Author: agent blakeney
Disclaimer: i don't own her, but sometimes i pretend that i am her.
Summary: Eowyn reflects. pre-Faramir, post-Aragorn.
Feedback: Sure, go ahead, but this isn't really meant to be any good.
A/N: Unbetaed. I should be studying for a final, but this is inside me and needs to come out. My first LoTR.
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"What ravages of spirit conjured this temptuous rage?" ~Sarah McLachlan
It used to come so easily. The fight would fill me, and I would forget all the reasons why I couldn't. In those moments, I was definable in no language: not the mortal scrape of the common tongue, not the ethereal lilt of the elvish dialects, not the guttural grunt of the dwarvish speech. It was I, alone: Eowyn, sought for strength and for wisdom.
I don't remember when that died.
There was always a reason to go on, to keep fighting. Theoden, Eomer, Theodred. They fought for me and I for them. And in the times when hope was lost, it was us together, a small band bound together by blood and by courage. In the face of war and disease and malcontent and even evil, we stood strong together.
I don't remember when it started to fall apart.
I never wished to be alone, but it was easier that way. Not easier, but perhaps, less complicated. Complication was not something I could handle. Sure of myself and my place, I had accepted my solitude. It made me hard. It made me cold. But it has been my survival. And then he walked in, everything I hadn't realized I was without. In spite of all the reasons not to, I fell.
I don't remember when I lost myself.
It is my duty and my gift to lead my people. I have never doubted that, never shirked it, no matter how broken my pride. It was the one part of him that I didn't understand at all. A man so strong, so worthy, yet so reluctant to bear the burden of the leadership that fate had granted him. It was to me a curiosity, then a wonder, then a doubt.
I don't remember when it turned into resentment.
He left me. I never really expected him to stay. But I had hoped that he would understand. In such a dark time, I dared to dream that I wouldn't stand alone anymore. I had found a reflection of the things I saw in me. He could have loved me, I know, if he knew me. We would have loved and fought side by side. I confess that I honestly thought he might come back.
I don't remember when hope was deserted.
And now we face the war. There have been battles along the way, but not like this. I am ready to fight, to serve for justice and for honor. But to own the truth, the war that troubles me comes from within. I am weary. I am lonely. I am broken. And I must soldier on.
I haven't the will for this.