dernhelm.

𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. in youth, there were dreams of parents coming home and laughter on her brother’s face. in darkness, there were dreams of the ending of times, of being free of the cage she found herself in and eyes that followed her through the nights. dreams were never of her voice used, but a sword. never of words offered, but battling her way through the hurt she’d found herself in. she does not offer these words.              ❝ i’m not entirely certain which dreams you thought would lend me to being in halls like this one. ❞

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. the darkness slips under floorboards, through feet and upwards through her body until she feels its chill in her bones and wonders if she will ever chase it out. she smiles still. she leads still. she has always known her duty. there’s something pressing in her, telling her she must first tell him to offer it to the men, though the low timbre of her stomach gives her away. eyes move upwards, lips twist.              ❝ thank you. this is a kindness. ❞

𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍. she grows used to the changes in this place as the darkness slips fingers under window-frames and she grows used to its compression upon her ribs. there are moments when she feels the wind on her face and she wonders if they shall e’er see spring again, or if this change shall only slip until the green in the world has gone. she has always adored those things that grow, has learnt to thrive in harsh climates and mould herself into something of a survivor. she learns to take hope with it comes.               ❝ you are welcomed here, my lord. forgive me if we were not better prepared to receive you. ❞

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. her brother and cousin gone from this place and her uncle retreated in on himself, she stands the white lady and bears her burden with steady hands and sturdy heart. she knows what it is to swallow down emotion and lock it behind the cage of her ribs, knows how to be who the people need and forget the longings within her. strength even in this time, duty even before self. she stands, alone if she must, and greets those who come here.               ❝ you are welcome here in edoras. ❞                few have been welcome in edoras in an age, but such knowledge seems unnecessary to pour ‘pon a stranger to herself. she is careful, in all things.                 ❝ though it is only i who may come greet you at this time. my uncle remains indisposed. ❞

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜, and with them she finds she is told that hope and light have come back to rohan. the monsters slide away from the door, their iron grip lessening on her heart. she is lightened, indeed, to have her uncle back with her, to know the man who smiles once more and see his burden lessened. they cannot change what has been, and yet she is reminded that she should be thankful for what has come, should be gracious. they need not see the midnights when she stares through windows wondering if it shall return to them.                ❝ stories of your fellowship had reached us here prior to this moment, my lord. and it seems thanks are truly in order, for your presence has done our people well. ❞

𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, though truly she cannot hold anger towards him for long, so much has she missed his easiness and care. now the hold on him is ceased, and she stands once more as child and not carer, she remembers why love has been held for such an age, and kept her true, even when she has only felt darkness taking hold on her ribcage.              ❝ my sword holds as much use as any mans ― ❞               and she resents to still feel the creeping confines of her cage on her body even now, even when the object of her distaste is banished from them. she would fight as fierce as any other, by his side, were she to be permitted, and yet it seems she must turn to falsehoods so she might stand strong.              ❝ ― more so than many others, for i am at least trained well enough to use it. ❞