A/N: Hey all! I know I said this shouldn't be too long. But then, I just couldn't quite nail the feeling of the chapter, and I'm still not sure its completely right. So, basically, I'm posting this now because I don't know quite what to do with it at this point.
Enjoy, and please forgive me my tardiness!
Aefwyn knew from experience an outburst was near. Éowyn wasn't one to hold within her ire for extended periods of time, and this time she was more upset than ever. Her behavior had escalated to the point where even the servants sometimes watched her with wonder.
They had been working very hard, both together and separately, to gather as much provisions as they had been able. All the time Éowyn had managed a somewhat civilized manner towards Aefwyn, no matter how forced her smiles had been at times. She had burst out a few times when something wasn't going along their plans, either scolding other parties involved harshly or retiring in tears.
The provisions had been mostly transported by the passing Riders on their way to answer the king's summons. She had been rather proud of this idea, for there had been no way they would have had enough time to move everything needed otherwise. Provisions had been left behind also for the king returning – as they hoped – and the army to feast and rest. The men were to set camp at Dunharrow, seeing they could by no means reach Helm's Deep fast enough to be of aid.
It was now the sixth of March and they had just arrived at Dunharrow themselves. Éowyn had been quiet and secretive, and Aefwyn hadn't been able to speak to her about anything else than the food served or the weather for the past three days. There wasn't much to be said from either, which meant most of their time was spent in sullen silence. It was in her opinion an improvement from the outburst Edoras had had to withstand, and even Éowyn herself seemed more like herself again.
Somehow the camp atop the mountain had started to take form. Tents were already erect for the king and his guests atop the cliff, and a sea of tents littered the foot. The view was spectacular, unless you were to look towards the mountains. There was a shadowed path no sunlight reached, reaching ever deeper to the mountain. Just looking at it gave Aefwyn goose pumps and sent a shiver down her spine. She stayed far from it, as its nearness made even the child restless.
Aefwyn turned away from the edge of the cliff and set towards Éowyn's tent. It was close to the one she had picked for Éomer and herself, but still managed to look like it stood alone. She rapped at the support pole holding up the flap and entered. Éowyn was sitting on her cot, seemingly deep in thought.
"They should be arriving soon. The messenger…"
"I know what the messenger said."
"You should not hold a grudge. You know why we were left behind: there's no shame in it. Who else would have seen this done?"
"You could have done it! I am a Shieldmaiden, but I am not allowed to defend my home." Éowyn's eye glittered with tears, and Aefwyn's heart reached out for her.
"I could have, perhaps, were I not six months along." Her hands wandered over her belly, a pattern familiar and new each time.
"And now we are to be left behind again." Éowyn's voice cracked, but it was filled with sullen bitterness.
"Such is the part of a woman, Éowyn. I am not asking you to accept it, but to try to understand. Éomer and Théoden wish to keep you safe." She didn't add herself to the list, for that would only have fuelled the younger woman along.
"I have been kept safe my whole life, and I am sick of it. I cannot take a moment longer, Aefwyn. It is easy for you to accept, when you have never wielded a blade. You like to be tethered to a house, to live coddled within strong walls. They get to go free where ever their hearts please as far as a good horse can carry them. Have you never once envied Éomer his freedom?" Éowyn trembled, her tears now falling, but of rage, not of sadness.
"I do not envy it of him, for the price is high. It is a freedom he rather didn't have, Éowyn. To ride to war is to know some may not return. Éomer hides it well, but it still pains him." She sat, placing her hand on the younger woman's arm. Éowyn looked at her, a rainbow of emotions in her stare.
"He is my brother. Do you think I know not what moves him?"
"He is my husband, and I hold his heart. But you do know him, Éowyn. He loves you. He wishes you safe." She scoffed, unmoved by Aefwyn's pleading tone and sad eyes.
Éowyn rose and took a few quick paces. She stood still then, and looked back at Aefwyn.
"I am unconvinced. But enough of this now, come." Her face was still and emotionless, her eyes deep and unreadable. Then she turned again and left the tent.
Aefwyn sighed, again. She knew better than to argue with the children of Éomund. Nothing came of it.
She rose slowly and went after the younger woman.
On her way to find Éowyn, a young soldier stopped her.
"My lady, there are Riders coming up."
"Thank you for letting me know." The man went on his way. Turning her head back the way she had been headed, Aefwyn spotted Éowyn by one of the many fires.
Seeing her about to start the preparation of dinner she hurried to intervene. Despite knowing her ways through Meduseld, Éowyn had never learned to cook all that well. Odwyn would never have allowed a lady of Éowyn's position to dirty her hands. It would also have given Éowyn priceless insight of how the Head maid liked to lead her flock, Aefwyn thought; her usual fatalist view replaced by an unfamiliar bitterness for once.
"I can take that over. A guard just told me Riders are coming up. Would you not go welcome them?" Éowyn considered for a moment and got up.
"I'll go." Without anything further she went, and left Aefwyn with the cooking materials. Aefwyn had quickly whisked together a stew of the root vegetables, onions and dried meat at hand when Éowyn returned.
"They were messengers." Then her face broke into a wide smile.
"They will be here soon." Everything about her seemed suddenly refreshed, but Aefwyn could sense her black mood still present, now under the surface, better hidden. She smiled, and got up.
"I'll be back right away." She made her way towards the edge of the cliff and finished with her business. The child was comfortably resting atop her bladder – comfortable for the child, not her – seemingly asleep after a fierce bout of kicking.
Her eyes strayed towards the northwest. She could make out the fiery speckles of the campfires below, and further out in the foothills. Next to one of those fires could be her husband.
A wind was picking up from the east, a chilly wind that carried with it a stench, something foul and rotting. She knew he had to go again, to Gondor. Even further away from her this time, and it was all too likely he would never return.
It was only a matter of time before she would hear the news, before her heart would die forever. The thought filled her with a deep sadness. Without Éomer, she was nothing. Her children needed her, and for them she would remain as she was, but ever so hollow inside.
Now Éomer would return, however. It was not yet for her to mourn, but to shield him with her hope. She would have to sooth the pain of his heart over the men he had lost in the field. She would have to strengthen him for what was to come with all her being. If he felt no hope, she must give it to him.
With her resolve thus reinforced, she returned to Éowyn.
They ate, in silence, and afterwards Aefwyn retired to her tent. She disrobed, lay down and let sleep take her.
oOo
Dawn had come an hour earlier when Aefwyn moved aside the tent flap and let the brisk spring morning wash over her being.
The weather was bright and clear, only wisps of the clouds of the previous evening now vanishing to the horizon. Spring was coming to the land, but the temperature was still freezing until sun rose enough to warm the land and thaw the frost of night.
The camp was waking below her as she made her way to the edge, near to where the causeway began its descent. She saw men bustling about, seeing to the final repairs of their gear and restocking their rations from the wild surrounding the foot of the mountain. Indeed, even from her high vantage she could spot the racks for drying meat being put to use by the men with desire to hunt. The racks were surrounded by the smoky haze from the fires nearby, guarded by a few men. The smoke would keep out whatever early insects might be about, but also prepare and dry the meat faster.
The army would clean out the surrounding landscape of wildlife, would it be allowed to rest there too long, but the muster was almost seen to and the king was about to arrive. Until he did and bid the army to move, they would be a huge drain to the surrounding vegetation and beast roaming there. Indeed, much of the stores of Edoras had been emptied and brought here to avoid such, but the stores were still in constant need of refilling: as more men arrived, so too increased the mouths to be fed.
Feeling more alert and less groggy from sleep, Aefwyn set about her daily tasks. She prepared breakfast for herself and Éowyn, of course more than they could eat so that she could offer food for any passing by. Most of the men knew how to cook well enough, but some were much less experienced to riding with an éored and were not as prepared to feed themselves. Many of the men were quite green, to Aefwyn's estimate, having spent their lives farming rather than wielding a sword. All of them had, at some point, served the king in his éoreds, but to some that had been a good long while ago. The muster was their duty, and they had come.
Fewer men were there than was expected, however. The long years of the king's illness had taken their toll on the land, and many would not or could not come. Aefwyn could not judge them: orcs were still about, though much sparser surely after all this fighting. The people could not yet trust so much in the safety of their homes to ride so far, likely never to return. They thought of their families, and Aefwyn could not fault them for it. She knew her own heart would have no peace before Éomer was again with her.
Her tasks kept her occupied throughout the day. As dusk was again setting, she heard shouted greetings from below and sure enough soon riders were approaching by the causeway. Aefwyn hastened towards where Éowyn was already waiting, having also heard the cries.
It was not the King, however, who appeared. It was the Dúnadan, Aragorn, and his companions. Legolas of Mirkwood was riding further back with two other elven lords, Gimli son of Glóin with him. But the rest of the men were strangers, thirty or so of them. They were dressed in the same manner as the Ranger, browns, greens, dark colors in general. Aefwyn surmised they must be of Aragorn's people, Dúnedain.
Éowyn stepped forward to greet them, but seemed dismayed when hearing Aragorn was to depart the next morning. Even Aefwyn was upset when he announced his intention to go to the Paths of the Dead.
"My lord, that way you will find naught but your end and the end of your companions!" She exclaimed.
"Aye, they do not suffer living to pass." Said Éowyn. Her face had blanched, her eyes were wide.
"They will suffer me. Or if they do not it was still the only road for me to take."
"But it is madness. Why not stay and ride to war with my uncle and brother, and let our hope shine all that brighter? Your men seem of skill and renown."
"Not madness, my lady. But if my companions would rather ride with the Rohirrim, I will take the Path alone. It is my road to take." After that they spoke no more of serious matters, but went and ate.
After dining, the company went on to rest. Aefwyn had excused herself a moment earlier than Aragorn, who was now heading towards the tent he shared with Legolas and Gimli. She saw Éowyn approaching the lord, and heard her words from where she stood.
"My lord, why must you take this deadly road?"
"Because I must. And for my part, it is the only I can do to oppose Sauron. I do not choose paths of peril Éowyn. Were I to walk where my heart desires, I would be in the fair valley of Rivendell."
For a moment Éowyn was silent and stared at the lord, pleading. Then she took his arm and spoke urgently, but not quietly enough for Aefwyn not to hear.
"Please take me with you then, my lord. I am weary of skulking and wish to see battle and glory."
"Your duty is to your people." Aragorn's voice was not unkind, but his countenance was stern. Aefwyn could not bear to see the desolate look on Éowyn's face, and took to her tent. It was no longer a discussion for her ears, no matter how she should have acted as a chaperone for Éowyn.
A/N: Thank you very much for all those who have followed, favorited and/or reviewed this story! Your support is appreciated so much and keeps me going :D Knowing you want to hear the end of the story (hopefully ;P ) keeps me wanting to write it ^^