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TolkienScribe's Scribblings  by TolkienScribe


"In that day, Éowyn also won renown, for she fought in that battle, riding in disguise; and was known after in the Mark as the Lady of the Shield-arm."

(Lord of the Rings: Appendix A)

"The arm that was broken has been tended with due skill, and it will mend in time, if she has the strength to live: It is the shield-arm that is maimed…"

(Return of the King: Houses of Healing)

Her arm throbbed with a dull ache from her shoulder to wrist. She set down the books carefully on a nearby table and ran her other hand over her arm. The burden was too much for her.

They warned her that her arm may not heal properly, and it was indeed so. Her shield-arm was not the way it once was. Over the years, her arm did not trouble her but still dull ache lay deep within her bone when the seasons changed, when the damp, chilly wind blew.

Rubbing her arm carefully, she looked out a nearby window. The gardens of Ithilien bloomed with forest flowers that decorated windows and pathways. It was a sweet haven deep within the forest, a circle of peace and contentment for her enjoyment. But her thoughts darkened for a moment, her hand tracing the fading scars on her arm. Memories flashed across her mind; the quaking of the ground as the mûmakil advanced, the screams of the wounded and dying, the fear constricting her heart at the sight of eminent death-


Éowyn smiled and her eyes fluttered close. The distant screams of the battle faded away, and she smelled the sweet smell of flowers instead of blood again.

"Take these books down to thy father, my son."

Author's Note:

Apologies. I accidentally published the wrong chapter. It has been fixed.

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