This is back to normal btw, folks – sorry it's kinda short, but it's easier
to sort the story out that way. Ugh – what a lot of Shakespeare-esque
writing. I really should have modernized that bit at the end…
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 3: Mother's love
The sun had all but disappeared as Isilmë came to the halls at Henneth Annûn, lost deep in dreams of the proud city of Gondor. She walked slowly, unaware that her mother watched her from a window. A sadness was in Éowyn's eyes as she looked down upon her daughter. She had known that this would happen someday; Isilmë would feel a longing for a place of greater majesty and glory than the quiet glades of Ithilien, and would no longer be at peace within the land of her birth. A fiery spirit burned strongly in the daughter of the Shieldsmaiden of the North, who years before had disguised herself as a man in order to fight for her land in the battle of the Pelennor Fields. Éowyn smiled as she remembered the hobbit with whom she had shared a common plight; though both were forbidden to join with the host of Rohan as it journeyed to Minas Tirith, as two stubborn wills together they had secretly joined the company of the Riddermark, and in battle both had proven their courage and valour, and most strongly, their love for the king of Rohan.
Éowyn knew that the same warrior spirit shone in Isilmë; her handling of a sword was impressive, although her skill as an archer surpassed all other talents. Éowyn saw that Isilmë wanted to journey somewhere new, somewhere different, to see new things – in particular, that which appeared in so many stories told in the great halls of Henneth; the great White City of Gondor. Yet Éowyn feared that once there, Isilmë would fall in love with Minas Tirith, a city heroic and proud, and would not wish to return to Ithilien.
Sighing, Éowyn turned from the window. The time had come when the peace of Ithilien would no longer be foremost in the dreams of the daughter of its lord.
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 3: Mother's love
The sun had all but disappeared as Isilmë came to the halls at Henneth Annûn, lost deep in dreams of the proud city of Gondor. She walked slowly, unaware that her mother watched her from a window. A sadness was in Éowyn's eyes as she looked down upon her daughter. She had known that this would happen someday; Isilmë would feel a longing for a place of greater majesty and glory than the quiet glades of Ithilien, and would no longer be at peace within the land of her birth. A fiery spirit burned strongly in the daughter of the Shieldsmaiden of the North, who years before had disguised herself as a man in order to fight for her land in the battle of the Pelennor Fields. Éowyn smiled as she remembered the hobbit with whom she had shared a common plight; though both were forbidden to join with the host of Rohan as it journeyed to Minas Tirith, as two stubborn wills together they had secretly joined the company of the Riddermark, and in battle both had proven their courage and valour, and most strongly, their love for the king of Rohan.
Éowyn knew that the same warrior spirit shone in Isilmë; her handling of a sword was impressive, although her skill as an archer surpassed all other talents. Éowyn saw that Isilmë wanted to journey somewhere new, somewhere different, to see new things – in particular, that which appeared in so many stories told in the great halls of Henneth; the great White City of Gondor. Yet Éowyn feared that once there, Isilmë would fall in love with Minas Tirith, a city heroic and proud, and would not wish to return to Ithilien.
Sighing, Éowyn turned from the window. The time had come when the peace of Ithilien would no longer be foremost in the dreams of the daughter of its lord.