Chapter 30:  At Twilight

“Does the King know?”

Éowyn  looked at Elhelm, the need for the secrecy that had defined much of her life disappeared after the battle with the wargs, acceptance by her boys came soon after. “As it was his idea, I would say that he does.”  Elfhelm raised an eyebrow at the admission.  Éowyn  smiled at his surprise.  She disclosed convivially, “It was our family secret.  I wanted to be a shieldmaiden at age ten,” she shrugged and “my uncle indulged me.  Théodred  and Éomer  trained me.” She left it at that. She liked Elfhelm and had known him for most of her life but private pain was just that, private.  Elfhelm sensed that there was far more to the story than that but she did not offer and he dared not ask as she was the King’s niece and some lines were not crossed. 

Changing the subject, Éowyn  stated, “You are not the first to visit here!”  Elfhelm looked at her in surprise.  “We have had news that a battle was fought at the Hornburg.” 

“Helm’s Deep?  When? How?  What happened?” Elfhelm’s thoughts came tumbling forward in rapid succession.  Then, “How did you hear?”

Éowyn  answered, “The Rohirrim forces were victorious.  Lord Erkenbrand’s forces arrived to change the tide of battle. Many were lost, but both the King and my brother survive to fight again.” She saw Elfhelm try to take everything in.  Seasoned Rider that he was, it was still a lot to take in within the space of only so many minutes.  “More will I tell tonight.  Go now and bring your lieutenants to supper and we will discuss more happenings then.” At that utterance the unexplained pain in her eyes intensified.  He saw her brush it away with effort.  Her eyes brightened, “I very much want to see Saelith reunited with Haere.”  Éowyn  smiled, another's happiness chasing away grief if only briefly.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Elfhelm and his lieutenants arrived at sundown.  Elfhelm had told Haere that Saelith was well, but he did not mention the change that had come over her.  There were so few joys in days of wars and he dearly wanted to see his lieutenant’s reaction to his ladywife.  They were directed to one of the foodhalls where they were to dine with Éowyn .  

Haere stepped into the hall, eyes roaming quickly over all those seated already but did not see his wife.  Puzzled he looked again and then heard a familiar voice but not so familiar a tone, “Thank you, Freya. Just place the extra oatcakes over there! Thank you.”   He turned and saw his Saelith with her favorite scarf wrapped around her blond hair in a plait over one shoulder.  She flicked in back as she served soup to someone, smiling as she handed the woman the bowl speaking, “There you are, Galieth, nice and hot.  Barley soup again I am afraid!”  Haere had never seen her look so happy.  He had been worried about her.  He loved her to distraction.  He thought she was wonderful but she did not always present her best self to others.  His heart lightened.  

He need not have worried, she found her way.  At that moment Saelith looked up, “Haere!” she shrieked happily. “Freya, please take over if you can!” She handed the girl the soup ladle and ran from behind the serving table straight at her husband who caught her up in a huge bear hug.  She pulled away only to look at him to assure herself that he was indeed whole and safe then hugged him again.  Pulling away the second time she said, “Oh my love, I must look afright, I have been so busy!” she patted her hair and began to unwrap her scarf.

Haere stayed her action and looked tenderly into her eyes, “I have never seen you look more beautiful…” Her eyes were shining and her face alight with happiness.

Saelith blushed and hugged him again, in public, which she had always been hesitant to do before and then she kissed him, again in public.  He knew something had changed and he was loving it.  People were seeing for the first time the Saelith that he knew.  He smiled at her happier than he had ever been before.  

Éowyn  watched the scene, so happy for her new-found friend.  She approached as she said, “If you two would like to sit-”

“Nonsense, I have soup to ladle,” She paused to look hesitantly at Haere, “If that is all right with you?”

Haere looked at his wife, kindness in his voice, “Of course, I would not keep you from your appointed task.”   

Saelith kissed him again and scurried happily back to the serving table.

Haere looked at Éowyn .  It was a speaking look.  Éowyn  smiled and gave the same answer she gave Elfhelm, “What can I say, war changes people…”

“And sometimes for the better,”  Haere looked sheepishly at Éowyn , “What I mean is, that it is nice that people are now seeing the Saelith that I have always known.  I know you two have had your problems–”

Éowyn  held up her hand, “Whatever problems there were, they don’t matter.  Saelith has been a good friend on this journey and has been very helpful.  You have reason to be proud and her only thought has been to make you proud.”

Haere had a thoughtful look on his face, “I have always been proud of her, but now I have even more reason.”  He gazed with the eyes of love at his ladywife ladling soup to the multitudes.  Éowyn  looked upon Haere and for the first time she thought it would be nice if someone would upon her in such a way.  She quickly put the thought aside knowing that it could not be.  Her life was merely one of duty.  Marriage being another in a long line; one that she would avoid if she could.

~*~*~*~*~

Settled in after supper and strong mead in his mug, Elfhelm held forth, “Now My Lady.  The tale of the Hornburg.  Who has brought you such news?”  Éowyn  stared into her silver goblet refilled with wine. Holdlith felt the pain flowing from her lady and wished she could give comfort. Éowyn  glanced at Holdlith and tossed back a good portion of the liquid courage that she held. “The Lord Aragorn and his company last night.  They informed us of the Battle of the Hornburg.  Many fell, including Hama.” At this, pain slashed across Elfhelm’s face for he too held Hama in great affection, “Aye,” Éowyn  responded to the sorrow upon Elfhelm’s visage, “That is only the first grief though it is hard.”  Éowyn  downed the rest of the wine and Freya stepped forward to refill her cup; Éowyn  did not stop her. “After the battle was won, as you were told, the muster would begin.  The Lord Aragorn and his company broke their journey here,”  She paused.

“We did not see any company as we entered the valley.  Where are they?”  Éowyn  heard his words and tried to answer them but her reply would not come.

Taking pity on his lady, Gamhelm spoke, “They are not here.  They have taken the Paths of the Dead.”

Lord Elfhelm, no stranger to perilous deeds and misadventure, paled at the mention of the Dimholt Path.  “And this was allowed?  Did he not know of the danger?”

Éowyn  leveled a look at Elfhelm, “Aye, he was told.  I tried to reason with him.  I pleaded with him,” She could not keep the pain from her eyes. She omitted her begging, it would not have been understood.  “He would not hear.” Éowyn  spoke in a cool, restrained voice.  “He said that he was appointed this task and he would see it done.  He and his company were not Rohirrim.  I could not command he stay.”  Éowyn  stared at Elfhelm until she broke away.  She could no longer endure even the light scrutiny of his gaze.  She did not even understand it herself, how could another. She felt like bolting out of there to sit at the side of her lake until at least the pain was sluiced away but too many years of royal breeding

would not allow such a display of emotion among her people.  So, she had to make do with a sip from her goblet to cover her face as she tried to convince her heart that Aragorn’s death was just another casualty of war and she needed to move forward.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Éowyn  spent another uneasy night, this time alone in her appointed room. She could not in good conscience allow Holdlith to spend another uncomfortable night comforting her, though she would have dearly loved the company.  She dreamed that she had followed Aragorn and his company only to find them all dead.  Glassy-eyed stares from people who had quickly found a place in her heart. Grima appearing with his cackling voice saying, “Oh are they all dead…pity.”  She woke up in a cold sweat and sleep proved elusive after that.  Robe and slippers donned she found her way to the shimmering lake and fell asleep to the lulling sounds of the water lapping.  

She awoke with a start and looked up to find Háláf’s young form sitting next to her, his hand gently nudging her shoulder.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.  You looked so calm sleeping. Gamhelm sent me. He was worried about where you were.”  

She sat up and rubbed her stiff neck.  “For a stablemaster he is really an old mother hen.” She checked herself for such an uncharitable thought. ”Is there anything a matter?”

“Aside from everything…” Háláf smiled, lightly.   “I was told to wake you for Breakfast!” Háláf paused and then seemed to decide on something.  For all of his newly found maturity, he looked at her with very young blue eyes.  He chewed his lip looking like he had something on his mind. 

“Háláf?  Are you wanting to ask something?” Éowyn  ventured and then waited patiently.

“Did you love Lord Aragorn?”  Éowyn ’s eyebrows shot up.  That was not at all what she had been expecting.  “I’m sorry!  I shouldn’t have asked.” he stumbled, “Y-You’ve just been so sad and I saw the way you looked at him.”  His voice trailed off.

Éowyn  looked at her young friend.  The initial shock having worn off she swallowed and tried to reply with honesty, something she had always given him. “Well, I’m not sure.  I think perhaps I did.  I don’t know.  I don’t think I have ever been in love,” she said, thinking what a very bizarre conversation this was.  

“Well, he was a good man and all but I think if he didn’t love you back then he was an idiot!  I mean we all love you.  I mean you are like my mom or my older sister!  Only much better.”

Laughter, genuinely the first good laugh in a long time, escaped from Éowyn .  “Thank you, Háláf! That does mean a great deal to me.”  She smiled and ruffled his hair, “Well shall we get on?  Breakfast?”

“Oh Aye!”  Háláf said with all the fervency that only a teenager boy can muster.  “Lady Saelith said she was going dip into some of the honey for today’s porridge for early risers!”

“Well then we best hurry!” Éowyn  stated jovially.  Háláf jumped up and then gallantly offered his hand to help her up, “My Lady!”

Éowyn  replied with amused formality, “Why, Thank you, kind sir!”  Apparently, she needed it,  sleeping on a rock floor never lending itself to great comfort, but Háláf was quite strong and didn’t seem to notice.  He bowed to her.  “Such manners!” She quipped.

“I have been well taught!” Háláf stated. She glanced at him as they walked.   With a few whiskers growing she noticed also he had lost the look of a child somewhere along the way. He was going to be quite a handsome catch for some young girl.  In a flash she realised how much he and the other young Riders had come to mean to her.  They were the first to accept her without question.  And that acceptance had gone a long way to healing her wounded soul.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was that she had gotten some sleep, however uncomfortable her lakeside “bedding” had been. Thoughout the day for there was much to be done and no time allowed for grief.  Lord Elfhelm’s was only the first of the Eoreds to answer the call of the Muster.  Dunhelm returned to Harrowdale and many other captains had also answered Gandalf’s summons. By sundown a camp tent city had sprung up on the Harrowdale and all leaders came up the Stairs of Hold to receive their welcome from Éowyn , the acknowledged Lady of Dunharrow.  In between she and Saelith and Holdlith among others made ready a suite for the King.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Evening was approaching as Théoden and his men left the forested path; the sound of the waters of the white Snowbourn greeting them rushing and crashing its way to Edoras at the southern foot of the White Mountains.  The vale lay before them.

“Harrowdale at last!” Éomer  exclaimed.  It had been a long journey through the woods.  Wooded paths to hide their numbers from prying, spying eyes made for slow going. “Our journey is almost at an end.”

“Aye!  Tonight we will lie in the Hold of Dunharrow. One evening of peace at least left to us. Let us ride on!”

Théoden, Éomer  and his following entered the Vale and their presence was soon marked. Men left their tents and started to cheer.  Glad voices cried out, “Théoden King!  Théoden King!  The King of the Mark returns!” as the King’s troop trotted through the camp.  Dunhere departed his tent, saw his king and bowed low. Théoden called a halt and all twenty came to a stop.  Théoden dismounted his horse and Éomer  followed suit.  Théoden raised Dunhere from his knee, “Right glad I am to see you.  I see you have been busy.”

Dunhere bowed his head and fist on heart, “Three days we have traveled having received Gandalf’s word that you called a muster.  We are come to serve.” He added, ”He gave us word of your victory at the Hornburg.  

“It is so!” Théoden affirmed, “I will ride now to the Hold, and there before I go to rest.  Will you have the marshals and captains come up the Stairs to meet me in the cavern. Let them come to me as soon as may be!”

“At your permission I will give orders to sound the horns that you have arrived.”

“Let it be so.”  At that Dunhere made a motion and his signalman blew one loud long blast and other horns joined in a joyous noise.  

Heruling was standing guard at the top of the Stair and the horn blast brought joy to his heart.  He thought he had seen the King’s standard earlier and the blast confirmed it.  He turned his horse around and began pelting his way to the stone entrance.  He dismounted, threw the reins to Folca standing guard at the door, and looked around for his Lady.

Éowyn  emerged from one of the pathways leading to the radial room deep in conversation with Gamhelm and one the captains who had come to receive his welcome.

Heruling ran to her and immediately knelt, head bowed and fist on heart. “My Lady!” 

“Aye! Heruling?” Éowyn  marveled at the utmost formality.  

Looking up at her words, Heruling blurted out, “I have seen the standard and heard the horns,  Théoden King has arrived on the Harrowdale.”

Emotions jumbled together within Éowyn , happiness, relief and inexplicably a little bit of dread. With no time to examine her disparate feelings, she simply commanded,  “Come we must make ready.  Inform the Riders the King is here and let the citizenry know as well.” Heruling bowed, fist on heart and then scurried to do his lady’s bidding.

Éowyn  turned to Gamhelm, “Come old friend, help me to array myself.”

“It will be my honour, my lady!”  

Éowyn  looked down at her dunne colored gown and saw blotches of dirt and a few stains got in the normal course of working in an underground cellar.  She sighed,  “Go to the armoury and fetch my corslet, sword and helm.  Bring them to my chamber.  I must find Wilda and Holdlith I cannot appear before the king so attired.” 

“At once, My Lady,” Gamhelm noticed the tension around Éowyn ’s eyes. He touched her arm to still her motion forward, “It will be fine, My Lady.  The King will be proud of everything you have achieved here.”

Éowyn  gave him a chagrined smile, “And sometimes I really wish that you couldn’t read my face like a book!” She ended with, “But thank you my friend.  Now go.”

“It is done, My Lady!”  Gamhelm stated and left the radial courtyard for the armoury. Éowyn  left to find Holdlith.

Entering her room she saw that Holdlith was there with Wilda, who was standing for Waerith, laying out Éowyn ’s best dress that made the journey to Dunharrow, an ivory wool with pearls and embroidery at the cuff and neckline.  Wilda had thrown it into Éowyn ’s trunk in a last minute flight of whimsy.  Éowyn  stated needlessly, “The king has arrived.”  

“Aye!” Holdlith stated, “Let’s get this on you!”  Wilda took off the long surcoat and began loosening the lacing on the back of the dunne-coloured dress.

Holdlith held the dress ready for Éowyn ’s head and arms and saw tears gathering in Éowyn ’s eyes.  She draped the gown over Éowyn  and began smoothing it. “Now, My Lady! None of that…  The king will be proud of all that you have achieved here.”

“But I could not stop them, Holdlith.  I tried.”

Holdlith held her friend’s hands as Wilda received the corslet and arms from Gamhelm who had subsequently entered from the armoury.  “You did all you could, My lady.  Nobody could have done more.  They chose their path, their fates are not ours to control!  Remember that!”

Éowyn  straightened her shoulders and snuffled a little, “You are right, dear friend. Onwards.” She tried to put aside her doubt and grief as she put her arms out for Gamhelm to place the corslet on her chest and drew the buckles on the back of it closed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Théoden and his guard rode up the Stairs of Hold, Merry marveled at the workmanship that created these stairs, although why they were called stairs he could not rightly figure. They were smooth, more like sloping walkways.  “Who do you think built these stairs?” he spoke aloud. 

“Nobody knows, Master Hobylta!” Théoden called out from just ahead of him.  “This has been here even before our people came down from the North.”

Merry looked around him, “Tis amazing and no mistake!”

“That it is, Master Hobbit,” said Éomer  as he rode up near Stybba, Merry’s little pony. “And it has been our people’s refuge since before Meduseld was built.”

Finally the path of winding led up to the plateau of Firienfeld and here they encountered two Riders, “Hail Théoden King!” and both young Riders bowed their heads and fists firmly on their hearts.  

He thought recognised the one on his right.  “Hail!” He paused and the two looked up.  “Aethelred?  Elfhelm’s son?”

“Aye! My King!”

Théoden looked at the other Rider, “And you are?”

“Heruling, My King!”

“And you are here because…”

“We stand guard at My Lady Éowyn ’s orders, My King,” Aethelred proclaimed proudly.  Théoden noted the pride and the loyalty to Éowyn .  “Do you now?”

Heruling then spoke, “Aye! My King! And we are also to serve as a guard of honour to guide you in as requested by Lady Éowyn !”  

“I thank you, Heruling!” Théoden graciously answered, “We accept this honour most fully!” noting the same loyalty shone in Heruling’s eyes as well. “Lead on!”

Éomer  listened to this exchange thinking that these two Riders would ride through a brick wall should Éowyn  ask it of them.  And he mused were he to remark upon this Éowyn  would demur and defer all the praise due to her.  She never realised her ability to command respect and love. That was his sister.

They rode along the gentle bend of the cut passageway in the plateau and Merry was once again marveling at the ancient washed away faces of the stone figures along the passage and an incongruous feeling of safety fell upon him.  He thought upon it and by the time he thought to speak of this feeling he saw a lone Rider standing at the opening to a cave or possibly a cavern.  Riding closer revealed this Rider to be a woman with a long single braid falling over one shoulder.  The twilight glinted off the braid showing shades of red and gold.  He saw that she was clad in a fair corslet of silver and copper; a helm on her head and a sword in her hand.

“Hail, Lord of the Mark!”  Éowyn  cried out, tenuously passing the lump in her throat. So happy was she to see her Uncle and brother arrive, victorious and safe, “My heart is glad at your returning.”

“And you, Éowyn !”  said the king at his side. Merry started.  So this is Éowyn , he had heard of much of her in their ride south to Dunharrow from both Théoden and Éomer .  She did indeed seem indomitable, the word with which both men described her proudly. “Is all well with you?”

“All is well.” She answered firmly, but in looking at her a little closer Merry felt her face told a different story.  It looked to him as if she had been weeping.  So valiant-looking a woman to be weeping, it struck him to the heart.  “All is well,” she repeated, stern of face, resolute. “The people were weary.  A few tempers flared, it was a hard road.  But we stayed strong.  I was proud of our people.  I have your lodgings ready as we were made aware of your coming.” She finished her report.

Éomer  inquired expectantly, “So Aragorn has come then?  Is he still here?”

Éowyn  turned upon him eyes of such pain and regret that they stunned him in their intensity, “No.” she stated flatly, fighting for the stoicism she had had only seconds ago, “They came two days ago. They stayed the night, told us the news of battle and what to expect.  They left at daybreak.”  she ended the terse report looking toward the mountains to the south and east. Éomer  knew his sister. She was restraining a cauldron of emotions that she might never release.  He grieved for her.  

Seeing the direction his sister turned her troubled gaze towards, a darning horror crept into his mind, “Whither did he go?”

Once again Éowyn  turned eyes of turmoil and pain to her brother but she only said flatly, “I do not know.  He came at night, and rode away yestermorn, ‘ere the Sun had climbed over the mountain-tops. He is gone.”  Tears unwillable filled her eyes.  She sought comfort where she had always found it, in her uncle’s eyes.

Théoden saw the tears and ached to leap off his horse and cradle his niece in a bearhug so large it ease all her pain.  He could only say gently, “You are grieved, daughter.  What has happened.”  He looked to the Dwimwold path. He looked to his niece,  “Tell me, did he speak of that road.”  He gestured toward the direction she had looked, “Of the Paths of the Dead?”

Éomer  saw his sister turn paler than pale as she uttered in a stricken voice, “Aye, Lord. And he has passed into the shadow from which none have returned.  I could not dissuade him. I tried.” her voice breaking.  A slice of pain lanced Éomer ’s heart as she spoke, “He is gone.” She straightened her shoulders in painful acceptance.

“Then our paths are sundered,” Éomer  said.  “He is lost. We must ride without him, and our hope dwindles.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~