One of my favorite scenes in ROTK, is the one where Eowyn gives Merry his armor. So, being the author I am, I played around with that a little. It stands to reason, that if Eowyn really WAS in love with Aragorn she would want to find out a little about Arwen. Who better to tell her, than one of the Fellowship? In the process, however, she finds out quite a bit about Hobbits in general. A bit of a theological bunny, two speakers, PLEASE POST REVIEWS.
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“Master Meriadoc?”
“Merry.”
“Oh, yes. I-I had a question for you.”
“Well, I can’t promise that I can answer it. What is it?”
“Who gave Lord Aragorn that jewel?”
“Aragorn…..oh, you mean Strider!”
*nods* “Yes…Strider.”
“Um…I think it might’ve been Lady Arwen Undom-Undom-….I can never say her name. But I think it was her.”
“Yes. Who IS she?”
“Lady Arwen Un….Lady Arwen.”
“But, is she a lady from where he was raised? Is she a relative?”
“No, she’s an Elf.”
*surprised* “An Elf! *to self* I’d suspected it…but I had hoped……”
“Hoped what?”
“Nothing. *sighs* Have you……or Master Peregrin…ever had a…lady friend?”
*snort* “Hardly. I’m just barely of age and Pip’s not even close.”
*confused* “But I thought you said that you were near thirty-five….”
“It’s different for hobbits. We don’t even come of age until thirty-three.”
“Oh. Are there any other little-known differences between hobbits and Men?”
“Well, aside from the obvious, our height, and the fact that shoes are unnecessary, *wiggles toes proudly* we eat a lot.”
*stifling a smile* “I’ve noticed.”
*proudly* ‘Six times a day. Plus snacks. And we don’t live in these….tall houses.”
“What DO you live in then? Trees?”
*shudders* “No, no, no, no, no! Hobbit holes.”
“Holes?”
“HOBBIT holes. They’re MUCH better furnished than rabbit holes or badger holes. Bag End is one of the finest.”
“Bag End…that’s where your friend Frodo lives, right?”
*sadly* “Yes. *sighs* I wonder where he is now…. That’s another thing about hobbits. We aren’t usually much for adventures….”
“So, your friend is unusual?”
“In more ways than that. Frodo always was different. Elvish, almost. Sad and noble at the same time.”
*sadly* “We’re back to the Elves. They seem vastly superior to us of the race of Men. *quietly* How can I ever hope to compete with immortality?”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. You could give an Elf a run for his money, least-a-ways at swordwork and such.”
*smiles* “Thank-you, Meriadoc.”
“MERRY, my lady.”
*to self* “Fitting name. *to Merry* Well, if you insist, then you must call me Eowyn. No more of this ‘my lady’ business.”
“All right then, my lady.”
*rolls eyes* “I have an idea. While we’re waiting for the battle, which I’m beginning to doubt will ever come, I think my uncle has an old suit of armor somewhere…”
*brightens* “Armor? REAL armor?”
*laughs* “Of course. Come along Master hobbit.”
“Y’mean with, a sword?”
*laughs*