Ch. 29

Nothing.  She felt nothing. Too numb to feel pain, obligation or duty, she simply felt hollowed out. She was not sure how long she stood there rooted to the spot.  But she eventually felt two gentle hands guide her back inside and to her room.  She was handed a cup and told to drink.  She did as she was told.  She heard a lullabye from her childhood as she felt her corslet slipped off her shoulders and ties at the back of her dress loosened.  She just let it happen.  There seemed no point in resisting it.

“My lady,” She heard a voice.  “My lady?” It grew concerned and then a little sharper, “Éowyn!”  Finally, she turned her head to the voice. 

“Holdlith?” She saw the older woman’s face filled with concern and unshed tears.  A sob escaped her throat and then tears flowed unabated.

Holdlith held her, “Oh my lady.  You just let it all out.  It is what is needed.” she said for the second time in twelve hours.  She bitterly regretted all that had happened to her lady these last few weeks.  She hmphed and amended her thought. These last few years. Éowyn was such a spirited lass with a heart as big as the winter wheat fields and rolling hills that made up the beloved Mark. She felt such anger at all that happened to her precious friend, but she tried to sluice it away because anger was not what was needed at the moment.  

“He has gone to his death…” Holdlith heard the muffled words filled with sorrow, deadened by pain.  She pulled back to view her lady’s tear-stained face.  “He has gone to his death, Holdlith.”  

Smoothing back a damp tendril of reddish blonde and placing it behind Éowyn’s ear, Holdlith stated gently,  “I know, my dear.  There is no explaining in times such as these why good men will do as they do.  I have no wise words to wash away that fact.  But I do know that you will rise from this tragedy and move forward.”

Éowyn looked at her old friend, eyes wide with amazement. “How do you know?” her eyes focused a little sharper, “You have seen?”

Holding her lady’s gaze, Holdlith tried to think of what could shake Éowyn out of the melancholy that was settling upon her.  She could not tell her all that she had seen but she was no proof against the despair that threatened to take up permanent residence in her friend’s eyes.  She ventured forward feeling out what she could say and what she could not. “Aye.  But it is not clear.  Mostly it is a feeling in my bones that you will play a part in this, though,” she lied once again because the truth was not possible at this point,  “I do not know where or how.”

Éowyn just looked at her, comprehension was there, but it was still shrouded in sadness.  This more than anything worried Holdlith, who busied herself picking up the corslet and sword belt placing them in Éowyn’s open trunk to cover her worry.  She looked at her lady sitting still on the bed and she saw Éowyn struggling to gather herself up as she had done so many times after defeat or disappointment.  She had witnessed it so often she could see the small telltale signs, the deep breaths, the tick in her left thumb.  Holdlith waited for her to speak.

Éowyn looked at Holdlith and much to the older woman's dismay, the fire that always resided in Éowyn’s eyes was banked somehow. “Come my friend, we must start the day.  I know my uncle will be here soon from the news given by-” her voice broke just a little, “last night, and we must be ready.”  

“Aye, my lady.” Holdlith voiced as she moved to re-tie the back of the white woolen dress, taking on the office of Waerith, Éowyn’s lady’s maid, who had been given leave to visit family for the birth of a new babe in Aldburg just a few days before all hells broke loose over Edoras.  She prayed to Béma for the woman’s safety.  She watched over Éowyn only too well. The two had taken to sharing Holdlith’s special mead weekly for companionship and to talk about the lady they both cared so much for.  Holdlith sniffed and wiped a tear at the thought.

“Holdlith?”  Éowyn asked, concern in her soft voice. 

“Tis nothing, my lady,” Holdlith said briskly as she pulled tight the strings that had been loosened earlier.  She reached for the long pocketed surcoat and slipped it over Éowyn’s shoulders and as she smoothed it more tears filled her eyes, together with overwhelming admiration for her lady’s resilience.  

Éowyn turned and saw the tears.  “It is not nothing, dear friend.”  Éowyn spoke feelingly. “Tell me…”

Holdlith wiped a tear that dared to escape impatiently. She could not say that the tears were for her because Éowyn would dismiss that out of hand, so she told a partial truth.  “I was thinking of Waerith in Aldburg and hoping that she and her family are safe.”

Éowyn’s eyes misted, “It weighs heavily on my heart as well but maybe it is fortunate for her.  I did not hear any news that Aldburg was in the line of fire.  Let us keep that small kernel of hope, for there are seemingly so few of them.”  She gave Holdlith a chagrined smile, “Agreed?” the smile not quite reaching her eyes.  

Holdlith noticed that but instead grasped at the small attempt to rally that Éowyn was offering. “Agreed.”  Holdlith placed a smile on her face, as she reached for a hairbrush and proceeded to brush and work Éowyn’s hair into a serviceable, single braid.  Sometimes the simple acts of life can pull you forward regardless of whether or not you think you can, Holdlith mused.

~*~*~*~*~

Gamhelm sat in the eating hall on the first level pushing his porridge around with his spoon and mulling over the happenings of the past day.  

“Porridge is filling, my love, but it actually has to reach your mouth first.”  He looked up at Gamwyn sitting across from him.  

“You are as beautiful now as the day we were married.”

“Idle flatterer.”  Gamwyn said her teasing tone tinged with concern.  He only lapsed into compliments when he was feeling overly much.  She noted the pain in his eyes and the tired crinkles around them.  Sometimes people only saw his size and heard the rumble of his gruff voice, but Gamwyn knew his heart which was as wide as the expansive wheatfields that surrounded Edoras.  She squeezed his hand gently.  “Tell me.”  she said in the shorthand communication that can exist between couples married long.

“She is just carrying so much right now, Gamwyn.  I am worried.”

“I know my love.  But we will be there for her.” 

“I spoke with the Lord Aragorn last night; I told him Éowyn’s story.  I felt he needed to know.”

“Did you now?  I wondered where you had gotten yourself off to last night.  What did he say?”

“Not a lot, but he seemed to understand.”

Gamwen shook her head slowly.  “He seemed a fine man, worthy of our Éowyn.  His loss will weigh on her.  What did he think to accomplish taking the Path.”  Her voice trembled with anger, “Leaving our lady like this!”  She spied Éowyn discussing matters with Saelith at the food line.  She looked tired and careworn.  At that Holdlith settled down with her porridge.  “How is she, Holdlith?”  

“Moving forward?”  Holdlith ventured looking at her friend and fellow self-appointed protector of their beloved lady.  “Which is all any of us can do at the moment.”

Gamwyn sighed and nodded.  She continued cautiously, “Does this mean Lord Aragorn and his company,” here she paused, “have moved off…?”

“Aye, they have.”  Holdlith replied tersely.  “To what end I think we all can surmise… My poor Lady,”  She thought about watching Éowyn begging to be allowed to follow.  Her heart broke just at the memory of it.  So much despair.  She would never say, even to her fellow conspirators.  She could not allow anyone to know of the depths of her lady’s desperation that she had witnessed.  She merely informed them, “She asked to be allowed to follow, but the Lord Aragorn said no.”

Gamhelm was quiet.  He thought about what he had said to Aragorn during the night and wondered how much that played a part in Aragorn’s decision, if any at all.  He looked at Éowyn across the way still speaking with Saelith, and his heart swelled with love and pity for his lady knowing how much she yearned for the chance constantly denied her.  

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Éowyn tried to pull herself through the day.  She had conversed with Saelith about the food stores and she discussed with Háláf and Héohelm about the area surrounding the enclave, detailing some of the Riders to survey the surrounding areas and others explore more of the lower levels of the cavern and to report back what they had observed.  She spoke to as many people as possible, asking after their health and well-being.  She placed herself within public view when all she wanted was to sit on the shimmering lake’s edge and try to forget everything that was happening to her.  Time and time again Aragorn’s face cropped up in her mind’s eye as the recurrent phrase, “He is riding to his death” bided its time in her psyche.  

She was having just such a moment when Háláf  said, “Do you think it is good plan?”

“Hmmm?” Éowyn shook her head to clear it.  She looked into Háláf ’s disappointed gaze. “I am so sorry Háláf .  What was that?”  

Háláf restated, “Maybe Elfwine and Fréca should be the ones explore the lower levels.”

She gave a distracted, “Aye.  They should.” 

Háláf looked up from the parchment he held with eyes older than his sixteen years and ventured into unsafe territory, “Do you think they are all dead?” sadness written across his young face.

Éowyn whispered, “I do not know.  Experience says most likely.  But my heart still holds out a slim, vain hope against hope that they are whole and well.”

“I really liked Lord Erthain.” Háláf ’s mournful voice admitted.  “He treated me as a fellow warrior not as a child.”  Héohelm nodded his head in agreement. Both her riders looked so sad that Éowyn put aside her own grief and gestured that they both rise.  Both were fighting back tears, “Not all tears are evil.  They show us we are alive, and we have loved.”  She stood and looked each in the eye and clasped an arm of both Riders and said “We will see them again either on this side of the veil or the other.  We share a bond as warriors and that cannot be broken.”  The arm clasp became a hug, and Éowyn drew strength from the bond.  Her heart still held sorrow, but she was also reminded that she was not the only one who grieved.  It helped her to feel less alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that day…

Aethelred was at his post on the top of the Stairs of Hold when he saw that Rohirrim Riders were starting to stream onto the small valley before the foot of the Stairs.  He thought he recognized the standard but he could not be sure.  He watched pondering whether he should ride to Éowyn to tell her of this latest development when he heard the approaching steps of a single horse.  He pulled to the middle of the path. “Announce yourself!  If you be friend of the Mark!”  he shouted in what he hoped was a commanding voice as he deftly knocked an arrow and drew his bow.

“Aethelred?”

“Papa?”  Aethelred stared into the blue-green eyes of Elfhelm, his father as he let his bow arm drop, decreasing the tension of the bowstring pulled. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Standing watch at Lady Éowyn's command!”

Elfhelm looked at his son.  He had not seen much of his son since his ascension into the apprentice Éored over a year ago; Training riders were required to live in quarters and not with their parents; such was the life of a Rider and his son, but he almost didn’t recognise him.  He looked far older than his fifteen years.  He was overwhelmed with both pride and curiosity at the change.  “So good it is to see you.” 

The young man before him changed once again the boy he remembered as Aethelred bounded off his horse, haphazardly stowing his bow on a hook of his saddle.  “It is so good to see you as well, Papa!”  Elfhelm quickly dismounted his horse and caught his son up into a tight hug. “So much has happened to us.” he said excitedly.  “I’ve seen my first battle!”

Elfhelm heard with the ears of both a father and warrior, “You have?  Who led you?”

“The Lady Éowyn!” Aethelred stated, his eyes wide with loyalty and pride.

“She did?”

“Aye! She is amazing.”

Elfhelm raised an eyebrow.  He knew Éowyn, of course, and always found her to be both intelligent and beautiful but noblewomen were not trained in the warrior ways, only village women out of necessity.  Most curious.  “Tell me all as we ride to the cavern to speak with Lady Éowyn.”

Aethelred started talking, and of course he started with the battle first. “Léoufwine raised the call that we were to be beset by five Wargs.”

“Five?” Elfhelm paled as he thought of his untested son up against the vicious raging beasts and their riders.

“Aye!  Lady Éowyn had us in a single line at first to let off volleys of arrows then two rows should the wargs get through.  She of course was in the vanguard,”

Elfhelm blanched once again as his son blithely recounted the battle, which seemingly had been conducted with sound strategy.  Did Théoden know his beloved niece had acquired these skills?  He blinked as Aethelred spoke of the injury he had sustained.  He looked at his son atop his horse and noticed that he was favouring his left shoulder.  “How is the shoulder?”

Aethelred gave a limited shrug and said, “Léoulf mended it and gave me some willowbark tea and told me to try and be easy with it, but there is so much to be done.  I haven’t really been able to.”  Elfhelm heard both the tiredness and resilience of a seasoned Rider in his son’s young voice with a mixture of worry and pride. “But at least I didn’t get shot through the arm like Héohelm.” Elfhelm looked at his son for confirmation of this. Héodred, Héohelm’s father, down in the valley below was not going to be happy to hear this. 

“Is Héohelm all right?” 

“Oh Aye, he is!  Léoulf tended and packed the wound.  We all watched.” He said with all the excitement of a fifteen-year-old, prompting Elfhelm to think “Was I ever that young?”  At least his youth will shield him from some of the worst of war Elfhelm mused, at least he hoped it would.  Aethelred had continued speaking throughout his inner musings, “-Arm is in a sling. And Lady Éowyn is always monitoring what he is doing.  Héohelm says he hates the fuss, but I think secretly he is enjoying it.  Lady Éowyn has been really good to us.  She makes sure that we are eating and getting enough sleep because she says we need it,” his son enthused, eyes shining.

Elfhelm smiled inwardly, noticing the clear loyalty and affection Aethelred had for Éowyn.  He knew Éowyn had a high heart so that did not surprise him.   The affection for the King’s niece by all who resided within city walls was easy to understand.  Éowyn gave of herself to all, no matter who they were or what station in life.  Apparently much had happened since he left Edoras with his Éored more than two weeks ago.  He would talk with Éowyn; there was much to discuss, but one thing was for certain concerning his son; he had much to thank Éowyn for.

Aethered and his father approached the stone entrance in quick time with Aethelred still holding forth about their journey to Dunharrow.  He paused in breath to greet Léoulfwine who was standing guard on the door,  “Find Lady Éowyn, there is much to tell!”  Léoulfwine looked at Elfhelm and fist on heart, he bent his head, “My lord!  I shall inform Lady Éowyn of your arrival.” and scurried to perform his duty.

He found her with Lady Saelith in the grain storage room.  “My lady Éowyn!” He interrupted, head bent and out of breath.

“Aye, Léoulfwine.  What is it?” Éowyn eyed his flushed, mottled skin and gulping breath and grew immediately alarmed.

“Lord Elfhelm!  He is here and wishes to speak with you!” the young Rider said breathlessly.

Saelith placed her hand on Éowyn’s arm, “Lord Elfhelm!?  Haere is one of his lieutenants!”  Éowyn looked at her newly found friend with compassion. “Come with me and we shall find out what he has to say!”

Saelith nodded and handed her ledger to Freya, one of the appointed kitchen staff, “Finish the inventory, Freya!  If you please.  Thank you.”

Éowyn noted the changes that had come over Saelith on this journey and they were truly remarkable.  She was much kinder and more considerate of others than she had ever known her to be and looked happier because of it.  

Elfhelm handed his horse to a stable boy after being informed that the underground cavern had a stable within its confines.  Elfhelm had never been stationed at the Dunharrow garrison and had not realised the vastness of it as a domain.  He spied Lady Éowyn entering from a far portion of the radial receiving area.  She still looked radiantly beautiful but as she approached, he saw a pinched sadness around her eyes; a private grief that made one feel as if he had no right to ask after.

She held her hands out and said with a joy that chased the sadness from her eyes, “Lord Elfhelm, a joy it is to see you even in such times.” She smiled casting a look at Aethelred, “I see you have found your son.”

“Standing guard, I almost didn’t recognise him, so stern and resolute.  He drew on me!”

“I did not know it was you, Papa!  Or I wouldn’t have.”  Elfhelm looked at his son with approval.  

“You did your duty, son,”  Elfhelm affirmed, “I was proud, if a little confused at first.”  Aethelred blushed under the spare praise of his father.

Éowyn looked at Elfhelm, “Aethelred has done proud service for the Mark.  He and all the apprentice Riders have risen to the moment.”  Aethelred against all odds blushed even more at his lady’s praise.

“I heard I have you to thank for this and my son’s safety!” Elfhelm ventured.

“Nay, they are good lads, well trained.  I have simply tried to do right by them.”  Éowyn demurred.

“I’m sure that is true, but I thank you all the same.”

Elfhelm then saw Lady Saelith and sighed inwardly.  Wondering what tirade he was now due when he did not acknowledge her more quickly.   He gave a quick nod of his head and braced for a frosty blast of indignation. To his surprise there was none given.

Lady Saelith nodded perfunctorily and said without preamble, “Lord Elfhelm, please.  Tell me that my Haere is here and unhurt.”  Her eyes held no contempt or side, merely entreaty and anxiety.

Elfhelm nodded quickly seeking to placate her worry, “He is, Lady Saelith.  And unhurt.  He is currently organizing the tents for the Éored.  I will have him sent for immediately at your word.”  He offered knowing this would be Lady Saelith’s demand.

Éowyn saw the immense relief of good news soothe Saelith’s worried brow and her eyes softened. “Nay, he has a job to do, and I would not have that interrupted.  But after, I would dearly love to see him.  If that were possible?”

“Aye, Lady.  I will see to it.”

Saelith nodded.  She looked at Éowyn, “I am going to return to the grain storeroom to help Freya with the inventory.”

Elfhelm stared after the noblewoman as she slipped down the passage from whence they had come.  He then looked at Éowyn for explanation.

“What can I say…war changes people, and sometimes for the better.”

“I’ll say.”

“But to return to the reason for your visit.”

“Aye.” his tenor changed to somber tones, “Gandalf has sent word that the Éoreds are to amass here at Dunharrow.”

Éowyn paled, “Does he foresee that more than border skirmishes are in the offing for the Mark?”

“I think Gandalf knows a lot more than he is letting on at this point, but aye.  I think an all-out defense of the Mark is in the air.”

Éowyn closed her eyes in a vain attempt to ward off a pang of fear.  The fear of what her people were going to be asked to endure.

Elfhelm’s voice interrupted her musings.  “My son says you swing a blade very effectively…"     

~*~*~*~*~