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Hope Unlooked For
Chapter 5: Disguises Falling

Chaos, is what she saw in the mirror
Scared of herself and the power that was in her
It took over
And weighed heavy on her shoulder
Militant insanity is now what controlled her
-Revenge, Papa Roach


Many days passed under that great forest, and still Éowyn was held in that terrible place between despair and happiness. During the day, she forgot herself: she was Éowyn no longer, but Dernhelm, a merry warrior with no shadow upon him. She was able to talk, and laugh, and appear normal.

But at night ..... at night the demon came. She remembered who she was, she remembered the pain and torment that gnawed at her heart. When she did sleep, nightmares always plagued her; but most times she could not find sleep, and had to wander the halls until dawn came.

One night, whilst wandering the halls she came across Legolas. She ran into him, for tears had blinded her vision that night, and she burned herself on the candle he bore. Hastily she retreated into the shadows, so he might not look upon her tear stained face.

Who is it? Who's there? Legolas said, his voice wary.

It is only I-Dernhelm. You need not fear me.

Legolas relaxed. Dernhelm? What are you doing, wandering the halls so late?

Nay-what are you doing? Why are you sneaking about?

I am not sneaking about, I am walking to my room. Now Dernhelm, answer my question.

Éowyn sighed. I could not sleep, she said shortly, and turned to go.

he caught her shoulder and turned her towards the light. He caught only a glimpse of her face, streaked with tears, before she ducked back into the darkness. She turned around and ran, her footsteps echoing in the silent halls.

Legolas stood still, confounded by the sight of tears. Was his guest really so tormented? And there was something else: In the candle light, he looked different, not like the Dernhelm of the day. There had been something incredibly different about his face, something almost-vulnerable, or wounded. No, that was not it-the difference was not something Legolas could put a name to. But he had almost remembered who Dernhelm was, and he was sure that if Dernhelm had stayed in the light but a second longer, he would have recognised him. But that remembrance was lost, and Legolas was left alone, standing in the hall.

After that encounter, Éowyn was more careful during her nightly walks. Though she knew Legolas searched for her in the nightly hours, she avoided him with all her skill. But she could not avoid him in the day, and she did not particularly want to: he was kind to her, and she knew, somehow, that she could confide her troubles to him. And he sought her out daily, always wanting to speak to her. He followed her constantly with his eyes, with his eyes narrowed, as if trying to solve her mystery.

But she did not allow herself to get close to him. She knew he wanted to help her, but she would not let him. Only pain could come of it; she must bear this burden on her own. It was for that reason partly that she had left Eomer-she knew what pain it was for both of them, to see each other: he so concerned, and she so pained.

Éowyn knew Legolas was close to finding out her identity, and she knew she must leave son-for she did not want him or anyone to know who she was. Somehow she knew that if Legolas discovered her identity, things would never be the same: she would go over that precipice, and whether to happiness or final despair she did not know, and was terrified to find out.

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Legolas watched his strange guest with narrowed eyes. Damn him! Where had he seen this man before? Was it on the battlefield? No, he had not had time to get close to any Riders on the field. Was it at Meduseld, then, or during the celebrations after the final victory they had met? No, Legolas had not seen Dernhelm's face at either occasion.

Perhaps one of his friends had mentioned the name to him-they had known the Rohirrim better than he had. Yes; that sounded right. Legolas racked his brain, trying to think of who had mentioned the name Dernhelm to him-and then he gasped shortly, remembering distinctly the name leaving Merry's lips, as he told Legolas of how he had ridden to Minas Tirith. But there was more. Damn it all, what else was there to remember?! Something about Dernhelm.....and disguises......

Legolas jerked up his head and stared at Éowyn, for he could see now plainly who it was. The White Lady of Rohan! he thought to himself. But she is so much changed! It was easy to see why Legolas had not recognized her: her golden hair had faded almost to white, and was shorn to just beneath her ears; her blue eyes were more grey now than blue, the result of many tears; and there seemed to be an opaque mask over her face, that had been worn all her time in Mirkwood; indeed, the only time Legolas had seen the real she was when they had met, in the hall, and his lantern had for a second shone on her face.

He stared at her throughout most of the meal, trying not to be obvious when doing so. She was still beautiful, but in a more desparaging, wretched way. She looked as if her heart had been broken one too many times, and the pieces were beyond all mending.

At last she stood up and exited the banquet hall, and Legolas hastily followed her. As she was walking down the hall to her room, he called out, Éowyn Eomund's Daughter, Lady of Rohan! She stopped dead; the only sound that could be heard was their harsh breathing.

He swallowed, suddenly unsure. For is that not your name?

She turned towards him, her eyes open wide and her lips parted, looking haunted by some dark demon. Her voice was nothing but a cracked whisper. I have heard that name before. Yes, I suppose I did go by that name, long ago; but am I still she? I know not. I know not! She closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in pain.

I believe you are still Éowyn. Legolas felt afraid to even breathe, as if by breathing too loud he could frighten this creature and scare her back into hiding.

Am I? Am I, Legolas? She turned her back to him. So much has happened since last I was called that name. It brings back nothing but evil memories-why should you call me that now? I am Éowyn no longer; you have no right to call me by it, or meddle in my affairs! Her voice rose in anger, but then she stopped, and a shudder ran through her. I am lost in the world, Legolas, she said, her voice quiet again. Lost, and I can never be found! She turned towards him blindly, and he caught her up in his arms; and they were both crying, weeping silently, not knowing and not caring what they were doing. Then Legolas was kissing her head, her brow, her cheeks; and she was kissing him back, kissing him in a desperate fear, as if he was her last lifeline in a stormy sea. They never did part, but spent the night in each other's arms, and for the first time in who knows how long The White Lady of Rohan slept peacefully.

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Note: this is not finished yet! Not finished at all!