingas returned they found the bodies of their enemies piled high across their path. In front of the bodies stood their wives, their daughters, and their sisters, holding their pots, their kettles and their pans. Holding their kitchen knives and the hoes they used to tend the crops.
But not all of their wives, their daughters, and their sisters stood there, and great was the sorrow of the men whose womenfolk had fallen defending home, and hearth, and young.
Then up spoke Wilburga Queen, to Brego King, “Husband, we asked that you let us use the sword and the shield and you said Nay. Now your daughter lies dead and your sister lies dead. For, though you would not have them take up the sword to kill, it stopped them not from dying by it.”
Then Brego King and the Éorlingas bowed their heads, in sorrow and in shame. And henceforth it was that those women of the Mark who wished it, were taught to fight with sword and shield; and shieldmaids we became.
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That story could be based on Germanic myth (Hervor (II) from the Hervarar Saga, maybe?) and history, or canon (or both). Encyclopedia of Arda has some interesting thoughts, and there's a reference in HoMe VIII stating that Éowyn says that women must ride now, as they did in a like evil time in the days of Brego [> Aldor], when the wild men of the East came from the Inland Sea into the Eastemnet.
Format: Ficlet (approx. 700 words)
Genre: Narrative
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Characters: Éowyn, Lothiríel, Arwen.
Pairings: None
Creators' Notes (optional): This owes its style to both the Saga of Noggin the Nog (Oliver Postgate) and the Anglo-Saxon tradition of story telling by the scops (or bards).
Summary: Éowyn tells how the tradition of Shieldmaidens began.
The men were still carousing in the great hall, singing songs, raising mugs of ale, no doubt, and telling stories of their bravery and derring-do. There would be some sore heads and bleary eyes in the morning – it was well that the wedding ceremony was not ’til after noon.
In Éowyn’s room was a smaller gathering. Arwen and Lothíriel had joined Éowyn and her cousin (daughter of her father’s sister), for none felt ready yet to sleep.
Lothíriel was nervous. The others were prepared.
“Drink this,” said Arwen, passing her a large glass of wine, “and Éowyn will tell us a story.”
Éowyn smiled, sat straight in her chair, and then began her tale…
Whisht! Listen to me and I will tell you of the coming of the shield maidens.
In the lands of the Éorlingas, where the Black Rocks stood guard against the men from the Inland Sea, in the dark nights that were very long, the Men of the Mark sat by their great log fires and they told many tales... But this is the tale that the women tell of those days.
Brego was the king of the Mark, and strong was his hand in battle. Strong too were the arms of his men, and powerful their horses. Oft they rode out to guard their lands and herds, out to defeat the wild men from the East, and often they came home bearing wounds, home bearing the bodies of their comrades.
“Give us swords and shields that we can ride out to fight the wild men from the East,” said their wives.
“Give us swords and shields that we can ride out to fight the wild men from the East,” said their daughters
“Give us swords and shields that we can ride out to fight the wild men from the East,” said their sisters.
“No,” said Brego, King of the Mark.
“No,” said the Marshals and the Men of the Mark.
“For you are our wives, our daughters and our sisters, and your place is to stay by the fireside, to tend your pots, your kettles and your pans, to care for our children and wait for us to return.”
And so the men rode out, and the women stayed, until the day when the wild men from the East, who had dwelt by the Inland Sea, met not the Éorlingas in battle but came instead to the houses, came to the firesides, came to where the women waited.
Here they thought to wreak havoc, to spill blood and burn the houses. Here they thought to despoil the women and enslave the young.
But the women of the Mark took up their pots and kettles, and flung them in the faces of the wild men from the East. They took up their pans and held them to their chests as shields. They took up their kitchen knives, and the hoes they used to tend the crops, and they fought off the wild men from the East who had dwelt by the Inland Sea.
When Brego King and the Éorlingas returned they found the bodies of their enemies piled high across their path. In front of the bodies stood their wives, their daughters, and their sisters, holding their pots, their kettles and their pans. Holding their kitchen knives and the hoes they used to tend the crops.
But not all of their wives, their daughters, and their sisters stood there, and great was the sorrow of the men whose womenfolk had fallen defending home, and hearth, and young.
Then up spoke Wilburga Queen, to Brego King, “Husband, we asked that you let us use the sword and the shield and you said Nay. Now your daughter lies dead and your sister lies dead. For, though you would not have them take up the sword to kill, it stopped them not from dying by it.”
Then Brego King and the Éorlingas bowed their heads, in sorrow and in shame. And henceforth it was that those women of the Mark who wished it, were taught to fight with sword and shield; and shieldmaids we became.
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Those brave women with their pans and kitchen knives!
It's a good thing Brego saw reason.
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Thank you - that is just what I was trying to achieve.
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I realised, when I read it back, that a defence is exactly what they were meant to be - Éowyn would actually have been acting more in the tradition of the shield maidens if she had actually done what Théoden asked and gone to lead the people at Édoras.
But Wilburga Queen would have been proud of her riding to battle.
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Ah - if Oliver Postgate is your hero, I'm guessing you might be one of the few who realised why in the dark nights that were very long, the Men of the Mark sat by their great log fires ...!
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I love that we might see the origins of Eowyn's little speech here. Wonderful.
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So I am so glad that it feels right to other people, too!
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Loved it!
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Thank you! And I'm really pleased that it worked for you on the two levels I wanted it to - both that feel and texture, and the actual content and context.
It was good fun to write, too :)
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