Disclaimer: This story uses some of Tolkien's characters and events, which
of course, are not mine, and I probably have no right to use, but….
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It was night, and the Rohirrim, on their way to the aid of Gondor, were camped in the deep shade of a thicket. It was a sombre gathering. Men talked quietly or not at all as they ate, but huddled together near the small fires they had built – though it was not cold.
Eowyn sat apart from the rest, in a little hollow some distance from the camp. She leant against the trunk of a tree, staring into the darkness that lay southward. All there was seemingly still – the animals had evidently sought out other places to hide – and all she could hear was the wind and the low murmurs of the camp, which drifted down from behind her. She sat motionless until the sound of approaching footsteps broke her train of thought.
"Dernhelm?" A deep but gentle voice came out of the shadows. A man stepped down into the hollow – he was tall and strong of build, his features still very young, yet experienced. For the observant, the wisdom present in his grey eyes belied his age, and spoke of many battles and brave – though unheralded – deeds. He smiled and came to Eowyn's seat.
"Galifar," she replied in recognition, first taking care to deepen her voice. "I fear that if you are in search of conversation, your mission has been in vain. I would beg that you to return to camp – my heart is heavy this night and words will not ease my grief."
"Neither will solitude, my brother." He sat beside her, against the trunk of the same tree. "Sorrow and . . . fear," he continued, hesitating before the last word, "it weighs upon all of us, I think. Even the bravest and most thirsty for battle are glad of companionship in these dark times – if only to deny their worry by discussing the joys of war." He ended with a grim smile.
There was silence for a time, and Eowyn did not reply. She absent-mindedly picked up a nearby stick and toyed with it awhile until it finally came to rest in her lap, her fingers still curled around it as if it were the helm of a sword. Presently Galifar spoke again.
"That is why I find you strange, Dernhelm," there was something in the pronunciation of the last word that made Eowyn look up sharply, but Galifar seemed not to notice – his head rested back against the tree and his gaze was directed upwards. "I have watched you, and this war is not merely duty – your eyes are hard as steel, they yearn for battle. But it is not mere, foolhardy bloodlust I read – for there is great sorrow and despair also."
There was a long pause, and silence fell heavily – the wind had died down, and the camp seemed quiet for the moment. Eventually Eowyn spoke.
"I only seek to defend the country that I love," she said, coldly.
"Yes, I know, so do we all," said Galifar, turning eagerly to look at her. "And yet you seem to take no comfort in being with others who do the same – your countrymen. You speak not, save for necessity, and avoid all contact with others. Even I, who oft rides by your side, have heard nothing from you but your name. No … there is more to this," said he, nodding his head slightly as he watched her. "You have a reason close to your heart for coming, do you not?"
Eowyn quickly looked up at Galifar, as if she meant to contest his words, but could not hold his gaze for long and eventually looked away. She stared intently ahead for a while, and then at the forest floor. Her breath became shallow, and her eyes slightly moist – she seemed ever on the verge of saying something, but remained silent.
"And the halfling?" Galifar went on. "Elfhelm instructed us to take no notice of it – why does he aid you, and why do you risk the displeasure of the King in taking it?"
She still did not reply, but bowed her head and put her hand to her eyes. Galifar paused for a moment. He could see her lip trembling. Then he craned his neck and whispered softly and kindly: "Tell me, my lady. Why do you ride, and why do you take the halfling?"
"Because he and I are alike!" She cried, swiftly rising. She turned around to look at Galifar, and he saw that her eyes were bright with tears. "Powerless, cast aside. Not fit for battle." She began to walk to and fro. "My life so far is as nothing, a string of useless tasks performed for those who would have me 'kept busy'. A captive animal, having no effect on anything outside my own cage. My one hope – my one chance to escape and live happily in honour and in useful service – has abandoned me, holding me back from the perilous and yet glorious paths he must tread. And even if he returns, he gives his love to another, and so discards the key to my freedom. What else is left?" She came back to the tree and slowly sat down. "Perhaps by a valiant death on the battlefield I will aid my people more than I was ever able in life."
"You know not what you say, my lady!" exclaimed Galifar, grasping her hand. "Your people love you… I love you." She turned to look at him, meeting his eyes in confusion like one waking from a dream.
He smiled at her. "Forgive the bold confessions of one who is merely a Rider, but as long as I have seen you from afar, standing outside Edoras, I have thought you the fairest thing on this earth. And when I beheld that you rode with us, I knew that you were also the most courageous. Oh my lady, can you not put this other out of your mind to accept my love, and forsake this noble but rash quest?"
Eowyn looked on him and perceived the love in his eyes. In doing so, though she did not know it, she came to know Aragorn's heart. To wish to love one dearly, and try, and fail, and regret that you have failed. She understood now, though it brought her no comfort, as it could not destroy her own yearning – she only knew love was as difficult to create as to forget. But she was wiser, if a little more sorrowful.
She took Galifar's face in her hand and softly kissed his cheek.
"Thank you, dear friend," said she, drawing away. "Though you have not lightened my burden, you have caused me to understand it. I thank you once again."
"But you cannot …?" He looked at her with a pained face
"I cannot," she replied, with a wistful smile.
Galifar was silent a long while, looking at the small white hand he held in his. Then he let it fall back onto her lap.
"Well, my lady, if you cannot grant my full request, at least grant it in part, so that I may sleep peacefully. I beg of you, turn back and think of fighting no more," he pleaded, kneeling beside her.
"I regret I cannot do that either. My road lies with the King for good or for ill. I have nothing on this earth to keep me, and I still believe that perhaps my life may be of most use on the battlefield beside my brother and one whom I cherish more than a father. Do not fear for me – if I die, it shall be happily for my people."
And Galifar saw that there yet lingered the glint of steel in her eye, and said no more. They had just risen, hand in hand, to return when Eowyn put her hand to her brow and turned quickly to her companion.
"But I did not think!" Cried she. "You have been aware of me all along, have you not?"
"If you mean I knew who you were, then yes." Galifar answered, with a hint of a smile amidst the sorrow of his face.
"Then has Elfhelm betrayed me? Is it generally known?"
"No, he has said nothing about you barring the orders about the halfling. I have heard no other talk. I do not believe you have been noticed – your disguise is well worn."
"Not well enough for some eyes," she said, looking at him.
"No, not for eyes that have worshipped your beauty for so long."
Then she smiled on him, and her face was like the sun – more radiant than he had ever seen it. He regretted even more that she could not love him.
She grasped his arm as the smile faded.
"And you, you will not betray me, will you?"
He thought silently for many moments . . . a wounded part of him wavered. . . then was beaten down.
"No, my lady, I will not betray you."
*****
In years that would come to pass, many a time would Eowyn come from Ithilien to the Pelennor fields, where Galifar was slain. She had a small stone set on the edge of the field. "In memory of Galifar, one who was akin to me" was all it said. She would blow a kiss to the wind in the hope that it would find her true friend, wherever he may be.
_____________________________________________________________
It was night, and the Rohirrim, on their way to the aid of Gondor, were camped in the deep shade of a thicket. It was a sombre gathering. Men talked quietly or not at all as they ate, but huddled together near the small fires they had built – though it was not cold.
Eowyn sat apart from the rest, in a little hollow some distance from the camp. She leant against the trunk of a tree, staring into the darkness that lay southward. All there was seemingly still – the animals had evidently sought out other places to hide – and all she could hear was the wind and the low murmurs of the camp, which drifted down from behind her. She sat motionless until the sound of approaching footsteps broke her train of thought.
"Dernhelm?" A deep but gentle voice came out of the shadows. A man stepped down into the hollow – he was tall and strong of build, his features still very young, yet experienced. For the observant, the wisdom present in his grey eyes belied his age, and spoke of many battles and brave – though unheralded – deeds. He smiled and came to Eowyn's seat.
"Galifar," she replied in recognition, first taking care to deepen her voice. "I fear that if you are in search of conversation, your mission has been in vain. I would beg that you to return to camp – my heart is heavy this night and words will not ease my grief."
"Neither will solitude, my brother." He sat beside her, against the trunk of the same tree. "Sorrow and . . . fear," he continued, hesitating before the last word, "it weighs upon all of us, I think. Even the bravest and most thirsty for battle are glad of companionship in these dark times – if only to deny their worry by discussing the joys of war." He ended with a grim smile.
There was silence for a time, and Eowyn did not reply. She absent-mindedly picked up a nearby stick and toyed with it awhile until it finally came to rest in her lap, her fingers still curled around it as if it were the helm of a sword. Presently Galifar spoke again.
"That is why I find you strange, Dernhelm," there was something in the pronunciation of the last word that made Eowyn look up sharply, but Galifar seemed not to notice – his head rested back against the tree and his gaze was directed upwards. "I have watched you, and this war is not merely duty – your eyes are hard as steel, they yearn for battle. But it is not mere, foolhardy bloodlust I read – for there is great sorrow and despair also."
There was a long pause, and silence fell heavily – the wind had died down, and the camp seemed quiet for the moment. Eventually Eowyn spoke.
"I only seek to defend the country that I love," she said, coldly.
"Yes, I know, so do we all," said Galifar, turning eagerly to look at her. "And yet you seem to take no comfort in being with others who do the same – your countrymen. You speak not, save for necessity, and avoid all contact with others. Even I, who oft rides by your side, have heard nothing from you but your name. No … there is more to this," said he, nodding his head slightly as he watched her. "You have a reason close to your heart for coming, do you not?"
Eowyn quickly looked up at Galifar, as if she meant to contest his words, but could not hold his gaze for long and eventually looked away. She stared intently ahead for a while, and then at the forest floor. Her breath became shallow, and her eyes slightly moist – she seemed ever on the verge of saying something, but remained silent.
"And the halfling?" Galifar went on. "Elfhelm instructed us to take no notice of it – why does he aid you, and why do you risk the displeasure of the King in taking it?"
She still did not reply, but bowed her head and put her hand to her eyes. Galifar paused for a moment. He could see her lip trembling. Then he craned his neck and whispered softly and kindly: "Tell me, my lady. Why do you ride, and why do you take the halfling?"
"Because he and I are alike!" She cried, swiftly rising. She turned around to look at Galifar, and he saw that her eyes were bright with tears. "Powerless, cast aside. Not fit for battle." She began to walk to and fro. "My life so far is as nothing, a string of useless tasks performed for those who would have me 'kept busy'. A captive animal, having no effect on anything outside my own cage. My one hope – my one chance to escape and live happily in honour and in useful service – has abandoned me, holding me back from the perilous and yet glorious paths he must tread. And even if he returns, he gives his love to another, and so discards the key to my freedom. What else is left?" She came back to the tree and slowly sat down. "Perhaps by a valiant death on the battlefield I will aid my people more than I was ever able in life."
"You know not what you say, my lady!" exclaimed Galifar, grasping her hand. "Your people love you… I love you." She turned to look at him, meeting his eyes in confusion like one waking from a dream.
He smiled at her. "Forgive the bold confessions of one who is merely a Rider, but as long as I have seen you from afar, standing outside Edoras, I have thought you the fairest thing on this earth. And when I beheld that you rode with us, I knew that you were also the most courageous. Oh my lady, can you not put this other out of your mind to accept my love, and forsake this noble but rash quest?"
Eowyn looked on him and perceived the love in his eyes. In doing so, though she did not know it, she came to know Aragorn's heart. To wish to love one dearly, and try, and fail, and regret that you have failed. She understood now, though it brought her no comfort, as it could not destroy her own yearning – she only knew love was as difficult to create as to forget. But she was wiser, if a little more sorrowful.
She took Galifar's face in her hand and softly kissed his cheek.
"Thank you, dear friend," said she, drawing away. "Though you have not lightened my burden, you have caused me to understand it. I thank you once again."
"But you cannot …?" He looked at her with a pained face
"I cannot," she replied, with a wistful smile.
Galifar was silent a long while, looking at the small white hand he held in his. Then he let it fall back onto her lap.
"Well, my lady, if you cannot grant my full request, at least grant it in part, so that I may sleep peacefully. I beg of you, turn back and think of fighting no more," he pleaded, kneeling beside her.
"I regret I cannot do that either. My road lies with the King for good or for ill. I have nothing on this earth to keep me, and I still believe that perhaps my life may be of most use on the battlefield beside my brother and one whom I cherish more than a father. Do not fear for me – if I die, it shall be happily for my people."
And Galifar saw that there yet lingered the glint of steel in her eye, and said no more. They had just risen, hand in hand, to return when Eowyn put her hand to her brow and turned quickly to her companion.
"But I did not think!" Cried she. "You have been aware of me all along, have you not?"
"If you mean I knew who you were, then yes." Galifar answered, with a hint of a smile amidst the sorrow of his face.
"Then has Elfhelm betrayed me? Is it generally known?"
"No, he has said nothing about you barring the orders about the halfling. I have heard no other talk. I do not believe you have been noticed – your disguise is well worn."
"Not well enough for some eyes," she said, looking at him.
"No, not for eyes that have worshipped your beauty for so long."
Then she smiled on him, and her face was like the sun – more radiant than he had ever seen it. He regretted even more that she could not love him.
She grasped his arm as the smile faded.
"And you, you will not betray me, will you?"
He thought silently for many moments . . . a wounded part of him wavered. . . then was beaten down.
"No, my lady, I will not betray you."
*****
In years that would come to pass, many a time would Eowyn come from Ithilien to the Pelennor fields, where Galifar was slain. She had a small stone set on the edge of the field. "In memory of Galifar, one who was akin to me" was all it said. She would blow a kiss to the wind in the hope that it would find her true friend, wherever he may be.