Lord of the Rings Natural Disasters and Sisters

Written for the Back to Middle Earth Challenge: Earthquakes, starvation, natural catastrophes. Do these happen in Middle-earth? Write a story, poem or create an artwork where the characters have to deal with any natural catastrophe.

**Story Notes:** We weren't getting anywhere with the high drama of coping with a natural catastrophe, so we gave the challenge a little twist. Hope it's okay!

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"You're late, princeling." Such a cute word but it always dripped icicles when Iorlas, the royal tutor, said it to Theoden. His way of saying 'little princess' was even worse. Iorlas glanced down. "And you're tracking mud into my classroom. Again."

Theoden looked down at his feet. "Sorry, sir. I was helping train the new colts."

"You have people for that." Iorlas pointed his walking stick at the long, dark wooden desk. "Sit."

For eight years he'd tutored the children of Thengel, having been imported from Lossarnach as the king required the only the best education for his son, in preparation for ascending the throne. The queen had insisted her daughters be educated as well, and currently in his classroom were Theoden, aged fifteen, and his younger sister Sexburg.

Sexburg gave Theoden a sympathetic glance as he sat down, and whispered, "We're talking about our ancestors."

"No talking," snapped Iorlas. "Now, since you were off with your... people, I'm sure they must have told you some of their charming oral history for you to share with us, Theoden."

Theoden grimaced. "Anything in particular, sir?"

"I'll be kind today. Tell me about Helm Hammerhand."

"He had a good right hook. Sir."

Iorlas gave him a Look. "Not _that_ kind. Continue, princeling."

"He was a ghost...? Aelgar said if you see him out on the hills, you'll die of fright." Theoden said, giving Sexburg a wicked smile to see if that scared her. "'Cause that's where he died."

Sexburg shivered gratifyingly, but Iorlas snorted. "Ghost stories are not history, your highness. I'd like some more details."

"Well, it was those Dunlenders, right? He was out killing them when he died. Froze right up."

Iorlas was definitely not amused. "Begin at the beginning, Theoden. _Why_ was he out there? Out where, exactly? What was going on at that point in Rohan? Or do I need to call your father in here to help you explain?"

"He'll just tell us it was another stupid barbarian thing," muttered Sexburg.

Theoden frowned. "No need to bring in our father."

"Then do go on," Iorlas urged.

"All right. Um." Theoden shifted as he thought. "There was this man. And he had a son. And he was rude to Helm all the time, and one day he went up to Helm and said, I want my son to marry your daughter! Helm said no and then punched him so hard he died and the son ran away." Theoden looked at Iorlas hopefully to make sure he had the story straight.

"That doesn't seem reasonable," said Sexburg thoughtfully. "Father wouldn't punch someone who wanted to marry one of us."

Theoden looked over at her. "It was all a plot to get the throne, right?"

"Oh, right," she said, nodding sagely. "Father's told me all about those."

Iorlas nodded. "I believe we have a natural catastrophe to get to?"

"What? Dunlenders aren't natural!"

Sexburg giggled madly.

Iorlas slammed his walking stick into the ground once, then twice. When the royal siblings were quiet and staring at him, he began to speak.

"Enemies they may be, they are still men and you will show dignity and class in your station by acknowledging that. Theoden, please explain how this managed to lead to Hammerhand's death, as well as the crisis that gripped Rohan during it, which was the disaster I referred to." He paused for breath. "As well, do speak like you've had some sort of proper upbringing and stop abusing Sindarin so."

"Yes, sir," said Theoden meekly.

"So why did this gu-" Sexburg began, then corrected her sentence. "Whyfore did that man choose to quarrel with our dear ancestor Helm?"

Iorlas frowned. Sexburg sat back in her chair and tried to look angelic.

"Oh. He would say..." Theoden had a look of concentration as he searched for his words. "He would say he had royal blood in him, and the throne should be his. So..."

Iorlas made a 'go on' gesture. "We did discuss this last year, children."

Theoden finished gathering his thoughts. "So if Helm didn't deal with it then, the man-"

"Freca," corrected Iorlas. "His name was Freca."

"Freca was going to use it as an excuse to rebel and try to take Rohan. So Helm dealt with it. And called him fat."

"You were doing so well until then, Theoden."

"But sir!" Sexburg interrupted. "Helm _did_ call him fat!"

Iorlas frowned. "Is that the important part of the story, children?"

"Yes," they both replied at once.

"Continue, Theoden," said Iorlas, with a long-suffering sigh.

"Hmph. Helm declared that man a traitor and sent all his family packing."

"That's so unfair!" said Sexburg.

"I'm trying to tell a story! Stop interrupting!" snapped Theoden.

"You shut up!"

"Children!" The stick came crashing down again.

There was silence, then Iorlas said in a controlled voice. "Straight through, princeling, and no tangents."

Theoden hesitated, then rushed back into it. "So the son, Wulf, he was part Dunlender so he went to the Dunlenders and talked them into going to war with Rohan and then there was this horrible winter and all of Helm's kids died and Helm didn't and he kept going out in the winter killing Dunlenders in their camps-"

"And eating them-" Sexburg began.

"Quiet."

"Sorry!" they both said.

"Your ancestor did not eat the Dunlenders. Theoden, can you tell me why people would even suggest such a horrific idea?"

"Oh. Um. It was such an awful winter there was this huge famine and no one had anything to eat and is that the natural disaster you meant?"

Iorlas nodded. "Yes. You get to the crux of what truly caused the most casualties for Rohan."

"I know how they feel," stated Theoden, in a very sympathetic tone.

Iorlas blinked. "How exactly would you know what that's like?"

"Well, I've got four sisters, right? That's a natural disaster all on its own." Theoden grinned. Sexburg hit him in the arm. "Ow! Hey! I told you!"

Sexburg laughed. "You've never even lived through one bad winter, Theo!"

"A winter doesn't put ribbons in your hair when you sleep," he said darkly.

"As fascinating as it is to hear about your little home lives, that has nothing to do with this lesson _or_ the starvation of the Rohirric peoples."

"Can I finish the story?" asked Theoden, turning away from glaring at his sister.

"I didn't put ribbons in your hair!"

"You bloody well did too!"

Iorlas lifted his cane to slam against the floor again.

"Sorry, sir!" Sexburg and Theoden chorused.

Iorlas let the walking stick come gently to the ground instead of slamming it down with another loud crack. "You may finish your tale, and then the lovely Sexburg may tell us about Helm's nephew, your more direct ancestor, Frealaf. After which, I will enlighten you both on some missing details from the tale of Helm Hammerhand."

Theoden nodded, grinning. "This is the good part. So he'd go out each night to fight them in the cold and he didn't have a single weapon, so they figured no weapon could hurt him. He'd blow a horn before he'd go and the Dunlenders were terrfied of it!" He practically rubbed his hands together with glee. "He was so strong and so scary, even when he died, he died standing up, ready to fight. And that's why his ghost goes after people today."

"Very good, except for some of the more fanciful sections. Now, Sexburg...?" Iorlas gave a thin smile.

Sexburg looked around nervously. "Oh, um, Mother wanted me for a dress fitting. Must go, sir!" She darted out of the room, skirts swirling about her, waving at Theo and dropping a quick curtsy to her tutor.

Iorlas rubbed his forehead as he watched her go. "Princess..."

"See what I mean about natural disasters?" said Theoden gloomily.

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Thanks to Hina, Jess and Persona for the helpful advice and beta.


End file.

Lord of the Rings