Note: Sooo sorry for the extended absence! I'm currently navigating nursing school, and it's been extremely time consuming ever since the fall semester began. I'm going to try my hardest to update as much as I can!
I can't express how much I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read this story, and especially those who have reviewed. Thank you for your support and feedback!
Tune in to see the women of Rohan form an underground fight club.
Éowyn stood amidst the murmuring crowd, brimming with a cacophony of emotions. Overwhelming relief that Aragorn was alive. Trepidation, mixed with a slight buzz, at the battle to come. Bitterness, that she would be stuck in a cave with these… these…
At once, her mind flew back to the conversation she had with Aragorn only a few hours ago.
"My lord!" Éowyn struggled through the surging crowd of men preparing for war, many of who were shorter than her, younger than her, and still she could not-
Desperation rose sharply within her, and she tried again. "Aragorn!"
He turned just as she made her way to him.
"I'm to be sent with the women into the caves," Éowyn began, already feeling foolish for her words, but she had to try. She had to make someone see sense.
Aragorn's face held a careful expression. "That is an honorable charge."
His words bit at her. The one man she thought would understand; not even her own brother-
Éowyn stood still, unconsciously clenching and unclenching her fists as Aragorn let her struggle through her thoughts, watching with that same cautious look. When she could speak again, her voice wavered against her will.
"To mind the children; to find food and bedding when the men return. What renown is there in that?"
Aragorn's eyebrows pulled together. "My lady, a time may come for valor without renown. Who then will your people look to in the last defense?"
It did not matter, could he not see that? If they were all to perish, if this was the end, then she would make her stand under the sky. She would die surging forward into the enemy's lines, not holed up with her back against a cave wall.
Éowyn pressed her lips together and stepped forward. Part of her wanted to reach out and grasp his hand, but she thought better of the impulse.
"Let me stand at your side," she said in a low voice.
"It is not in my power to command it." His answer was ready, as if he had been expecting such a request.
She let out a noise of frustration. "You do not command the others to stay! They fight beside you because they would not be parted with you. Because they love you!"
Éowyn recoiled, aghast at herself. "I'm sorry," she said, and turned away swiftly, missing the troubled look that passed over Aragorn's face.
She grit her teeth at the memory, in equal parts embarrassment and anger. It was an insult, and nothing less.
Her cool gaze swept across the women and children who occupied the space. She saw fear in their faces, heard children crying- and slowly, a hot trickle of shame seared through her bitterness. These were her people, and Éowyn would not let herself look upon them with disdain, regardless of her own situation.
Reaching down, she pulled her sword free from her bag, along with its belt, and affixed the weapon to her waist. If the men were to fail and the enemy came upon them, Éowyn could be sure that she would die defending every last woman and child.
At that moment, a horn sounded far above them, and a few people let out cries of alarm. Éowyn strode forward, staring hard at the cave ceiling as if she would be able to see through it to the newcomers above their heads. Was this it? Was this the beginning of the battle?
But no matter how much she strained her ears, watching the ceiling with narrowed eyes, there was no more hint as to how the battle was progressing. Frustrated, Éowyn turned away and spied Marian, sitting some distance away. She appeared to be studying something that lay across her lap. Éowyn began winding her way through the groups of villagers, toward the woman she was beginning to consider a friend.
"Hello."
Marian jumped at Éowyn's voice, having been so deep in thought that she didn't hear her approach. She looked up at her, standing so tall and proud with her deep gray eyes and one hand on the hilt of her sword-
At once she was taken with an idea. Marian sprang to her feet, forgoing a greeting, and held Legolas' blade out to her.
"I have this," she said, watching as Éowyn lifted it from her hands and examined the weapon appreciatively.
"A fine blade. I take it the elf gave this to you?"
At Marian's nod, she continued. "It is smaller than a sword, of course, but with your build this dagger suits you well."
"Well?" Marian said, biting her lip. "Can you- can you teach me? Just the basics, I mean."
Éowyn did not laugh, to her immense relief, but studied her thoughtfully. "I can."
She indicated for Marian to draw the blade. It was surprisingly lightweight, even for its size, and Marian looked at Éowyn questioningly.
"Like this," Éowyn said, stepping forward and adjusting Marian's hands on the hilt. She retreated and drew her own sword, the ringing of steel attracting the attention of those nearby.
They began with blocking, because as Éowyn said, Defense is the basis of attack.
She swung her sword slowly, showing Marian which way to hold her blade for each blow, occasionally reaching out and rearranging Marian's hands and arms until she was satisfied with her technique.
Finally, after nearly an hour of being repeatedly tapped with the flat of Éowyn's blade with each missed block, Marian thought she had nearly gotten the hang of it. Éowyn displayed her growing confidence in Marian's ability by switching to actually using her sword's edge, though still holding back significantly with the speed and force of her attacks.
"Excellent!" Éowyn exclaimed after a series of successful blocks. Marian could only pant in response, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead. "Now you attack me."
At those words, Marian dropped her arms. "Éowyn, I'm not sure…"
"Do it."
"I don't know if I can-"
"Try." Éowyn's eyes glittered with challenge.
Marian swallowed hard and raised her blade once more, muscles aching in protest. Éowyn readied her sword, stepping sideways. As Marian mirrored her motion, the two women began circling, their gazes locked onto each other. Despite her moving feet, Marian felt frozen. It was only Éowyn, she reminded herself- a friend- and yet…
She could not keep the image of a dark, snarling face with burning yellow eyes and a painted handprint from swimming into her mind. How could she possibly defend herself from something like that? Even Éowyn, she knew, had been holding back for her sake. How…?
Try, Éowyn had said. Just try.
Marian lunged forward, swinging her dagger in an arc toward Éowyn- and suddenly the cave echoed with the ringing of their crossed blades.
There was a collective gasp, and Marian looked away from Éowyn's face to find a circle of women surrounding them, both young and old, some with children clutching at their skirts, watching intently.
The moment was shattered as a distant, guttural roar sounded from above. This time, the gasp that broke forth was fearful as all of them looked up as one. A slow, rumbling noise started up, like nothing Marian had ever heard. It nearly shook the cave ceiling, and she looked to Éowyn questioningly.
Éowyn caught her glance and mimed stomping on the ground.
Marian understood at once. So above their heads marched an army of- thousands? Tens of thousands? Regardless, one thing was certain: The battle had begun.