A slight trip-up
There was Aragorn. Now was her chance. Eowyn smoothed down her hair,
smoothed her skirts and went running down the stairs to where stood
Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. She smiled at Aragorn.
"Oh, hello, Aragorn!" she cried breathlessly. "I didn't see you there!"
Aragorn glanced at Legolas and the Elf raised his eyebrow.
"Come, let us to the hall!" Eowyn cried and she turned around. Then she
put her hand to her forehead, cried a weak little, "oh, I feel faint!"
and threw herself backwards into Aragorn's arms. She opened her eyes
"Hey, baby." Gimli grinned down at her.
Another drabble........Eowyn's sister
Eowyn was sitting upon the steps, bored once again. But then there she
saw a sight that made her sit up straight. There, upon the broad fields
of Rohan, came riding three figures--and one appeared to be a woman!
Finally! Another woman to talk to!
Eowyn went running to meet them, glanced at the others, and grinned up
at the fair-haired maiden.
"Oh, wonderful! finally! Another woman to talk to!" she grinned up at
the tall female, marvaling at her dress. Very odd and green it was.
"But I'm no--"
"You and I will be like sisters!"
"My lady, I'm not--"
"Oh, come come! You and your companions must come with me! Oh, and what
is your name, sister?"
"Legolas." The Elf growled.
Eowyn's 16th birthday
Eowyn was in a stink. It was her 16th birthday, and she’d asked for a
sword – a special sword, elegant and deadly. Just the weapon for her.
And instead she’d received…
… a cookbook.
She was not amused. Although Eomer seemed to be, as he winked
conspiratorially at Uncle Theoden.
Like cooking is important, she grumbled to herself. Was this supposed
to be some kind of hint? Well! If dear Eomer didn’t like the mud pie
she’d made him eat when she was 12, he could just... just... just...
just eat brick!
And Eowyn knew where to get the brick!
In the tent she stands alone, watching shadows flicker past. Their
hands are filled; they carry weapons, armor, provisions. Her own hands
are empty. Hanging quiet at her sides. Their feet run quickly, her own
stand still, idle. They are riding to war and battle; she must go home
to an empty throne and a waiting city. Her hands clench. No! She will
not be left behind. With mail she clads herself, a sword she girts at
her waist, a helm of steel she takes. Now she walks among the men, her
hands full. No longer Éowyn, she is Dernhelm...
On the battlefield, smoke and dust swirls around her. Horrified, she
watches helplessly as her King is flung through the air and crushed
beneath his mount. She sees the black terror alight and threaten him.
Heedlessly, she dashes between him and the foe. One fell sweep of her
blade destroys the winged beast. From the ground rises the king of
darkness, foul mace dangling from gauntlet-clad hand. Terror and
loyalty battle within her, and she fights. “No living man can kill
me...” Tearing off her helmet, she raises her sword and her golden hair
streams about her. “I am no man!”
Shieldmaiden of Rohan, you are more fair than the dawn. Cold and pale
and beautiful, like a lily in the early, chill morning light. White and
golden you are, of a king’s line and a strong heart. A Steward’s son am
I, with no love for weapons or war. No man’s pity do you desire, yet my
heart is yours. Do not scorn compassion that is the gift of a gentle
heart! I know of the pain you bear. Éowyn of Rohan, do not let
yourself be drowned in despair, for there is a light yet in the Eastern
Steward’s son, I do not know why. I do not know why you stir my heart,
nor why a sliver of hope returns to me when I am with you. Standing
atop these white walls with you, I am feeling something I have not
known before. Warmth, compassion, hope, love and laughter. Would you
have your people say that you tamed a wild shieldmaiden from the North?
Yet no longer will I go to war. I will seek to heal and to rebuild.
With you I will begin a new life, Faramir of Gondor, for it is you I
- Frodo Baggins