Broken Flag
(Basically, I found the certain part on Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers,
when Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, and Legolas entered Rohan, and the flag broke
from the pole where Eowyn stands, and it falls by Aragorn. I think that it
was a magnificent scene that told more of a tale than the ordinary eye can
tell, and it made a chill run down my spine. Just how she stands so alone
and proud, and it reveals how she tries to hold the land of Rohan in her
own arms, but the world is still breaking from beneath her. It also is the
first time Eowyn and Aragorn set eyes upon each other. At least, in my
story. The story tells of what their first thoughts of each other were, and
what is going through Eowyn's mind. So, without further ado, read on, and
enjoy. There will be no further chapters that I am planning, unless
requests are given.)
A tear had collected and tugged out of those dull eyes. A stern face she still kept, emotions not shown, but as like a statue she stood, cold and still. Feet bare and cold forced a shiver shooting up her foot, and up her spine. The grief was far too much for a woman to bare. Her brother, forced out of the Rohirrium, her uncle, King Theoden still sat in his marked grave of an icy melody. Her cousin, the only heir to the throne, lay dead, cold and alone, with spirits of those before him as his only company. It was only a moments grief that paralyzed her mind to realize that the fate of her people were in the young woman's hand. ~And in wind we fall, though thy steady feet do not whither and respond to the wind's call...~ But an outer shell covered her thoughts, and all the could be seen from far above was a lady, clad in a gown of stunning white, and standing alone on the Golden Hall's balcony. Hair of golden, unraveled and collecting the sun's flare fled in ringlets over her stern shoulders. Tears still stained those fair cheeks, and a helpless, dead look was in response to her gaze. ~And with pride and faith and bravery I stand. A heart of such chivalry, but all refuse to see it...~ Almost like on que, the black flag with the Rohirrium white horse wavered weakly upon a pole, fled and flew within the cold fingers of the wind. And he sighted that fallen flag which fell beside his steed's foot, eyes traveled from the flag, to above, where they centered on the Golden Hall. His eyes, deep and proud, fixed among the lady clad in white, as he stood tall, dark and with such handsome dignity. He followed her eyes, searching for an answer in which he knew not what she searched for. He could feel her every emotion, sad, and with a melancholy disposition, even from where he stood. She looked almost as troubled as the land in which her family of royalty clenched, and the fallen weak flag that stray at his feet. ~And I refuse to whither, nay, I deny it with every inch of my heart. I shall stand a lady valiant.~ And even as he sat upon that horse, holding the reins and kicking off lightly, his eyes did not stray off of her for a moment. Her emotions were so complex, he could feel them. He wished deeply to outreach a hand and warm her heart. ~And I still do not crawl. I still do not stumble...~ The lady's eyes were stranded, but she did not miss the sight of a small group of strayers. The flag in which had fallen near to them caught the eye of one in particular. A man, clad in armory, tangled hair of deep brown that reached his shoulders. He gripped the hilt of his sword at his side, and she was taken aback, small curiousity of what these outlanders were here for. The man had a handsome, proud face, as was his figure. The group of outlanders fled even more forward, and closely so that eyes of the man and lady were locked. Her eyes would have wavered, and she trembled just slightly at the stare, but kept it locked in his own. He didn't force his own gaze away either. They were now near enough, her eyes were forced upward where he was mounted above his large, brown steed. Eyes kept locked, even as the lady turned, hands clenched the handling that lay on the door. ~But I do know of who I am... I do know myself...~ Her head turned, and she pushed the large door open, entering the Grand Hall, as finally, those lonely, forbidden eyes were torn away, and the lady was summoned into the shadows of the hall, door closing behind her, and rusty hinges groaning at her return. ~I am a lady, Eowyn. The White Lady of the Rohirrium. A shield maiden, a daughter of Kings. Chivalry at heart, and honor to be desired. And that is who I am.~
A tear had collected and tugged out of those dull eyes. A stern face she still kept, emotions not shown, but as like a statue she stood, cold and still. Feet bare and cold forced a shiver shooting up her foot, and up her spine. The grief was far too much for a woman to bare. Her brother, forced out of the Rohirrium, her uncle, King Theoden still sat in his marked grave of an icy melody. Her cousin, the only heir to the throne, lay dead, cold and alone, with spirits of those before him as his only company. It was only a moments grief that paralyzed her mind to realize that the fate of her people were in the young woman's hand. ~And in wind we fall, though thy steady feet do not whither and respond to the wind's call...~ But an outer shell covered her thoughts, and all the could be seen from far above was a lady, clad in a gown of stunning white, and standing alone on the Golden Hall's balcony. Hair of golden, unraveled and collecting the sun's flare fled in ringlets over her stern shoulders. Tears still stained those fair cheeks, and a helpless, dead look was in response to her gaze. ~And with pride and faith and bravery I stand. A heart of such chivalry, but all refuse to see it...~ Almost like on que, the black flag with the Rohirrium white horse wavered weakly upon a pole, fled and flew within the cold fingers of the wind. And he sighted that fallen flag which fell beside his steed's foot, eyes traveled from the flag, to above, where they centered on the Golden Hall. His eyes, deep and proud, fixed among the lady clad in white, as he stood tall, dark and with such handsome dignity. He followed her eyes, searching for an answer in which he knew not what she searched for. He could feel her every emotion, sad, and with a melancholy disposition, even from where he stood. She looked almost as troubled as the land in which her family of royalty clenched, and the fallen weak flag that stray at his feet. ~And I refuse to whither, nay, I deny it with every inch of my heart. I shall stand a lady valiant.~ And even as he sat upon that horse, holding the reins and kicking off lightly, his eyes did not stray off of her for a moment. Her emotions were so complex, he could feel them. He wished deeply to outreach a hand and warm her heart. ~And I still do not crawl. I still do not stumble...~ The lady's eyes were stranded, but she did not miss the sight of a small group of strayers. The flag in which had fallen near to them caught the eye of one in particular. A man, clad in armory, tangled hair of deep brown that reached his shoulders. He gripped the hilt of his sword at his side, and she was taken aback, small curiousity of what these outlanders were here for. The man had a handsome, proud face, as was his figure. The group of outlanders fled even more forward, and closely so that eyes of the man and lady were locked. Her eyes would have wavered, and she trembled just slightly at the stare, but kept it locked in his own. He didn't force his own gaze away either. They were now near enough, her eyes were forced upward where he was mounted above his large, brown steed. Eyes kept locked, even as the lady turned, hands clenched the handling that lay on the door. ~But I do know of who I am... I do know myself...~ Her head turned, and she pushed the large door open, entering the Grand Hall, as finally, those lonely, forbidden eyes were torn away, and the lady was summoned into the shadows of the hall, door closing behind her, and rusty hinges groaning at her return. ~I am a lady, Eowyn. The White Lady of the Rohirrium. A shield maiden, a daughter of Kings. Chivalry at heart, and honor to be desired. And that is who I am.~