Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien or even Peter Jackson and I only use their
visions due to lack of creativity on my part. Anyway, this little piece is
based entirely on a small scene from Two Towers, hope you enjoy and please
let me know what you think.
Do Not Go Quietly into the Night
Helm's Deep, the last refuge of the Rohan. Nothing had ever gotten past its defenses, nothing had ever harmed those that sought sanctuary within the sturdy walls. When in the Hornburg, nothing could touch you. Nothing, that is, unless it was one of your own brave men.
She had seen them filtering into the Hornburg, surveying the pitiful remains of a once proud people. Their forces were too small, the enemy's too large. If they could even hope for a chance, then it was necessary to have more people. The army had to be built, the walls had to be defended.
A tall man with a strong build was coming towards her. He was one of the finest warriors, he had seen many battles and many victories, if anyone knew a good soldier it was he. Surely he would not take her son, he was far too young, could barely even grip a sword. He would not take him, she was sure.
But as he drew even closer she found that she was pulling her son close to her, shielding him partially with her own body. She considered herself to be very loyal to her people, to her king, and would do anything for the Rohirrim, but this was too much. Her son was all she had left, she had already given up a husband to them, surely they would not take him too.
She knew though. She knew in the depths of her heart that it was near hopeless. That even if the soldiers recruited every single body including women that their numbers would barely cause a dent in the horde that awaited them. She had heard rumours of the number of the enemy, and the fear in the eyes of those that told her made her believe. Helm's Deep was going to fall.
The soldier finally reached them. He saw the son first despite the skirts he clung to and regarded him. A small band of individuals already resolutely followed the soldier, he was an apt recruiter. With mounting fear, the woman watched him as he surveyed her son. Her son was very thin and held an extremely gaunt look. His eyes were wide and haunted and his skin pasty in coloring. Yet he was tall for his age and the woman noted that he was taller than some already in the soldier's grim collection.
The soldier finally looked up to meet the woman's gaze. She cried out and clutched her boy all the harder. She knew, she knew instantly that this man meant to take her boy, put him up against the wall as if he were a man ready to die instead of a boy who had yet to experience any of life's wonders. Her son had never even seen an orc, only heard horrifying tales from the older children when they were trying to scare him. Now this soldier wanted to take him out and set him up mercilessly against creatures that already haunted his nightmares.
Yet the thing that scared the woman the most was the look in the soldier's eyes. As she had noted before, he wore many scars as proof that he had seen many battles and many victories. But he held no expectations this time. No hope glimmered in his depths, no vigor or purpose controlled his motives. He knew there was no chance, and he knew he was taking innocent children to their deaths, lambs to the slaughter. It was hopeless.
The woman shook her head when he met her gaze, her eyes pleading and already brimming with tears. He did not have to say a thing, she knew, and she could not bear the thought. He lowered his eyes with a sigh, his whole manner apologetic yet resolute. He had his orders, even if he personally believed it would do no good. Even if they had a thousand soldiers, they would still fall.
The soldier attempted to justify his actions. They were going to die anyway, might as well give them a chance to fight, let them think their death served a purpose rather than waiting in the dark to be picked off. Either way their death would not be easy, there was no gentle way to go on a night such as this. It was best to fill their innocent minds with false thoughts of valor.
The soldier stretched a hand out towards the small boy. If it was possible, the boy's eyes widened even more and he shrank back, gripping desperately onto his mother's skirts. He was old enough to understand what was going on, and old enough to pick up on the fear of his mother. She did not want him to go, she thought it a bad idea, so he in turn believed it to be so. He did not want to go.
Yet he could not run from this man and the soldier's hand gently but firmly grasped his shoulder. The man felt the bones plainly beneath the thin clothing, but he had to take him. They had to build up the numbers otherwise they might as well open the gates and invite the Urak-hai in. Slowly, he pulled on the child, prompting him to come with him.
The boy dug in his heels and the mother's arms suddenly wrapped around him. The soldier paused and looked up at her, easily reading the misery in her eyes.
"Please," she spoke, "please, they have already killed my husband. Please do not take my son as well."
The soldier closed his eyes briefly before looking at the woman again. He held her eye as he replied, "I am sorry. You have my deepest regards, but we need him. Your people need him, and your sacrifice will not go unrewarded."
The woman cried out at his words and he could hardly blame her. Even as he spoke of rewards he could hear the flatness in his voice, the empty promise. There would be no one left to fulfill such a promised reward. He was truly sorry, and he felt terribly for the young mother, but he had his orders. He needed the boy. Gently, he tugged on the boy's shoulder again.
Very reluctantly, the woman let go of the boy. He took a step forward to the tall soldier and then turned to look back at his mother. His expression was full of uncertainty and fear as he looked back at her. He had never seen her mother cry, she strove so hard to stay strong for him, but the tears that spilled ceaselessly down her cheeks now alarmed him. Was it really that bad? He knew the wisdom of his mother and had learned through several foolish experiences that she was always right even if he thought the opposite. The site of her crying terrified him, that meant it was really bad and really wrong.
The boy cried out and twisted in the man's grip. He did not want to go, he did not trust the tall man. He trusted his mother and she was crying, this could not possibly be a wise decision, the man was mistaken.
The woman heard her son cry out and saw his pained expression. She knew it was a reflection of her own, she was scaring her son. Quickly, she forced a smile through her tears. She had to be strong for him, he would have no chance at all if he was out there and worrying over his mother.
"It's okay," she whispered to him, "you have to go with the soldier now. I'll be right here when you get back." She nodded at him encouragingly.
Now the boy was confused. It had been plain to him that she did not want him to go, but now she was saying differently. He always tried to obey his mother, but this was getting out of hand. He still did not want to go, but now she was telling him to and the soldier still pulled on his shoulder.
Taking one last glimpse of his mother, the boy turned and looked up at the soldier. The soldier gave him a half-hearted smile and then began to walk. Against his will, the boy walked with him. The rest of the tiny contingent followed as well. This had not been the first separation they had witnessed and were fairly certain it would not be the last. Each terrible break-up of families only hammered their instincts home to them, they did not have a chance. Their very purpose was gone from them. Why were the soldiers even bothering? This was not going to be a fight, it was going to be a vicious raid.
The woman stood stock still as she watched her son walk away. In less time than she liked they had turned a corner and the sight of him was lost to her. As soon as he was gone she could no longer keep her strong stance. She broke down, her knees buckling beneath her as she dropped to the floor and covered her face with her hands. She wept openly and for the first time in her life did not care who witnessed her emotion. She was tired of being strong for everyone, tired of doing all that she could for the good of the community. This was what it had gotten her, a final stand that she would spend entirely alone. No more members of her family remained with her. She was going to die alone with only the thought of her son's impending death to keep her company.
After a few miserable moments, the woman felt an arm cross her shoulders. She started at the unexpected show of human comfort and raised her head, blinking to free her vision from the tears that caused her eyes to swell. The Lady of Rohan knelt before her. Normally she stood aloof, fair yet cold as steel. But when the woman looked up, she saw pity and concern in Eowyn's eyes.
"I know you have given much for Rohan," she whispered softly to the woman, "so I will give you this. You will not have to sit alone in the Hornburg and think only of death. Come my friend, you and I will visit with the other broken women who remain behind and we will comfort each other. It will be a long night, but we will see it through."
Eowyn then stood and stretched out a hand to the woman. With a feeling of something akin to bewilderment she took the hand and allowed the fair lady to pull her up. Then she stood side by side with the White Lady. And even as the dim sound of many iron-clod boots and metal spears pounding upon the ground came to those who shivered in the Hornburg, a tiny sliver of hope edged its way into the young woman. She stood faithfully next to the Lady of Rohan, feeding off of her strength, and thought that perhaps the Helm's Deep would stand throughout the night after all.
~El Fin~
Do Not Go Quietly into the Night
Helm's Deep, the last refuge of the Rohan. Nothing had ever gotten past its defenses, nothing had ever harmed those that sought sanctuary within the sturdy walls. When in the Hornburg, nothing could touch you. Nothing, that is, unless it was one of your own brave men.
She had seen them filtering into the Hornburg, surveying the pitiful remains of a once proud people. Their forces were too small, the enemy's too large. If they could even hope for a chance, then it was necessary to have more people. The army had to be built, the walls had to be defended.
A tall man with a strong build was coming towards her. He was one of the finest warriors, he had seen many battles and many victories, if anyone knew a good soldier it was he. Surely he would not take her son, he was far too young, could barely even grip a sword. He would not take him, she was sure.
But as he drew even closer she found that she was pulling her son close to her, shielding him partially with her own body. She considered herself to be very loyal to her people, to her king, and would do anything for the Rohirrim, but this was too much. Her son was all she had left, she had already given up a husband to them, surely they would not take him too.
She knew though. She knew in the depths of her heart that it was near hopeless. That even if the soldiers recruited every single body including women that their numbers would barely cause a dent in the horde that awaited them. She had heard rumours of the number of the enemy, and the fear in the eyes of those that told her made her believe. Helm's Deep was going to fall.
The soldier finally reached them. He saw the son first despite the skirts he clung to and regarded him. A small band of individuals already resolutely followed the soldier, he was an apt recruiter. With mounting fear, the woman watched him as he surveyed her son. Her son was very thin and held an extremely gaunt look. His eyes were wide and haunted and his skin pasty in coloring. Yet he was tall for his age and the woman noted that he was taller than some already in the soldier's grim collection.
The soldier finally looked up to meet the woman's gaze. She cried out and clutched her boy all the harder. She knew, she knew instantly that this man meant to take her boy, put him up against the wall as if he were a man ready to die instead of a boy who had yet to experience any of life's wonders. Her son had never even seen an orc, only heard horrifying tales from the older children when they were trying to scare him. Now this soldier wanted to take him out and set him up mercilessly against creatures that already haunted his nightmares.
Yet the thing that scared the woman the most was the look in the soldier's eyes. As she had noted before, he wore many scars as proof that he had seen many battles and many victories. But he held no expectations this time. No hope glimmered in his depths, no vigor or purpose controlled his motives. He knew there was no chance, and he knew he was taking innocent children to their deaths, lambs to the slaughter. It was hopeless.
The woman shook her head when he met her gaze, her eyes pleading and already brimming with tears. He did not have to say a thing, she knew, and she could not bear the thought. He lowered his eyes with a sigh, his whole manner apologetic yet resolute. He had his orders, even if he personally believed it would do no good. Even if they had a thousand soldiers, they would still fall.
The soldier attempted to justify his actions. They were going to die anyway, might as well give them a chance to fight, let them think their death served a purpose rather than waiting in the dark to be picked off. Either way their death would not be easy, there was no gentle way to go on a night such as this. It was best to fill their innocent minds with false thoughts of valor.
The soldier stretched a hand out towards the small boy. If it was possible, the boy's eyes widened even more and he shrank back, gripping desperately onto his mother's skirts. He was old enough to understand what was going on, and old enough to pick up on the fear of his mother. She did not want him to go, she thought it a bad idea, so he in turn believed it to be so. He did not want to go.
Yet he could not run from this man and the soldier's hand gently but firmly grasped his shoulder. The man felt the bones plainly beneath the thin clothing, but he had to take him. They had to build up the numbers otherwise they might as well open the gates and invite the Urak-hai in. Slowly, he pulled on the child, prompting him to come with him.
The boy dug in his heels and the mother's arms suddenly wrapped around him. The soldier paused and looked up at her, easily reading the misery in her eyes.
"Please," she spoke, "please, they have already killed my husband. Please do not take my son as well."
The soldier closed his eyes briefly before looking at the woman again. He held her eye as he replied, "I am sorry. You have my deepest regards, but we need him. Your people need him, and your sacrifice will not go unrewarded."
The woman cried out at his words and he could hardly blame her. Even as he spoke of rewards he could hear the flatness in his voice, the empty promise. There would be no one left to fulfill such a promised reward. He was truly sorry, and he felt terribly for the young mother, but he had his orders. He needed the boy. Gently, he tugged on the boy's shoulder again.
Very reluctantly, the woman let go of the boy. He took a step forward to the tall soldier and then turned to look back at his mother. His expression was full of uncertainty and fear as he looked back at her. He had never seen her mother cry, she strove so hard to stay strong for him, but the tears that spilled ceaselessly down her cheeks now alarmed him. Was it really that bad? He knew the wisdom of his mother and had learned through several foolish experiences that she was always right even if he thought the opposite. The site of her crying terrified him, that meant it was really bad and really wrong.
The boy cried out and twisted in the man's grip. He did not want to go, he did not trust the tall man. He trusted his mother and she was crying, this could not possibly be a wise decision, the man was mistaken.
The woman heard her son cry out and saw his pained expression. She knew it was a reflection of her own, she was scaring her son. Quickly, she forced a smile through her tears. She had to be strong for him, he would have no chance at all if he was out there and worrying over his mother.
"It's okay," she whispered to him, "you have to go with the soldier now. I'll be right here when you get back." She nodded at him encouragingly.
Now the boy was confused. It had been plain to him that she did not want him to go, but now she was saying differently. He always tried to obey his mother, but this was getting out of hand. He still did not want to go, but now she was telling him to and the soldier still pulled on his shoulder.
Taking one last glimpse of his mother, the boy turned and looked up at the soldier. The soldier gave him a half-hearted smile and then began to walk. Against his will, the boy walked with him. The rest of the tiny contingent followed as well. This had not been the first separation they had witnessed and were fairly certain it would not be the last. Each terrible break-up of families only hammered their instincts home to them, they did not have a chance. Their very purpose was gone from them. Why were the soldiers even bothering? This was not going to be a fight, it was going to be a vicious raid.
The woman stood stock still as she watched her son walk away. In less time than she liked they had turned a corner and the sight of him was lost to her. As soon as he was gone she could no longer keep her strong stance. She broke down, her knees buckling beneath her as she dropped to the floor and covered her face with her hands. She wept openly and for the first time in her life did not care who witnessed her emotion. She was tired of being strong for everyone, tired of doing all that she could for the good of the community. This was what it had gotten her, a final stand that she would spend entirely alone. No more members of her family remained with her. She was going to die alone with only the thought of her son's impending death to keep her company.
After a few miserable moments, the woman felt an arm cross her shoulders. She started at the unexpected show of human comfort and raised her head, blinking to free her vision from the tears that caused her eyes to swell. The Lady of Rohan knelt before her. Normally she stood aloof, fair yet cold as steel. But when the woman looked up, she saw pity and concern in Eowyn's eyes.
"I know you have given much for Rohan," she whispered softly to the woman, "so I will give you this. You will not have to sit alone in the Hornburg and think only of death. Come my friend, you and I will visit with the other broken women who remain behind and we will comfort each other. It will be a long night, but we will see it through."
Eowyn then stood and stretched out a hand to the woman. With a feeling of something akin to bewilderment she took the hand and allowed the fair lady to pull her up. Then she stood side by side with the White Lady. And even as the dim sound of many iron-clod boots and metal spears pounding upon the ground came to those who shivered in the Hornburg, a tiny sliver of hope edged its way into the young woman. She stood faithfully next to the Lady of Rohan, feeding off of her strength, and thought that perhaps the Helm's Deep would stand throughout the night after all.
~El Fin~