Summary: The walls are too close.
Universe: Books
Author's Note: Another Éowyn oneshot; this one's a bit of a character study, though I didn't go as in-depth as I could have.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.
Éowyn is a majestic white bird, spreading snowy wings restlessly in her gilded cage and longing for flight. She longs for the crisp skies, cloudless, clear and cold, but has never tasted freedom, so she never learned how to fly.
But still she dreams, still she pines, still she rustles about the confines of her mew restlessly.
.x.X.x.
Éowyn is a spirit of the air, one trapped within the confines of man-made walls.
Her long smoke-fingers trail the walls as she wanders endlessly through the labyrinth. The walls close up and open in front of her eyes, twisting, maddening. No end comes in her quest for the door, as the light and air free of dampness flies further out of reach.
She wilts, she fades, as she continues to search, but finds nothing but gray stone in the night.
.x.X.x.
Éowyn is a lady of Rohan, trapped in a sea of masks and lies.
Stern and proud she seems, but beneath her unbroken veneer she fears every shadow that moves, every darkness that comes, without cease, to try its very best to extinguish what little candlelight she has left to her life.
She must be strong, she must be steadfast, she must be stalwart. She fears for the future, but the lady of Rohan can never show her fear, is ashamed to show her fear, will never show her fear.
The fate of a kingdom seems to rest on her shoulders. She can barely hold her head up, but she still manages to stand tall.
.x.X.x.
Éowyn is a sister, one whose brother languishes in imprisonment.
Éomer rages against his bars with silences uncharacteristic of him, eyes burning and skin growing more waxen, it seems, by the hour.
His weathered skin seems as pale as hers.
His eyes implore her, importune her, and then, scorn her when she says she understands.
There is one thought screaming in her mind as she stands in a flurry of finely woven white wool as she stands to leave.
Can you not see that I am a prisoner too?
.x.X.x.
Éowyn is a niece, who knows she is more like daughter to the man she cares for.
Théoden's eyes see nothing when they look at her. They look straight through her, pierce skin, flesh and bone to study a sunbeam on the wall. He no longer sees her.
She no longer exists to him.
His malaise infects her as well, as her hope grows dimmer and dimmer, and the candle begins to go out.
She shivers, and feels the cold more intensely than she ever did before.
.x.X.x.
Éowyn is a prisoner of her own dreams, waiting for the day when the nightmare will end.