Disclaimer: I don’t own them and I’ll put them back when I’m done!

Author’s Note: Sorry for the long wait; I’ve had a hell of a few months. My computer ate itself at the beginning of the semester, it took over a month to get a new one, and then school caught up with me. However, I can proudly say that I’ve been accepted to a university. So here is the new chapter, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Chapter title from Byron.

Chapter Twenty-Three: She Walks in Beauty, Like the Night

Eowyn opened her eyes blearily and looked around. For several disturbing minutes, she could not place where she was. Unnerved, she sat up and looked around. And remembered.

She was sitting in her own bed, in her bedroom, where she had retired after the adventure with the mirror. The shards of the shattered mirror were in Aragorn’s keeping now, and as far as Eowyn knew, their power had been lost. That left Finduilas’ mirror and the big mirror, which Eowyn had no idea how to find. She knew that she had to destroy them all.

Fully awake now, Eowyn pitched her downy blankets off and reached for a flint to light a candle. It was still pitch dark outside, and a quick look at the timepiece on her wall assured her that it was barely past three o’clock in the morning. So she hadn’t been asleep all that long, then. She shivered as she remembered the mirror shattering, only a few hours ago. A long, piercing wail had gone up from the broken glass, a scream that pierced her to the very core and that had filled the air around them until she thought her ears should have shattered, and then, so abruptly that her ears rang from it, silence.

“Well,” Pippin had said into the silence, “Now what?”

Now what, indeed? Eowyn wrapped a blanket around herself and went to stir the fire. She had a very vague idea forming in the back of her mind, but couldn’t quite place her finger on it. Sitting down on the hearthrug, she reviewed what she had learned over the past few days as the fire crackled soothingly. Evil mirrors, murderous fathers, mad husbands, ghosts…well, at least Sauron was gone. It must have been relentlessly difficult for Finduilas, having to deal with both the Dark Lord and the evil going on in her own home. Well, she had died of depression. Of course it had been hard on her.

There was one more mirror to destroy. Of that Eowyn was certain. She traced a line in the soft weave of her blanket, thinking. Where could it be? A big mirror was not easy to hide, unless it was behind a wall, or a curtain…or a painting…or both.

Eowyn shot to her feet without thinking. Of course! It was so simple she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it in the first place. The portrait gallery. The place where all this had started. An image flashed into her mind, of a portrait covered in a heavy black curtain. The portrait of a girl who had died a terrible death, and was forever bound to wander these halls…because of a mirror.

Eowyn leapt to her feet, dropped her blanket, and flew towards her wardrobe. There was not much time to be had.

*****

Two dark figures, shrouded in dark cloaks, hurried along the corridors. The taller one led the way, and although they moved with ease, they carried no candles to see by. Through the silent halls they crept, until they reached the old portrait gallery and slipped inside.

“I’m not certain how to be going about this,” Eowyn admitted to Pippin in a whisper. “Somehow I think the crashing of glass will bring everyone running for miles.”

Pippin frowned up at her. “But it has to be broken, right? So we should just do that, and then we should run away.”

Eowyn smiled in spite of herself. “Run away screaming like children, right?”

“Exactly. Glad to know that we think the same, Eowyn,” Pippin replied, smoothing his jacket in a way that belied his nervousness.

Eowyn looked back up at the curtained portrait. I am not afraid. She reached up and flicked the heavy curtain aside. Alatarial’s portrait stared down at them, a furtive looking young woman holding a blue cup to her lips. Eowyn reached up and took the large painting down from the wall.

“It’s very heavy,” she said. “I think I’m right.”

With Pippin’s help, Eowyn pulled the portrait from its frame. As the back came off, something heavy fell backwards. Eowyn caught it, and the silver surface of a mirror gleamed at them.

“You were right,” Pippin said with a grin. “I’m not particularly surprised, you know.”

Eowyn nodded. “Come on, help me put it on the floor. We’ll put the portrait back up.”

The mirror was large, but it was surprisingly lightweight, and they managed to lay it on the floor with ease. Eowyn swiftly put the back on the portrait frame again and leaned it against the wall. She picked up the mirror and looked at it.

“Careful,” said Pippin.

Eowyn barely heard him. Images flashed before her eyes, images so terrible that she knew she would never speak of them to anyone. She stared for a long time, it seemed, before she was able to put it down.

“Eowyn?” said Pippin in a hushed voice. “What is it? What did you see?”

Eowyn felt his small hands on her arm, supporting her. She leaned against the hobbit for a moment, swaying slightly. “I can’t tell you. I can’t ever tell you,” she whispered. “We have to destroy it, Pippin. And soon. Immediately.”

Pippin stared up at her white face, his eyes wide. “All right. We’ll do it now. I have an idea.”

*****

As dawn approached, Eowyn and Pippin mounted the last few stone steps of the tower of the Great Library. Eowyn let the burlap sack she was carrying slip to the floor with a thump and went to look over the balcony to the ground below.

Far below them, a tiny courtyard was empty save for some old crates and some broken bookshelves. The courtyard was only accessible from the library, a tiny yard that some long forgotten architect had added in to give the library it’s own little side yard. Once it must have been beautiful, a small garden that book-weary eyes could have looked upon for relief. Now a drift of junk filled one corner, and the stone planters were devoid of flowers. Eowyn wondered idly if the Librarian would mind her planting flowers there again.

“This will work,” said Pippin, joining her. “It’ll fall straight down, and the sack will keep the shards from getting all over the place.”

Eowyn nodded and hoisted the sack. “It seems an ignoble way to go, and that is how it should be. We can bury the pieces. On three, then. One, two…”

“Three,” they said together, and Eowyn let the sack fly out into the open air. Down, down, down it fell, until it hit the ground with a cracking noise that they clearly heard, even as high up as they were. A screeching noise rose, like that of a creature furious at its defeat, and then it was gone. The wind blew, a clean wind laced with salt, as if it had come from the ocean. The first rays of morning sunlight brushed over the city. Eowyn and Pippin breathed sighs of relief.

“Well, that’s it then,” said Pippin.

*****

Alatarial stood in the portrait gallery, in the sunlight, with her arms outstretched, face tilted upwards. She spun in slow circles in the golden light, feeling its warmth on her skin. The soft silk of her flame colored skirt brushed her legs as it belled out, and the ends of her purple girdle swung out. The moss green drapes had been thrown back, and the gallery was no longer dark and shadowy. Alatarial spun in last circles, singing softly.

All at once she stopped, looked up. Her friend came towards her, the one bound to the gallery for so many years. A dark haired girl in a dress of palest gold, who had not been permitted to leave the long hallway for the many years that she had been there. She had wandered from one end to the other, a relentless cycle, for centuries, hiding in the drapes whenever someone entered her domain. Illyria was standing nearby, smiling. Alatarial went to her, and the two friends embraced, laughing. It was over now, the ceaseless wandering. And then there was a hand on her shoulder, and Amroth was picking her up and swinging her around, laughing. The sunlight made his golden hair shine like a beacon, and Alatarial noted with delight how he embraced Illyria when he set her down. The three of them set off towards the open windows together. Never again would they be seen in the Citadel. They were free.

TBC