I do not own the Lord of the Rings characters

I do not own the Lord of the Rings story

The rightful owner of all the characters and the original story is J. R. R. Tolkien

Thank you, and enjoy

THIS STORY IS BASED OFF OF THE EVENTS OF THE TWO TOWERS FILM, WHEN LEGOLAS, ARAGORN, GANDALF THE WHITE AND GILMLI ARRIVE IN ROHAN. IT IS AFTER THEY MEET EMOER AND HIS RIDERS OF ROHAN AND THE STORY IS READ FROM THE POVs OF Legolas AND Eowyn.

The late afternoon

Just leaving the Fangorn forest

Gimli, Aragorn and I are both so pleased to have found dear Gandalf in the Fangorn forest; however, there is no sign of the hobbits Merry and Pippin. I mourn a bit for them, as Frodo Baggins was close to them. Aragorn, however, is not taking it well. Gimli is neutral.

Dear Gandalf's presence has lightened the mood, however. Gandalf is dressed in crisp white robes and has a long attractive staff. His beard is white as well. Gimli and I pried and pried on how he looked like a puffy white cloud in all that white.

"You're blinding in all that white, dear Gandalf." I said, chuckling. At the same time, I proudly showed off my white mount given to us by Eomer and his Riders of Rohan. They tried to appear so proud, but Aragorn and I joked about how they looked like a boy's village gang. Aragorn also got a horse.

Gandalf did not fail to notice this, and he passively pouted on how he, the old man, was the only one without a horse. I ignored his immature behavior, though Gimli added some of his smart-ass remarks about dwarves. Screw the entire race, why the fuck did I care now? I'd heard just about enough to write an entire book about Gimli's dwarves!

Rohan, nearing Edoras

Becoming the evening

Gandalf's pouting has ceased. No, not because I have whacked him upon his big head like I intended, but because he found some exotic animal riding freely. Elves, like I have said arrogantly many a time, have the most respect for nature. Stupid Gandalf decided to domesticate the animal, which he gave the fanciest name.

Shit, I still think it's just a unicorn.

I've been picking up hints from Aragorn lately. He rides up next to me, smiling his toothy smile. His hair is really dirty. I mean, I might as well give him a break, because he's a ranger and a fighter. Hey wait, I'm a fighter. Yet, I stay clean and beautiful all the time. I smile just writing this.

"Legolas, you stay quite youthful." Aragorn said.

I looked over at him, breaking my focus from riding down a steep, grassy hill. "Of course, Aragorn, I'm an elf; just like your Arwen."

"So?" Aragorn said, sounding much like a spoiled little child.

I silt my eyes. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What are you doing?" Aragorn asked.

"I asked first."
Aragorn rode a bit ahead of me. Then he turned back and said, "I simply complemented you."

"Okay, I might as well return the… favor then." I said, thinking of something witty to say. "You stay quite dying. Dirty and injured, all of the time. Is that mortal enough for you, Strider?"

I decided to ignore any more of Aragorn's flirtatious remarks. The rest of the way, he continued to complement me, and on occasion, he would ride really close to me in attempt to make contact. I would kill that son of a bitch if he touched me. He'd be just like Boromir.

The evening

Edoras, my uncle's palace

I am becoming quite irritated by the nasty Grima Wormtongue won't stop following me. I bustle about in my room, strongly upset by the death of someone that I am not in the mood to mention. I am not, in fact, in the mood for anyone. Grima is an especially bad person to be following me.

"You look lovely, Eowyn, stop primping," Grima hissed in his disgusting, perverted ways. He was an old, grimy man. What did I want to do with him? I was young and beautiful.

"'tis not your place," I said firmly, leaving my room quickly so my little stalker wouldn't feel tempted to go though my things. He followed me like a bee, as I suspected.

I hurried into the throne room and kneeled at my dear uncle's side. He sat there, his eyes glazed over. His hair was white and covered in cobwebs, and his skin was pale and chapped over. His clothes were all dusty. No wonder our kingdom was falling. We were basically being ruled under Grima.

"Uncle, your kingdom is not thriving," I said gravely. Unexpected tears caught at my throat. "I don't feel safe here any more. Your nasty assistant is using you like a puppet. He scares me as well; he follows me and tries to touch me. I hate him so, Uncle… You know… It's like you're not even here sometimes!" I sniffled and dried my cheeks. "It's like you're dead. I can tell; you're dying quickly Uncle! You're like an old statue."

I didn't realize that Grima was behind a column surrounding my Uncle's throne. That dirty son of a bitch had been hiding there, listening the entire time. I flipped around, my long blond hair swirling in my wake.

"You," I cried. "Go! Shoo, you dirty animal!"

Grima growled and left his conspicuous hiding place, stomping toward me. His fists were balled up and his greenish fists were white with anger. I stumbled backward, falling from the platform on which the throne stood. I tumbled down the stone steps, cutting my skull no doubt. I moaned in pain and squeezed my eyes shut.

Grima didn't give up. He was still coming for me, but I only laid there. He hovered over me, with a nasty smile.

I narrowed my eyes. "Back up, you grimy ball of horse shit."

Wormtounge didn't like that. Exhaled and moved into my face some more, breathing his sour breath on me. I turned my face away. He moved his grimy hands over me and touched my chest. I grabbed his wrist just in time and twisted it around. He nearly lost his balance, but when he recovered he slapped my face audibly.

"Ow!" I cried. "Holy shit,"

Grima cackled like a witch. I wasn't putting up with that. I bit down on his already twisted wrist, sinking my teeth into Grima's skin. He screamed and tumbled backward down the steps. His head would have broken if he didn't fall on his but. Damn. That's just not fair, is it?

I stood back up, composing myself and taking a few wobbly steps towards a table. I sat down, focusing my vision that kept going in and out.

Grima rushed from the throne room, retreating into the dark hallways. There was nothing light about this palace. It was almost scary. It was dirty, dark, and the only light received was from the open roof over Uncle Théoden's throne. Sound's depressing, huh? Don't fucking kid with me, I know you think it is.

Oh, would you just look at me. I'm supposed to be a lady, and I'm using crude profanity like a drunken sailor. Excuse my behavior.

Eomer has returned with the Rohirrim. Oh, what a relief. My dear brother will be able to tell me if I have any fatal damage from that fall down the steps. I have investigated however, and blood dots the steps and has stained my fingers and hair. Ugh, blood stinks. It's a good thing he came into the castle alone though, because his Rohan Riders are flirtatious.

"What has happened, Eowyn?" brother asked, entering the throne room. I run to greet him, but my knees buckle from weakness and I take a tumble into his arms. He walks me back to the table.

"That Grima was touching me again, and I had to defend myself." I said.

I stared in alarm at Eomer's sleeve, which was red from my blood. He saw it too. "Dear, sister, what happened?"

"Oh." I said stupidly. "I forgot to mention, I fell down the steps."

My brother ripped off his already bloody sleeve and held it to my head. "Does it hurt?"

"No, I just feel a bit weak." I said. My eyelids drooped at that moment.

Eomer called one of my ladies in charge of the privy and had my head sewn up in the infirmary. The sewing hurt more than my fall. At least my hair hid it. It was slopped with blood though. I wished I could bathe.

A few hours later, a strange group arrived at the palace; a wizard, a dwarf, a human, and a very handsome elf. They went by Gandalf the white, Gimli, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil. Hmm… He was a prince. All the better I suppose. I caught him looking at me, and I looked back, with a casual smile. I was known to fall hard and fast, but I doubted these strangers would stay longer than a few minutes when they learned Uncle Théoden, was immobile.

Boy was I wrong.