Turning their faces to the mild-eyed stars, they had all gone on to battle and death. To seek glory far away from home seemed to be a thing noble. Yet men need not be immortalized in legend to call their lives worthwhile, for if they had a care for this world, they had something to give it. She had already learned that lesson, long ago. Eowyn tilted her head up to receive the warmth of midday. The golden light spilled over her, and she breathed it’s truth. She knelt in her herb garden with her hands in the soil, feeling the charge of life it gave her.

She knew there wasn’t much to see there in her tranquil garden, and less to do. But the feel of the cool ground supporting her gave her stability, and she could taste the life in the berries she grew, still warm from the sun. There was nothing more beautiful than that golden light filtering through the birch leaves onto the water in August, and no bard could compare to the sweet sound of birds singing only for love of the land. Let them rejoice in steel and blood, and dream of going far away. Why, she now wondered, would they dream of leaving? Was no one content with their homes and families, and the simple peace of the hearth? Never again would she so long to leave. This garden...the one Faramir promised her two years ago they would make together...had become a haven to her, a piece of Summerland, where time flowed on it’s own. "I’m calling this my piece of Earth." There was earth clinging to the hand she laid over her quickening womb, and she prayed one day her child could sleep soundly in the white halls of Emyn-Arnen, watching the moon rise over the hills, while the silver light danced on the trickling water and flowers. The starlight would dance through the transparent linen curtains and into their eyes, and the gentle chirping of crickets and the mournful sound of the nightingale and the wind in the heather would be their lullaby. And she could take her child and teach them to care for the Earth Mother and all her children, and hope they could one day put their hands underground and feel the same charge she felt, from the roots that went far underground. The magick that binds us all.

There may not be much to do there, or see, but she knew the land, and all it’s folk. No sword woman would she be anymore, standing beside the soldiers with blue war paint on her body. Nay, she would have babies to sing to and tell tales, and children to teach to love and to love them. Here, in her home. In her garden of light, like one of the Faery folk, the once wild shield maiden knelt in awe and love; not tamed, but not furiously beating her wings against iron bars. At last, she was free. Eowyn smiled to herself. "I’m calling this my piece of Earth."

*Written on request. Are you happy now, Gwen? Are you happy? Geese, I thought you would never be done harassing me! *Pouts* you abuse me! In revenge I should write an Elfhelm/Imrahil slash and mail it to you repeatedly! Mwa ha ha ha ha!!!