[ He frowns at her as well, though his expression is more contemplative than dismayed. ]
That sounds... well, it sounds vaguely familiar. Almost like I should know it, but I can't quite wrap my head around it.
[ If they were up on board the Enterprise then it would only take a few minutes for the Universal Translator to compensate for them speaking different languages, and he'd be able to understand her perfectly no matter what tongue she used. ]
Is it better or worse if I don't speak your language?
[She nods, as though this has confirmed something to her, and switches smoothly back to Westron.]
Better, perhaps, for our purposes. Few outside the Mark do.
It would be better still if you spoke Sindarin, for then you would surely be taken for a Dúnedan; but it will cost us nothing that you do not.
[And, apparently remembering belatedly how little he knows, she seems to realise that she should explain who the Dúnedain are:] They are ancient allies, if distant ones; and it is not unheard-of for the Dúnedain of the North to find their way here. And though you do not quite seem of their sort, they are rare enough visitors that it would not be unbelievable; and few would dare to set themselves against that people, for we have been helped by them in the past.
[ He seems vaguely discomforted at her statement that he should assume the identity of one of the Dúnedain; it's a good plan, a great plan, even, but he can't help be a little uneasy about it. Somehow it feels like more of a lie than anything else, and that doesn't sit easy with him. ]
Do you have monasteries here? Before I enlisted, I had considered becoming a priest. [ More like his father had tried to push him into it, and very nearly succeeded, but in the end the stars won out. Chris likes to think God understands. ] Might explain why I'm a bit...odd, by your standards.
[It's probably clear before she says it, from the deep frown and look of total confusion, but:] I... am not sure what that means.
[Quite literally. Priest has been translated to something nearer to worshipper, and the translator stalls entirely at finding a word for monastery in a culture that has no monks and a much less mediated relationship with its higher beings.]
[ She's right: she doesn't have to say much of anything for the no to come through, and Chris is so distracted by that that he almost forgets their plotting for an alibi. ]
Really. [ He looks her over with a bright spark of academic curiosity in his eyes. ] What are your religious rites like? Do you have an...elder, or a leader, who guides you through prayers and rituals?
[ He remembers her discussion from before about the song of the world, although some of the details of her tale were lost to the halfway decent wine they'd been drinking. She hadn't talked about omniscient gods. Perhaps they don't have any. It's not that unusual, he's aware of societies that prefer to focus their favor on other beings — Vulcan and the teachings of their philosophers like Surak come to mind — but even they have monasteries and the worshipers who live and work there. ]
Here we save our veneration for Béma, who delights in the hunt; and we need no one man to remember to sing battle-hymns or know that a part of the quarry must be set aside if you wish to succeed again. But the King leads his people in prayer, when times are hard.
[As times are now, and yet the prayers are short. She shifts, and looks over her shoulder in the general direction of the King's chambers, her lips thinning slightly.]
[ It's clear he wants to ask more questions — there's nothing Chris loves more than delving into the particulars of new societies and civilizations — but he nods at her question and runs a hand over his hair. ]
No, no, you're right. I'll pick your brain another time.
[ Hopefully. If she'll indulge his curiosity and let him annoy her with his questions. If he's even here long enough to indulge in the impulse.
The name Béma gets filed away beside Dúnedain, a small dictionary forming in his mind, and he schools his expression away from his academic curiosity and into something more appropriately serious. ]
You have scholars, though. Right? Those who learn and those who teach? Where I come from they have a reputation for sequestering themselves away in their towers and libraries, which can make them come across as odd or eccentric to those who do not know them well.
[There is a sour look on her face for a moment, because that describes one scholar in particular, to her mind: the one who has sent the storm.]
[But not all scholars are Wizards. She knows that much, at least. She clears her throat, and settles her features.]
Not in the Mark. Here, we learn and teach among ourselves, and keep knowledge through song and story and through the work of our hands.
But then, you are not from here. If you say you are such a scholar, you may well be believed - though it may seem strange to some that you speak no Sindarin.
[ That grimace of hers is unusual enough that Chris can't help the way his eyebrows lift, surprised by the depth of feeling on display. He's come to know that Éowyn is very firm in her convictions, and does not shy away from expressing herself, but he's also come to know that she's usually better at schooling her face than that. ]
Hm. Maybe I'm just overcomplicating things.
[ If the rest of her people feel similarly about scholars as she does, claiming to be of their numbers might not be a good idea, no matter how well the shoe might fit.
He hasn't actively been in a studying environment for years, anyhow. And certainly he hasn't taught much more than a seminar for decades. Maybe he should stick closer to the truth. ]
Your story is probably the most believable. What's the largest city I could conceivably be from west of here? Preferably far enough away that most people around won't have visited recently.
[She is quiet a moment, and if her expression were not so carefully-schooled, she might look embarrassed.]
In truth, I do not know.
We trade little beyond the west of the Mark: that way lie Dunland and Isengard, and travellers from the Mark would find no safety there. Of old there was Tharbad on the Greyflood, but for a century and more it has been abandoned... beyond, I do not know. Old Eriador, where we have never roamed.
But if you name any place - name your Mohave, if you will - then most will believe it. Not the White Wizard, but he is not here. Only his lieutenant.
[ Her pause, as blank as it is, is almost as surprising as her earlier grimace. Chris would have assumed, being a princess, that Éowyn would have a strong grasp of geography, expected to marry for geo-political reasons as she no doubt must be.
But then again, he needs to stop imposing his own world's historical trends on this one. Who knows how such things are treated, here? Maybe she will get to marry for love, one day.
He hopes so. ]
Well. Honestly, that's probably for the best. I'll come up with something.
[ So the White Wizard definitely is a person, then, and not a mountain. He was pretty sure that was the case, but it's good to have it confirmed. ] So who's this lieutenant? That Wormtongue fella you were talking about before?
Ah. I was going to say, that's one helluva name, but now I see it's more of a descriptor, hm?
[ He gives her the classic thin-lipped smile of understanding in lieu of a nod, following her lead there, and then puts the matter of the man's name aside. He'd love to find out more, of course, why he was given such an evocative descriptor and whether or not everyone around here gets one like that, but that's a conversation for another time.
Resisting the urge to clap her shoulder or nudge her in some way, he softens his expression. ]
Don't worry about me. I made a career out of diplomacy, I can handle difficult men. Even well-informed ones.
[She gives him a look designed to make her dubiousness clear. It is one thing to be a diplomat, that look says: it is another to be an unwanted guest in an enemy's land.]
I will trust you. But trust me, also, and call on me if you must.
Come, would you like to see the stables? [They may as well do something while the storm rages, and he seemed interested enough in horses before. Besides, the horses may need calming, as the wind seems to be rising.]
[ Her look, as polite as her silence may be, startles a chuckle out of him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ]
Promise. [ He doesn't really think that high-tailing it off to where the lady of the hall might be to avoid questions he doesn't want to answer will work as a long-term strategy, but hopefully neither of them will have to find out. If he's only here a little while, they'll both be fine.
Probably.
Her offer to take him to the stables has him perking up. ] If you have the time.
I imagine whatever time I have while you are here, I will spend it in your company.
[Which means there are limits on the things she can reasonably do, and, frankly, she is relieved by that.]
Besides, I meant to spend the next hour or two in practice drills, and I shall not have a useful field for it in this weather. Come, then. If you admired my horse, you must see Snowmane.
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sforzinda
no subject
Date: 2025-09-18 02:29 am (UTC)That sounds... well, it sounds vaguely familiar. Almost like I should know it, but I can't quite wrap my head around it.
[ If they were up on board the Enterprise then it would only take a few minutes for the Universal Translator to compensate for them speaking different languages, and he'd be able to understand her perfectly no matter what tongue she used. ]
Is it better or worse if I don't speak your language?
no subject
Date: 2025-09-18 03:04 am (UTC)Better, perhaps, for our purposes. Few outside the Mark do.
It would be better still if you spoke Sindarin, for then you would surely be taken for a Dúnedan; but it will cost us nothing that you do not.
[And, apparently remembering belatedly how little he knows, she seems to realise that she should explain who the Dúnedain are:] They are ancient allies, if distant ones; and it is not unheard-of for the Dúnedain of the North to find their way here. And though you do not quite seem of their sort, they are rare enough visitors that it would not be unbelievable; and few would dare to set themselves against that people, for we have been helped by them in the past.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-18 03:11 am (UTC)[ He seems vaguely discomforted at her statement that he should assume the identity of one of the Dúnedain; it's a good plan, a great plan, even, but he can't help be a little uneasy about it. Somehow it feels like more of a lie than anything else, and that doesn't sit easy with him. ]
Do you have monasteries here? Before I enlisted, I had considered becoming a priest. [ More like his father had tried to push him into it, and very nearly succeeded, but in the end the stars won out. Chris likes to think God understands. ] Might explain why I'm a bit...odd, by your standards.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-20 02:26 am (UTC)[Quite literally. Priest has been translated to something nearer to worshipper, and the translator stalls entirely at finding a word for monastery in a culture that has no monks and a much less mediated relationship with its higher beings.]
no subject
Date: 2025-09-21 02:21 am (UTC)Really. [ He looks her over with a bright spark of academic curiosity in his eyes. ] What are your religious rites like? Do you have an...elder, or a leader, who guides you through prayers and rituals?
[ He remembers her discussion from before about the song of the world, although some of the details of her tale were lost to the halfway decent wine they'd been drinking. She hadn't talked about omniscient gods. Perhaps they don't have any. It's not that unusual, he's aware of societies that prefer to focus their favor on other beings — Vulcan and the teachings of their philosophers like Surak come to mind — but even they have monasteries and the worshipers who live and work there. ]
WHAT'S THAT AN EXCUSE TO EXTEMPORISE ON MIDDLE-EARTH RELIGION? IT'S NOT EVEN MY BIRTHDAY!
Date: 2025-09-21 11:15 am (UTC)[As times are now, and yet the prayers are short. She shifts, and looks over her shoulder in the general direction of the King's chambers, her lips thinning slightly.]
Is now really the time to talk of rituals?
HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY
Date: 2025-09-24 05:51 pm (UTC)No, no, you're right. I'll pick your brain another time.
[ Hopefully. If she'll indulge his curiosity and let him annoy her with his questions. If he's even here long enough to indulge in the impulse.
The name Béma gets filed away beside Dúnedain, a small dictionary forming in his mind, and he schools his expression away from his academic curiosity and into something more appropriately serious. ]
You have scholars, though. Right? Those who learn and those who teach? Where I come from they have a reputation for sequestering themselves away in their towers and libraries, which can make them come across as odd or eccentric to those who do not know them well.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-25 12:48 am (UTC)[But not all scholars are Wizards. She knows that much, at least. She clears her throat, and settles her features.]
Not in the Mark. Here, we learn and teach among ourselves, and keep knowledge through song and story and through the work of our hands.
But then, you are not from here. If you say you are such a scholar, you may well be believed - though it may seem strange to some that you speak no Sindarin.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-25 12:55 am (UTC)Hm. Maybe I'm just overcomplicating things.
[ If the rest of her people feel similarly about scholars as she does, claiming to be of their numbers might not be a good idea, no matter how well the shoe might fit.
He hasn't actively been in a studying environment for years, anyhow. And certainly he hasn't taught much more than a seminar for decades. Maybe he should stick closer to the truth. ]
Your story is probably the most believable. What's the largest city I could conceivably be from west of here? Preferably far enough away that most people around won't have visited recently.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-25 04:40 pm (UTC)In truth, I do not know.
We trade little beyond the west of the Mark: that way lie Dunland and Isengard, and travellers from the Mark would find no safety there. Of old there was Tharbad on the Greyflood, but for a century and more it has been abandoned... beyond, I do not know. Old Eriador, where we have never roamed.
But if you name any place - name your Mohave, if you will - then most will believe it. Not the White Wizard, but he is not here. Only his lieutenant.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-25 04:51 pm (UTC)But then again, he needs to stop imposing his own world's historical trends on this one. Who knows how such things are treated, here? Maybe she will get to marry for love, one day.
He hopes so. ]
Well. Honestly, that's probably for the best. I'll come up with something.
[ So the White Wizard definitely is a person, then, and not a mountain. He was pretty sure that was the case, but it's good to have it confirmed. ] So who's this lieutenant? That Wormtongue fella you were talking about before?
no subject
Date: 2025-09-25 06:45 pm (UTC)[She nods, though, a small nod that could not be seen too clearly from a distance. Just in case.]
And I hope you will not meet him - but I do not expect it. He has his eyes and ears in more of this hall than I would like.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-25 08:39 pm (UTC)[ He gives her the classic thin-lipped smile of understanding in lieu of a nod, following her lead there, and then puts the matter of the man's name aside. He'd love to find out more, of course, why he was given such an evocative descriptor and whether or not everyone around here gets one like that, but that's a conversation for another time.
Resisting the urge to clap her shoulder or nudge her in some way, he softens his expression. ]
Don't worry about me. I made a career out of diplomacy, I can handle difficult men. Even well-informed ones.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-26 02:59 pm (UTC)I will trust you. But trust me, also, and call on me if you must.
Come, would you like to see the stables? [They may as well do something while the storm rages, and he seemed interested enough in horses before. Besides, the horses may need calming, as the wind seems to be rising.]
no subject
Date: 2025-09-27 02:24 pm (UTC)Promise. [ He doesn't really think that high-tailing it off to where the lady of the hall might be to avoid questions he doesn't want to answer will work as a long-term strategy, but hopefully neither of them will have to find out. If he's only here a little while, they'll both be fine.
Probably.
Her offer to take him to the stables has him perking up. ] If you have the time.
no subject
Date: 2025-10-03 12:58 pm (UTC)[Which means there are limits on the things she can reasonably do, and, frankly, she is relieved by that.]
Besides, I meant to spend the next hour or two in practice drills, and I shall not have a useful field for it in this weather. Come, then. If you admired my horse, you must see Snowmane.