"What's this? What is this place that I have found?" (Tag to Faramir, OTA)
She had sought for a valiant death in battle, yearning for the release it would grant her from what she felt to be a hopeless situation. Yet within a fleeting moment, Eowyn had another purpose as she stood before her king and uncle, whom she loved as a father, for she was then the only barrier that stood between him and the foul creature that was the Lord of the Nazgul. Her enemy was fearsome and terrible to behold, although her desire to avenge her fallen uncle was stronger, and Eowyn did not blench.
With her blade she cloved asunder the head of the Witch-king's steed, felling the beast with one skillful stroke. Yet all was not over, and Eowyn stood her ground as she faced the Witch-king. With a piercing cry, he let fall his mace, breaking the shield and the arm that had raised it. Just when she felt that death was upon her at last, diversion came in the form of the Halfling, and using what little remained of her strength, Eowyn drove her sword between the Witch-king's crown and mantle.
The blade shattered into many sparkling shards as the great form of the Witch-king fell to the ground in a shapeless crumpled heap, and Eowyn felt a darkness come upon her. Her sword-arm cold and lifeless, she fell forward upon the ground.
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Dark voices came from all around her, taunting her with ominous tidings, although they were soon replaced by the familiar voice of Lord Aragorn as she became surrounded with a sweet fragrance unlike anything she had experienced before. Yet when she came to, she found herself alone upon the shore, her body clothed in a clean white gown, her broken arm dressed and mended. "My lord?" she spoke softly as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Above her, the birds twittered and chirped while the calm waters shimmered beneath the bright sun. Confused, Eowyn took in her unexpected surroundings. Had it all been a dream?
With her blade she cloved asunder the head of the Witch-king's steed, felling the beast with one skillful stroke. Yet all was not over, and Eowyn stood her ground as she faced the Witch-king. With a piercing cry, he let fall his mace, breaking the shield and the arm that had raised it. Just when she felt that death was upon her at last, diversion came in the form of the Halfling, and using what little remained of her strength, Eowyn drove her sword between the Witch-king's crown and mantle.
The blade shattered into many sparkling shards as the great form of the Witch-king fell to the ground in a shapeless crumpled heap, and Eowyn felt a darkness come upon her. Her sword-arm cold and lifeless, she fell forward upon the ground.
********************************
Dark voices came from all around her, taunting her with ominous tidings, although they were soon replaced by the familiar voice of Lord Aragorn as she became surrounded with a sweet fragrance unlike anything she had experienced before. Yet when she came to, she found herself alone upon the shore, her body clothed in a clean white gown, her broken arm dressed and mended. "My lord?" she spoke softly as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Above her, the birds twittered and chirped while the calm waters shimmered beneath the bright sun. Confused, Eowyn took in her unexpected surroundings. Had it all been a dream?