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The White Lady of Rohan

By Elendiari

    Pippin was walking back from the Butteries when he heard the sound of someone crying. It was not an unusual sound in the Houses of Healing, but it was odd just the same. It was a lass’s cry, not a matron’s. Pippin slowed and stopped, head cocked to one side. It only took him a moment to decide that he must find the weeping one, before he returned to Merry’s room with the supper he had managed to procure.

    Following the sound of the faint whimpers, Pippin walked to the doorway of a room not far from his cousin’s, and peeked inside. What he saw startled him. It was the same woman whom Aragorn had healed-the Lady Eowyn.  She was sitting up in her bed, knees drawn up to her chin, and was sobbing as though her heart would break. Pippin stared at her. At last, she seemed to feel his eyes on her, and looked up.

     “Forgive me, lady,” stammered Pippin, springing upright and bowing low, and trying not to spill the contents of the tray. “I only wondered what could be wrong. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

        Eowyn peered at him from behind her long golden hair. “Aside from finding me raiment befitting a warrior, and a decent horse, than no, Master Holbytla, there is nothing you can do for me.”

    Pippin hesitated, then entered her room and set the tray on the table. “I don’t know how much Merry has told you, but in my country, we eat when we are sad. It comforts us.” He handed her a sweet green apple, one of the few left in the stores. “Try this. It’s a bit sour, but maybe you’ll like it.”

    Eowyn stared at him for a moment longer, than took a hesitant bite of the apple. After swallowing, she gave him a weak smile. “I don’t believe that we have had the pleasure of being properly introduced. I am Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, niece of the late Theoden King.”

     Pippin bowed again. “I am Peregrin son of Paladin, of the House of Took. My friends call me Pippin.”

     “You are attending your cousin. How is he?”

    “Well, my lady, although he is more thoughtful today. He can wait for me a few minutes more. Are you all right?” Pippin asked.

     Eowyn fiddled with her apple. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be all right, Pippin. Tell me, do you have any hope that we will prevail.”

     Pippin hesitated. He had been wondering the same thing for the past few hours. “Well…I…I think-“ he stopped and pulled himself together. “I think that we shall. You and Merry killed the Witch King, and Faramir is alive, and so is Gandalf. And Aragorn has come with the Dunedain. And Frodo-“ Pippin stopped, suddenly remembering that not many knew of Frodo’s quest. “We have a strong army,” he said instead. “And in the old tales, good always prevails.”

       Eowyn turned her gaze from her hands to the face of the young hobbit who stood anxiously beside her bed. He looked so young, and yet he sounded so wise. A spark of hope pierced the darkness in her heart, and she smiled at him.

      “Maybe, Master Pippin. You have a stout heart; perhaps you will accomplish a great deed ere the end. As for me, I am to stay in my bed, by the orders of Aragorn,” she said, sounding bitter. “Yet you have given me hope and comfort. I am tired now, but I would be honored if you would stop in to visit me ere you march out.”

      Pippin grinned at her, the big Pippin grin that won so many hearts in the Shire. “I will come visit, Lady Eowyn, and so will Merry, when I leave. And we will win, just watch. We shall!”

     With another bow, Pippin picked up his tray and left the room.

     Eowyn lay back on her pillows and finished her apple. The halfling had given her much to think on. She found his optimism remarkably comforting, a breath of fresh air in a stale room. Setting the core of the apple on the bedside table, Eowyn closed her heavy eyes to rest as she had promised Eomer she would. Perhaps they would win. Perhaps.

The End.