Linger

VI. Théodred's Funeral

Finally, getting a bath was better than sleeping on a plush mattress—Rowan wanted to soak forever. As soon as she got in, the clean water darkened, but she just laid her head back against the tub's rim, basking in the comfort. When the warm water cooled, she scrubbed herself practically raw, lathered on the scented soap, washed her hair, ducked under one last time to wash off all the soap and bubbles, then forced herself out, but emerged feeling like herself again. A hardened, crusty Rowan Reed went into the water, and a clean, refreshed one came out.

For thanks in saving King Théoden, Meduseld provided a feast for them. Freshly baked bread, soft cheeses, salted pork, roasted corn, cold ale, and even small sweetened cakes. Rowan ate as much as she could, but because their meals had been so minimal for weeks (ever since the Fellowship left Rivendell, actually) her stomach had shrunk, so she quickly became stuffed. Aragorn and Boromir ate like her, Legolas barely eats much anyway, but Gimli gorged himself—he never stopped eating.

Talk around the long table centered mostly on the five hunters' quest across Rohan. With the shake of her head, they spoke only about their mission of rescuing Merry and Pippin. Their goal of destroying the One Ring relied on secrecy. She didn't suspect anyone in the Court to run their mouth, but people talk regardless, and word could reach Barad-dûr. For the plan to work, Mount Doom needed to be unguarded so Frodo can slip in and out; if Sauron learned of their idea, he only needed to watch the volcano like a hawk. Once the hobbit appeared, he could have him killed to regain his ring, then Sauron would have his full power again. There wouldn't be much of a Middle-earth or a Lord of the Rings story then.

King Théoden spoke little, still grieving the loss of his only son and heir. No one wondered why he excused himself early to—what Rowan presumed—isolate himself in his chambers.

Not long after the king left, they all retired to bed. The men shared a room, but because she was a woman—what Wormtongue had tried to belittle her about—she got her own room. She wasn't angry about being a different gender this time, for she could pass out on the bed spread-eagle with no one commenting on how unladylike it was. And she did exactly that. She slept like the dead. If Meduseld had awoken in the middle of the night from an attack on Edoras, she wouldn't have shifted. Rowan became an immovable rock.

Morning brought a clear sky, but the mood within the Court was somber. The funeral today eliminated any chance of laughter or gay talking.

Théodred lay upon a litter with his helm at his feet, his folded hands holding his sword, and dressed in his brilliant armor. His hair was dark, unlike his father's, and his youthful face of strong planes, sharp cheekbones, and a defined jaw made him handsome, even though colorless in death.

The funeral procession started inside Meduseld with richly armored guards as the pallbearers. King Théoden walked behind his son; the Court with Rowan, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir grouped within followed him. They made their slow march to the mounds outside the city through Edoras, with mourners lining each side of the road.

It took a while to reach the mounds covered with simbelmynë. Mourners were gathered near the last burial mound, with two torches on poles flanking the entrance into the dark tomb. Éowyn waited there, dressed in dark green and a gold circle holding back her hair pulled into a low bun.

Slowly, the guards turned Théodred toward the grave and lowered the litter to waist level; more guards approached from the crowds to make lines going in. As the men passed him down the line into the tomb, Éowyn began a lament. In Old English, Rowan didn't know what she said, but the emotion within the song and from her struggling to keep composed meant the song was full of grief. Miranda Otto did a magnificent job of singing it in the Extended Edition of The Two Towers.