Chapter 5: Run Like Hell
There was a war brewing; even I, a self-absorbed twelve-year old, saw the signs. Orc-raids from the Shadow Land were becoming more and more frequent, and our ranger patrols often reported home shaken, spinning tales of a group of nameless black horrors. The atmosphere in the White City grew tenser, as the shadow in the East grew darker.
But what did a possible war matter to me? I was still a child, and now I had a new best friend to distract me from the world. Eowyn was pretty, funny, and the nicest person I had ever known, with the possible exception of Jai. She acted so innocent, no one ever suspected her of anything; I learned well from this. Between the two of us, we got away with murder.
Well, technically, not murder, but we got away with a lot of stuff. Eowyn taught me more about a lady's behaviour than finishing school ever had. She taught me how to walk demurely, keep my mouth shut, smile politely, then stick a garden slug down someone's dress while their back was turned. She taught me how to run, spit, and swear with the best of them.
She taught me how to fly.
One night, long after I had been abed, I woke to hear a soft rapping at my window. The curtains of my bed had been drawn, and the fire had been banked to its embers. I stole out of bed, clutching my little dagger, and crept to the window.
I was utterly floored when I saw Eowyn on my balcony, grinning like a mad cat. She was dressed for bed, in a pale nightgown, but she wore a dark cloak over it. There was something long strapped to her back, under the material; it clanked whenever she moved. As she climbed through the window-frame, I saw her nightgown was torn in places, and her bare legs were splotched with dirt.
"What are you doing here? How did you get up here?" I asked, helping her through the frame. She landed lightly, and scampered over to make sure my door was shut.
"'Wynnie?" I asked.
She grinned at me again, and answered, "Your folks really shouldn't have put a rose trellis right next to your window. The back garden gate was unlocked. I let myself in."
"Wow." I had to admit, I was impressed. Still, I wondered why my best friend was skulking around in the dead of night. "Planning to run away?" I joked. "You're ill-prepared, miss, if you intend to fight off the orc-hoards in your nightdress!"
"No," she smiled, "I'd fight them off with these!" The package on her back landed on my bed with a thwump.
"Oh, sweet Valar..." I'm pretty sure my eyes nearly fell out of my head. Eowyn had brought two full-sized steel fighting swords!
"Where did you get these?" I asked in awe, as I fingered the blades reverently. The glow from the hearth reflected off their shining length, their leather-wrapped hilts smoothed by wear, runes and symbols of an ancient tongue carved along the edges of the blades... they seemed to be a matched set, each one three feet from pommel to point. I hefted one, swinging it experimentally; it was heavy, but not overly so. The swords were nicked and time-worn, and they weren't fancy, but to me, they were beautiful.
The blade hissed as it sliced through the air, and I laughed as loudly as I dared, revelling in the way the sword felt in my hands, the coolness of the metal, the smoothness of the grip, the way it flashed in the firelight...I remembered the way I'd once handled a wooden practice sword, when I'd been younger.
It didn't hold a candle to this!
Eowyn had grabbed the other sword. I stopped, and watched her going through the motions; she had obviously studied swordcraft, for she had the practised ease of someone who had knew exactly what they were doing.
"Where did you get these, 'Wyn?" I asked, when I could trust my voice again. I had no fear of being overheard; the walls were thick, and most of the household was long asleep.
"I nicked 'em out of the guards quarters, last night. They locked the armory but-" here she brandished a jangling key ring, "I, uh, liberated the keys from Captain Orran's pocket."
"You stole them?" I was half-horrified, half-delighted. The family with whom Eowyn lived, one Lord Marick and Lady Tellaryn, were renowned as paranoid tightwads, the kind who locked up the bed-linens, and counted the silver spoons after every dinner party. Apparently, the last man who'd burgled their house had been torn apart by their vicious guard dogs.
And now we had a pair of swords! Eowyn moved as though to spar with me, but I shook my head. Instead, I ran to my bed, pulled off the linen sheets, and started wrapping my blade, knotting the swaddling tight at the hilt. Eowyn began padding her own.
"There." I grinned. "Now no one will be able to hear us."
"You're right." she said, swinging her sword expertly. "Your walls aren't so thick that no one would hear steel on steel..."
"Shall we spar?"
"Bring it on!"
**********
Eowyn didn't always appear, but every night, I lay awake as long as I could, waiting for her. Every few nights, I'd sit bolt upright when I heard her voice at the window. She would climb in, and I would light tapers as we would whisper and giggle a while, talking about what had happened in the Court that day. Then, we would take out our swords, and fight.
Through the long nights, Eowyn taught me everything she knew about swordcraft, which far outstripped my pitiful knowledge. However, I remembered the boys I had watched in my childhood, and I ended up teaching Eowyn quite a lot of what she called 'gutter fighting'. She'd toss her hair in mock scorn, and call me a street-boy. I'd laugh, then we'd fight again.
When we grew too tired to swing our swords, we'd collapse on my bed and formulate wild schemes that would get us out of Minas Tirith, and we would set out to seek our fortunes as wandering sword-slingers, ready to fight to the death. These plans would grow wilder as the night grew later, until we were giggling too hard to continue.
Once, the schemes had revolved around disguising ourselves as boys, and becoming soldiers, but our advancing womanhood soon put an end to that idea. Damn.
So it became a game to us, to see who could come up with the most insane escape plot.
"We could weave a ladder, instead of tapestries, in school, and use it to climb down the walls..."
"Or an Elven-Prince could come and take us away to his kingdom by the sea..."
"Or we could turn into eagles and fly away into the sunset..."
Eventually, we'd hear the larks singing in the garden, and Eowyn would have to slip out while the sky was still dark. I would carefully hide the swords under my mattress, and snuggle up under the covers, hoping to catch an hour or two of sleep before I had to return to the real world.
**********
And so the nights became months, the months turned to years, and suddenly, I wasn't a girl anymore, my best friend had been sent home, and I was facing an impending marriage.
Dammit, I had to get out of here.
Not a child's plot, but for real this time. For my husband-to-be was none other than Boromir, future Steward of Gondor.
Oh crap.
To be Continued...please review on the way out!