Chapter Text
Sometimes, it seemed to Théoden that Éowyn was born in the wrong century. When she got that look in her eye, when her chin tilted just so, when her feet were planted and her lips curled and her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles turned white as bone, Théoden suspected she would have been better suited to some distant, far away and long ago time of orcs and dragons and quests of daring do.
Éowyn had not been spared the temper that was her and Éomer’s legacy from their father, but her burning sense of righteous indignation, her fury at all that she found unjust, was entirely her own, a trait not born of blood, but of being the youngest in the family, and the only girl in a world of men.
‘It’s not fair!’ she muttered for the fifth time that day.
Poor child, poor Éowyn. She had wasted the whole morning dashing around the ranch, doing extra chores at lightning speed, in the hope that the merciless Théoden would relent.
When she realised he wouldn’t, she sat on the stairs and sulked, forcing the men to walk over her every time they wanted to go up. ‘Éomer’s not old enough to see the film neither. The film’s for eighteen and up, and he’s fourteen!’
This was true. The new movie was for eighteen year olds, but that summer Éomer had sprouted up like a weed, and filled out like a bull. Accompanied by Théoden and Théodred, no one would turn him away at the door.
Théodred did ask his dad if he thought the new Terrifier film the best pick, but it was Éomer’s pick for Lads’ Night, and he wanted to see a horror film at the cinema, and Terrifier 3 was the only horror out. Théoden wasn’t too fussed about the age rating. He’d seen his first slasher gore fest when he was much younger than eighteen, and it’d done him no harm. The thought of taking Éomer to his first proper horror flick, passing him off as eighteen just as he once did, was a nice little nostalgia trip for Théoden.
Of course, this was no comfort for Éowyn.
‘You know you couldn’t pass for eighteen, Wyn,’ Éomer said. ‘It’s not my fault you’re such a little titch.’
‘I’m tallest in my class! Even with the boys. I’m a head bigger over Merry and Pippin.’
‘Yeah, a class of ten year olds.’
‘You wouldn’t like it, moppet,’ Théodred said. ‘It’s a very scary film, and you don’t want to get nightmares now, do you?’
‘Well, why couldn’t you pick a film I could see too?’
Éomer rolled his eyes. ‘Because it’s lad’s night Wyn, and you’re not a lad.’
‘We’ll take you to the cinema another time moppet,’ Théodred said, bestowing a gracious smile upon the scowling imp.
Théoden looked out the window. ‘That’s Mrs Grimslade coming up the path. We’d best be off. You be good now, and don’t try telling her that your bedtime’s eleven, I’ve told her it’s light’s out at half nine, no later.’ He walked to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Do I get a hug at least?’
‘No!’ Éowyn shouted, then shot to her feet and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her once and, as the first slam didn’t quite make the house shake to the rafters, opened it and slammed it again, for good measure.
Merry and Pippin had an uncle. Uncle Bilbo. Not really an “uncle uncle”, a cousin so many times removed. Uncle Bilbo lived over a bookshop. Uncle Bilbo lived over a bookshop one street from the cinema.
Uncle Bilbo was chill.
In the solitude of her bedroom, Éowyn made her plans.
The cousins were already having a “sleepover” at Uncle Bilbo’s, and Uncle Bilbo wasn’t the sort to fret about letting them go around the corner to watch the new Tom Bombadil movie (an animated franchise, beloved by children and merch floggers.)
If Éowyn’s family had a sliver of a heart, she would have gone with them to the cinema, and met Merry and Pippin there to carry out the rest of their dastardly scheme.
As it was, her family were horrible, nasty boys, and she had to go about it alone.
Perhaps, if Éowyn had asked, if she’d told Uncle Théoden that Merry and Pippin were sleeping over at their uncle’s, and she was invited, and please, please could she go too, Uncle Théoden might just have said yes. But Éowyn had been rude all day and threw a sock at Éomer, and anyway, even if she had been good, Uncle Théoden probably still wouldn’t have let her go, because Uncle Théoden didn’t love her, not really, not like he loved Théodred and Éomer, not liked he loved his “lads”.
Éowyn ate dinner early with Mrs Grimslade. Yucky fish soup. Uncle Théoden and Théodred were taking Éomer out for a burger for “lad’s night”. She didn’t finish her soup, so she got no pudding, which was fine, because no pudding meant she could sulk, and all of her plans hinged on her sulking.
The great sulk took her to her room, and as Mrs Grimslade had been denied the first two door slams, Eowyn slammed the door behind her a third time that hour.
From her room, she counted down the minutes. Mrs Grimslade always put the telly on when she babysat Éowyn. Ten minutes went by, fifteen. She got on her leggings and her hoody, Éomer’s old one, the one that when she pulled the hood up made her look like a boy, like one of the lads. She was dressed in black; black hoodie, black leggings, and a black and white stripy shirt, most suitable for the young fugitive.
Éowyn had seen spy movies. She knew what to do next. Pillows, teddies, all stuffed under her duvet to look like a lump of girl. She was very crafty, young Éowyn was. She got her money from the piggy bank, opened her window, stood on the ledge, and jumped.
It wasn’t the first time Éowyn had climbed out of her bedroom, and it wouldn’t be the last. There was a big tree under her window, and with a jump, she could get onto the branches and scramble down. Éowyn was very good at climbing trees. Better than Uncle Théoden knew, better than Théodred or even Éomer knew, as much as Éowyn wanted to show them. There were trees in the orchard; not even as big as the one outside her window, that she wasn’t meant to climb because they were “too high” for her. It was a great trial, having to hide how good a climber she was, but Éowyn knew that some skills were best kept hidden if they were to be put to their best use.
It was still light. It was summer, it would be light long after bedtime. Éowyn knew her way to the bus stop, she went there every time Theoden took her to town and didn’t want to waste petrol. She knew quite well she could walk there alone.
Uncle Théoden always said that when he was her age, he not only walked to the bus stop on his own, but he would get the bus all the way into town on his own, and back, and lots of other places by himself, and he didn’t even have a phone. No one cared where he went so long as he did his chores and was home for tea. He always seemed proud of that, and tutted a little over how parents hovered these days, but he still didn’t let Éowyn get the bus by herself.
Éomer was allowed to go off by himself. Éomer had been allowed to go off by himself since he was Éowyn’s age. But then, Éomer was a “lad”, and Théoden loved his lads more than he did Éowyn.
Théodred had started saying that maybe they should start letting Éowyn go places on the bus by herself, but there’d been no need for Éowyn to go by bus by herself. Until now.
It was Elfhelm driving the bus.
‘It’s little Éowyn!’ Elfhelm blinked in surprise as Éowyn stepped on board. ‘Your uncle’s letting you ride on by yourself?’
Éowyn’s heart dropped. There was no way her little escape wouldn’t get back to her uncle now. She would be getting a telling off, and Éowyn hated telling offs. Whoever it was who told her off always thought they were right and Éowyn wrong, and they wouldn’t stop telling Éowyn off until she agreed they were right and she was wrong, even though the adults were rarely right, and Éowyn was never wrong.
Still, Éowyn had come this far. Whatever the future held, she would have this night.
‘I’m going to town to see Merry and Pippin,’ she said, which was true. ‘They’re staying at their uncle’s, and we’re going to watch a film.’
Elfhelm nodded. ‘And you’re going all by yourself?’
Éowyn nodded. ‘Yes. I’m ten now, like Éomer was when he first started going to town by himself.’
‘And your friends are meeting you at the bus stop?’
Éowyn gave him her money. ‘Uh huh.’
Elfhelm took her money and gave her a ticket. Her own ticket. Éowyn put it in her pocket, very pleased to be holding onto her own ticket.
The trip to town was pretty long, long enough for Éowyn to text Merry and Pippin and get them to meet her at the bus stop. It was a good thing too, because Elfhelm paused a little at the bus stop, waiting as Éowyn waited, until Merry and Pippin came into sight.
The bus left. Éowyn, Merry and Pippin did their special high-ten handshake, and headed for the cinema. Merry had lots of money from Uncle Bilbo, who knew they were going to the cinema, and knew cinema treats cost the sun and earth, but also knew that a cinema trip wasn’t worth it without nachos, chocolate brownie sundaes, a mega tub of sweet popcorn, and raspberry slushies to wash it all down.
They got their tickets for Tom Bombadil, which got them past the guard and to the sacred hall of screens, but they knew there was no way they’d be able to get into Terrifier 3 while the lights were still up, and adverts playing.
They hid out in the toilets, taking turns to stand sentry, until one of them saw an employee go in and out with their special torch to do a head count. It was Pippin who saw the screen warden vacate the Screen 12. He alerted the others, and they slipped in as quietly as they could, heads down, trusting that everyone was too busy watching the horrors on screen, to notice the three adults walking in were on the short side.
They missed the first twenty minutes of the film, and were thus spared Victoria’s intimate relations with the jagged piece of glass, but they did get to see Santa’s nose come off, and the mall massacre, and that scene in the shower, and being children, with children’s cold hearts, they had to bite their fists to keep from roaring with laughter.
It was the scene in the shower that had Éomer, Théodred and Théoden call it quits, and stalk off as quick as possible, barely giving Éowyn time to duck behind her mega tub of popcorn as they strode past.
Merry nudged Éowyn, and Éowyn knew that if she wanted any chance of getting home before the “lads” finished their burgers, she had to go now, but Éowyn wanted to see the girl stab the clown with her special sword, and so she ate away her nerves, shoving another handful of popcorn into her mouth. She would be on prison rations for a month once her escape was discovers, and so she had every intention of enjoying her last taste of decent, wholesome food while she could.