AAOD, chapters 5 and 6
Got two chapters edited to post, so hopefully it won't be too overwhelming to do them in one post here.
Chapter 5- A Shieldmaiden's Duty
After Théoden returned the sword to Éomer and sent Háma to find his own sword, I rose to my feet with the rest of the people gathered around me. The King announced that he would have food and drink prepared for the travelers, as well as shelter if they wished. As he said this, he glanced around until his eye caught mine, then he nodded slightly. Understanding that my duty was to oversee this, I left my place in the crowd and began moving towards the side door, reaching it just as I heard the announcement that the host would leave that very day.
I quickly shut the door behind me, waiting a moment as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the hall. As I did, I heard Wormtongue shouting and quickly ducked behind one of the carved wooden pillars that framed the center of the hall, hoping he would not see me. Fortunately, his attentions were turned elsewhere for the moment. As I glanced out from behind the pillar, I could see him stalking across the floor, a string of curses pouring from his mouth. “How can my lord be so foolish as to listen to this conjurer? He will not be satisfied until the last of our men have fallen and all the land laid waste!” he cried out as he walked. Háma followed him, carrying the King’s sword and glancing toward the ceiling in obvious exasperation. To his credit, he did not waste words on a reply. I stayed where I was until they had left the hall, then lifted my skirts a bit and rushed across the floor to the door leading to the lower level of Meduseld.
“Hanna?” I called out as I entered the kitchen. My stomach growled slightly in protest at the smell of freshly baked bread, and I suddenly remembered that I had not yet eaten that day. Hanna had been the head cook of the king’s household for as long as I could remember. She had never failed to greet me with a grandmotherly smile-usually accompanied with some tasty morsel, at least when I had been a child and had often visited the kitchens when I was unable to sleep at night or had simply needed cheering up. Even now that I had grown, the kitchens had remained a comforting place, particularly because Wormtongue rarely set foot within them.
Hanna turned to greet me now with her customary smile, her steel-grey hair coiled around her head in a tight braid to keep it out of her way. “Lady Éowyn! What can I do for you, my dear?”
“The king requests that whatever food can be contrived in haste be set out for himself, Lord Éomer, and the four guests who arrived earlier this morning,” I answered, hoping that there would be something already prepared-fit for a king, I thought with a smile as Aragorn’s face flashed once again through my mind.
“Your timing is fortunate, my lady. I have just finished baking the bread for the day, and this stew is almost done,” she said, motioning me over to the largest cooking-hearth and scooping some stew out of the large iron pot she had been stirring when I had arrived.
I took the spoon she handed me, and tasted the stew. The meat was perfectly done, with just the right amount of spiciness to offset the more earthy taste of the last of the winter’s store of root vegetables. “It tastes wonderful, as always, Hanna,” I said, smiling. “This will be perfect.” She smiled and then ordered some of her kitchen staff to start preparing the tables.
I helped Hanna with the bread-filled baskets, and two of the serving women carried out large stacks of wooden serving bowls and spoons. Two more brought out trays laden with empty goblets, and we quickly put everything in place before two lads, sons of some of Théoden’s guards, carried the stew pot out between them and set it in the middle of the table so that the guests could take as much as they wished. One of the guards had been sent to the cellar for a cask of wine, and I finished filling the goblets just as my uncle and his companions walked in and sat down.
Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli ate in silence, concentrating on their food as if they had not had a decent meal in days-which they had not, I realized, if my brother’s tale was true. Gandalf and Théoden talked softly about Saruman and the threat he now posed to Rohan. Éomer listened intently to all that passed between the wizard and the King as he ate, occasionally offering up a comment of his own on the state of affairs when Théoden asked, and I was greatly gladdened to see my uncle taking my brother into his confidence once more. My part was to wait on the King and his guests, to refill their goblets when needed or fetch whatever else was desired.
I tried to pay attention to the conversation, but found it difficult to concentrate. Often without my realizing it, my gaze kept drifting towards Aragorn when no one was watching; once I became aware of my behavior, I quickly averted my eyes and hoped that my regard for him was not too obvious. I gradually became aware, however, that there was something missing from this scene.
I glanced over at my brother, who motioned me over with his goblet. I picked up a nearby pitcher and began to pour more wine for him. “Éomer?” I whispered as I poured. “Where is Wormtongue?”
“He has gone back to his true master,” Éomer said with a grim smile. He shook his head and added with a sigh, “I just hope his going will not cause any more mischief than his presence here has already brought upon us.”
I barely heard his last statement. All I could think was that perhaps the nightmare was over. I would not have to sneak around my own home anymore. I would no longer have to spend my days hovering around Meduseld for fear of what would happen to my uncle, nor glancing over my shoulder in the halls for fear of being followed myself. I could have run out of the room singing for joy, but restrained it to a wide smile. Éomer began to smile back, then his eyes hardened as they caught a glimpse of the thin cut on my neck. In my excitement over my uncle’s remarkable recovery, I had forgotten to keep it hidden. “Did he do that?” he asked, looking as if he would jump up from the table and hunt Gríma down then and there. I looked down, but did not need to answer; my silence was answer enough for him. “Why that little…what happened?” he whispered fiercely as his hand clenched tightly into a fist. Our uncle briefly looked over and I silently groaned. The last thing I wanted was to make a scene over this. “What did he do to you, Éowyn?” Éomer asked, more insistently.
I shook my head, though the memory of his cold kiss was still enough to make me feel ill. “He cornered me this morning; he wished to see if I knew anything he might use against you, brother. I got this when I was trying to get away from him.” Éomer scowled darkly and I quickly added, “It was merely a scratch, and my own fault. Nothing else happened. I am fine, Éomer,” I said, laying a hand on his shoulder to restrain him as I moved my hair to hide the cut again with the other. “Truly, I am. Do not trouble yourself over this. He is gone now; everything will be fine.”
The look of fury on his face gave way to a sorrowful relief as he gently squeezed my hand. “I hope so, Éowyn.” He studied my face for a long moment as if trying to see what I was hiding from him; neither of us had ever been very good at lying to the other. I looked away first, handed the cup back to him and returned to my uncle’s side. Théoden looked at me curiously for a moment, but did not press the issue as he resumed his conversation with Gandalf.
I was brought back to the present as my uncle announced that he was giving Shadowfax to Gandalf, and men came bearing armor and shields. I watched as Aragorn chose the arms he would bear until I noticed Théoden signaling to me. “Yes, my lord?” I asked after quickly walking over.
“Éowyn, bring some more wine, and the cup.” I nodded and swiftly left the room. It was tradition for the King and his captains to pass around a cup before riding out. As the only kinswoman of the King in the household, it had been my duty to bear this cup ever since I had first come to Meduseld as a child. I went down to the kitchen and picked up a small flask of wine and a gilt goblet skillfully adorned with galloping horses, their golden manes and tails streaming behind them as they encircled the cup. When I returned to the main hall, my uncle rose to his feet, followed by the guests. I quickly poured the wine into the goblet and stepped forward.
“Westu Théoden hál!” I said in our own tongue, then switched back to the Common Tongue for the benefit of the guests. “Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with you at your coming and going!”
The King took the cup and drank from it, then handed it back to me. I gave it to Gandalf next, then I came to Aragorn. I paused for a moment, then looked up at him with a smile as I tried to think of something to say. “Hail, Aragorn son of Arathorn!” I finally said softly as he took the cup from me, then inwardly cringed at my lack of ability to come up with anything more intelligent to say to him. I was thankfully distracted from my thoughts as his fingers brushed mine, and my hand shook slightly as I felt my pulse quicken.
His smile faded a bit. “Hail, Lady of Rohan,” he answered. I glanced down as I passed the cup to Legolas, wondering if I had somehow offended him. Next came Gimli, then Éomer. If my brother had noticed anything amiss, he made no sign as he drained the rest of the cup; if anything, the look in his eyes as he handed it back to me clearly showed that he was still fuming over Gríma’s attack on me.
My uncle headed for the door, and we all followed him. As the guards opened the doors, I could see that all the people of the city were gathered there still. The Riders were already clad in armor and milling around, preparing their horses or checking weapons. The commotion died down as they saw the King standing there. “Behold!” he called out in a voice stronger than I had ever remembered hearing. “I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding. I have no child. Théodred my son is slain. I name Éomer my sister-son to be my heir.”
Éomer and I had been standing side by side behind our uncle, and as these words were spoken we exchanged a quick surprised glance. I suppose that I should have expected no less, since my brother was the closest remaining kinsman of the King. Though two of his sisters had also borne sons, Éomer was the most reasonable of his nephews to succeed him, due to his experience in leading warriors as the Third Marshal and his years in the King’s household. Even so, I was amazed at how quickly everything had changed-had it really been just yesterday that Théoden had imprisoned my brother for alleged treason?
I suddenly realized that my uncle was still speaking. “But to someone I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?”
The nobles all looked at each other silently, unwilling to stay behind while there was a battle to be fought. The King spoke again. “Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?”
Háma stepped forward. “In the House of Eorl,” he answered for the people.
My uncle spoke quieter now, though I could still hear. “But Éomer I cannot spare, nor would he stay. And he is the last of that House.”
“I said not Éomer,” Háma said, and as he did his gaze shifted past the king to where I stood. My heart felt like it stopped for a moment as he continued. “And he is not the last. There is Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.”
My uncle considered this a moment, then nodded. “It shall be so. Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Éowyn will lead them!” He sat down on the stone chair set before the doors as the heralds called out this news to my people. I stood frozen in shock. Me? Lead the people? I could not even help my uncle, let alone the whole city! I was far less confident in my ability to govern than my skill with a sword, and wondered why he would trust me with such a task.
I felt a gentle nudge on my arm, and looked up to see Éomer giving me an encouraging smile. “He would not entrust this to you if he did not believe you could do it,” he said softly. I smiled back at him, grateful for his confidence in me, then stepped forward as the king spoke softly with two of the guards standing there. The guards departed, and I knelt before him.
“Uncle, why may I not go with you?” I asked, softly enough so that only he could hear. “I can fight just as well as any of these men.” I already knew what his answer would be, but I had to try.
“No, Éowyn,” he said sternly. Then his eyes softened. “I know you can fight. That is why you must do this for me. I know not if the paths through the mountains are being watched; our people may need your sword before the journey is finished.” He gently laid a hand on my arm. “There is no one else to do this, Éowyn, and no one else that I would wish to entrust with this task, save your brother.” I nodded, though I did not feel much better about it. He smiled at me tenderly, as if sensing my doubt, and pressed something into my hand. I looked down to see a silver cloak-pin carved in the likeness of a horse’s head-the same brooch worn by the Riders of the King’s éored.
My head jerked up in surprise. “Uncle?” Just then the guards returned; one carried a coat of mail and the other my sword. These were handed to the King, who in turn gave them to me. I clutched the brooch tightly as I pulled the mail over my head. “Your sword is in my service now, Éowyn,” Théoden said. “I think it only fitting that you bear the mark of one of my warriors.”
I looked down, a thick lump forming in my throat as I looked down once again at the finely detailed brooch. “It was ever at your service, my lord,” I said as I knelt before him, echoing my brother’s earlier words. “Thank you.”
The words seemed so inadequate to express the gratitude I felt at this gesture, but he understood and smiled as he stood and took my hands, raising me to my feet and then closing my fingers over the brooch. “Farewell, sister-daughter. Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to the Golden Hall. But in Dunharrow the people may long defend themselves, and if the battle go ill, there will come all who escape.”
“Speak not so!” I cried, not wanting to consider the possibility that they might not return. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a slight movement, and glanced over to see Aragorn nearby, watching. I felt that nervous flutter in my stomach again at his gaze, and hoped with all my being that he would return. “A year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return,” I added as I looked back at my uncle.
“The king shall come again,” he said. “Fear not! Not West but East does our doom await us.” He gave me one last smile, then turned and went down the stairs. Gandalf fell into step behind him, followed by Éomer. As he passed, he whispered to me, “We will meet again, sister. You have my word.” I gave him what I hoped was a confident smile. Next Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli followed him, then the captains of the household. I stood watching before the doors, setting the point of the sword down on the ground and holding the hilt in one hand, the brooch still in the other as I rested it on the top of the hilt. As Aragorn walked away, he suddenly paused and looked back, and his eyes briefly met mine. I smiled at him faintly, and he lifted his hand in a small salute as he turned away. I saw Legolas give him a questioning glance and speak to him, but I was too far away to hear what was said.
The men who were too old to ride into the battle watched silently, along with the women and children. As I watched the shapes of the individual men and horses blur together and the glint of sunlight on their armor and spears grow ever fainter, I briefly wondered how many times I had stood here, watching with the other women as the men rode away to battle and glory until they were out of sight. It never changed; after they disappeared over the plains, the women would all turn away and go back to their houses as if nothing had happened.
I had asked my mother once as we watched my father ride away why this was so, and why none of the women ever went with them. She told me that this was the duty of the women of the Riddermark. “It takes a different kind of courage to wait, and to be able to go on with your daily life when all your hopes lie with those who went away,” she said. “Besides, if everyone went off to the battles, who would be left here to ensure that there is something to return to?” I had no answer for her then, but something inside me had still protested the idea that my fate was to always be the one left behind. The protests grew even louder now; everything I cared about in the world and every hope I possessed was getting further away by the minute, and I longed to go fight with my people more than ever.
But I knew my duty. I finally turned to go back to the house myself long after they had passed out of sight, hoping that whatever little I possessed of the type of courage my mother had spoken of would be enough to complete the enormous task that lay before me of emptying the city.
Chapter 6- Leaving Edoras
I awoke before dawn on the morning after the Riders departed, feeling completely exhausted. The remainder of that afternoon and evening had been spent taking inventories of what we would need to bring with us, ensuring that everyone in the city had started making their own preparations to leave, and finding out how many people would be unable to walk the distance, namely the very young children and the elderly. These would ride in carts along with much of the food and other supplies that the rest of us could not carry.
We still had some horses left to us, mostly the sturdier ones that would be used to draw the wagons and the ones too young to be trained to the saddle. The few riding horses would be used by several boys, old enough to have begun their sword-training but too young to ride into battle, who had enthusiastically volunteered to act as scouts. I had also decided to ride, in order to be able to move back and forth quickly and to ensure that no one was falling behind.
I had been so busy the previous day with preparing everything else that I had not yet packed my own things, so I threw some clothing and a few other small items that I deemed necessary into a saddlebag. I dressed in a simple tunic and threw on a sleeveless riding dress with a split skirt over top, then put on the mail shirt that my uncle had given me the day before over that. Next, I shoved my feet into a well-worn pair of riding boots and pulled my hair back into a thick braid. Finally, I put on a warm green cloak, clasped it with the horse brooch that my uncle had given me and took one last look around the room.
A few embers were still glowing in the hearth, and I poured some water from the pitcher beside my bed over top to extinguish them. My sword-belt lay on the bed, along with the dagger that I had grown accustomed to carrying. I glanced around again as I strapped the belt around my waist and picked up the sheathed dagger to attach it to the belt.
The small room was not built much differently than any other room in Meduseld, with stone floors and thick wood-paneled walls, and a narrow window by my bed. The walls were adorned with woven tapestries of horses and the golden sun that was the symbol of the kings. A small fireplace was built into one wall, with a few small things sitting upon its mantle. There was not much furniture: only a bed, a small table and chair, and a wardrobe. In spite of the simple furnishings, everywhere I looked seemed to have some reminder of my life in Edoras, from the treasured box that held a few of my mother’s prized possessions to the unsightly gash in the bedpost that I had made when I had foolishly tried to practice my sword technique in my room one time. This room had been my refuge ever since I had first come to live here; it had been the one place I could vent my frustration and grief, first when my parents had died and then in the long years during my uncle’s illness. I wonder if I will ever see it again, I thought as I reluctantly picked up my saddlebag and closed the door behind me.
The great hall was filled with activity as I stepped into the room. The household servants who had also been left behind-mostly women, of course-were transporting the essential items out the doors to the wains that waited outside. I had put Hanna in charge of the food, and she was preoccupied with ordering around the younger women who worked in the kitchen with her as they struggled to carry out the large barrels of food. I walked by as one of the girls, who had been walking backwards with her end, bumped a table and stumbled. I quickly reached out and caught her end of the barrel to keep her from dropping it; she steadied herself and thanked me with a small smile. I thought for a moment about seeing how Hanna was doing, but one look at her face decided me against it-clearly she was not in a good mood this morning. Everything seemed to be in order and I turned to leave. Just then I heard a woman’s voice shout, “Freda, slow down! You will trip someone!”
“Sorry, Mama!” a little girl crowned with waves of reddish-gold hair called out as she nearly collided with me. I reached out and gently grabbed her shoulders to slow her down and she looked up with a big grin. “Good morning, Lady Éowyn!” she said cheerfully.
I could not help smiling at her, though my smile was tainted with sorrow. The girl was only five, obviously too young to understand what was happening. I hoped earnestly that the journey would end well; she should not lose her innocent smile so soon. “Good morning, Freda!” I replied, picking her up as she laughed. “You are not causing your mother any grief, are you?” My smile grew brighter as she shook her head emphatically.
“Do not listen to her, Éowyn. If she keeps running about like this, I may lose track of her and leave her here,” her mother said with a smile and a little wink as she came up, a few mail shirts draped over one arm and a curly-haired little boy holding her other hand. I was determined that we could not be completely defenseless, in case the mountain passes were being watched. Every spare weapon or other gear of war left in Edoras would be coming with us, and Háma’s wife had volunteered to help me arm those that could bear weapons, since she knew a bit about them herself.
“Maeglith, you could not possibly think about leaving this sweet child here! Why, what would Háma say if he learned that his only daughter had been left behind?” I gasped in mock horror. Maeglith just smiled, and I looked at Freda. “You had best stay close to your mother, Freda. She will need you to help her watch after Freálaf.” She nodded solemnly, then her customary smile lit up her face again as I hugged her and set her down. “How much is left to carry, Maeglith?”
“The men took most of what was in the armory, of course, but there are still several spears and shields left. Swords, knives and some light armor too.”
I thought quickly. “The spears will be of little use if most of us are on foot, and few of us have the training to use them effectively. We will take them in one of the wagons as a last resort. Those that are able to bear arms could probably manage to defend themselves with the other weapons. The lads that are scouting will need to be armed in particular.”
“Of course,” Maeglith said. “We could give them first choice on what to carry, then divide the rest among the others. Some of the younger women that have no children to watch could manage knives or short swords as well.”
“True.” I paused. “Have you packed yet?”
“Yes, our things are waiting in the armory,” she answered. “We do not need to bring much; hopefully we will be able to return soon.”
“Yes, hopefully,” I murmured thoughtfully as she left, Freda trailing behind after quickly hugging me around my knees. I smiled briefly, then a dark cloud settled on my thoughts again. Could I even dare to hope that any of the men would return? The large orc parties that had been raiding our lands would more likely than not be only a fraction of the forces that would be sent against them.
Gríma’s dark predictions that I had overheard, saying that all of the men would be slain, crept into my thoughts once more. If Éomer had been right and he truly was allied with Saruman, surely he would be correct in this. I shuddered as I realized that this would be the kind of reckless hate that my people would be facing. How could I believe that Éomer and Théoden might be able to withstand it?
My spirits were lifted a bit as I thought of Aragorn and his companions. Obviously they were skilled warriors; from what little of their tale that I had heard through Éomer, I knew that they had already survived several battles where they had been sorely outnumbered. And I could tell that there was much more to Aragorn than it seemed. If anyone could help the people of Rohan through this battle, surely the heir to the throne of Gondor could.
I suddenly remembered my errand and started for the armory. Why do I care so much? I wondered as I walked. I had only met the man the day before and had barely spoken with him, and yet at that moment I felt more concern for his safety than for most of the men I knew and had spent my entire life with. I could tell from the little bit of time that I had spent with him that he was noble, and that he had spent three days and nights pursuing a far greater number of his enemies to save his friends showed his loyalty. But I could say the same things about Éomer or Théoden, or many others that I knew among the Rohirrim. Why then was it Aragorn who was foremost in my thoughts now, and not my own kin?
Eru help me, surely I cannot love him! The thought struck me as swift as lightning. It could not be…could it? And yet, what other explanation could there be, I wondered? He was everything I could imagine wanting in a man: brave, loyal, strong and handsome. And his coming, along with my uncle’s healing, had given me what I thought I had lost forever-hope. We had a greater chance of victory if Gondor and Rohan joined forces, and I knew that the hope of many of the men, my brother not least of those, had been renewed as they observed the future king of Gondor fighting alongside them. And now that the King’s health had been restored, perhaps I would finally have the chance to escape the gilded cage that Meduseld had become and do something more honorable than wait on tables and watch for the men to return. Perhaps I could finally find some happiness somewhere; perhaps, I thought, he would be the one to help me find it.
I was startled out of my thoughts by a loud clatter. I had unwittingly knocked some spears that had been standing by the door over onto some helmets lying nearby. Feeling annoyed at myself for getting lost in a daydream when there was so much to be done, I quickly picked up the spears and left.
*~*~*
Before mid-day, all of the preparations had finally been made and the people were slowly filing down to the gate and out of the city. The scouts fanned out to the front and sides of the column, though they were careful not to stray too far from the main group. I had decided to stay in the back until I was certain that no one had been left behind.
Windfola snorted and pawed at the ground, anxious to leave. I rubbed his nose affectionately and he calmed a little. “I am sorry,” I whispered to him. “You were bred to be at the head of the battle, not a pack horse for a maiden.” The stallion nuzzled me as if accepting my apology. With a sigh, I slung the shield I had chosen onto my back, picked up a spear and jumped up into the saddle. The spear felt slightly awkward in my hands. Although Éomer had taught me how to use it, I was much more comfortable with my sword and touched the hilt of it to reassure myself that it would be there if I needed it. Then I signaled to Windfola and he began to move forward.
We walked slowly after the line of people. The group was mostly silent, although I could hear the cries of a few children who did not understand why we had to leave, and the murmurs of their mothers trying to comfort them. I could also hear a few grumbles here and there from some of the older men who had also been left behind, but chose to ignore them. We passed through the gate and some of the older boys who had stayed behind pulled it shut once the last of the people had passed through. I did not look back until we had gone past the barrows where the Kings of old lay. I could see Meduseld gleaming in the sun at the top of the hillside and the thatched rooftops of the houses surrounding it. A lump swelled in my throat, and I wondered why it was so difficult to watch my city shrink into the distance when all I had wanted to do for so long was to leave it behind. My heart felt heavy as I glanced back one last time to see the Golden Hall disappearing from sight, but I set my gaze before me once more; this journey through the mountains would not be an easy one, whether we were challenged or not, and I wanted to be ready for whatever might befall us.
A few young women who had found horses and had been willing to bear arms were riding to the sides and back of the column, allowing for the scouts to spread out further once we had left the city, and I moved Windfola towards the front. The first stage of the journey was uneventful, and it took all of my concentration to keep looking for any possible ambush, especially since my thoughts kept turning towards wondering if the men had already met battle-or, to my annoyance, wandering into daydreams involving a certain Ranger of the North.
When we were about halfway there, I called for a rest. After I picketed Windfola, I pulled a small loaf of bread out of my bag and began to eat it slowly as I wandered through the crowd aimlessly. I caught Maeglith’s eye and headed over to see my friend. Freda was sitting on the ground next to her, in a far less cheerful mood than I had seen her in earlier. “How much longer do we have to walk, Mama?” she asked as I approached.
“We have a little further to go, love,” Maeglith replied, breaking off tiny pieces of bread and handing them to Fréalaf to eat. She saw me coming and smiled briefly.
“But I do not want to walk anymore!” she complained.
“What about riding, Freda? You could come with me on my horse, if that would be more to your liking,” I offered, coming up behind her.
She jumped up and whirled around. I laughed to see how her face lit up. “Really? May I, Mama?” she asked, turning her blue eyes on her mother in a pleading glance.
Maeglith looked at me skeptically. “Will she be too much extra weight?”
“Not at all,” I answered. “I doubt that Windfola will even notice. He was bred to carry much more weight than I.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded her approval and Freda clapped her hands in delight and ran off to tell one of her friends that she was going to get to ride on “Lady Éowyn’s big horse.” Maeglith smiled. “That is very kind of you, Éowyn. She really looks up to you, you know.” I nodded, slightly embarrassed as she continued, “I just hope the dear child will not drive you mad with her chatter.”
“Oh, I do not mind. I enjoy the company,” I said truthfully. And having to keep my mind on her conversation will help to keep it off of Aragorn, I silently added, feeling slightly frustrated with myself. A warrior could not allow himself to be so distracted when so many people were depending on him; nor could I. I fell quiet for a moment, watching Maeglith play with her son. Without thinking, I suddenly blurted out, “Maeglith, may I ask you something?”
She pushed a strand of her dark golden hair away. “Of course, my lady.”
I felt a little foolish, but decided that I may as well continue. Maeglith was one of the few women in Edoras I considered enough of a friend to discuss things with that I could not talk about with Éomer or the other men. “How did you know that you loved Háma?”
Maeglith looked slightly taken aback at the question; I could easily guess that the slightly older woman had not expected such an inquiry from me. To her credit, she quickly recovered and replied slowly, “I think part of me always knew. Háma was friends with my brother Léofa when we were growing up, and I had always looked up to him like he was another brother. But then as we got older, something changed between us. Things were quite awkward for a time, until we both realized that we no longer thought of each other as brother and sister, but as something much deeper than that.” She smiled, her face coloring a little at the memory. “He spoke of it first; he was so nervous that he was not watching where he was going and walked right into a stable wall!”
I laughed at the thought of the normally composed guard being that flustered. “I am certain that it did not help matters that he probably could not take his eyes off you the entire time,” I could not help adding.
Maeglith laughed as well. “That is true.”
“Then you just knew?” I asked, feeling like I was no closer to getting to the bottom of my sudden interest in Aragorn.
She thought for a moment. “Love reveals itself differently to everyone, Éowyn. For me, it was something that grew slowly over time. For my sister, it happened suddenly when she first met the man whom she is now betrothed to, and he felt the same right away. Léofa also fell in love with his wife quickly, but it took her much longer to return it. It was not until my brother was wounded in battle and we thought he would die that she realized how much she cared for him.”
“It sounds as if there is no way to be certain then,” I said softly.
“What does your heart tell you?” she asked, her blue eyes searching my grey ones as if trying to find out who was causing me to ask.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. Why did I say that? I wondered. Speaking to Maeglith about it had made me more certain that I did love him and that this was the reason that I was so distracted by him, yet something held me back from speaking of it. I just need more time to be certain-that must be it. This being decided, I added, “It was mere curiosity, nothing more.”
She smiled at me knowingly. “I can only speak from my own experiences, Éowyn, but the one thing I can tell you for certain is that love comes when you least expect it-and often from whom you least expect it.”
I nodded slowly. “Thank you, Maeglith.” Freda came back then, her eyes still sparkling with excitement. The other people were preparing to move on, so I took the little girl by the hand and led her over to Windfola as I called back to Maeglith, “Do not worry, I’ll take care of her.”
“I trust you,” she answered with a smile. “We all do.”
My face colored slightly at the unexpected compliment, and it was with some relief that I soon lost myself in answering Freda’s questions as I helped her onto Windfola’s back. As I pulled myself into the saddle behind her, I briefly wondered if this was a good idea; if we were attacked, it would be harder to fight with a child on the horse. I did not want to disappoint her, though. I will just deal with that if the time comes, I decided as we started moving again.
Chapter 5- A Shieldmaiden's Duty
After Théoden returned the sword to Éomer and sent Háma to find his own sword, I rose to my feet with the rest of the people gathered around me. The King announced that he would have food and drink prepared for the travelers, as well as shelter if they wished. As he said this, he glanced around until his eye caught mine, then he nodded slightly. Understanding that my duty was to oversee this, I left my place in the crowd and began moving towards the side door, reaching it just as I heard the announcement that the host would leave that very day.
I quickly shut the door behind me, waiting a moment as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the hall. As I did, I heard Wormtongue shouting and quickly ducked behind one of the carved wooden pillars that framed the center of the hall, hoping he would not see me. Fortunately, his attentions were turned elsewhere for the moment. As I glanced out from behind the pillar, I could see him stalking across the floor, a string of curses pouring from his mouth. “How can my lord be so foolish as to listen to this conjurer? He will not be satisfied until the last of our men have fallen and all the land laid waste!” he cried out as he walked. Háma followed him, carrying the King’s sword and glancing toward the ceiling in obvious exasperation. To his credit, he did not waste words on a reply. I stayed where I was until they had left the hall, then lifted my skirts a bit and rushed across the floor to the door leading to the lower level of Meduseld.
“Hanna?” I called out as I entered the kitchen. My stomach growled slightly in protest at the smell of freshly baked bread, and I suddenly remembered that I had not yet eaten that day. Hanna had been the head cook of the king’s household for as long as I could remember. She had never failed to greet me with a grandmotherly smile-usually accompanied with some tasty morsel, at least when I had been a child and had often visited the kitchens when I was unable to sleep at night or had simply needed cheering up. Even now that I had grown, the kitchens had remained a comforting place, particularly because Wormtongue rarely set foot within them.
Hanna turned to greet me now with her customary smile, her steel-grey hair coiled around her head in a tight braid to keep it out of her way. “Lady Éowyn! What can I do for you, my dear?”
“The king requests that whatever food can be contrived in haste be set out for himself, Lord Éomer, and the four guests who arrived earlier this morning,” I answered, hoping that there would be something already prepared-fit for a king, I thought with a smile as Aragorn’s face flashed once again through my mind.
“Your timing is fortunate, my lady. I have just finished baking the bread for the day, and this stew is almost done,” she said, motioning me over to the largest cooking-hearth and scooping some stew out of the large iron pot she had been stirring when I had arrived.
I took the spoon she handed me, and tasted the stew. The meat was perfectly done, with just the right amount of spiciness to offset the more earthy taste of the last of the winter’s store of root vegetables. “It tastes wonderful, as always, Hanna,” I said, smiling. “This will be perfect.” She smiled and then ordered some of her kitchen staff to start preparing the tables.
I helped Hanna with the bread-filled baskets, and two of the serving women carried out large stacks of wooden serving bowls and spoons. Two more brought out trays laden with empty goblets, and we quickly put everything in place before two lads, sons of some of Théoden’s guards, carried the stew pot out between them and set it in the middle of the table so that the guests could take as much as they wished. One of the guards had been sent to the cellar for a cask of wine, and I finished filling the goblets just as my uncle and his companions walked in and sat down.
Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli ate in silence, concentrating on their food as if they had not had a decent meal in days-which they had not, I realized, if my brother’s tale was true. Gandalf and Théoden talked softly about Saruman and the threat he now posed to Rohan. Éomer listened intently to all that passed between the wizard and the King as he ate, occasionally offering up a comment of his own on the state of affairs when Théoden asked, and I was greatly gladdened to see my uncle taking my brother into his confidence once more. My part was to wait on the King and his guests, to refill their goblets when needed or fetch whatever else was desired.
I tried to pay attention to the conversation, but found it difficult to concentrate. Often without my realizing it, my gaze kept drifting towards Aragorn when no one was watching; once I became aware of my behavior, I quickly averted my eyes and hoped that my regard for him was not too obvious. I gradually became aware, however, that there was something missing from this scene.
I glanced over at my brother, who motioned me over with his goblet. I picked up a nearby pitcher and began to pour more wine for him. “Éomer?” I whispered as I poured. “Where is Wormtongue?”
“He has gone back to his true master,” Éomer said with a grim smile. He shook his head and added with a sigh, “I just hope his going will not cause any more mischief than his presence here has already brought upon us.”
I barely heard his last statement. All I could think was that perhaps the nightmare was over. I would not have to sneak around my own home anymore. I would no longer have to spend my days hovering around Meduseld for fear of what would happen to my uncle, nor glancing over my shoulder in the halls for fear of being followed myself. I could have run out of the room singing for joy, but restrained it to a wide smile. Éomer began to smile back, then his eyes hardened as they caught a glimpse of the thin cut on my neck. In my excitement over my uncle’s remarkable recovery, I had forgotten to keep it hidden. “Did he do that?” he asked, looking as if he would jump up from the table and hunt Gríma down then and there. I looked down, but did not need to answer; my silence was answer enough for him. “Why that little…what happened?” he whispered fiercely as his hand clenched tightly into a fist. Our uncle briefly looked over and I silently groaned. The last thing I wanted was to make a scene over this. “What did he do to you, Éowyn?” Éomer asked, more insistently.
I shook my head, though the memory of his cold kiss was still enough to make me feel ill. “He cornered me this morning; he wished to see if I knew anything he might use against you, brother. I got this when I was trying to get away from him.” Éomer scowled darkly and I quickly added, “It was merely a scratch, and my own fault. Nothing else happened. I am fine, Éomer,” I said, laying a hand on his shoulder to restrain him as I moved my hair to hide the cut again with the other. “Truly, I am. Do not trouble yourself over this. He is gone now; everything will be fine.”
The look of fury on his face gave way to a sorrowful relief as he gently squeezed my hand. “I hope so, Éowyn.” He studied my face for a long moment as if trying to see what I was hiding from him; neither of us had ever been very good at lying to the other. I looked away first, handed the cup back to him and returned to my uncle’s side. Théoden looked at me curiously for a moment, but did not press the issue as he resumed his conversation with Gandalf.
I was brought back to the present as my uncle announced that he was giving Shadowfax to Gandalf, and men came bearing armor and shields. I watched as Aragorn chose the arms he would bear until I noticed Théoden signaling to me. “Yes, my lord?” I asked after quickly walking over.
“Éowyn, bring some more wine, and the cup.” I nodded and swiftly left the room. It was tradition for the King and his captains to pass around a cup before riding out. As the only kinswoman of the King in the household, it had been my duty to bear this cup ever since I had first come to Meduseld as a child. I went down to the kitchen and picked up a small flask of wine and a gilt goblet skillfully adorned with galloping horses, their golden manes and tails streaming behind them as they encircled the cup. When I returned to the main hall, my uncle rose to his feet, followed by the guests. I quickly poured the wine into the goblet and stepped forward.
“Westu Théoden hál!” I said in our own tongue, then switched back to the Common Tongue for the benefit of the guests. “Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with you at your coming and going!”
The King took the cup and drank from it, then handed it back to me. I gave it to Gandalf next, then I came to Aragorn. I paused for a moment, then looked up at him with a smile as I tried to think of something to say. “Hail, Aragorn son of Arathorn!” I finally said softly as he took the cup from me, then inwardly cringed at my lack of ability to come up with anything more intelligent to say to him. I was thankfully distracted from my thoughts as his fingers brushed mine, and my hand shook slightly as I felt my pulse quicken.
His smile faded a bit. “Hail, Lady of Rohan,” he answered. I glanced down as I passed the cup to Legolas, wondering if I had somehow offended him. Next came Gimli, then Éomer. If my brother had noticed anything amiss, he made no sign as he drained the rest of the cup; if anything, the look in his eyes as he handed it back to me clearly showed that he was still fuming over Gríma’s attack on me.
My uncle headed for the door, and we all followed him. As the guards opened the doors, I could see that all the people of the city were gathered there still. The Riders were already clad in armor and milling around, preparing their horses or checking weapons. The commotion died down as they saw the King standing there. “Behold!” he called out in a voice stronger than I had ever remembered hearing. “I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding. I have no child. Théodred my son is slain. I name Éomer my sister-son to be my heir.”
Éomer and I had been standing side by side behind our uncle, and as these words were spoken we exchanged a quick surprised glance. I suppose that I should have expected no less, since my brother was the closest remaining kinsman of the King. Though two of his sisters had also borne sons, Éomer was the most reasonable of his nephews to succeed him, due to his experience in leading warriors as the Third Marshal and his years in the King’s household. Even so, I was amazed at how quickly everything had changed-had it really been just yesterday that Théoden had imprisoned my brother for alleged treason?
I suddenly realized that my uncle was still speaking. “But to someone I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?”
The nobles all looked at each other silently, unwilling to stay behind while there was a battle to be fought. The King spoke again. “Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?”
Háma stepped forward. “In the House of Eorl,” he answered for the people.
My uncle spoke quieter now, though I could still hear. “But Éomer I cannot spare, nor would he stay. And he is the last of that House.”
“I said not Éomer,” Háma said, and as he did his gaze shifted past the king to where I stood. My heart felt like it stopped for a moment as he continued. “And he is not the last. There is Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.”
My uncle considered this a moment, then nodded. “It shall be so. Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Éowyn will lead them!” He sat down on the stone chair set before the doors as the heralds called out this news to my people. I stood frozen in shock. Me? Lead the people? I could not even help my uncle, let alone the whole city! I was far less confident in my ability to govern than my skill with a sword, and wondered why he would trust me with such a task.
I felt a gentle nudge on my arm, and looked up to see Éomer giving me an encouraging smile. “He would not entrust this to you if he did not believe you could do it,” he said softly. I smiled back at him, grateful for his confidence in me, then stepped forward as the king spoke softly with two of the guards standing there. The guards departed, and I knelt before him.
“Uncle, why may I not go with you?” I asked, softly enough so that only he could hear. “I can fight just as well as any of these men.” I already knew what his answer would be, but I had to try.
“No, Éowyn,” he said sternly. Then his eyes softened. “I know you can fight. That is why you must do this for me. I know not if the paths through the mountains are being watched; our people may need your sword before the journey is finished.” He gently laid a hand on my arm. “There is no one else to do this, Éowyn, and no one else that I would wish to entrust with this task, save your brother.” I nodded, though I did not feel much better about it. He smiled at me tenderly, as if sensing my doubt, and pressed something into my hand. I looked down to see a silver cloak-pin carved in the likeness of a horse’s head-the same brooch worn by the Riders of the King’s éored.
My head jerked up in surprise. “Uncle?” Just then the guards returned; one carried a coat of mail and the other my sword. These were handed to the King, who in turn gave them to me. I clutched the brooch tightly as I pulled the mail over my head. “Your sword is in my service now, Éowyn,” Théoden said. “I think it only fitting that you bear the mark of one of my warriors.”
I looked down, a thick lump forming in my throat as I looked down once again at the finely detailed brooch. “It was ever at your service, my lord,” I said as I knelt before him, echoing my brother’s earlier words. “Thank you.”
The words seemed so inadequate to express the gratitude I felt at this gesture, but he understood and smiled as he stood and took my hands, raising me to my feet and then closing my fingers over the brooch. “Farewell, sister-daughter. Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to the Golden Hall. But in Dunharrow the people may long defend themselves, and if the battle go ill, there will come all who escape.”
“Speak not so!” I cried, not wanting to consider the possibility that they might not return. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a slight movement, and glanced over to see Aragorn nearby, watching. I felt that nervous flutter in my stomach again at his gaze, and hoped with all my being that he would return. “A year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return,” I added as I looked back at my uncle.
“The king shall come again,” he said. “Fear not! Not West but East does our doom await us.” He gave me one last smile, then turned and went down the stairs. Gandalf fell into step behind him, followed by Éomer. As he passed, he whispered to me, “We will meet again, sister. You have my word.” I gave him what I hoped was a confident smile. Next Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli followed him, then the captains of the household. I stood watching before the doors, setting the point of the sword down on the ground and holding the hilt in one hand, the brooch still in the other as I rested it on the top of the hilt. As Aragorn walked away, he suddenly paused and looked back, and his eyes briefly met mine. I smiled at him faintly, and he lifted his hand in a small salute as he turned away. I saw Legolas give him a questioning glance and speak to him, but I was too far away to hear what was said.
The men who were too old to ride into the battle watched silently, along with the women and children. As I watched the shapes of the individual men and horses blur together and the glint of sunlight on their armor and spears grow ever fainter, I briefly wondered how many times I had stood here, watching with the other women as the men rode away to battle and glory until they were out of sight. It never changed; after they disappeared over the plains, the women would all turn away and go back to their houses as if nothing had happened.
I had asked my mother once as we watched my father ride away why this was so, and why none of the women ever went with them. She told me that this was the duty of the women of the Riddermark. “It takes a different kind of courage to wait, and to be able to go on with your daily life when all your hopes lie with those who went away,” she said. “Besides, if everyone went off to the battles, who would be left here to ensure that there is something to return to?” I had no answer for her then, but something inside me had still protested the idea that my fate was to always be the one left behind. The protests grew even louder now; everything I cared about in the world and every hope I possessed was getting further away by the minute, and I longed to go fight with my people more than ever.
But I knew my duty. I finally turned to go back to the house myself long after they had passed out of sight, hoping that whatever little I possessed of the type of courage my mother had spoken of would be enough to complete the enormous task that lay before me of emptying the city.
Chapter 6- Leaving Edoras
I awoke before dawn on the morning after the Riders departed, feeling completely exhausted. The remainder of that afternoon and evening had been spent taking inventories of what we would need to bring with us, ensuring that everyone in the city had started making their own preparations to leave, and finding out how many people would be unable to walk the distance, namely the very young children and the elderly. These would ride in carts along with much of the food and other supplies that the rest of us could not carry.
We still had some horses left to us, mostly the sturdier ones that would be used to draw the wagons and the ones too young to be trained to the saddle. The few riding horses would be used by several boys, old enough to have begun their sword-training but too young to ride into battle, who had enthusiastically volunteered to act as scouts. I had also decided to ride, in order to be able to move back and forth quickly and to ensure that no one was falling behind.
I had been so busy the previous day with preparing everything else that I had not yet packed my own things, so I threw some clothing and a few other small items that I deemed necessary into a saddlebag. I dressed in a simple tunic and threw on a sleeveless riding dress with a split skirt over top, then put on the mail shirt that my uncle had given me the day before over that. Next, I shoved my feet into a well-worn pair of riding boots and pulled my hair back into a thick braid. Finally, I put on a warm green cloak, clasped it with the horse brooch that my uncle had given me and took one last look around the room.
A few embers were still glowing in the hearth, and I poured some water from the pitcher beside my bed over top to extinguish them. My sword-belt lay on the bed, along with the dagger that I had grown accustomed to carrying. I glanced around again as I strapped the belt around my waist and picked up the sheathed dagger to attach it to the belt.
The small room was not built much differently than any other room in Meduseld, with stone floors and thick wood-paneled walls, and a narrow window by my bed. The walls were adorned with woven tapestries of horses and the golden sun that was the symbol of the kings. A small fireplace was built into one wall, with a few small things sitting upon its mantle. There was not much furniture: only a bed, a small table and chair, and a wardrobe. In spite of the simple furnishings, everywhere I looked seemed to have some reminder of my life in Edoras, from the treasured box that held a few of my mother’s prized possessions to the unsightly gash in the bedpost that I had made when I had foolishly tried to practice my sword technique in my room one time. This room had been my refuge ever since I had first come to live here; it had been the one place I could vent my frustration and grief, first when my parents had died and then in the long years during my uncle’s illness. I wonder if I will ever see it again, I thought as I reluctantly picked up my saddlebag and closed the door behind me.
The great hall was filled with activity as I stepped into the room. The household servants who had also been left behind-mostly women, of course-were transporting the essential items out the doors to the wains that waited outside. I had put Hanna in charge of the food, and she was preoccupied with ordering around the younger women who worked in the kitchen with her as they struggled to carry out the large barrels of food. I walked by as one of the girls, who had been walking backwards with her end, bumped a table and stumbled. I quickly reached out and caught her end of the barrel to keep her from dropping it; she steadied herself and thanked me with a small smile. I thought for a moment about seeing how Hanna was doing, but one look at her face decided me against it-clearly she was not in a good mood this morning. Everything seemed to be in order and I turned to leave. Just then I heard a woman’s voice shout, “Freda, slow down! You will trip someone!”
“Sorry, Mama!” a little girl crowned with waves of reddish-gold hair called out as she nearly collided with me. I reached out and gently grabbed her shoulders to slow her down and she looked up with a big grin. “Good morning, Lady Éowyn!” she said cheerfully.
I could not help smiling at her, though my smile was tainted with sorrow. The girl was only five, obviously too young to understand what was happening. I hoped earnestly that the journey would end well; she should not lose her innocent smile so soon. “Good morning, Freda!” I replied, picking her up as she laughed. “You are not causing your mother any grief, are you?” My smile grew brighter as she shook her head emphatically.
“Do not listen to her, Éowyn. If she keeps running about like this, I may lose track of her and leave her here,” her mother said with a smile and a little wink as she came up, a few mail shirts draped over one arm and a curly-haired little boy holding her other hand. I was determined that we could not be completely defenseless, in case the mountain passes were being watched. Every spare weapon or other gear of war left in Edoras would be coming with us, and Háma’s wife had volunteered to help me arm those that could bear weapons, since she knew a bit about them herself.
“Maeglith, you could not possibly think about leaving this sweet child here! Why, what would Háma say if he learned that his only daughter had been left behind?” I gasped in mock horror. Maeglith just smiled, and I looked at Freda. “You had best stay close to your mother, Freda. She will need you to help her watch after Freálaf.” She nodded solemnly, then her customary smile lit up her face again as I hugged her and set her down. “How much is left to carry, Maeglith?”
“The men took most of what was in the armory, of course, but there are still several spears and shields left. Swords, knives and some light armor too.”
I thought quickly. “The spears will be of little use if most of us are on foot, and few of us have the training to use them effectively. We will take them in one of the wagons as a last resort. Those that are able to bear arms could probably manage to defend themselves with the other weapons. The lads that are scouting will need to be armed in particular.”
“Of course,” Maeglith said. “We could give them first choice on what to carry, then divide the rest among the others. Some of the younger women that have no children to watch could manage knives or short swords as well.”
“True.” I paused. “Have you packed yet?”
“Yes, our things are waiting in the armory,” she answered. “We do not need to bring much; hopefully we will be able to return soon.”
“Yes, hopefully,” I murmured thoughtfully as she left, Freda trailing behind after quickly hugging me around my knees. I smiled briefly, then a dark cloud settled on my thoughts again. Could I even dare to hope that any of the men would return? The large orc parties that had been raiding our lands would more likely than not be only a fraction of the forces that would be sent against them.
Gríma’s dark predictions that I had overheard, saying that all of the men would be slain, crept into my thoughts once more. If Éomer had been right and he truly was allied with Saruman, surely he would be correct in this. I shuddered as I realized that this would be the kind of reckless hate that my people would be facing. How could I believe that Éomer and Théoden might be able to withstand it?
My spirits were lifted a bit as I thought of Aragorn and his companions. Obviously they were skilled warriors; from what little of their tale that I had heard through Éomer, I knew that they had already survived several battles where they had been sorely outnumbered. And I could tell that there was much more to Aragorn than it seemed. If anyone could help the people of Rohan through this battle, surely the heir to the throne of Gondor could.
I suddenly remembered my errand and started for the armory. Why do I care so much? I wondered as I walked. I had only met the man the day before and had barely spoken with him, and yet at that moment I felt more concern for his safety than for most of the men I knew and had spent my entire life with. I could tell from the little bit of time that I had spent with him that he was noble, and that he had spent three days and nights pursuing a far greater number of his enemies to save his friends showed his loyalty. But I could say the same things about Éomer or Théoden, or many others that I knew among the Rohirrim. Why then was it Aragorn who was foremost in my thoughts now, and not my own kin?
Eru help me, surely I cannot love him! The thought struck me as swift as lightning. It could not be…could it? And yet, what other explanation could there be, I wondered? He was everything I could imagine wanting in a man: brave, loyal, strong and handsome. And his coming, along with my uncle’s healing, had given me what I thought I had lost forever-hope. We had a greater chance of victory if Gondor and Rohan joined forces, and I knew that the hope of many of the men, my brother not least of those, had been renewed as they observed the future king of Gondor fighting alongside them. And now that the King’s health had been restored, perhaps I would finally have the chance to escape the gilded cage that Meduseld had become and do something more honorable than wait on tables and watch for the men to return. Perhaps I could finally find some happiness somewhere; perhaps, I thought, he would be the one to help me find it.
I was startled out of my thoughts by a loud clatter. I had unwittingly knocked some spears that had been standing by the door over onto some helmets lying nearby. Feeling annoyed at myself for getting lost in a daydream when there was so much to be done, I quickly picked up the spears and left.
*~*~*
Before mid-day, all of the preparations had finally been made and the people were slowly filing down to the gate and out of the city. The scouts fanned out to the front and sides of the column, though they were careful not to stray too far from the main group. I had decided to stay in the back until I was certain that no one had been left behind.
Windfola snorted and pawed at the ground, anxious to leave. I rubbed his nose affectionately and he calmed a little. “I am sorry,” I whispered to him. “You were bred to be at the head of the battle, not a pack horse for a maiden.” The stallion nuzzled me as if accepting my apology. With a sigh, I slung the shield I had chosen onto my back, picked up a spear and jumped up into the saddle. The spear felt slightly awkward in my hands. Although Éomer had taught me how to use it, I was much more comfortable with my sword and touched the hilt of it to reassure myself that it would be there if I needed it. Then I signaled to Windfola and he began to move forward.
We walked slowly after the line of people. The group was mostly silent, although I could hear the cries of a few children who did not understand why we had to leave, and the murmurs of their mothers trying to comfort them. I could also hear a few grumbles here and there from some of the older men who had also been left behind, but chose to ignore them. We passed through the gate and some of the older boys who had stayed behind pulled it shut once the last of the people had passed through. I did not look back until we had gone past the barrows where the Kings of old lay. I could see Meduseld gleaming in the sun at the top of the hillside and the thatched rooftops of the houses surrounding it. A lump swelled in my throat, and I wondered why it was so difficult to watch my city shrink into the distance when all I had wanted to do for so long was to leave it behind. My heart felt heavy as I glanced back one last time to see the Golden Hall disappearing from sight, but I set my gaze before me once more; this journey through the mountains would not be an easy one, whether we were challenged or not, and I wanted to be ready for whatever might befall us.
A few young women who had found horses and had been willing to bear arms were riding to the sides and back of the column, allowing for the scouts to spread out further once we had left the city, and I moved Windfola towards the front. The first stage of the journey was uneventful, and it took all of my concentration to keep looking for any possible ambush, especially since my thoughts kept turning towards wondering if the men had already met battle-or, to my annoyance, wandering into daydreams involving a certain Ranger of the North.
When we were about halfway there, I called for a rest. After I picketed Windfola, I pulled a small loaf of bread out of my bag and began to eat it slowly as I wandered through the crowd aimlessly. I caught Maeglith’s eye and headed over to see my friend. Freda was sitting on the ground next to her, in a far less cheerful mood than I had seen her in earlier. “How much longer do we have to walk, Mama?” she asked as I approached.
“We have a little further to go, love,” Maeglith replied, breaking off tiny pieces of bread and handing them to Fréalaf to eat. She saw me coming and smiled briefly.
“But I do not want to walk anymore!” she complained.
“What about riding, Freda? You could come with me on my horse, if that would be more to your liking,” I offered, coming up behind her.
She jumped up and whirled around. I laughed to see how her face lit up. “Really? May I, Mama?” she asked, turning her blue eyes on her mother in a pleading glance.
Maeglith looked at me skeptically. “Will she be too much extra weight?”
“Not at all,” I answered. “I doubt that Windfola will even notice. He was bred to carry much more weight than I.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded her approval and Freda clapped her hands in delight and ran off to tell one of her friends that she was going to get to ride on “Lady Éowyn’s big horse.” Maeglith smiled. “That is very kind of you, Éowyn. She really looks up to you, you know.” I nodded, slightly embarrassed as she continued, “I just hope the dear child will not drive you mad with her chatter.”
“Oh, I do not mind. I enjoy the company,” I said truthfully. And having to keep my mind on her conversation will help to keep it off of Aragorn, I silently added, feeling slightly frustrated with myself. A warrior could not allow himself to be so distracted when so many people were depending on him; nor could I. I fell quiet for a moment, watching Maeglith play with her son. Without thinking, I suddenly blurted out, “Maeglith, may I ask you something?”
She pushed a strand of her dark golden hair away. “Of course, my lady.”
I felt a little foolish, but decided that I may as well continue. Maeglith was one of the few women in Edoras I considered enough of a friend to discuss things with that I could not talk about with Éomer or the other men. “How did you know that you loved Háma?”
Maeglith looked slightly taken aback at the question; I could easily guess that the slightly older woman had not expected such an inquiry from me. To her credit, she quickly recovered and replied slowly, “I think part of me always knew. Háma was friends with my brother Léofa when we were growing up, and I had always looked up to him like he was another brother. But then as we got older, something changed between us. Things were quite awkward for a time, until we both realized that we no longer thought of each other as brother and sister, but as something much deeper than that.” She smiled, her face coloring a little at the memory. “He spoke of it first; he was so nervous that he was not watching where he was going and walked right into a stable wall!”
I laughed at the thought of the normally composed guard being that flustered. “I am certain that it did not help matters that he probably could not take his eyes off you the entire time,” I could not help adding.
Maeglith laughed as well. “That is true.”
“Then you just knew?” I asked, feeling like I was no closer to getting to the bottom of my sudden interest in Aragorn.
She thought for a moment. “Love reveals itself differently to everyone, Éowyn. For me, it was something that grew slowly over time. For my sister, it happened suddenly when she first met the man whom she is now betrothed to, and he felt the same right away. Léofa also fell in love with his wife quickly, but it took her much longer to return it. It was not until my brother was wounded in battle and we thought he would die that she realized how much she cared for him.”
“It sounds as if there is no way to be certain then,” I said softly.
“What does your heart tell you?” she asked, her blue eyes searching my grey ones as if trying to find out who was causing me to ask.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. Why did I say that? I wondered. Speaking to Maeglith about it had made me more certain that I did love him and that this was the reason that I was so distracted by him, yet something held me back from speaking of it. I just need more time to be certain-that must be it. This being decided, I added, “It was mere curiosity, nothing more.”
She smiled at me knowingly. “I can only speak from my own experiences, Éowyn, but the one thing I can tell you for certain is that love comes when you least expect it-and often from whom you least expect it.”
I nodded slowly. “Thank you, Maeglith.” Freda came back then, her eyes still sparkling with excitement. The other people were preparing to move on, so I took the little girl by the hand and led her over to Windfola as I called back to Maeglith, “Do not worry, I’ll take care of her.”
“I trust you,” she answered with a smile. “We all do.”
My face colored slightly at the unexpected compliment, and it was with some relief that I soon lost myself in answering Freda’s questions as I helped her onto Windfola’s back. As I pulled myself into the saddle behind her, I briefly wondered if this was a good idea; if we were attacked, it would be harder to fight with a child on the horse. I did not want to disappoint her, though. I will just deal with that if the time comes, I decided as we started moving again.