A/N: I’m taking a small break from the F/E pairing to focus just on Éowyn. It kind of takes place in the RotK EE when you see her standing by the window in the Houses of Healing scene. By the way, I won’t be posting anymore stories for at least a week because I am leaving for a week of camp tomorrow morning. Enjoy the story!! Please review!

Despair

I rode into battle against the wishes of my brother and uncle seeking a brave death, but did not find it. Instead, I slew the Witch-King and watched my uncle die. Aragorn healed my body from the Black Breath and set my broken arm, but he cannot heal my broken spirit. That is beyond his skill to heal. I am afraid that no one can.

It is not one thing that afflicts me, but many. It is the culmination of these things that causes me to despair so deeply. What are they, you ask? Well, I shall tell you.

I believe all my troubles started with the death of my father. When I was not yet quite eight, he was brought back by his éored, dead. Not too much later, my mother died as well, but from grief. Now orphans, our Uncle Théoden took in my brother and I, and we came to live in Meduseld.

As we grew older, Éomer began training to become one of the Rohirrim, and I was taught to be a lady of the court. However, I did not desire to learn these things. I would much rather watch my brother practice swordplay with his instructor and Théodred. In fact, I often did, skipping out on my lessons and getting in trouble for it later. When my uncle asked why I was doing this, I told him it was because I wanted to learn how to use a sword, even though I was a woman. Surprisingly, though, he consented and said that I was to be trained as a shieldmaiden. Even though, I think he was only humoring a young girl to keep her out of trouble. No one ever really took my desire to serve my country seriously, though I quickly showed my ability with a blade. As my instruction continued, my skill became equal with that of Éomer, and soon I passed even him. But it was all for nothing, because I knew that they would never let me fight. I was only a woman.

And now to my most recent despair – a broken heart. The man who broke my heart was my healer – Aragorn.

I don’t know exactly when it was that I fell in love with him, bit I think it may have been when he showed respect for my wish to fight. I had been packing a trunk for the journey to Helm’s Deep when I found a sword. Not able to resist, I unsheathed it and spun around, clashing against his dagger. As we talked, I told him how I wanted to help defend Rohan, the country of my birth. But he did not laugh and say that it was not possible because I was a woman. He understood. On the journey, we became very close and I felt that he returned some of the feelings I had for him. But soon after the men returned from Isengard, he started to distance himself from me and was less friendly than before. The night before they were to leave for Dunharrow for Gondor, he told me that he did not love me. He broke my heart, for he was the first man I had ever loved. I think that is part of the reason why I disobeyed my uncle and rode into battle. If I could not have Aragorn, I did not want to live.

But that is not the end. No, the one who caused me so much despair has not even yet been mentioned. He is the one who enslaved my uncle’s mind, killed my cousin, and haunts me mercilessly. He is Grìma, the one called Wormtongue.

I’ve always hated everything about him. He was so cold, even the way he tried to flatter me by saying how fair and beautiful he thought I was. But I never believed that he meant it. He did not really love me; he only desired me. He was a traitor to his country. He let villages burn, let children die, banished my brother from Rohan, and nearly put Rohan under the control of Saruman. He frightened me, took away all of my courage, made me feel vulnerable, and took away all my hope. He caused me to have nightmares of him. Sometimes, I awoke with Éomer or Théodred suddenly at my side. When Éomer came back from Isengard, he said that he had seen Wormtongue. When I heard how wretched he looked, I almost felt sorry for him. But then I remembered how he trapped me, making my life so miserable, and the pity I felt was gone. I was glad that he could no longer hurt anyone as much as he hurt me anymore. He deserves whatever fate awaits him.

The reason I despair so much is because I can see no happy future for myself. Éomer is the king now the Théoden is dead. There is nothing for me. No man will want to marry me because I am too string-willed. Because I am a shieldmaiden. Éomer is my only family left, and I do not want to lose him at the Black Gates. The days grow colder, darker, and more dangerous. Grìma was right. I am alone.

I stand by my window, looking out, and see a man, most likely Gondorian. I have seen him before. In the wind, his dark-reddish hair blows across his kind face. Our eyes meet, and I freeze. Why would I react this way to someone I do not know? I cannot answer that. He smiles at me, but I do not. I have no reason to smile.