Protect & Serve LotR-Lord of the Rings Fanfiction - Fan Fiction -WattyAwards2012

Chapter 2: Once, I Knew Fate

I continued down the dusty lane. As the light faded in the sky, people thinned from the streets, finishing their busy tasks and returning to their homes for the evening.

My muscles had relaxed slightly with the movement, but the aches remained. Weakness still plagued me, and I knew I needed something more substantial than the broth I'd eaten earlier.

Question was: where would I find it?

I glanced up at the end of the street. Meduseld glinted in the fading red and pink rays of dusk. A slow smile spread across my lips as an idea came to me.

It was bold. Very bold. But I'd never been accused of being meek.

And I couldn't keep wandering the streets. When they emptied as the Rohirric denizens went home, it would become obvious that I didn't belong. I had to find somewhere to be, and something to do.

Plan in mind, I continued towards Meduseld with new determination.

**************

Keeping my head down, I quietly and confidently entered the back servant quarters of Meduseld. Doorwardens had guarded the front entrance of the great hall, but as I suspected, no one guarded the servant entrance.

Carefully making my way down the hallways, I marked where the kitchen, dining hall, and other important areas were. As Byrde had mentioned, the great hall seemed emptier than I would have expected. And the servants I did pass in the halls paid me no attention at all.

Of course, it helped that I was dressed as one of them, but they also seemed somber and withdrawn.

Because the king's son is dead, I recalled. That was why there was a pall cast over this hall and even the city. Without the grief casting their eyes downward, they may have noticed that I didn't belong.

With the cover of their grief, I was able to easily slip among them. My cloak was hidden in a corner under a layer of blankets, and then I calmly walked into the kitchen and grabbed a serving platter full of bread.

As I carried the platter, I pulled a piece of bread off it and slipped the chunk into my apron.

Byrde had said many of the servants had been sent away, but I'd been right in assuming they couldn't all be sent away. Several were still needed to cook and serve the meals.

The dining hall itself wasn't very full either. A few soldiers and guards were scattered throughout in small huddled groups at the long tables. I weaved throughout them, distributing the bread until my platter was empty. Then I returned to the kitchen to help the other servants distribute whatever else was ready.

In between my trips, I snuck bites of bread and other food, even some mead from a clay pitcher.

And still, no one had seemed to notice I didn't belong. Thankfully, I also completed my "tasks" efficiently enough and no one seemed inclined to speak to me. No one within my hearing anyway, seemed to speak Westron, and I had no hope of understanding the Rohirric language of this place.

But my mind could interpret the grief that clung to this hall. I'd gotten used to being in Lothlórien amidst Elven minds. I hadn't realized until now just how much easier their thoughts were to shut out. How much softer their thoughts seemed to me.

My body ached, and my mind was fast joining it as I struggled to perform my simple tasks without stumbling from the onslaught of grief and despair these people felt.

And the hall was far from full.

A light feminine voice caught my ear as I continued serving in the dining hall. The nearby voice was soft and friendly. So far, none of those eating in the hall had been women, and none of the servants present had seemed inclined to speak.