Ch. 32 - Now cracks a noble heart…
Éowyn watched as Théoden took the arrow from Hirgon’s hand, the merriment and joy of the evening falling away. “The Red Arrow has not been seen in all my years.” His voice stunned, sorrowful. “Has it come to this?” he murmured in a low voice, almost to himself. In a stronger voice he questioned Hirgon, “And what does the Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and my speed may be?”
“What the Lord Denethor may know or guess of all these things I cannot say, but My Lord does not issue any command to you. He simply begs you only to remember old friendship and oaths long spoken and for your good to do what you are able to do.”
Théoden pondered the arrow in his hand. He seemed to hold silent debate within his soul. Éowyn saw the years once again creep upon her beloved uncle and her heart ached. He spoke and his words were filled with regret, “So great a power as the Dark Lord seems now to wield might well contain us in battle before the City and yet strike with great force across the River away beyond the Gate of Kings.” He stopped and looked around and to Éowyn those self-same years fell away as Théoden in a differing tone spoke. “But we will come! The weapon take is tomorrow. When all is ordered, we will depart!” Éowyn felt her heart swell, bursting with pride. Finally to take the field with her boys. “A week and you will hear the cry of the Sons of Eorl coming from the North!”
At this Théoden King rose to bid them all good night wishing them restorative rest for the journey to commence on the morrow. He turned to Merry, “And you, Master Meriadoc, I need no more tonight. But be ready to my call as soon as the sun is risen!”
“I will be ready!” Merry declared fervently, “Even if you bid me ride with you on the Paths of the Dead!”
“Speak not words of omen!” Théoden admonished quickly, “For there may be many more roads than one that could bear that name,” Théoden looked Merry in the eye and said, “But I did not say that I would bid you ride with me on any road. Good night!” he bid gently as he turned to go to his own room.
Éowyn had been tending to the table with Wilda and could not help but overhear the conversation between her uncle and new found friend. She recognised the tone of her uncle's voice, one of caring but denial. So many times that tone had been directed at her. She looked at Merry after Théoden’s pronouncement. He stood resolute with a look on his face that went straight to her heart. She knew his torment for it was one that had defined her life.
She followed him back to his room and before she entered she heard the refrain of her own life, “I won’t be left behind, to be called for on return. I won’t be left. I won’t.” only this time it was coming from the Hobbit.
She entered, “I will make sure you are not!”
Merry turned around, “Éowyn! I am so sorry. I did not hear you approach!”
“I followed you. You looked upset. So I followed. Was I wrong to do so?”
Merry’s face was the picture of obstinancy, “I won’t be left behind. I won’t!”
“You won’t be. I will make sure of it. Aragorn meant you to be there. He asked me to find armor for you! You will ride with me and my boys. We will ride to battle together!”
“Oh, My Lady!” Merry looked fierce and happy all at once, “Thank you! Did Strider really say that?”
“Aye, he did. He spoke of the stout heart of hobbits. What you lack in stature you make up for in heart and determination.” Merry’s heart warmed to hear such words of praise from one he admired so much.
“Come, Master Meriadoc, come and see the armor that I have found for you.”
“Aye, let us go!”
They traveled the winding passageways to the armoury, which was strangely quiet. All had taken to their beds in preparation for the morrow. “The armourer found these,” She lead him to a table that had a helm, a shield emblazoned with the device of the rampant white horse, a knife and a sturdy leather jerkin that must have been made for a child. The reason as to why this jerkin was in a sparse garrison was lost to time. “No mail have we to fit you and no time forge one, but the jerkin will serve.”
“Oh My Lady Éowyn, these are wonderful,” Merry so spoke in awe of the finery in arms that he was being gifted.
“Wear them well!”
They bid good night. As Éowyn departed she passed by her uncle’s room. She had only meant to see him in the morning and go to take her own rest but she heard shuffling footsteps within. Having grown accustomed to the sound during his sickness Éowyn was alarmed to hear it now.
She knocked on his door, “Uncle, are you well?” fearing what state she might find her beloved uncle.
Shuffling footsteps found their way to the door and it opened wide, Théoden, clear blue eyes filled with delight, exclaimed, “Daughter! What brings you to my door at this late hour? Come in and sit, please.”
Éowyn placed herself on the bed and exhaled the breath she had not known she was holding, “I was speaking with Merry and I passed your room and heard shuffling…” It sounded silly in her ears as she spoke the worry.
“And you thought that I might have slipped back into my decrepitude?" Théoden stated concern in his eyes as he sat next to her. “Oh my child,” he took one hand in his and patted it with his other hand, “I am heartily sorry for all the worry I have caused you.” He lent over to place a loving kiss on her forehead.
Éowyn, tears in her eyes, exclaimed, “I am only glad that you are yourself again. It was my most fervent wish.”
A flicker of thought flashed across Théoden’s eyes and then was gone. He smiled, “You were visiting with Merry you say? A most interesting personage is he not?"
Éowyn assented, “Oh Aye, a most charming hobbit. Though,” She paused, deciding to fight Merry’s corner for him, “He fears that you mean to leave him behind. He would follow you wherever you go.”
She felt rather than saw Théoden stiffen a little. He got up to pour wine into two goblets, handing one to Éowyn, “I know that he would. He is a stout-hearted little one! But he cannot.” Théoden ended, caring concern in his voice, taking a gulp from his goblet as he sat once more.
A flare of recognition and warning lit in Éowyn's breast. “He can ride with me and my boys. He would be no trouble. I understand what is to be left behind.” She fervently stated.
Théoden closed his eyes in pain as he seemed to age again in front of Éowyn’s eyes. He got up from the bed and crossed the room, ostensibly to refill his goblet. With his back to her, he said with a voice strained with emotion, “You will not be heading your boys…”
The flare within Éowyn’s breast exploded into a flame of nightmare. Still trying to deny what she knew her uncle to be saying, she said in a small controlled voice staring at her uncle’s back, “What do you mean, Uncle?”
Théoden turned, eyes blazing with torment, “The older ones will go, but you will not.”
The sound of a cage door slamming rang through Éowyn’s ears. She looked at her uncle and said in a voice raked with torment, “You cannot do this! Those are my boys!” The memory of them saluting her after the battle of the wargs seared through her mind. “I thought that when I was the leader questioned that meant I was to lead them into battle.” Her boys’ acceptance meant the world to her and now that was being taken from her. “I am ready!”
“I know you are!” The look of betrayal on his beloved niece’s face shredded Théoden’s soul. “But I cannot lose you!” His fear laid bare.
“So I will be shut here. Protected and cosseted. Useless!” she spat out.
Théoden looked at his niece, “Not useless. You have never, you could never be useless. You have led the people marvelously. I could not be more proud of your leadership. There has been nothing but praise for you! You must continue here,” He said knowing full well that his words will have been leeched of their meaning in his beloved niece’s ears. In fact they sounded hollow in his own, but the fear of losing her gripped his heart, allowing for no other thought.
With her soul splintering apart, Éowyn threw back, “To wait for all to come back? Or worse, none? What did you train me for?” she questioned, despair dripping from the words, “Why was I taught if only to shut me away.” She looked up with imploring eyes, “I forgave you.” The words forced their way through her tormented soul. She was dangerously close to tears; the woman’s response. She had been crying far too much in recent days. She would not shame herself and dissolve into tears though she was trying frantically to keep the pieces of her fracturing heart from sundering completely. She knew her words wounded her uncle. She had spent years trying never to open the old wounds but now she could not be in the same room with him lest she lash out further. She drained her cup and left with only the scantest of nods.
Had she looked up she might have relented. The look of deep searing pain in her uncle’s eyes might have undid her. The single tear unbidden falling. He silently watched her go. He once again had taken her dreams and shattered them. Tearing them to shreds in his desperate bid to keep her safe. He collapsed on the bed and drained his cup. Her last words’ meaning slammed into his psyche. “I forgave you…” Past tense. His head in his hands he sobbed as those words bit into his heart, wounding and shredding with each bite.
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Éowyn ran to the place that had been her comfort these many years. Not bothering to knock she burst in. And ran into Gamhelm’s arms. There she sobbed. Gamhelm’s heart wept while he held her. He did not need to be told what troubled his daughter-of-the-heart. Instinctively he knew. He looked at his wife and mouthed, “Go and bring Holdlith. We need to talk.”
Holdlith awoke with a start. She looked up and saw Gamwyn above her, “You must come!” The concern written across her friend’s face told her all she needed to know. She threw a wrap around her night clothes and slipped her feet into slippers lined with fur, a gift from Éowyn when she had complained of cold, aching feet a few winters back. She thought of her lady in pain. “Men!” she spat out.
Gamwyn murmured, “I quite agree! Let us go now, and quickly!”
Holdlith entered the room assigned to Gamhelm and Gamwen and her heart broke anew. There was Éowyn sobbing in Gamhelm’s arms.
When Éowyn looked up at Holdlith the older woman was stunned. She saw the life that had been so evident in her lady’s eyes since they had left Edoras had gone, “Apparently Holdlith, I am to do nothing. I am nothing. I am only to be cossetted and protected. I thought that I proven myself but…” her voice lingered away.
Holdlith knelt Éowyn’s side, “Oh my lady!” She stroked Éowyn’s hair. “How can we make this right?” Holdlith fought to contain her shock and anger, “Clearly! Your uncle is being a pig-headed man!” Apparently she was unsuccessful.
Éowyn looked up, her face still blotched red from crying, “No, Holdlith. Well Aye! He is a little pig-headed but he is only trying to protect me.” she said in a small, defeated voice.
Holdlith shook her head, “You are ever ready to protect another, My Lady. But never yourself!” She could not stand the defeated look on her lady’s face and she would do anything, risk anything to change it. “Go anyway! The king is wise and generally a good king but even he is not right all the time.”
Both Gamhelm and Gamwyn looked a little taken aback by Holdlith’s words. “Aye! I know what I speak is against the King’s word. But he is not right all the time.” she insisted desperately.
Gamhelm looked at Holdlith and then at Éowyn in his lap still, looking smaller than she had ever seemed before. Even as a child she always had a spirit twice her small size. Within his breast warred loyalty to his king and the love for this daughter-of-his-heart. And honestly it was not close. “You should go, my lady. Whatever the consequences.”
Whatever the consequences. Éowyn thought. Her heart breaking, she thought whichever she chose she would be damned. To stay was to live in a cage she feared more than death. To go would go against her uncle’s wishes and the king’s command. Both of which suggested a height of disrespect for her uncle that she could not bare. Contempt for someone so dear to her heart. Someone who gave her and Éomer a place is his home and his heart. She thought back to something Holdlith said a few weeks back. She looked at her friend, “You spoke to me about ‘the heart of the White Horse.’ “
“Aye, I did. And I meant what I said,” Holdlith said, holding Éowyn’s teary gaze.
“How can I break my uncle’s trust and just leave?” Éowyn eyed her imploringly.
Holdlith paused for a moment, “I also said these would be times of light AND darkness of the soul for you and all you love. This is the choice before you and each will cost you. I do see happiness at the end, that has not changed.” She also saw Théoden’s death but now as then she would spare Éowyn that knowledge lest it overwhelm her soul. “But there will be times uncertain where no choice seems right.” Holdlith smiled ruefully. “I am sorry that I cannot be of more help to you.”
Éowyn nodded disconsolately. She had never felt so lost. Her life had for so long been guided by duty, by doing what was expected of her; what was needed of her. It had been her guiding principle. But at this moment she felt that if she did what was expected of her, or the duty she was told was hers one more time her soul would let out a keening cry and then shrivel to the point of nothingness.
She looked at Gamhelm and said, “I’m sorry. I cannot stay. Please do not hate me for it.”
Tears filled the old stablemaster’s eyes, “Hate you, My Lady? That is something I could never do.”
Gamwyn reached out and touched Éowyn’s cheek, “Go with Béma’s blessing. We will hold down the fort here.”
A new slash of pain and doubt ripped through Éowyn. “Gamhelm, what will people think of me for leaving?”
“You hush now,” Gamhelm spoke huskily, “You just leave it to me. I will take care of it all.”
Éowyn looked at Gamhelm and then at Gamwyn, her love for them overflowing. She tried to speak her feelings but nothing came out. Gamhelm nodded, “I know.” in a low and gentle voice.
A beat passed, Holdlith stated, “Well this butters no parsnips,” She stated with forced brusqueness trying to hide her own tears. “We can do nothing until we make you ready! We must arm you!”
“I cannot wear my own armour. I would be seen and then ordered back!”
“I shall go to the armoury right now!” Gamhelm stated.
“There is no need.” Holdlith stated mysteriously. “Go to my room and you will find a sack with armour, helm and a sword in the corner by my bed.”
“When- how- why?” Éowyn asked.
Holdlith looked a little sheepish, “When? When the King arrived. How? I had Aethelred carry it there for me. He asked no questions. Why? Oh my dear…I suspected events would lead us here. Your wings could stand no further clipping. Follow your heart.” She placed her hand on Éowyn’s cheek, “You must be allowed to fly!”
Éowyn looked at her, “Thank you!” she whispered. And enveloped the older woman in a huge hug. What had begun as duty all those years ago had blossomed into real friendship.
Holdlith looked at her two cohorts, “I’m sorry I did not tell you. I had hoped this would not be necessary.”
“No apology necessary, my friend.” Gamwyn said.
“I’m glad someone thought of it,” Gamhelm stated, “Now we must all take to our beds! Tomorrow we rise with the sun to arm Lady Éowyn.”
Éowyn hugged both Gamhelm and Gamwyn and could only whisper her thanks to them both. She and Holdlith nodded and made to depart. As Éowyn walked to her room it was heavy with the decision she had made, but Holdlith was right. There was none other she could have made. But she just felt so drained.
Nearing her room she saw Háláf at her door, “Háláf, what are you doing here?”
The young Rider, apprentice no longer, Éomer’s badge gleaming from the stones’ light a testament to that fact, stated without preamble, “We were given the word that we are going but you are not, Why?”
“Oh, Háláf…” Éowyn took in a slow breath to conjure at least some semblance of herself and to try to give Háláf as honest an answer as she could, “Please come in and sit down.”
Háláf nodded, acquiescing to her request and stepped through into her room. Éowyn stepped to the table where sat a bottle and two goblets and poured for the two of them wine. She was caught by the similarity of the action to that of Théoden earlier. She smiled mirthlessly at the likeness. She pondered what to tell Háláf, for the full truth on the eve of departure simply would not do. He could not know that she was going against the King’s wishes and command. She could hardly even admit this breach to herself and she certainly could not admit it to Háláf.
“Drink this and then we will talk.” Háláf accepted the goblet and took a large sip. “Who all is going?” she said by way of a delaying tactic.
Háláf answered, eyeing her all the while, “About half, Héohelm is not because his arm is still healing and Héostor is still only fifteen, though I don’t really see why that signifies. It is only a year.” Éowyn thought because Théoden is trying to limit the damage to youth but she did not say that. “But My Lady, why are you not going?” he repeated.
Éowyn struggled for calm and some sanguinity, “Because the King wants me to stay and guard Dunharrow.” That sounded hollow even to her ears.
“Why are you lying to me?” Háláf declared a hurt look in his eyes.
“Because I am lying to myself!” Éowyn said in an accidental slip of full honesty and saw the hurt and confused look in her young friend’s eyes and ached to tell him that she was going to defy her uncle. But what that would gain either of them she could not tell. So even robbed of her honesty she gave him a half truth, “If the truth be told I would go if I could. But my uncle forbids it. And that is the truth, Háláf, he will not allow me to go.”
Háláf looked at her, struggling to understand, “But you would go and lead us if you could! You would not desert us?”
A knife plunged into her heart, “Oh Háláf!” She hugged him fiercely, her heart breaking that Háláf should think that she would ever desert them, “If I could have my heart’s desire it would be to lead you, my boys into battle! It would be the proudest moment of my life! Please believe that!”
Háláf stared at her and had just enough of the boy left in him to believe her, pushing aside whatever burgeoning cynicism was trying to convince him of. He had always believed in his Lady. “I know I shouldn’t admit this, but I am scared.”
“You will do well, I know it! You are brave, you are strong. You have trained for this moment. Both Éomer and Théodred always had the highest praise for you. You wear Éomer’s badge. He would not have given his badge to a Rider he did not think was worthy of it! I know that you and all my boys will do me proud. I will be thinking of you all. Béma guide your hands and hearts.” Éowyn tried to imbue her words with as much steel and encouragement as she could. It was all she could give him.
Standing and drawing himself to full height Háláf stated, “I will give everything I have to make you and my folks proud and to bring honour to the Mark.” He nodded and placed his fist on heart. Éowyn stood and returned the salute. He then smiled and departed for his own bed, but Éowyn felt a little reservation that she had never felt before, perhaps it was in her own mind because of the half-truth that now stood between them. Another weight upon her heart. Each loss a weight and so much had she lost already, Théodred, Aragorn, her own sense of honesty and the honor of leading her troops. So stripped of almost everything Éowyn took the only step left to her to regain herself or die in the attempt.
~*~*~*~*~*~