* indicates phrases taken from the Lord of the Rings.
And yes, I don't own it.
Chapter 2
The Rider of the Mark
Eowyn
Doom draws her. But she shall destroy us both. I wait in the shadows for doom to find us. She looks for death, blood, and honour in battle. She makes it sound glorious but I have not the nerve to partake and not the strength to stop her.
The Elf, Legolas, had known. He had looked through her eyes and perceived me sitting in the darkness waiting. Silently, we plead with him to keep our secret. He had nodded ever so slightly in agreement and, to our knowledge, complied with our wishes. But he was most likely dead now. Along with Aragorn, for they had taken the Paths of the Dead, from whence none had returned.
I find that my will is present in less of our decisions. Before I at least argued with Dernhelm if I disagreed with her. But now…it is all too much. I grow weary and the shadows are beckoning me. Rest little one for this is beyond you…they whisper and now I give in, falling into their calm embrace…
Dernhelm
It is dawn. Five days since we set out. Battle draws nigh. The word tastes delicious on my lips. Now I shall show them all!
We ride swiftly into the affray. Eowyn is trembling somewhere in the back of our mind. I spare a few words of encouragement for her before leaning down from my steed to cut the head from an orc. And then I feel its blood on my hand and my heart soars! The hobbit clings behind me on the saddle. But my thoughts quickly shift from him to the winged demon whose shadow travels over us and hovers like a black cloud over our king.
'No!' Eowyn cried, but I regained control and pushed her back.
My steed could not bare the frightful presence of the Nazgul. No horse could. He threw us and bolted away. I stand to find the Kings steed, Snowmane, has fallen. The King lies motionless beside him. I feel tears staining my cheeks. The King had been like a father to me. The ghastly bird of shadow digs his talons into Snowmane. Still more horrifying than the bird is its rider. The Lord of the Wraiths sits atop it and his eyes are like drowned stars amid his face of blackness. Our lives are much alike. We were both created at the bidding of another and to protect our master. But my sinews are made of flesh, not sorcery, and there is still some light in my soul.
I do not fear him.
*'Begone, foul dwimmerlaike, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!'* I cried. Eowyn is telling me to flea. He will kill us! she whispers to me urgently.
*'Come not between the Nazgul and his prey!'* the wraith replies icily. Curse my blood, for he chills it.
*'I shall hinder thee if I may.'* I reply, and for the first time I realize how insignificant I am and I begin to doubt myself.
*'Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!'*
And then I laughed. Defiance rose again within me. I gave him Eowyn's name and claimed the King as my kin.
Then the creature beats its hideous black wings and screeches at me. Rising into the air, it tries to strike at me with its menacing beak.
But I remain, still as stone. I sensed Eowyn tensing as the creature bore down upon us. She was waiting for death, but she should have had more faith in me. Had I not saved her before?
I dealt a swift blow that sundered the beaked head from its foul neck.
From the ruin of his steed, rose the black rider, his eyes glittering maliciously. Looming over me, like a snake poised to strike, he brought his mace down upon my shield with a force that broke my arm.
I stumbled to my knees. Pain danced like fire through my arm. His shadow cut out all light of the sun as he rose to a still greater height. In his pale eyes I saw my death mirrored. He brought his mace up to kill.
At the last moment, I saw Merry stab the vile being behind the knee. His stroke missed me, crashing into the ground instead.
For a moment I struggled, on the edge of consciousness. Weariness was threatening to consume me. But I managed to stand and drive my sword into his shadowy form.
Then I silently bid goodbye to Eowyn and I knew no more.
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