They have barely slept, and yet that brief sleep has been deeper than it has been for a long time. It is not enough for Éowyn to feel ready for what is to come, but it is enough for her to look it.
"I had thought to wear my hair braided, as for battle. To be in some part a King, and not a maid." And not the woman that some of them - one in particular - have seen clothed only in that loose hair, a mockery of maidenhood. Looking at Glinda, though, and at the impeccable choice of gown she has made, Éowyn is not inclined to ignore her advice. Her own thoughts on the matter are clouded, raw-edged wounds where clearer-minded tactics should prevail; and there is value, too, in being a maid again, disavowing what was taken without being freely given.
(But then, she has freely given it, now. It strikes her with an unfamiliar warmth, looking at the solicitous concern in Glinda's earnest face, that she cannot call herself a maid by that measure, either - and that she cannot bring herself to consider it a loss.)
"I am not afraid to look upon him," she says at length, tossing her head like a restless warhorse, and reaches for the gown in Glinda's hands. "He should fear to look upon me, and beg for a clean death by my sword. Will the sword-belt sit well enough on this gown, do you think?" That, at least, she does not intend to be feminine in. She won her throne back by steel and blood, and it is right that she should remind them of it at every turn; and most of all in this audience, when she knows how easily she may look weak in their eyes. She looks weak in her own.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2025-10-27 02:10 am (UTC)"I had thought to wear my hair braided, as for battle. To be in some part a King, and not a maid." And not the woman that some of them - one in particular - have seen clothed only in that loose hair, a mockery of maidenhood. Looking at Glinda, though, and at the impeccable choice of gown she has made, Éowyn is not inclined to ignore her advice. Her own thoughts on the matter are clouded, raw-edged wounds where clearer-minded tactics should prevail; and there is value, too, in being a maid again, disavowing what was taken without being freely given.
(But then, she has freely given it, now. It strikes her with an unfamiliar warmth, looking at the solicitous concern in Glinda's earnest face, that she cannot call herself a maid by that measure, either - and that she cannot bring herself to consider it a loss.)
"I am not afraid to look upon him," she says at length, tossing her head like a restless warhorse, and reaches for the gown in Glinda's hands. "He should fear to look upon me, and beg for a clean death by my sword. Will the sword-belt sit well enough on this gown, do you think?" That, at least, she does not intend to be feminine in. She won her throne back by steel and blood, and it is right that she should remind them of it at every turn; and most of all in this audience, when she knows how easily she may look weak in their eyes. She looks weak in her own.