Eowyn of Rohan (
shieldmaiden_rohan) wrote2014-02-10 07:11 pm
Debut
It had been a pleasant day, for all that it had been spent moving as quickly as possible towards Helm’s Deep. The weather was good, the caravan traveled well, and she’d had another conversation with Gimli about his people. He was far friendlier than any of the other dwarves she’d met as they moved through Rohan, but then most of those Dwarves had been traveling smiths. It was a hard life for anyone, even without the legendary unfriendliness of Dwarves. Gimli was more like the Rohirrim. He was certainly no horseman, but he was good-natured, fierce, and steadfast. She would be pleased to fight alongside him, if given the chance. She would be pleased to fight alongside any of the four riders, if given the chance. She had secret hopes for standing alongside Aragorn in other ways as well, though she spoke of it to no one.
Of course pleasant times could not last, not with the Riddermark in danger from all sides, and she started as the sounds of fighting came over the hill where the outriders had gone ahead. The next few moments were a blur as the Rohirrim separated from the caravan and she felt her heart beating faster. Perhaps now she would be permitted to fight. Everyone able to hold a sword would be needed to keep the caravan safe. Surely Theoden King would see that, and she looked up as he whirled Snowmane back towards her.
“You must lead the people to Helm’s Deep and make haste,” Theoden ordered her.
“I can fight,” she argued, feeling the cage close around her again. Once more she was not permitted to serve in the way she had trained.
“No!” he said. “You must do this. For me.”
She could not countermand a direct order from her king, nor from her uncle, and she turned away so he would not see the anger on her face. She would lead her people. She would take them to Helm’s Deep.
“Make for the lower road!” she called to the caravan. “Stay together!”
The caravan started moving even more quickly, urged along by the caravan-guards, and she glanced up to see Aragorn whirling away on Hasufel. Some fear entered her heart, some fear that she could not name, and she stared at him until he was gone over the ridge.
When she turned back to the caravan, it was not there. She was not there. She didn’t recognize the trees or the mountains, nor the sounds of the animals around her. What had happened? What magic was this? What wizardry? Where were her people?
She might have stood there forever, trying to understand what had happened, if she had not heard a terrible sound, a low growling that filled her with dread and then with steel. There was a Warg somewhere near, and she had no sword. She had her boot-knife, though, and she would fight it as a shieldmaiden of Rohan should. She stripped her surcoat off, dropped her hair under her dress, then pulled out her knife. One boot-knife against a Warg would do almost nothing, but she would at least slow the Warg down and give the caravan more of a chance. She would keep her people safe.
Of course pleasant times could not last, not with the Riddermark in danger from all sides, and she started as the sounds of fighting came over the hill where the outriders had gone ahead. The next few moments were a blur as the Rohirrim separated from the caravan and she felt her heart beating faster. Perhaps now she would be permitted to fight. Everyone able to hold a sword would be needed to keep the caravan safe. Surely Theoden King would see that, and she looked up as he whirled Snowmane back towards her.
“You must lead the people to Helm’s Deep and make haste,” Theoden ordered her.
“I can fight,” she argued, feeling the cage close around her again. Once more she was not permitted to serve in the way she had trained.
“No!” he said. “You must do this. For me.”
She could not countermand a direct order from her king, nor from her uncle, and she turned away so he would not see the anger on her face. She would lead her people. She would take them to Helm’s Deep.
“Make for the lower road!” she called to the caravan. “Stay together!”
The caravan started moving even more quickly, urged along by the caravan-guards, and she glanced up to see Aragorn whirling away on Hasufel. Some fear entered her heart, some fear that she could not name, and she stared at him until he was gone over the ridge.
When she turned back to the caravan, it was not there. She was not there. She didn’t recognize the trees or the mountains, nor the sounds of the animals around her. What had happened? What magic was this? What wizardry? Where were her people?
She might have stood there forever, trying to understand what had happened, if she had not heard a terrible sound, a low growling that filled her with dread and then with steel. There was a Warg somewhere near, and she had no sword. She had her boot-knife, though, and she would fight it as a shieldmaiden of Rohan should. She stripped her surcoat off, dropped her hair under her dress, then pulled out her knife. One boot-knife against a Warg would do almost nothing, but she would at least slow the Warg down and give the caravan more of a chance. She would keep her people safe.

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"Here!" he cried over his shoulder, alerting Fili of the chase, but he did not wait for his brother. Kili leapt, landing on both feet in the clearing, but the only trace of the bird was a single feather...
...disappearing into the maw of a beast Kili had not seen in ages. Beyond the warg stood a woman, armed with a blade that was surely no match for the monster before them. There was no time to hesitate. Squaring his feet, Kili loosed the arrow from his bow, already notching another when the beast reared back in rage.
"Fili!" Kili cried with new urgency. "Wargs!"
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Panic settled in his blood, as it did now after discovering that they were dead in Middle Earth. After all, what would happen to them here?
"Where did they come from?" he wondered.
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Orcrist was in his hand in but a moment and he charged toward the sound. "Fili! Kili!" he shouted. "I am coming!"
Mahal and Yavanna, first a cave troll and now this.
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The darker-haired dwarf's arrow had made the Warg rear and its rider had fallen off. She could not kill the Warg, but the rider was a possibility. She had never actually killed an orc, but she had seen them killed and had been taught how to fight them if needed.
She offered a rare, brief prayer to Bema and thrust her knife deep into the belly of the rider, pulling it out with a twist that Theodred and Eomer had made her practice for hours upon hours.
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"As spirited as one of our own dear ladies!" he cried to Fili and Thorin.
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Once she was sure the rider she'd stabbed was either dead or nearly so, she turned her attention towards the other wargs and the dwarves. The dwarves had appeared at the same time the wargs had, and though she'd never heard dwarves to fight with the shadows, she could not help but be suspicious.
The older dwarf and fair-haired dwarf seemed to have one warg and rider well in hand, which left the young dark-haired dwarf on his own with a warg. She moved quickly but carefully around the dwarf and back-handedly stabbed the warg at the joint of its hip. Eomer had taught her that there was a weak spot there, and though it would not kill the warg, it would at least make it difficult for it to get up again.
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Suddenly pinned, Kili craned his head away from snapping teeth and, with a shout of alarm, shoved his bow lengthwise into the putrid maw to stay it.
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He slit the warg's throat for good measure, falling to his knees at Kili's side to ensure he was not gravely injured. His eyes were off the battle and the remainder of the wargs and their riders and he hoped that Thorin and the strange woman would allow them a moment's pause. "You're okay," he confirmed, for his own benefit as much as Kili's, extending a hand out to him to encourage him to his feet.
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"How many left."
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There was something in the older dwarf's manner that reminded her of Theoden King. It was an expectation of being obeyed, and she responded to it automatically.
"I do not know, my lord," she replied, looking around to see two dead riders and two dead or dying wargs, but no further threats at the moment. "There were many, before, but I am not there and they may not be here."
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"I just finished this one," he grunted and tossed the ruin aside, then transferred his dismay to Fili. "You've got muck all over you," he said of the blood, touching Fili's cheek in brief reassurance. They were both alright.
Looking over his shoulder, Kili could spy no further threats, only Thorin and the woman. "Did you only just arrive, then?" he asked. "With Wargs!"
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"You," he called to the lady. "Are you newly come? Did they follow you?"
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"I am newly arrived here, though I do not know where 'here' is. And they did follow me, I fear, though I do not know how they could have done such a thing either," she said, answering the questions of the older and the younger dwarf at the same time as she cleaned the black blood off her knife and her hands. It dirtied the linen of her overdress, but better it dirty the linen than the silk of the underdress. And perhaps it would just get dirty again if the threat was not gone, but she would clean it again if needed. A warrior always cared for her weapons.
Once the knife was cleaned, she bowed her head in respect and thanks to all three dwarves in turn. They had fought well and without hesitation with very little warning and in assistance to one unknown to them. "I thank you all for your assistance, my lords. I could not have fought them alone."
To the young dark-haired one, she added, "I am sorry it cost you your bow."
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Remembering himself, Kili gave a small bow. "I am Kili."
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Then he looked to the woman. "You fight with much spirit for a human woman. We did not know they hid such strength among their ranks."
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The tandem bow was charming, and the affront she had felt at Thorin's earlier manner of address faded at his acknowledgment of her strength. He qualified it, but she took no offense at that. She had seen Gimli spar with Aragorn and knew the strength and fierceness of dwarves to be far beyond that of humans. She bent down to place her now clean knife back into her boot, then straightened.
"Well-met, my lords. I am Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, shieldmaiden of Rohan and sister-daughter of Theoden King," she said to them in general. "I was trained to fight alongside my brother and my cousin. Not all women are trained so, but Rohan knows its vulnerabilities. There may come a time when any hand that can wield a sword will be needed."
As for Fili's concern, she turned to him seriously. They had not offered their lineages, but anyone who fought as they did had earned the title of Lord in her eyes and she would address them as such.
"I did not bring them intentionally, Lord Fili. There was an attack on a caravan and I found myself here."
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"Your Rohan sounds a smarter place than most," he continued. "Why cut one's warriors numbers in half?"
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So the brothers, for surely they were or close enough to be, did not prefer to mention their status, but their uncle had no such feelings. It reminded her strongly of herself in comparison to Theoden King. Had she not mentioned her relationship to her uncle after her status as a shieldmaiden?
"My grandfather has not ruled Rohan for many years, Lord Thorin," she replied. "He sleeps with his kin and mine under the simbelmyne. But ... Erebor? That is the mountain Lord Gimli hails from. He has spoken of it, though not in any great detail."
All knew that dwarves were quite secretive, and she did not wish to bring trouble to Gimli, even if he was not here in this strange warm, humid place. She rather wished he was. She wished any of the four riders were. Now that the flush of the battle was fading, she was very confused.
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It was sobering to realize that even so, it was Gimli, not Kili, who lived to see Erebor returned to its rightful lineage. Suddenly heavy of heart, Kili looked to Thorin. "Erebor. It was not all in vain, then."
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"Those who arrive here from Middle Earth seem, largely, to come from either side of a period of eighty years."
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"It is 3019 of the Third Age by the reckoning of the Rohirrim," she confirmed, moving to the edge of the clearing to gather her surcoat and put it on, though she did not fasten it. "Though I believe the holbytla have a different calendar and perhaps dwarves do as well."
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"We have a hobbit, here. The best hobbit, too, by my reckoning," he told Eowyn. "He's a burglar!"
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"We had best alert him that there has been battle, but that it has brought another from our world."
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"Have a care with the fire and I will see you tonight."
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For a moment, she thought disappointedly that the dwarves might be no better than the men of the Mark, moving her aside when there was work to be done because they thought she could not stomach the burning of carcasses, but Lord Thorin's words belied that. He still gave her own choice as to whether to work here or to move on to meet Mr. Baggins. The name was familiar and she thought it might be the same name as one of the four holbytla that had been a part of the four riders' Fellowship. In truth, part of her was excited to finally be able to meet one of the holbytla.
"If you are quite certain you do not need assistance, I will go with Lord Thorin," she said to Kili and Fili as she pulled her hair out of her dress so it would not be quite so warm against her neck. She would need to plait it if the weather here was always so warm and humid.
"But I hope we will speak again soon and I thank you once more for your assistance."
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"Come, Fili," he said, dragging at his brother's elbow. "To work!"
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