Eowyn cinched the girth strap on her horse's saddle and glanced around from beneath lowered eyes. No one seemed to be paying her any undue attention, and she nodded to herself. She would not be able to breathe easy until she was on the road to Minas Tirith with the other soldiers. With a sad sigh, she leaned against Windfola and stroked her hand down the great creature's grey neck.

"It should not be this way," she whispered. She hated subterfuge such as this. In the coming battle, all those with the ability to fight would be needed. And yet, she was being told to stay behind simply because she was a woman. She wanted to fight for her people, but had been refused by both her uncle, the King of Rohan, and Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor.

She looked back wistfully toward the now distant Paths of the Dead. Though the very thought of treading those dark paths sent a shudder of fear down her back, had she been allowed to travel with Aragorn's company, she would not have hesitated even an instant. She had nearly begged Aragorn to allow her to join his company, and he had spoken to her of her duty to her people. Yes, she did have a duty to her people; her duty was to protect them, and fight alongside them, not remain behind and worry and fret over the fate of those she loved.

It simply did not make any sense to her, why, when they were so desperate for able-bodied fighters that they turned her away, time and time again. Her skill with a blade was no less than most of the men who served her uncle, and in many cases, was much greater. She was weary of the fight to convince others of her right to join them in marching off to battle. That fight would not be won, no matter how long she struggled. The only way to show them of her value in battle was to join them without their knowledge and do what she could on the battlefield for her people and her honor.

Hearing a call to arms, she quickly mounted her horse and swung around to join the others gathering for battle. Seeing Merry standing forlornly nearby watching all the Rohirrim mustering for war, she made a quick decision. Turning her horse, she came to a stop directly in front of him.

/"You wish to go whither the Lord of the Mark goes: I see it in your face,"/ she said to him.

/"I do,"/ he responded.

/"Then you shall go with me. I will bear you before me, under my cloak until we are far afield, and this darkness is yet darker. Such good will should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!"/ She helped him onto her horse. 'None who wish to fight should be left behind,' she thought to herself.