THE WAY OF LOVE
The Way of Love
The way of love is not
A subtle argument.
The door there
Is devastation
Birds make great sky-circles
Of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling,
They’re given wings.
- Rumi
- Chapter One -
of introductions, opinions and nicknames
I had never noticed her before. She was Éowyn's handmaiden, with her most of the time, but she'd always been overlooked by my eyes.
Her name escaped me. It was her mistress my thoughts were fixed on, so what did the poor servant girl's name matter to me?
Nothing.
For years my heart belonged only to Éowyn. Nothing else in the world mattered, only Éowyn. Her golden hair and bright blue eyes were angelic to me. I supposed it was her appearance and good-spirit rivaled mine so that I loved her. If I ever truly loved her at all.
I noticed the handmaiden one evening just as I was being once again rejected by my goddess. We were the three of us in the study with the sun dimming through the windows. I don't know why when I looked away my eyes fell on the servant, but suddenly I realized that Éowyn and I were not the only two beings in the room.
Suddenly I wondered when else I had looked over this servant girl while Éowyn was telling me off. I panicked, thinking of how much she must have seen, how many horrible features about myself she must have been told by Éowyn.
She must have known what a snake I was.
But when I looked at her, I saw that her eyes were clear. I expected her to glare or sneer, or simply avoid my gaze as almost everyone did, but her eyes studied me, thoughtful and accepting.
I didn't understand.
For the first time I was in the presence of my Lady Éowyn, she was speaking to me directly, no doubt listing my flaws, but I was not listening. I almost didn't notice Éowyn was there.
Then the princess pushed past me on her way out the door, and my gaze upon the servant girl was broken as I watched my love leave the room in a hurry. When I turned back to look at the servant girl she was looking at me, but then cast her gaze to what she was dusting. I wondered why she didn't follow Éowyn as I fell into a chair in the corner, bringing a hand across my eyes and closing them, feeling tired and weary.
I didn't know how long I sat there. I could hear Éowyn's handmaiden moving about the study. I wished she would go. I wished she would leave me to my self-loathing misery.
But then, she spoke to me. "You know...to me, it seems like it's all what the southerners call a 'wild goose chase' my lord."
My hand dropped from my eyes and I stared at her, narrowing my eyes.
She was a short, slight, messy excuse for a woman with wild hair whose color I couldn’t place. Brown, blonde, red- all colors blended together her hair was, and her eyes a bright and burning blue. She was smaller than Éowyn, her curves were unseen from under the loose dress she wore but her face held a round, plump light that made her blue eyes brighter and more swaggering.
She was grinning, the bitch, not even trying to hide the fact that she thought I was funny. Hysterical, most likely. She'd probably been watching me as she worked while I wasn't looking, mocking and teasing me in her mind. Judging and ridiculing.
And all this time I'd thought she had an accepting look about her.
"But of course, that is only my opinion." She added, sitting in a chair across from me, as if I'd actually like to have a conversation with a back-talking peasant!
I stood up, moving my heavy robes from my way, and started for the door, not looking at her. "Perhaps filthy servants best keep their opinions to themselves."
"Oh well don't take your leave on account of me, good sir. I would not desire that. I'll go about my duties and keep my presence to myself if you'd like to stay." She called to me, just as I put my hand on the doorknob.
My curiosity got the best of me, damn emotions, and I turned to look at her. She'd moved from the chair and was doing what must have been the best she could at keeping to herself as she dusted the books, but she'd look up at me ever so often to see if I was still there.
I knew I should have gone, but my damned inquisitiveness kept me there, walked me to the bookshelf, forced me to pick up some unknown title and sat me down in the chair again. I read, but didn't read. I pretended to as I watched this curious creature of a woman.
The long silence stretched on, and just as it was becoming unbearable, she looked up at me, "So you don't wish my advice on Lady Éowyn?"
"Advice?" I hissed through my teeth, feeling my muscles tense and my eyes narrow. Who did this girl think she was?
"Well, first you'd have to show just a wee bit of manners and ask me of my name." She replied, her shoulders shrugging easily as she stopped dusting and turned to face me.
I stood up. This was a game she was trying to play on me, somehow ending in laughing in my face no doubt, and I wasn't going to sit there and let it happen. I made for the door.
"Fine fine, it's Matséona, if you're too cowardly to ask. Ye Valar, I'm only a servant girl, no need to get yourself riled up for." She laughed, watching my back as I left.
Growling, I turned back to her. "How dare you. Have you no respect for the king's royal advisor, peasant?" I spat, furious with myself for even arguing with her.
"I'm only trying to help you, good lord." Matséona tilted her head slightly to the side innocently, but I knew that trick.
"You are trying to play me for a fool, girl, but I will not be fooled." I retorted.
She shrugged again, looking away from me and to a portrait of Éowyn hanging on the wall. I followed her gaze there, then looked at her, my face burning with anger. She raised her thin eyebrows at me, "It seems to me, Lord Wormtongue, that you are already fooled."
Gritting my teeth together, I glared at her, "How so?"
"Well, if you think that Éowyn ever going to accept your offers of love and whatnot, then I'd say you are greatly fooled." Matséona replied, then tilted her head to the side again and smiled a bit at me, and I felt my anger multiply upon her cocky gaze. "Call me Matsi, by the way."
-
He made me laugh. I felt a deep swell of pity of course for the obviously quite disturbed man, but that was deep down. The more natural instinct for me was to laugh.
I’ve always thought laughter was what life is all about. I’ve laughed through most of my life, even when I dealt a rough hand, and I’ve had quite the nice life, if I do say so myself.
At least I knew my life was better than Gríma Wormtongue’s.
Éowyn was yelling at him again. She could go on like this for hours, I knew. I had seen it before. But I was relieved to see that Gríma did not really seem to be listening.
He was an odd creature. His dark hair was eternally damp and greasy, his skin was like the moon on a day when you can see it clearer than the stars, white and pale, his eyes were cold blue, lighter than those of any Rohirrim.
I wondered about him then, as he stood looking pained at Éowyn’s accusations. What had he gone through? It was odd, never had I paid much attention to King Théoden’s advisor until just then, just when he seemed to notice me.
He was looking at me strangely. I could tell he was wondering about me, who I was and why I was standing there. He’d probably realize that I was Éowyn’s maid soon enough, and maybe he’d remember seeing me before.
I had always made myself busy when he would arrive to speak to my mistress. I have always been easily distracted anyway so this was not much of a chore. I feared that if I listened to his soft, snakelike voice I would laugh at his words.
I smiled at him, but Éowyn pushed past him and I do not believe he noticed it. Once he recovered from the stumble he’d taken when my lady bumped into him he looked up at me, but I busied myself with the dusting.
He sat down. I felt him sit down and when I looked to him he had put his hands over his face. Poor creature. I pitied him, but at the same time I didn’t. He was a snake, everyone said so. I was sure he had a horrible life, but it wasn’t fair for him to take it out on other people, which I’d seen him do many times when he thought I wasn’t there.
Everyone but Éowyn he’d snap at. He had probably done it to me once or twice, but I did not take mind to it. It was irritating how people in Edoras carried on about how strange and frightening this man was, when really I thought they should simply mind their own business.
Of course, where I think others should mind their own business, I let myself snoop as much as I please.
"You know...to me, it seems like it's all what the southerners call a 'wild goose chase' my lord." I piped up, not really noticing I was saying it out loud until he looked up and dropped his hand from his eyes.
I thought he might jump up and hit me, with that look he was giving me, staring and narrowing his eyes. He seemed speechless, which wasn’t really a surprise. I tend to have that effect on men.
Grinning, I shrugged and swept the feather duster over the desk a few more times, “But of course, that is only my opinion.” I added, plopping down in the chair across from Gríma and giving him a thoughtful look.
At that comment and my sitting down, the man made quite the show of standing up and angrily swishing his robes from around his legs where they were tangled. He swept towards the door in a graceful, frightening saunter that made me really watch him hard.
“Perhaps filthy servants best keep their opinions to themselves.” He hissed as he hurried off, and I stood up and glared at his retreating back.
I was a lot of things, obnoxious, yes; annoying, most of the time; rude, maybe; beautiful, of course; but I was no filthy servant, I’ll tell you that much, and I wasn’t about to let this pitiful excuse for a man speak that of me.
So I did the worst thing I could think of, I beckoned him to say. “Oh well don’t take your leave on account of me, good sir.” I said in the sweetest tone possible, “I would not desire that. I’ll go about my duties and keep my presence to myself if you’d like to stay.”
My words stopped him. His hand was on the doorknob, but I saw him snatch it back into his robes. He turned to look at me, and saw that I was busy dusting the books.
He stood there a long while, staring at me. It was a bit unnerving with him watching me, but I’d look up every once in a while to not make my nervousness to obvious, and to see if he was still standing there.
I didn’t look when he stormed over to the bookshelf, and though he was right next to me we didn’t share a glance as he snatched a book without looking at it and sat down to read.
Wishing I’d just let him go as the silence stretched on, I actually got quite a bit accomplished. Éowyn would wonder why I hadn’t followed her when she left, but she’d like all the work I was doing in the study. I was convinced that Gríma Wormtongue was the only being in the castle who actually used the library, but it was still dustier than any room in the hall. I wanted to open the great window that Gríma was sitting in front of, but I kept that desire inside myself.
“So you don’t wish my advice on Lady Éowyn?” I blurted out, sick of all the silence and tension in the room.
But if I hadn’t wanted tension I shouldn’t have spoken, because it must have doubled when Gríma looked up at me. “Advice?” he hissed, his voice sounding even more cruel and impatient than ever I’d heard it.
I shrugged and stopped dusting, “Well, first you’d have to show just a wee bit of manners and ask me of my name.” I replied, knowing he wouldn’t ask me my name if I got down on my knees and begged him to.
Gríma stood up then, an once again made for the door, but I liked this game, and I wasn’t ready to end it just yet. “Fine fine, it’s Matséona, if you’re too cowardly to ask. Ye Valar, I’m only a servant girl, no need to get yourself riled up for.”
That was a bit of a mistake, but was easily covered up by my laughter and Gríma’s growling as he turned on his heels and glared furiously at me.
“How dare you. Have you no respect of the king’s royal advisor, peasant?”
“I’m only trying to help you, good lord.” I smiled sweetly and cocked my head slightly to the side, giving him an innocent look that was much practiced, and much affective.
“You are trying to play me for a fool, girl, but I will not be fooled.” He replied to me smartly. His wit matched mine perfectly, and I knew that this was going to be the start of a lovely irritating…er…acquaintance.
I shrugged, and glanced at the portrait of Lady Éowyn that was handing on the wall to the left of me. I knew that if I merely hinted to him, he’d understand, and when I looked back at him he was red with anger. I raised my eyebrows at him, “It seems to me, Lord Wormtongue, that you are already fooled.”
It was easy to see how furious he was with me. His eyes were colder than ever and burning with anger, “How so?”
Shrugging once again I shook my head and replied as if it was obvious, “Well, if you think that Éowyn’s ever going to accept your offers of love and whatnot, then I’d say you are greatly fooled.”
Then I tilted my head to the side again and smiled a bit at him, “Call me Matsi, by the way.”
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