Shadowed

Legolas rode beside his brother-in-arms, to the Paths of the Dead.  It was a name of ill repute, and it had caused the Lady Éowyn much distress when she heard where they would ride.  It pained Legolas still to see the shadow that lay upon her; he knew it was not simply her love for Isildur’s Heir that tormented her heart.

She did not like Dunharrow – indeed she hated it so much that she was in a constant war with herself.  Her duty would not allow her to satisfy her desire to ride from Harrowdale on swift wings, yet to describe it as a desire was false.  It was a dreadful yearning that seemed to stretch out of her skin.  Legolas could sense it – yet somehow he had hoped that his intuition was wrong.  As that very morning had shown it was an idle hope.

Aragorn had plainly sensed her torment also, for his face was marked with sorrow; it was rigid with it.  Though the man’s seat was more comfortable now that he had his own horse once again, Legolas could sense his disquiet.  Knowing that they had a dark and difficult task ahead of them, he thought to ease his friend’s sorrow, and so he approached him, pacing Arod beside Roheryn.

Aragorn was loath to speak, and so Legolas opened the conversation.  “I must confess, my friend, that my heart is troubled for the Lady Éowyn.”  Legolas noticed that Aragorn’s grip on the reins had tightened.  He said nothing, however, and so the elf continued, “I know my friend, that you have a share of fear in this, though you will not betray it.”

Aragorn looked at him in surprise, and said in a low tone, “I ought not to have attempted to conceal it from you.  My heart forebodes that some great evil shall befall her.”  He paused, “Some greater evil than those she has already seen.  And yet it must not be seen that I have too much care for this.”  Legolas knew then that they had reached the root of the matter – Elladan and Elrohir travelled with their company.

Aragorn spoke suddenly, “And yet, you too saw her last night my friend – such desperation screams from her face, such fear.  She begged for my aid; she believed that I would help her, and I turned away from her.  I have left her in such…” His voice trailed off.

Legolas saw pain in his friend’s face, and waited for him to continue.  Taking a deep breath, Aragorn said, “It is not right to me to leave her there.  You have seen her, Legolas; she is a woman brave and fair.  Indeed she is the fairest mortal ever I have seen.  Yet to have done otherwise is impossible – my heart does not stray.”

Legolas spoke; he hoped in comfort, “You did not create her despair, Aragorn.  What ails her began long before this day.”

“You have the right of it, my friend, loss and grief and too early and intimate a knowledge of men’s evil has done that.  And yet of whom did she remind you last night, Legolas?”  And then the elf knew what was torturing his friend.

“Boromir.  She reminded me of Boromir”. 

Aragorn nodded. “That is why I fear for her, Legolas.  We know what despair drove Boromir to do – what could it do to her, who has walked a lonelier and colder road than he?  And there can be no doubt in my mind that I have helped her along that road as much as any other.”

Legolas looked at his friend, “And you care for her.”

Aragorn sighed. “Yes, I care for her.  How could I not?  She is but a girl, a child, and yet she has withstood so much.  She has a pure heart, and a kind one.”  He paused. “I would have protected her if I could, for she deserves better than she has been given.” 

Legolas understood.  Aragorn had never known family, yet now he had found a woman who he could love as a sister.  Without words he had pledged himself to protect Éowyn, who shone like a new forged blade in the shadows of the halls.  And by his very love, by his protection, he might have driven her to some worse extremity. 

***

And when they came to Minas Tirith, and the battle had been won, they heard tales of Éowyn’s deeds: how she had defeated the Witch-King of Angmar, Lord of the Nazgul, and so had fallen to darkness. 

When he and Gimli were able to visit the hobbits in the Houses of Healing Merry had enthused about the Lady Éowyn, his love for her only equalled by his admiration of her bravery.  He would not describe the terror that had been the Ringwraith, but told how Éowyn had stood before it without fear.  Later Merry had visited her, dragging Legolas in tow, in hopes of raising her spirits and cheering her.

She teased Merry gently, and yet Legolas could feel her straining to retain that mask of good cheer.  He could see the effort, though Merry perhaps could not.  She had not awoken to forgetfulness, as they all had hoped.  He hoped she had not broken – she deserved life.  If she only had the spirit to live he did not doubt that she would find an occupation.  And yet perhaps she could only be healed through such love as she had never received.  He hoped if it were so that she would find it – he did not wish to see her spirit vanish like snow on the mountain.