shieldmaiden_rohan | Of horses and swords

Eowyn felt that she was almost settled into the island now, though she still felt alien most of the time. She did not speak nor dress like most of the residents and she did not choose to spend her days as most did.

She always spent at least some time each day exercising and caring for one of the horses in the stables at Summerfell. Sometimes it was the same horse but often she rotated so that each horse had attention and care, though she was always careful not to ride those horses that had regular riders.

Training took her time as well, since she did not wish to lose any skills while she was out of her own world. If what others had said was true and she did return unexpectedly, she would not disgrace herself and her people by being unready for it. Unfortunately, she was forced to train with a wooden stick for a sword, which made her feel as if she were a half-trained child rather than a true shieldmaiden.

On this day, she was returning to the stables after training with her horse of the day, which was one of the horses she most often rode. The mare's name was Lorica, but privately Eowyn called her Arod since she looked so much like Lord Legolas' horse.

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She took a brush from him with a smile, considering his words. She had never been at the head of an army, though she had wanted to be, and the rest of her life was lived in a court, but he was correct. Friends could be more informal.

"I think it may always feel right to say to some. I have taken to asking everyone how they wish to be addressed. I still do not always remember not to call them ladies or lords, but I am trying to."

"I don't think anyone's likely to object if you do say it," Robb says, rubbing Lorica's nose lightly. "I only meant you needn't. It's a difficult thing, I think, especially at first--you want to adjust, but not lose yourself either. Eventually you change without noticing. Not completely, of course, but enough."

"I would like to think I am adjusting without losing anything, but only time will tell me that," she agreed. "Although I am quite certain I am losing my skills with a blade already. I did not have one when I arrived and so have been practicing with a stick."

She paused for a moment as she brushed Lorica.

"It is not the same."

"Not the same at all," Robb says lightly; Reynald is learning with a stick these days and Eowyn is not a five-year-old child. "But that, at least, is easily remedied, for we have swords enough to practice on."

That made her pause in her brushing and look at Robb curiously.

"You would let a woman - let me - borrow a blade so easily? You have no idea of my skills with it."

Surely it was not as easy as simply being told she could borrow one. Surely she would have to prove herself here as she had always had to prove herself.

Robb had just started brushing Lorica's other side; he looks at her now around the horse's head. "You have to know a little, to have the will to practice with a stick when no blade is to hand," he says simply.

"In any case, the practice swords are not sharp. I teach weapons-work to anyone on the island who wants to learn, and we can't have students hurting each other during practice."

"I began training with my brother as soon as I was able to hold a wooden practice sword," Eowyn remembered, and if her eyes were faraway, it was understandable. "I may have been Reynald's age or a little younger. At first it was play, but my father was slain by orcs only a few years later. It was not play after that."

She hadn't started brushing again yet and Lorica whickered in protest.

"No," Robb agrees, brushing Lorica to quiet him. "I'm sorry about your father."

She also began brushing Lorica again, though only after an apologetic pat on the shoulder.

"It was many years ago," she said coolly, drawing upon the steel spine she had always been said to have. The less charitable lords, the ones who had been displeased by her rejection of their suit, they had said she had a heart of steel as well.

"But I have not ceased to train since then. I will spar with you at any time that you wish to prove this."

"I believe you," Robb says, "and I'm happy to spar with you, but you don't have to prove anything to me." She's defensive, but it doesn't take a maester of the Citadel to work out why. He may have had the Mormont ladies leading part of his army, back home, but it was hardly a normal occurence, and how many years on the island was it before Arya lost that same look?`

"Tell me, though, are you a lancer as well?"

She had always had to prove herself. Not only had she to be as good as Eomer and Theodred, often she had to be better. They could express pain when a hit got past their defenses, but she must not.

Robb, though, seemed honest in his statement that she did not have to do so. She would not believe him yet, but it was good that he said it. It was far more than others did.

"Of course," Eowyn said. "The Rohirrim are known as the Horse Lords. All must be able to fight mounted and unmounted with sword and spear. Why?"

"I've been teaching some of the islanders that as well," Robb explains. "You'd be welcome to join in, if you like. I'd like to hold a tournament, when the baby's born--we had one once before, years ago. If you think you'd like to?"

Now all was confusion. Was he inviting her to join or to help with his class? Perhaps even to participate in the tourney? She must have heard him incorrectly.

"I ... do not know," she said finally, focusing on Lorica to cover her confusion. "But I thank you for the invitation all the same."

"Well, no hurry," Robb says cheerfully, sensing her confusion but not the causes of it. "But I do think if you want to concentrate on swordwork, that you come along to the class. More people to spar with."

Being able to spar with others had its appeal. She might also learn new tactics and styles that would be useful when she returned to Rohan. Eomer would listen if she suggested new styles, she was sure, if she could justify them.

"How many are likely to be in the class?" she asked. "And when is it held?"

"In the mornings--two mornings a week, but I won't know for sure the dates yet," Robb says. It's usually consistent, but whoever's running it at the time does have the option of changing it.

"And the numbers vary, though I've never had less than four."

"That is well-planned," Eowyn replied, "For the days are warm here and it would be unpleasant to learn in the heat of them. The students would tire more easily and be more prone to injury. I will join this class, though I may need some guidance in how to do so."

Of horses and swords

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