Disclaimers: See Eowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan 1

~October 11, 3017~

I stood on the highest steps of the Golden Hall watching the ceremony proceeding below me. I beamed with pride as I listen. My brother was being promoted. He was advancing from a Rider to the Third Marshal of the Mark. A similar position to the one my father had had fifteen years previous.

He has got to be the youngest Marshal ever, I thought to myself, praising my brother inside.

The wind whipped my hair around my face, as I watched my uncle hand tap my brother’s shoulders with his blade. My brother’s head was bowed and I could barely see his face, but I knew he was bursting with excitement. To the common bystander, he would have seemed exceptionally calm during this, but my brother had learned over the years (and I also) how to not let your true feelings show.

My uncle’s strong clear voice rang out through the town. “Hail, Eomer, Third Marshal of the Mark.”

My brother mounted his horse (which had stood at his side during the whole ceremony) and called the warcry of our people. “Forth Eorlingas!!!”

All the riders around me also mounted, their shouts mingling until my brother’s was drowned out. They raced out the city gates, the thunderous horse hoofs echoing off the surrounding hills. I raced to the stables where I too mounted my own horse.

Engel was now a full grown mare. Her black coat had turned a dusty white. Her mane still remained dark grey however. She was completely loyal to me, probably the closest friend I had, fulfilling her namesake. I lightly jutted my heels into her sides and she took off with a dash. I raced after my brother’s group, delighting in the wind tearing across my face. I urged Engel on faster, and dutifully she obeyed.

I reached the group of Riders within minutes and quickly passed through their ranks until I was right behind Eomer. There I stayed, knowing that this was his time to lead. We galloped over the plains, and then circled around heading back to Edoras.

Coming back to the joyful cries of the townspeople, I broke from the group and headed to the personal stables, instead of to the stables for the Riders’ horses. I dismounted easily, and immediately set about caring for Engel’s needs before fulfilling my ultimate wants. I filled her trough with clean, cool water, and set about brushing off the sweat and dust from her coat.

Having finished that, I ran to the Golden Hall, soaring up the great steps. When I opened the doors, I was immediately besieged by the loud joyous noise of a feast that had been prepared in my brother’s honor. I walked in looking around at familiar faces, all having a grand time. I first was heading for the front table where my brother, uncle and cousin sat, but then thought better of it and instead headed for the kitchens.

They proved empty of anyone but a small brown cat who sat on the floor lapping at a bowl of milk. I looked around at the stocks of different foods. I had never made anything before, but I figured it couldn’t be too hard. Mother had never taught me the art of cooking, but I decided right then that I could teach myself.

I thought hard for a moment, and then decided upon making a soup. Soup couldn’t be that hard to make, could it? And besides, my brother loved soup.

So I set out on the cupboards, scouring them for any ingredients that I particularly had a taste for, or my brother exceptionally liked. I boiled a pot of water over the fire, and quickly placed in my ingredients. I stirred it for a little while, then took a ladle and dipped it in my concoction, tasting it.

Deciding it was a little bland I set about to find some spices. I found them all packed neatly in a drawer but without any labels. Not knowing what to do I grabbed some spicy looking ones, and crumpled them over the top of my soup. I tasted it again. Almost. I just needed a little more. I crumpled the leaves over the mixture again, but found that I had used all of the grayish ones, so I grabbed a spice bottle that looked similar. I sprinkled the contents over the boiling mass.

Satisfied, I took the pot by the handle and plucked the ladle from the counter. I bravely headed directly into the mob of happy partiers constantly having to block someone out with my body to protect my soup. I quickly came to the head table. My brother and Theodred were in the midst of a very flamboent story, using their hands to animate it even more.

I stood in fornt of them and cleared my throat. They instantly stopped.

“Eowyn, where have you been?” my brother asked, with a huge grin on his face. I had never seen him so happy. At least since Mother and Father died.

“I made this for you.” I set the large pot down on the table. “Do you want to try some?”

“What is it?” my always inquisitive cousin asked.

“A special soup.”

Eomer licked his lips. “Boy, I’m sure hungry.” He dished himself a bowlful.

“You glutonous boar. You are still hungry after a full feast?” I allowed him a rare smile.

“There’s always room for more.” Theodred and Theoden also dished up a portion for themselves.

They all simultaniously took the first bite. Had I not been standing right there I think they would have spit it out. Instead they effortfully swallowed, trying to hold back a grimace.

I looked at them expectantly. “Do you like it?”

They exchanged glances.

“Yeah, it’s great Eowyn.”

“Yes, great. One of the best soups I’ve ever tasted.”

“Superb. You couldn’t have done better.”

I grinned. “You really think so?”

All three answered at the same time. “Definitely!”

Not knowing what to do under such praise, I filled their bowls again. “Here, then have some more.” With that I walked off, grinning stupidly. I headed straight to the kitchen, to write down all the ingrediants to this “excellent” stew.

Had I looked back at that moment, I would have seen Eomer, Theodred and Theoden all hastily pouring the contents of their dishes back into the main pot.

*August 5, 3018*

I knelt next to Theoden’s throne, leaning on the armrest, gazing into her uncle’s face. Over the past month it seemed that the king had aged hundreds of years. He was now a weary, old looking man, who hardly ever left the Golden Hall.

“Uncle?” I asked softly. “Please, answer me.” He gazed at me unrecoginizing my face. “Do you not know me anymore? Have you forgotten your own neice.”

No reply.

My head dropped to my chest. It was hopeless. Nothing could help him now.

“He will not answer you. He can only hear my voice. To no others will he respond,” a hiss came from the other side of his throne.

I shuddered. Wormtongue. “I still must keep trying. He is my uncle, my family. He would try to save me if I were in his place.”

Wormtongue stood, circling around to me. “Is this really your uncle? Is this the man who pledged to take care of you after your mother died? Is it really the same man?”

I began to doubt. It was true my uncle had changed. Instead of him taking care of me, it was now swiched.

“I am still here though,” Grima continued, his voice seductively sweet. “I can still take care of you.”

I felt a calling. To long had I been taking care of everyone in my mother’s place. I also needed some caring didn’t I. Then suddenly a voice out of the past called me out of the trance. …marry a great lord, full of honor and dignity.

I turned to glare at him. “You would never take care of me. I must take care of myself and my uncle. Leave you snake.”

Wormtongue got up in a huff. “Fine. But remember what I said. Is he really still your uncle? Who is he really?” He stormed off.

“Who am I really?” my uncle suddenly mumbled. He really had heard Grima’s words.

I knelt next to him, brushing some hair off of his face. “You are my uncle, my family. You are Theoden, son of Thengel, King of Rohan.” I stopped, again my head dropping, tears starting to line my eyes. “Why don’t you start acting like it?”

“I feel the same,” my cousin’s voice suddenly came over my shoulder. I did not flinch.

“It is so hard, just watching him fade away, and not being able to do anything about it,” I whispered.

Theodred came up besides me. “Grima was right though. He isn’t the same. This isn’t my father!” He suddenly spun around and stormed out the door.

“Theodred wait!” I ran after him.

He stopped. “What?”

“Do you remember what you told me, after Engle died, about how that when we can’t change something we should make the best of it, and remember all the good times we had with someone. Well I think that that is the best we can do right now, and pray Bema saves him.”

Theodred looked at me and smiled half heartedly. “Thanks. I suppose you’re right.” He turned to walk away.

“Theodred?” He stopped again.

“What?”

“Would you like to go out riding with me and Engel. I think we could use the company.”

A true smile now lit his face, “It would be my honor.”

*Februrary 24, 3019*

I was brushing Engel down when a stable boy came in leading several horses. I recognized one of them as my cousin’s horse, Brego.

I grinned trying to hurry up finishing my chores. My brother had gone out several days ago after Theodred’s eord had not returned for over a week. Now, I guessed, they had finally come back.

The stable boy saw my grin and stopped. I looked at him curiously. I could see tears flowing freely from his face. I cocked my head. “What is wrong?”

“Mi’lady, it’s Theodred. The men say that he will not live.”

I dropped my brush in shock. “What?”

“Lord Eomer brought him back, fatally wounded, mi’l-” I did not hear any more. I raced out of the stables, racing for the Golden Hall.

I ran up the steps to the great hall, ignoring the gaurds surrounding the doors. I raced through the main hall and off to the side chamber that belonged to my cousin.

Pausing at the doorway I took in the scene. My brother looked up from where he knelt, washing Theodred’s wounds. I raced to his side.

“Theodred!” I called to him. He seemed to hear me and tried to respond, but only a small moan escaped his lips. I sighed in relief when I saw the gash on the side of his head. It was bad, but I had seen men survive with head wounds worse.

My brother saw my relief and nodded towards my cousin’s torso. There was more? Did I really want to see?

I hesitantly drew the blankets slightly away. When I saw the gaping hole in his side, I had to purse my lips together to keep myself from throwing up. No one could survive such injuries. Eomer looked at me sympathetically and rose.

“Come Eowyn. We must bring news to the King.”

I nodded slowly, and rose to my feet. I swayed a little feeling faint at the sight of so much blood. My brother supported me.

Once we were out of the room, Eomer stopped me and looked directly into my eyes. “We found him by the Isen River. All of his eord lay dead, surrounded by the dead of their enemies.”

I clenched my fists. “Curse Sauron!”

He held my head in his rough hands forcing me to look directly at him. “It was not orcs from Sauron that lay there. The markings they bore were not the great eye.” He released me and went back into the room, leaving me to ponder what he had said.

He soon came back. In his hands he bore an orc helmet. An orc helmet bearing only one emblem. A large white hand.

I nodded understanding. He took a deep breath and together we walked to our bewitched uncle.

As I approached I looked at him. He sat there on his throne, motionless, wizened and aged beyond his years. He did not even aknowlege our approach with a flutter of an eyelash.

I looked down at my feet trying to control the rage boiling up inside of me. Your son lays dieing in a room, right next door, but do you see this? NO!! Of course not. You see nothing but what that worm Grima wants you to see!

My thoughts were interupted by my brother’s strong voice. “Hail Theoden, King of Rohan.”

He still did not move. I had to say something that would break his stillness. “Your son is badly wounded, my lord.”

“He was ambushed, by Orcs,” my brother added. I looked over him. I could see his rage also simmering beneath his brown eyes. “If we don’t defend our country, Saruman will take it by force.”

Theoden still did not move. Then, slinking like the snake he was, Grima appeared behind the throne.

“That is a lie,” he spat at Eomer. “Saruman has ever been our friend and ally.”

Maybe to you, you creep.

Finally my uncle actually moved. He turned towards his advisor, mumbling beneath his breath, “Grima… Grima… Grima?”

This was almost as disgusting as Theodred’s injuries put together. My uncle would only respond to that… that… worm.

I could hear in Eomer’s voice he felt the same. “Orcs are running freely across our lands. Unchecked. Unchallenged. Killing at will. Orcs bearing the white hand of Saruman.” He tossed the helmet at Grima’s feet.

I felt like my brother had scored a point. I could see the uncertainty rising behind Grima’s eyes. He changed the subject. “Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind. Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent, your war-mongering.”

I felt fury rising in my chest.

“War-mongering?” My brother echoed my thoughts. He grabbed Grima and held him against a pillar. How long had I wanted to do that?

“How long is it since Saruman bought you?” my brother hissed angrily. “What was the promised price, Grima? When all the men are dead you will take your share of the treasure?”

I decided to take my leave. My brother had everything under control. As I walked off I heard them stop talking and turned to see what had stopped them. I saw it was me. Grima looked at me with a longing. I felt like I was about to throw up. I raced from the room, wishing to see him no more.

I ran to Theodred’s room where he still lay in the same position we had left him. I picked up the cloth that my brother had been using and began to clean away his wounds, tears falling down my face as I did.

“Please, Theodred. Don’t leave me. I need you. Eomer needs you. Uncle needs you even though it may not seem so right now. Please you must hold out, pull through.”

His head turned just slightly so that he was looking into my tear-filled eyes. “Eowyn,” he muttered quietly. “Eowyn.”

I put my hand to his cheek, it was going cold. “Shh… Be still. You’ll be fine. We have the finest medics in the land here. I will go find them.” I raced out of his room running down to the house of the nearest nurse. Crashing through the door, I gasped out, “Please come help. The king’s son is in dire need.”

He looked at me and nodded, and then slowly began to pack up his things.

“You don’t understand,” I cried. “Haste is needed.”

He sped up his packing and ran out the door. I sighed. At least help was now on the way.

I stiffled back a yawn as I slowly walked outside, noting that the sun was setting. I had not realized how much time had passed.

I walked slowly down to the house that belonged to my brother and me. I crawled into bed whispering a quick prayer to Bema that my cousin would live through the night.

*Februrary 25, 3019*
All night I was plauged by nightmares of Wormtongue. He was whispering that I was all alone, and advancing on me. I woke up several times that night in a cold sweat. On the last of these occasions I decided just to get up.

I hurried up to the Golden Hall, racing to my cousin’s room. The doctor I had sent up the previous night met me at the door.

“Mi’lady. I’m sorry there was nothing I could do. He was too badly wounded. Too much blood was lost. He is gone.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. I pushed past him reaching Theodred’s body in mere steps. No, no, this couldn’t happen. I put my hand up to his chest. There was no heart beat.

I swallowed my grief and turned back to walk out of this room, there were more people that had to know this horrible news, not just myself. I would first go to the king, I decided. Perhaps this was just the thing to break my uncle from his spell.

I slowly approached his throne, still after almost a year creeped out at his zombie like appearance. I knelt and held his hand, trying to think of what to say that might break this horrible curse. I cleared my throat. “My lord? Your son,” I took a deep breath, “he is dead.” I looked up at his face hoping for at least a hint of feeling. “My lord? Uncle?” I looked down at his frail hands knowing that I could not save him. Tears sobbed up in my throat. “Will you not go to him? Will you do nothing?”

I began to lose hope. If the death of his own son could not remove the spell from my uncle, what could? I rose slowly and backed away, still searching for some hint of recognition on Theoden’s face. Nothing.

I turned and ran out of the Golden Hall racing to my own house. There was one more person I had to inform before I could carry out my own grief. I ran through the door shouting, “Eomer? Eomer!” There was no reply.

I frowned and decided he was probably at the stables tending to his horse. I raced back out the door and rushed back up the hill shouting my brother’s name the whole way.

I reached the stables out of breath. I walked out to my brother’s horse’s stall. It was empty.

I was puzzled. He would have told me if he was going out. Where was he? I stopped and asked the first person I came to who happened to be Hama.

“Hama, have you seen my brother around? I have something important to tell him.”

Hama looked at me with pity. “You don’t know?” he asked increduously.

I was puzzled. “Know what? What’s wrong? Hama tell me!”

He looked away. “Eomer was banished last night. He left with his eord heading towards Emyn Muil.”

I backed away shocked, tears running down my cheaks. I turned and sprinted out the door, ignoring Hama’s shouts behind me. I raced to Theodred’s room, colapsing at his bed side, tears pouring from my eyes.

I was now truely alone. I had no one to turn to. My uncle: bewitched. My cousin: dead. And now my brother, my stronghold for my whole life: banished. Oh that horrible word. BANISHED!

I was so wrapped up in my own throuts that I did not notice Grima enter behind me.

“Oh he… he must have died sometime in the night.” I shivered. I did not need this. Not now. The insolent worm. “What a tragedy for the king to lose his only son and heir.” I bit my lip from lashing out with my tongue. There was still one of Eorl’s decendants who was still active.

I felt his cold hand rest down on my shoulder. “I understand his passing is hard to accept, especially now that your brother has deserted you.”

I leapt up. Those words stung. “Leave me alone you snake!” Eomer has not deserted me! I was positive this worm had something to do with his banishment.

Grima smiled. I had made a mistake. I had shown that his words had reached their mark. He slowly rose from the bed, and inched close to me. “Oh, but you are alone,” he hissed, echoing my own thoughts. “Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness. In the bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you, like a hutch to trammel some wild thing.”

I shivered as he placed his clammy hand on my cheek. It slid down to my throat as he talked. “So fair, so cold, like a morning pale spring still clinging to winter’s chill.”

I closed my eyes and tried to push out his voice. I had to only give in and I wouldn’t be alone. That is what one half of me was saying. The other half was begging me to slap his ugly face.

I pulled myself together, glaring at him. “Your wirds are poison!” I spat at him and quickly exited the Golden Hall.

I stood on the top of the steps looking out across the countryside with tears running down my face. The wind played with my hair sending it across my face but I took no effort to brush it back. How many times had I stood here, waiting for a loved one to return home? First with my mother, waiting diligently for my father. Then after they died, waiting for my cousin, and soon my brother. But now they were all gone, leaving me to waste away to nothing, alone.

My thoughts jolted to a stop as I peered out across the plains seeing three horses come into veiw. They were still too far away for me to see who they were but when in grief the imaginations can play funny tricks on your eyes. I saw, riding up to Edoras, smiles on their faces, laughter in their eyes, my brother, father and cousin. My eyes widened. Could it really be?

The rip of a flag coming off its pole brought me quickly back to realitly. I saw that the colors of the horses were wrong for my family. Instead of the horses my family members would have been riding (silver, smokey grey, and brown) the riders approaching road horses that I had actually seen before but I did not recognize their riders.

One was the great mearas Shadowfax. I recognized him at an instance. After you had seen one of the great horses it was difficult to forget their majestic beauty. I remembered that Gandalf the Grey had taken him for his own and after that none could ride him. I had never met Gandalf, and from the tales I had heard in my uncle’s court I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

The other two I had difficulty decerning but as they grew closer I could tell that they were two horses from my brother’s eord. Arod and Hasufel. I was puzzled to se that insetead of Garulf and Gleowine riding them they were men of completely different stature. Garulf had always been a thin, wirey man totally in contrast to the man who rode Hasufel now. This man had brod shoulders and a very noble look about him. On the other horse sat what seemed to be an elf, though I wasn’t sure. I had never actually seen an elf though I had heard stories and this one fit the description’s perfectly. Behind him was a large bulk but at this distance I couldn’t tell what it was.

(This analysis took place in a matter of seconds but in words it seems like much longer.)

Seeing no one that I knew, I turned and went back inside. Suddenly my stomach rumbled. In a flash I remembered that I had not eaten since lunch the day before. I hurried to the kitchens, trying to think what I would make for myself. I looked around and saw that there was plenty of food already prepared so I did not have to make anything myself.

I picked up a peice of bread, about to take a bite when a colorful memory flooded into mind.

I was eight. I had been crying because try and try as I might I could not find anything to play with. My mother had always been right there whenever I was needing something to play with but she had been dead less than a month. Theodred had seen my plight and had attempted to cheer me up by dressing up a loaf of bread as little girl. He them made himself one, dressed as a boy. We had played for hours and hours with these makeshift toys.

But now Theodred was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. I put the bread back on the table my appetite suddenly gone. I sunk to the floor, my head falling to my hands.

I sat their and just cried for I wasn’t sure how long, until suddenly like in a dream I heard Theodred’s voice.

“We cannot change the past, so we have make the best of it. Ifs are not going to bring Engel back. Nothing will. But you can still remember all the fun times you had with her. Can you do that? It will make you feel much better. I do not think Engel would have wanted you just to stop your life just where she left. She would want you to live the rest of your life to the fullest, not moping about here…” I wiped the tears from my eyes. The words he had said to me as a little girl were still true.

I took a deep breath and decided I would go and check on Uncle again. It would take my mind off things. I slowly aproached the great hall. Soon sounds of a fight reached my ears. Something was happening in the hall. I picked up my pace.

When I got to the hall I only saw Gandalf pointing his staff at my Uncle. Stories I had heard about the sorceror, most of them untrue as I learned later, flooded to mind.

I tried to run up to save my uncle but I was held back by the man I had wseen earlier riding up to Edoras.

“Wait,” he muttered, not loosening his grasp from my shoulder. I looked up into his face, but he was no longer looking at me. He was staring intently at the scene playing out in front of us. I also turned my attention, though it was hard for me to tear my eyes from his face. It was an odd combination of scars, lines and at the same time an odd sense of power.

I looked up to the throne where my uncle sat glaring at Gandalf. At least he acknowledged his surroundings for once. Then in a voice I had never heard before he spoke, for the first time in almost a year. “If I go… Theoden dies.”

I shivered. That was definately not my uncle’s voice. Gandalf did not flinch. His voice rang out strong through the hall. “You did not kill me, you will not kill him!”

I looked back up at the man that was holding me, trying to figure out what was going on. He seemed to know though he did not even look to me to explain.

Writhing on the throne my uncle spoke again in the voice that was erily not his. “Rohan is mine!” What was he talking about? Of course it was. He was the king after all.

Gandalf lunged at my insane uncle. “Be gone!” he shouted.

My uncle was thrown back into his throne, I feared he was hurt. My though was almost confirmed as he let out a moan and slumped to the floor.

I reacted quickly catching him before he hit the ground. His face rose to look at me, and before my very eyes I saw him slowly transform from the shrivled old man to the younger, more friendly man I had known before his enchantment. I also saw in his eyes he was thinking for himself.

He squinted and looked straight into my eyes. “I know your face,” he whispered softly. “Eowyn… Eowyn.” I struggled to hold back a happy yelp. He recognized me! He knew who I was! I was not alone any more!

Gandalf slumped on his staff as if wearied by the exorcism. “Breath the free air again, my freind.”

I looked around at the marveled faces of all the people who had witnessed this miracle. Light was suddenly let in from windows that had been closed for almost a year.

I smiled as I helped my uncle stand. He also looked around at his surroundings. “Dark have been my dreams of late,” he murmered. No kidding, I thought, though I said nothing out loud. You have been listening to that devil Wormtongue. He then looked down at his trembling hands.

Gandalf noticed and smiled grimly. “Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped your sword.” I saw Hama run up holding Herugrim, my uncle’s sword. He slowly drew it from its sheath. I took a step back seeing him admire the cold steal. I wanted to cry. In less then a half an hour my uncle had totally changed. He went from a dottering old man, to this warrior in front of me. Yes he was now a warrior I could see it in his eyes. Looking at his eyes I saw them suddenly shift from the blade to something behind me. I turned slowly to see Grima struggling to escape from the dwarf who had trapped him. I saw my uncle’s lips purse into a fine line.

“Gaurds,” he firmly ordered. “Throw this snake out of my halls where all may see him for who he truely is.”

I watched as two gaurds lift the writhing mass of black. “My lord?!” he gasped as he was lifted away. “Please, my lord!”

This time however Theoden did not hear him. “Finally,” I whispered under my breath. He was now listening to himself instead of his corrupt advisor. My uncle followed grimly. I could see by the way he walked and his white-knuckled grip on his sword that he was angry.

I whispered my thanks that I was not Grima right then. He was going to pay.

I had just barely gotten outside the doors in time to see Grima being thrown down the stairs. I was surprised to find that part of me felt somewhat sorry for the man writhing on the ground in pain, nursing a bleeding lip. That pity was estinguished as soon as the next words escaped his lying mouth.

“I’ve only ever served you my lord.” I wanted to laugh. Yeah right!

I was satisfied again to see my uncle thinking for himself and not listening to the lies of this congerer.

“Your witchcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast.”

“Send me not from your sight,” Grima whined again. I could not believe that he still thought his deciet would save him.

Theoden raises his sword to strike, and I looked away. No matter what hate I brew towards this man I could not bring myself to watch him die. I was surprised not to hear any anguished screams or sword strikes, but instead a voice filled with compassion and strength.

I forced myself to look. The man who had restrained me earlier was now holding my uncle back from killing Wormtongue! “No, my lord,” he was saying. “No my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilt on his account.”

The man then reached down to help Grima up. Instead Wormtongue spat on his hand and leapt up. He crashed through the crowds screeming, “Get out of my way!” I shook my head. Even when offered forgiveness he regected and bucked, like a wild horse.

I looked back to my uncle and the man who had hindered his judgement. I saw the challenge rise to Theoden’s eyes as he glared the man down. Fortunately, the stranger had enough sense to back down.

The moment was interupted by the people cheering, “Hail Théoden King!” I could not hold back a smile. My uncle was again king.

My joy was short lived however when I saw Theoden looking around, searching. Then I heard the words that broke my heart. “Where is Théodred? Where is my son?” I took a deep quavering breath. I had somewhat hoped that although he had not responded at the time, my uncle had at least heard my message of his son’s death. Now I had to announce the news agian. I took a shakey step forward, and then gathered myself together. I walked down to where my uncle stood on the steps, still searching.

“My lord,” I said, trying desprately to keep the tears from coming back. I had already dealt with those, I did not need them again. “There is something I must show you inside.” I took his arm in mine and lead him back to the Golden Hall.

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

I watched sadly as the funeral beir slowly approached me. I stood trying to keep the tears back. I glanced sideways at my uncle. He stood there, frozen, un-blinking almost as if he was bewitched again.

I felt really bad for him. He had lost his all his closest family. All he had now was me. Just as all I had was him, although I could see how his situation was far worse than mine. He had signed Eomer’s banishment papers himself. His only son had died and he did not even get to say goodbye. I felt sorry for him.

I glanced back up at the bier making its way slowly down the hillside just outside of Edoras. Behind it proceeded the newcomers, the ones who had changed so much in just coming. I felt bad that this was the only Edoras they saw. It wasn’t just enchanted kings and dead princes, there was so much more.

I finally forced myself to look at my dead cousin as he passed by me on his way to the silent tomb. I swallowed hard. He looked so peaceful, but not the same. He was cold. The spring of life that inundated from him before was now dry. Words to a song in the old language came slowly to my mind. A song that I had heard a mother sing at her soldier son’s funeral. They seemed appropriate now.

Bealowealm hafath fréone frecan forth onsended. (An evil death has set forth the noble warrior.)
Giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende on Meduselde. (A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels in Meduseld.)

I shut my eyes tight unable to sing any more. I heard the tomb slam shut.

Farewell, my cousin, my best friend.

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I sat in the dining hall in Meduseld, head in hands. I could see out of my perefrial vision the new elf, dwarf, and man standing watching me. I was about to ask them if they had anything better to do when I heard the door swing open. I spun around to see my uncle and Gandalf. Gandalf carried a small boy and my uncle lead a even younger girl in. Their eyes were drooping, and the girl stumbled along exausted.

I looked up at my uncle searching for an answer. I had never seen these children before. Before I could ask anything, Gandalf ordered something in elvish. The man quickly exited the room. I beseeched his eyes.

“Aragorn must care for their horse. He is a very big stallion, and all the stable hands are too afraid to go near him,” Gandalf answered my unsaid question. I nodded and quickly headed over to the little girl. I picked her up as she stiffled a huge yawn. I brushed some hair out of her face.

“And what is your name little one?” I asked soothingly.

She looked up at me with huge eyes. “Freda.”

I smiled. “You can just call me Eowyn.” I then turned my attention to the boy Gandalf was holding.

He too gave a great yawn. “We came from the Westfold,” he mumbled, his head nodding. “Wild men were raiding our village. Mama told us to get help.” I frowned. Wild men did not usually get enough courage to actually raid a Rohan town. This was new.

Gandalf set the boy down on a chair at the table. “Eowyn would you see that they are comfortable. We will go find some food for them to eat.” As he passed me he whispered in my ear, “See if you can get any details out of them.”

The company of males exited the room, leaving me alone with the two children. They seemed more awake after the mention of food. I set the girl down next to her brother and sat across from them.

I stared at them hoping for some way to break the ice. “So, how long have you two lived in the Westfold?”

They just stared at me.

“Okay. Do you normally have these kind of attacks?”

Both shook their heads. I sighed. This would take a while.

Over about thirty minutes I squeezed information out of them, well actually only the little boy. Freda did not speak. I was begining to run out of questions when the men finally returned. Gandalf held two bowls in his hands. The man he had called Aragorn was also with them, and he also carried food. The dwarf carried a flagon of ale.

Gandalf set the soup in front of the children, who set about it as if they had not eaten in days. Which they probably haven’t, I reflected.

I took a deep breath and went to fetch a blanket. Freda was shivering.

My uncle was now sitting on his throne. Gandalf was standing right beside him in the place where I had seen Grima sit too many times. “Eowyn? How bad is it?”

I wrapped it around her shoulders as I pondered the most effective way to tell the the news. My uncle would want it brief and to the point. I took a deep breath. “They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree.”

Freda looked up at me with sad eyes, speaking for the first time since she said her name. “Where’s Mama?” I almost wished she hadn’t spoken. It was more than likely their mother was dead, but this child did not need to know that yet. I placed a comforting arm around her.

“This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven mad by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from you women and children,” Gandalf was saying to my uncle. I could feel his eyes focus on me and the children. I stiffened. I could fight and protect my self. I was not as helpless as these children. If they went to fight I would come too.

Gandalf looked away from me and looked at Theoden. He leaned forward and put a hand on his throne. My uncle looked at him warily and rightfully so, I thought. With each word and movement, Gandalf was looking more and more like Grima. Had we lost one treacherous advisor and traded for another. “You must fight.” His words were the opposite of Grima’s and they made sense.

“You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak,” Aragorn spoke up from his side table. “Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king.” I was about to speak my own assurance when my uncle quickly got up, a stubborn look on his face.

“They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war.” I frowned. Now he was just being overprotective. Everyone else could see it. Why couldn’t he? Saruman wanted to destroy Rohan!

At the side table Aragorn spoke up again. “Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not.”

When I looked back into my uncle’s eyes, I saw that he saw the truth of the situation but he did not want to risk it. However, after being idle for so long, I knew he felt he had to prove he was still able to rule. “When I last looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan,” he spat at Aragorn.

I could here the challenge in his voice, the warning. Any come back Aragorn made besides open submission would be taken as a challenge. It could result in a fight.

“Then what is the King’s decision?” Gandalf obviously knew this too and that was not on his game plan.

“We will leave Edoras. This city is too vulnerable. We will make for Helm’s deep.” I could here the uncertainty in his voice. He was not a man to flee and surrender easily. He closed his eyes regrouping himself and called Hama to his side. The soldier smartly obeyed. “Take my message to the people. Tell them not to burden themselves with their valuables. We must move swiftly and they will only slow us down.”

Hama nodded, but I could see he liked these orders no more than I did. As he turned away Theoden caught his shoulder and held him. “This is not a surrender. We will be back.” Hama nodded again, still unsure, and left. After him departed Gandalf, Aragorn, the elf and the dwarf. I sighed and looked down. Looking back up I saw my uncle’s attention was now turned to me.

“Eowyn,” he said softly, “did I do the right thing?”

I struggled to answer. I slowly walked over to him. “You do what you think is best. I’ll support you in whatever you chose.” I gave him a huge hug, which he thankfully returned.

“You have always supported me Eowyn,” he whispered in my ear. “I appreciate that. I hope someday I can repay you.”

A small cough interrupted us. We both turned our heads to see the two small children sitting forgotten at the table with empty bowls. I smiled, and separated from my uncle’s embrace. “Come children. You two must be tired. I will show you to beds that you may use for your stay.” The children nodded politely, and stood to follow me. After their meal they were now fighting to stay awake. I held my arms out. “Come, I’ll carry you.” They crawled into my arms yawning and stretching. As I stood I was surprised by how light they were.

I took them to the spare room in the golden hall, used for visitors, and tucked them in to two feather beds. I then departed heading out of Meduseld, to my own little house.

I quickly changed out of my funeral clothes into a pair of more comfortable traveling dresses. I grabbed a basket with straps to let me hold it on my back and began to stuff it with item I would need for the journey. I placed in another dress, a bed roll, my nightgown, and an extra pair of boots. From my kitchen I grabbed several apples for the road, and some loaves of bread from the market. As I walked out of the kitchen, I snatched a long knife, just to be safe. Reminded of weapons, I was puzzled that I had not seen my sword in any of my packing. I walked back through my small house looking through all the rooms for my sword. Eomer had made it for me after Papa had died, fashioned in the same way as my father’s was. It was not only very special to me, but the reminder that I was not helpless. That if any night raiders attacked Edoras in the middle of the night, I would be able to fend for myself.

I sat down on a stool trying to remember where I had put it. Then I remembered. During my uncle’s bewitchment I had placed it in a chest in the Golden Hall, for I was certain that if there was going to be a battle, that is where it would begin.

I hoisted myself up, and climbed back up the hill. People wonder why Rohan’s women are so strong, I thought bleakly, as I hiked. It’s from climbing up and down this Eru forsaken knoll so many times.

I reached the chest where I had placed my sword and regrouped myself. I opened the lid, revealing many of the treasures of my household. From it I took my sword. I quickly unsheathed it hearing the satisfying slide of leather against metal. Placing the sheath back in the chest I admired my brother’s workmanship. The sword was the perfect weight for me, and the grip had been formed to fit my hand. Taking a deep breath I placed my hand against the blade, and then swirled it around my head. I smiled to see that my hand had not moved. I fell into my routine, slashing right and left and then back around my head. I was greatly startled when my blade made the clash of metal on metal.

I looked up expecting to see my brother staring back at me. He liked startling me out of my routine, and then challenging me to a duel. Instead I found the graven face of Aragorn, the Ranger from the North, or so the people had said. I looked now deep into his eyes and saw a kind of power I had never seen in a man before. A strength and a will, along with sorrows carved on his face. Instead of a long sword he held a finely made knife, intertwined with designs of leaves on it. Maybe he was different from all the other men I had ever seen.

“You have some skill with a blade.” Was there a hint of surprise in his voice?

Disappointed I swung the sword back around, releasing his hold. He was like every other man, thinking women were too weak to fight. He was wrong.

“Women of this country learned long ago those without swords can still die upon them.” I swallowed hard thinking of Engel, innocent, unprotected. I sheathed my sword angrily. “I fear neither death nor pain.”

“What do you fear my lady?” he asked me softly.

I looked at him again, bewildered. No one had ever asked me that before, though I had thought of it many times.

“A cage,” I said, hoping he would understand. Seeing he didn’t I continued. “To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire.” I looked down, almost ashamed I had told him. Many men thought it almost treasonous for women to speak of wanting valor in a fight.
However instead of a scolding, he gave me affirmation. “You’re a daughter of Kings. A shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.” He bowed to me and left.

I stared after him in amazement. He really was different. He encouraged me to seek honor in a fight. A Shieldmaiden of Rohan. I liked the sound of that. I grabbed my sword and raced after him. On the long trek to Helm’s Deep, I knew who I wanted to walk by.

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The road to Helm’s Deep was a hard one, and I knew this well. I had been there a couple times, once with my parents, and a few other times with my brother, cousin and uncle. I descided early on to make it easier by talking with the new comers. I found that the elf’s name was Legolas and the dwarf’s was Gimli. Legolas did not like to talk much but Gimli on the other hand would talk about anything that came to mind.

“I’m surprised to see how many women and children are on this trip,” he remarked, riding on Engel.

“Most of the men are out on the plains in their eords,” I explained. I purposely forgot to say that scores of them had followed Eomer in his banishment. “But you know I don’t think I have ever seen a dwarf woman before. When ever I go down to the market place I see handfuls of dwarf men, selling off their jewels and treasures.” I looked up at him waiting for an answer.

I could see a faint smile under his bushy beard. He took a deep breath. “It’s true you don’t see many dwarf women. And if fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance that they’re often mistaken for dwarf men.” I bit back a smile. Trying to hide my amusement I looked back to see my uncle, Gandalf and Aragorn riding behind us. Aragorn it appeared had been listening to our conversation.

He also smiled. “It’s the beards,” he whispered. He motioned on his face as if he was stroking a long dwarf beard. I immediately turned away, not daring to look at him any more lest I break out into laughter.

Gimli, not noticing our amusement, continued on talking. “And this in turn has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women, and that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground.” He raised his arms to demonstrate his “springing out”. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and broke out laughing. It felt so good after so long without even a smile. I looked back up at Gimli hoping I hadn’t offended him, only to find him laughing, too.

After he had controlled himself he added, “Which of course is ridiculous.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aragorn spur his horse forward slightly, spooking Engel. Engle lunged forward, taking the startled Gimli with her. I raced after them, as Gimli fell off, and I hoped he hadn’t hurt himself.

My worries were cast away as I heard him shouting, “It’s all right, it’s all right. Nobody panic. That was deliberate, it was deliberate.”

I looked back to Aragorn, glaring at him for a moment for scaring my horse, so. She was well tempered enough that I knew she wouldn’t have just leapt off at nothing. I couldn’t hold that glare for too long though.

My uncle came up behind Aragorn, saying something to him. Aragorn’s look changed from amusement, quickly to pity. I looked back to help Gimli up. After I had dusted him off, I whistled calling Engel back to me.

*Sorry I got to go. I will add the part with Aragorn and Eowyn in the stables a little later. I just have to watch the movie again and see exactly what they say.