Eowyn in the Garden
Grey-white walls
enclose so few living things,
There is little green or open in
this city of stone.
The benches dream of green, with their mossy
carvings,
But they too, are cold and hard and lonely when
touched.
Above, more buildings, and above that the mountain
peaks...
No, there is no escaping being overshadowed in such a
place.
Overshadowed...aye...
Somewhere just over there,
nearby, under golden cloth my leige lies dead.
Taken in his moment
of glory, overshadowed by...no,
No. I will not think upon such
things.
I must turn my mind to other thoughts lest that darkness
return for
I would not have the gift of light given me so soon
despised.
Commanded to live. It is a strange thought - yet I feel
it.
Kept from a clean and honorable death, I must endure it
somehow.
This is my battle now. Finding some way to
live.
Shattered pieces of dreams only wound if I touch them.
The
nighttime is dark though cleaner than it has been.
I had almost
forgotten that darkness could be clean.
Though the moon whispers
to me of the late hour,
Yet I would stay just a little, to look
out upon the city,
To breathe the sharp freshness of mountain
snows above.
I do not turn when I hear his steps.
The Captain,
now Steward, coming once more to me.
He who has also borne great
troubles; a strange comfort to me.
Brought out of death, he
struggles to find his life as I do.
A gift he received from the
same hands and voice.
The wind is cold, stirring in his dark
hair as he stands beside me
Following my gaze over the garden
wall.
Each day, each night it has been the same. Often we
speak not at all.
There is a strange comfort in it, his silences
and small words;
We are leaders without followers for a time, a
fragile time.
I do not look to be treated gently yet he does so
anyway,
And somehow I find no offense. Perhaps it is because he
does not
Question my strength, or my thoughts, or my silences.
He
does not question who I am or how I came to be here.
We simply
walk together, heal together.
Why do I look for him each evening?
He warms me with a glance.
A strange comfort for me, knowing this
warmth without a touch,
To feel safe when he is near, I who have
never asked for safety.
"Walk with me." He says, and
I do.
Inside my heart I look askance at myself.
What of my own
people? My own ambitions?
Yet... I want to walk in the garden
with him,
To walk and wander and to have it never end.
To live
in a garden
With him at my side, forever.