Folly

If she knew what we rode toward, had ever faced the slashing iron hooks of the Orcs, Eowyn would not seek to join us. Or am I mistaken? Her eyes are empty rather than defiant. She has not seen the spoor of death in battle, but she is hard on its track and not to be dissuaded from pursuing it.

“What of the people your uncle entrusted to you?”

“We all must face the end alone.”

My laughter tastes bitter. “Eowyn, you may be a fine Rider, but to be a leader you must know that -- and conceal it.”

[For TZA, who wanted Eowyn and/or Elfhelm drabbles.]