Come with me, close you eyes
Hold my hand, it'll be all right
Don't be scared, don't be shy
Lift your head, it'll be all right.
Chapter 3- Little One
Éomer yawned and lazily stretched. He blinked several time to clear his sleep-filled eyes. In the bed beside his, Éowyn was still asleep, bundled up under her covers in almost the same position as the night before. It must have gotten colder during the night, not even the top of her blonde head showed, so deeply nestled was she. He leapt out of bed, dressing quietly so as not to wake his sister. She had had quite a tough week. He smiled warmly, casting his bright eyes on his beloved sister. No matter how he teased her, sometimes edging more towards taunting, she would always be the most important person in the world to him.
He sat down on the edge of her bed. He did hate to end her slumber, but she would be late for her lessons. He shook her gently, but she did not stir. "Éowyn!" he hissed. "Éowyn! Its time to get up!" Still nothing. "Éowyn!" he called.
Frustrated, he tore off her blankets.
~*~
Within minutes, Meduseld and all of Edoras had broken into mass panic. Men of the city rode out looking for Éowyn, while women prayed to the Valar and the children searched every nook and cranny in Edoras. The city rang with the desperate cries of 'Éowyn!'
Meanwhile, in the Golden Hall, Théoden sat solemnly in his throne, waited on by Théodred and Elfhelm. Éomer sat curled up at his uncle's feet, weeping, Théoden looked carved from stone, Théodred's angst played freely on his face and Elfhelm was staring out the window listlessly. All four were waiting.
The doors to the hall opened to admit a young Rider and Éowyn's nanny, Mira. Although Éowyn was rarely in Mira's keeping, they still shared a strong bond. Mira's blue eyes were red and puffy from weeping. The young Rider, unknown to Théoden, wore a very grave face. Théoden knew they brought no good news and more probably ill. "What news have you?" inquired Théoden, voice tired and sad.
"No trace of our little shieldmaiden has been found," admitted the Rider. "But her pony, Brytta, has been taken from the stables. There is hope he will bear her to a nearby village. Messangers will be sent out, of course."
'Little shieldmaiden," Théoden thought, clearly bemused. 'And that, our very problem, is what our people have christened her. Oh the irony of our world.'
"Do as you think best," nodded Théoden "But find our- our little shieldmaiden." Not even Éomer could miss the bitterness in his voice.
"You summoned me, my lord?" inquired Mira.
"Aye," nodded Théoden. "Take Éomer to his chambers and amuse him."
"No!" protested Éomer. "I want to stay here and wait for Éowyn." Tears dripped unstopped down his face.
"No lad," soothed Théoden, ruffling his hair. "You go with Mira. As soon as there is news, we will send for you."
Too weak from grieft to argue, Éomer allowed Mira to lead him away, followed by the Rider.
"Did you hear what he called her?" Théoden asked dully. "'Little Shieldmaiden.' All this time we have been trying to prevent it, but we stood no chance. For she is what she is and now look where my stupidity has brought us!"
"Stupidity?" repeated Elfhelm midly. "Forgive me, my lord, but is it stupidity to protect a cherished one from something that could do them grave harm?"
"Nay," agreed Théoden. "But at least-" He fell silent, realizing there was nothing to say. "This is my doing. I was her keeper!"
"None or all are to blame," Théodred declared. "Yet, do not trouble yourself. It is a sure thing she will head to Minas Tirith and seek the aid of her beloved friend, Boromir. If we do not catch her on the road, he will keep her in the White City for us. Elfhelm and I will set out this very hour if you wish it."
Slowly Théoden let a faint smile creep across his face. "Ah Théodred," he chuckled, greatily heartened, for Théodred's words were wise. "What would I do without you? If you will, go as soon as you may and bring her back."
"As you command, so shall it be," Théodred and Elfhelm murmured.
"Oh yes!" Théoden suddenly spoke up. "I suppose you had better take Éomer with you. We do not want him sneaking off on his own to find her. Elbereth knows that one missing child is quite enough!"
So, spirits falsely high, Elfhelm, Théodred and Théoden began to plan for Elfhelm, Théodred and Éomer's brief, and surely fruitful trip to the White City.
~*~
Théodred rapped on Éomer's door. "You may enter," granted Mira. Théodred forced himself to smile comfortingly at Éomer, who looked up anxiously when he entered.
"Hello my lord," welcomed Mira, shooting an adoring look at him. Théodred shifted uncomfortably. It was hardly a secret that half his father's maids fancied him. But it did make things difficult- especially when the only woman he had any feelings for was one in his dreams. An elfmaiden who called herself Undòmiel. He shook his head as Éomer tugged anxiously at his hand.
"Have they found my sister?" he demanded.
"No, I am afraid not," Théodred admitted. He turned to Mira, who had yet to take her eyes from him. "You may leave us Mira," he granted.
"Yes my lord," agreed Mira, seeming rather flustered. She deeply curtsied and then fled.
Théodred sat down on Éomer's bed. Éomer clambered up on his lap. "What is happening cousin?" he asked.
"You, Elfhelm and I are riding to Minas Tirith," answered Théodred. "We are going to visit Boromir and hopefully find Éowyn."
"Boromir!" gasped Éomer. "Of course! Éowyn always said she wanted Boromir as a brother. Now that I have failed her, she will go to him!"
"Éomer, you don't think Éowyn ran away because of you?" asked Théodred, shocked.
"Well, why else?" frowned Éomer. "I called her a snitch, remember?"
"Éowyn ran away due to a number of things," Théodred explained. "And I am quite sure your insult was not one of them."
Éomer looked up, his eyes shining with renewed hope. "Truly?" he prodded.
"Truly," laughed Théodred. "Éowyn knows you are a very good brother."
"Then what are we waiting for?" cried Éomer. He leapt off of Théodred's lap and began capering around the room. "We have to go to Minas Tirith!"
"Yes, we do," nodded Théodred. "Quickly pack up and then come to the Golden Hall." He left Éomer to his packing and headed off to do his own."
"She will be in Minas Tirith, she will be in Minas Tirth," he repeated to himself as he folded up shirts into a worn burlap sack.
Yet, when he swung up on his stallion and galloped off to the White City, followed closely by Elfhem and Éomer, hew as thinking of the parties of Orcs skirting the borders of Rohan.
~*~
Éowyn swayed wearily in the saddle. It had been four days since she set out from Edoras and two days since her food had run out. She had slept for perhaps a total of five house in those long days. She no longer had any clue to her whereabouts. Her sleep deprived brain only functioned enough to force her to continue walking. "C'mon Brytta," she coaxed, voice thick. "Only a little more, a little more."
For another hour she forced herself and Brytta to continue walking forward. Slowly, her head began to droop. Only when her head hit the pommel, did Éowyn jolt up. "I almost fell asleep," she told Brytta, hopelessness in her voice. "A real warrior would not have. Maybe we should just go home. But then again, which way is home?" She fell silent, in deep thought. It was then that she heard the roar of the Orcs.
Her head whipped around, eyes wide with fright. A party of Orcs was dashing towards her. There were only twenty in total, but for Éowyn, that was about twenty too many.
"Brytta go!" she shouted, digging her heels into his tired flanks. He saw the Orcs and his eyes rolled wildly with fear. Yet, fearing for his safety, he leapt into his first true gallop. The little shieldmaiden and her valiant steed dashed across the plains. Yet both were weary, and the Orcs swift.
They had almost cleared the Orcs, when a particularly lucky arrow pierced Brytta's rump. He screamed in agony, yet kept going. Another arrow hit his neck, only inches from where Éowyn had laid her hand. Brytta faltered. "Oh Brytta," begged Éowyn through her tears. "Please keep going, please!"
But the little pony had run for the last time. he faltered again, tripped and then fell. Éowyn expertly kicked herself out of the saddle and rolled away, saving herself from being crushed by the dying pony. Éowyn had little time for her pony, before the party of Orcs swept around her. They rattled their bucklers at her and gnashed their awful teeth. "Looks like we found a little one!" grimanced one. "Not much meat on her bones!"
"Don't matter," snarled the leader. "Its still meat!" he stepped forward, towering over Éowyn, eyes glinting eagerly. "Don't worry lass," he growled. "This won't hurt... much!"
Éowyn closed her eyes and prepared for the worse.
~*~
The sun shone brightly overhead as the two riders galloped across the plains of Rohan. One was in the prime of his life, with shoulder length brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was garbed in dark greens and browns and appeared travelworn, but this was no mere Ranger. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to the throne of Gondor.
His companion was no less great. His long hair and beard were the same colour as his grey robes. His face was old and wrinkled, but his blue eyes twinkled and belied his ancient age. For ancient he was. Olorin, Mithrandir or Gandalf the Grey, great among the Istari.
Many years lay between them, but also a great friendship. As they rode, they talked lightly together, of the weather or of the doings of their mutual acquaintances. But in both of their minds, a greater shadow lay. Their prey- Gollum. "Something is troubling you, my friend," Gandalf said slowly, after a particularly long silence.
"You know me too well, old friend," Aragorn sighed. "It is the Lady Arwen Undòmiel."
"Do you not mean her father, the Lord Elrond?" Gandalf corrected.
"Aye," agreed Aragorn, rather reluctantly. "Ada has ever been kind to me, yet... his mind is set. Arwen shall not be mine until I am King."
"So take the throne!" Gandalf frowend. "What is stopping you?"
"She has already disobeyed," Aragorn explained woefully. "Undòmiel forsook her immortality for me."
Gandalf did not appear shocked. In fact, he was not. Galadriel of the Golden Wood had seen it and had instantly informed him, thinking it of some importance. He did not offer words of comfort, for truly there were none. Instead he stood in his stirrups and shaded his eyes. "Orcs!" he exclaimed. "And so far into the plains of Rohan! Prepare yourself friend. Twenty against two is not fair odds."
"You shall wield Glamdring and I my own sword," Aragorn said stoutly. "The odds are stacked against them."
"Yah!" they shouted as one. Their horses leapt forward and they thundered towards their new prey. And so Éowyn's hunters became the hunted.
~*~
Éowyn cowered helplessly on the ground as the Orcs closed in on her. As the leader raised his wicked sword up, she passed out from fear, much to her later shame. The Orc prepared to strike, but it would never touch the child. There was the sound of shouts from the outter rim of the circle and then two great brown stallions crashed through the circle. There was a flash of steel and Aragorn felled the leader. There was a brilliant flash of light from Gandalf's staff and more fell dead. Within moments, all twenty Orcs had been slain.
Gandalf trotted around, making sure all were dead. Aragorn leapt from hs horse and dashed towards Éowyn's crumpled form. He carefully lifted her and felt her pulse. "What do you have there?" Gandalf inquired.
"A child," responded Aragorn, slight worry in his tone. "She lives, yet she is weak. Malnutritioned, of late. A child of the Rohirrim, by her hair and complexion. She will need some mild healing, but nothing beyond my capability."
"She will have to come with us," Gandalf decided. "We will rest for tonight. But bear her away from this place. By morn it will reak of death."
Aragorn lifted her gently and bore her to his patiently waiting stallion. He swung her up into the saddle and pulled himself up after her. Her head lolled as they started. "Sh," he soothed, smoothing her blonde hair. "Poor child. I will take care of you." He thought of the she-elf waiting for him in Lothlorien and longing for a family. What child would not enjoy a life among elves, being raised by Arwen Evenstar and Aragorn Estel?
"Do not become too attatched to her Aragorn!" Gandalf warned with a laugh. "We will have to find her family eventually."
"I... I know," Aragorn said slowly. Although it was unlikely they would find her family, in the end she would have to be returned to the Rohirrim. Someone would undoubtably know of her. But somehow, he felt as though he was tied to this child as strongly as he was to Arwen. There was something about her. A side track to Lothlorien would not change their final results in their search for her family. Besides, it would give him time to distinguish exactly why she was fascinating him so. It was not as though he had not seen a child before.The girl whimpered and squirmed. Aragorn took her hand and kissed it gently. He began to sing softly to her in his low, husky voice.
"Come with me, close your eyes
Hold my hand, it'll be all right.
Don't be scared, don't be shy.
Lift your head, its gonna be all right."
He kissed the top of her forehead and flicked the reins to catch up with Gandalf.
~*~
After riding for about one hour, Aragorn demanded they go no further. As they began setting up a camp, the sun began to dip below the horizon. By the time the moon had risen, there was a merry fire and the smell of bacon wafting around their camp. Gandalf bent over the fire and swished the meat around in the pan. It bubbled a little and he let it be. He sliced up a large slab of bread and handed half of it to Aragorn.
The child lay only at an arm's reach away from Aragorn, sleeping peacefully. "Will you wake her up?" Gandalf asked, as he dished out the meat.
"No," answered Aragorn, chomping on a slice. "She is more weary than hungry. I will wake her around noon tomorrow."
"Noon!" exclaimed Gandalf. "I cannot afford that much of a delay. I have to speak with Denethor as soon as possible."
"I will not wake her beforehand," Aragorn frowned stubbornly.
"Then I fear this is where we part ways," Gandalf smiled sadly. "I will leave before dawn."
"So be it," Aragorn shrugged. He reached out and traced her cheek. "I will return to Lothlorien. I know someone there who will be eager to take care of this child."
"You mean Arwen then?" questioned Gandalf. Aragorn nodded, not embarassed. "And after that?"
"To Rivendell, of course," Aragorn answered. "I must learn more of the news from the North before I move again."
"Perhaps I will see you there," Gandalf shrugged. "But for now, I go to my blankets. I will be gone before you rise in the morning. Farewell!"
"Goodbye," nodded Aragorn. He crawled over to the child. "Who are you?" he whispered. "Who are you little one?" He bent over and kissed her forehead.
She stirred and cried out in her sleep. "Éomer!" she shouted. "Théodred, help me!"
"Hush," soothed Aragorn. "Aragorn is here, and he will take care of you." Once more he began to sing.
"I'll try to make the sun shine, brighter for you
I'll will even play the fool, if it makes you smile.
I'll try to make you laugh, if there's a tear in your eye.
After all is said
After all is done
I'd do anything for you.
Come with me, close you eyes
Hold my hand, it'll be all right
Don't be scared, don't be shy
Lift your head, it'll be all right.
Hold my hand, it'll be all right
Don't be scared, don't be shy
Lift your head, it'll be all right.
Chapter 3- Little One
Éomer yawned and lazily stretched. He blinked several time to clear his sleep-filled eyes. In the bed beside his, Éowyn was still asleep, bundled up under her covers in almost the same position as the night before. It must have gotten colder during the night, not even the top of her blonde head showed, so deeply nestled was she. He leapt out of bed, dressing quietly so as not to wake his sister. She had had quite a tough week. He smiled warmly, casting his bright eyes on his beloved sister. No matter how he teased her, sometimes edging more towards taunting, she would always be the most important person in the world to him.
He sat down on the edge of her bed. He did hate to end her slumber, but she would be late for her lessons. He shook her gently, but she did not stir. "Éowyn!" he hissed. "Éowyn! Its time to get up!" Still nothing. "Éowyn!" he called.
Frustrated, he tore off her blankets.
~*~
Within minutes, Meduseld and all of Edoras had broken into mass panic. Men of the city rode out looking for Éowyn, while women prayed to the Valar and the children searched every nook and cranny in Edoras. The city rang with the desperate cries of 'Éowyn!'
Meanwhile, in the Golden Hall, Théoden sat solemnly in his throne, waited on by Théodred and Elfhelm. Éomer sat curled up at his uncle's feet, weeping, Théoden looked carved from stone, Théodred's angst played freely on his face and Elfhelm was staring out the window listlessly. All four were waiting.
The doors to the hall opened to admit a young Rider and Éowyn's nanny, Mira. Although Éowyn was rarely in Mira's keeping, they still shared a strong bond. Mira's blue eyes were red and puffy from weeping. The young Rider, unknown to Théoden, wore a very grave face. Théoden knew they brought no good news and more probably ill. "What news have you?" inquired Théoden, voice tired and sad.
"No trace of our little shieldmaiden has been found," admitted the Rider. "But her pony, Brytta, has been taken from the stables. There is hope he will bear her to a nearby village. Messangers will be sent out, of course."
'Little shieldmaiden," Théoden thought, clearly bemused. 'And that, our very problem, is what our people have christened her. Oh the irony of our world.'
"Do as you think best," nodded Théoden "But find our- our little shieldmaiden." Not even Éomer could miss the bitterness in his voice.
"You summoned me, my lord?" inquired Mira.
"Aye," nodded Théoden. "Take Éomer to his chambers and amuse him."
"No!" protested Éomer. "I want to stay here and wait for Éowyn." Tears dripped unstopped down his face.
"No lad," soothed Théoden, ruffling his hair. "You go with Mira. As soon as there is news, we will send for you."
Too weak from grieft to argue, Éomer allowed Mira to lead him away, followed by the Rider.
"Did you hear what he called her?" Théoden asked dully. "'Little Shieldmaiden.' All this time we have been trying to prevent it, but we stood no chance. For she is what she is and now look where my stupidity has brought us!"
"Stupidity?" repeated Elfhelm midly. "Forgive me, my lord, but is it stupidity to protect a cherished one from something that could do them grave harm?"
"Nay," agreed Théoden. "But at least-" He fell silent, realizing there was nothing to say. "This is my doing. I was her keeper!"
"None or all are to blame," Théodred declared. "Yet, do not trouble yourself. It is a sure thing she will head to Minas Tirith and seek the aid of her beloved friend, Boromir. If we do not catch her on the road, he will keep her in the White City for us. Elfhelm and I will set out this very hour if you wish it."
Slowly Théoden let a faint smile creep across his face. "Ah Théodred," he chuckled, greatily heartened, for Théodred's words were wise. "What would I do without you? If you will, go as soon as you may and bring her back."
"As you command, so shall it be," Théodred and Elfhelm murmured.
"Oh yes!" Théoden suddenly spoke up. "I suppose you had better take Éomer with you. We do not want him sneaking off on his own to find her. Elbereth knows that one missing child is quite enough!"
So, spirits falsely high, Elfhelm, Théodred and Théoden began to plan for Elfhelm, Théodred and Éomer's brief, and surely fruitful trip to the White City.
~*~
Théodred rapped on Éomer's door. "You may enter," granted Mira. Théodred forced himself to smile comfortingly at Éomer, who looked up anxiously when he entered.
"Hello my lord," welcomed Mira, shooting an adoring look at him. Théodred shifted uncomfortably. It was hardly a secret that half his father's maids fancied him. But it did make things difficult- especially when the only woman he had any feelings for was one in his dreams. An elfmaiden who called herself Undòmiel. He shook his head as Éomer tugged anxiously at his hand.
"Have they found my sister?" he demanded.
"No, I am afraid not," Théodred admitted. He turned to Mira, who had yet to take her eyes from him. "You may leave us Mira," he granted.
"Yes my lord," agreed Mira, seeming rather flustered. She deeply curtsied and then fled.
Théodred sat down on Éomer's bed. Éomer clambered up on his lap. "What is happening cousin?" he asked.
"You, Elfhelm and I are riding to Minas Tirith," answered Théodred. "We are going to visit Boromir and hopefully find Éowyn."
"Boromir!" gasped Éomer. "Of course! Éowyn always said she wanted Boromir as a brother. Now that I have failed her, she will go to him!"
"Éomer, you don't think Éowyn ran away because of you?" asked Théodred, shocked.
"Well, why else?" frowned Éomer. "I called her a snitch, remember?"
"Éowyn ran away due to a number of things," Théodred explained. "And I am quite sure your insult was not one of them."
Éomer looked up, his eyes shining with renewed hope. "Truly?" he prodded.
"Truly," laughed Théodred. "Éowyn knows you are a very good brother."
"Then what are we waiting for?" cried Éomer. He leapt off of Théodred's lap and began capering around the room. "We have to go to Minas Tirith!"
"Yes, we do," nodded Théodred. "Quickly pack up and then come to the Golden Hall." He left Éomer to his packing and headed off to do his own."
"She will be in Minas Tirith, she will be in Minas Tirth," he repeated to himself as he folded up shirts into a worn burlap sack.
Yet, when he swung up on his stallion and galloped off to the White City, followed closely by Elfhem and Éomer, hew as thinking of the parties of Orcs skirting the borders of Rohan.
~*~
Éowyn swayed wearily in the saddle. It had been four days since she set out from Edoras and two days since her food had run out. She had slept for perhaps a total of five house in those long days. She no longer had any clue to her whereabouts. Her sleep deprived brain only functioned enough to force her to continue walking. "C'mon Brytta," she coaxed, voice thick. "Only a little more, a little more."
For another hour she forced herself and Brytta to continue walking forward. Slowly, her head began to droop. Only when her head hit the pommel, did Éowyn jolt up. "I almost fell asleep," she told Brytta, hopelessness in her voice. "A real warrior would not have. Maybe we should just go home. But then again, which way is home?" She fell silent, in deep thought. It was then that she heard the roar of the Orcs.
Her head whipped around, eyes wide with fright. A party of Orcs was dashing towards her. There were only twenty in total, but for Éowyn, that was about twenty too many.
"Brytta go!" she shouted, digging her heels into his tired flanks. He saw the Orcs and his eyes rolled wildly with fear. Yet, fearing for his safety, he leapt into his first true gallop. The little shieldmaiden and her valiant steed dashed across the plains. Yet both were weary, and the Orcs swift.
They had almost cleared the Orcs, when a particularly lucky arrow pierced Brytta's rump. He screamed in agony, yet kept going. Another arrow hit his neck, only inches from where Éowyn had laid her hand. Brytta faltered. "Oh Brytta," begged Éowyn through her tears. "Please keep going, please!"
But the little pony had run for the last time. he faltered again, tripped and then fell. Éowyn expertly kicked herself out of the saddle and rolled away, saving herself from being crushed by the dying pony. Éowyn had little time for her pony, before the party of Orcs swept around her. They rattled their bucklers at her and gnashed their awful teeth. "Looks like we found a little one!" grimanced one. "Not much meat on her bones!"
"Don't matter," snarled the leader. "Its still meat!" he stepped forward, towering over Éowyn, eyes glinting eagerly. "Don't worry lass," he growled. "This won't hurt... much!"
Éowyn closed her eyes and prepared for the worse.
~*~
The sun shone brightly overhead as the two riders galloped across the plains of Rohan. One was in the prime of his life, with shoulder length brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was garbed in dark greens and browns and appeared travelworn, but this was no mere Ranger. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to the throne of Gondor.
His companion was no less great. His long hair and beard were the same colour as his grey robes. His face was old and wrinkled, but his blue eyes twinkled and belied his ancient age. For ancient he was. Olorin, Mithrandir or Gandalf the Grey, great among the Istari.
Many years lay between them, but also a great friendship. As they rode, they talked lightly together, of the weather or of the doings of their mutual acquaintances. But in both of their minds, a greater shadow lay. Their prey- Gollum. "Something is troubling you, my friend," Gandalf said slowly, after a particularly long silence.
"You know me too well, old friend," Aragorn sighed. "It is the Lady Arwen Undòmiel."
"Do you not mean her father, the Lord Elrond?" Gandalf corrected.
"Aye," agreed Aragorn, rather reluctantly. "Ada has ever been kind to me, yet... his mind is set. Arwen shall not be mine until I am King."
"So take the throne!" Gandalf frowend. "What is stopping you?"
"She has already disobeyed," Aragorn explained woefully. "Undòmiel forsook her immortality for me."
Gandalf did not appear shocked. In fact, he was not. Galadriel of the Golden Wood had seen it and had instantly informed him, thinking it of some importance. He did not offer words of comfort, for truly there were none. Instead he stood in his stirrups and shaded his eyes. "Orcs!" he exclaimed. "And so far into the plains of Rohan! Prepare yourself friend. Twenty against two is not fair odds."
"You shall wield Glamdring and I my own sword," Aragorn said stoutly. "The odds are stacked against them."
"Yah!" they shouted as one. Their horses leapt forward and they thundered towards their new prey. And so Éowyn's hunters became the hunted.
~*~
Éowyn cowered helplessly on the ground as the Orcs closed in on her. As the leader raised his wicked sword up, she passed out from fear, much to her later shame. The Orc prepared to strike, but it would never touch the child. There was the sound of shouts from the outter rim of the circle and then two great brown stallions crashed through the circle. There was a flash of steel and Aragorn felled the leader. There was a brilliant flash of light from Gandalf's staff and more fell dead. Within moments, all twenty Orcs had been slain.
Gandalf trotted around, making sure all were dead. Aragorn leapt from hs horse and dashed towards Éowyn's crumpled form. He carefully lifted her and felt her pulse. "What do you have there?" Gandalf inquired.
"A child," responded Aragorn, slight worry in his tone. "She lives, yet she is weak. Malnutritioned, of late. A child of the Rohirrim, by her hair and complexion. She will need some mild healing, but nothing beyond my capability."
"She will have to come with us," Gandalf decided. "We will rest for tonight. But bear her away from this place. By morn it will reak of death."
Aragorn lifted her gently and bore her to his patiently waiting stallion. He swung her up into the saddle and pulled himself up after her. Her head lolled as they started. "Sh," he soothed, smoothing her blonde hair. "Poor child. I will take care of you." He thought of the she-elf waiting for him in Lothlorien and longing for a family. What child would not enjoy a life among elves, being raised by Arwen Evenstar and Aragorn Estel?
"Do not become too attatched to her Aragorn!" Gandalf warned with a laugh. "We will have to find her family eventually."
"I... I know," Aragorn said slowly. Although it was unlikely they would find her family, in the end she would have to be returned to the Rohirrim. Someone would undoubtably know of her. But somehow, he felt as though he was tied to this child as strongly as he was to Arwen. There was something about her. A side track to Lothlorien would not change their final results in their search for her family. Besides, it would give him time to distinguish exactly why she was fascinating him so. It was not as though he had not seen a child before.The girl whimpered and squirmed. Aragorn took her hand and kissed it gently. He began to sing softly to her in his low, husky voice.
"Come with me, close your eyes
Hold my hand, it'll be all right.
Don't be scared, don't be shy.
Lift your head, its gonna be all right."
He kissed the top of her forehead and flicked the reins to catch up with Gandalf.
~*~
After riding for about one hour, Aragorn demanded they go no further. As they began setting up a camp, the sun began to dip below the horizon. By the time the moon had risen, there was a merry fire and the smell of bacon wafting around their camp. Gandalf bent over the fire and swished the meat around in the pan. It bubbled a little and he let it be. He sliced up a large slab of bread and handed half of it to Aragorn.
The child lay only at an arm's reach away from Aragorn, sleeping peacefully. "Will you wake her up?" Gandalf asked, as he dished out the meat.
"No," answered Aragorn, chomping on a slice. "She is more weary than hungry. I will wake her around noon tomorrow."
"Noon!" exclaimed Gandalf. "I cannot afford that much of a delay. I have to speak with Denethor as soon as possible."
"I will not wake her beforehand," Aragorn frowned stubbornly.
"Then I fear this is where we part ways," Gandalf smiled sadly. "I will leave before dawn."
"So be it," Aragorn shrugged. He reached out and traced her cheek. "I will return to Lothlorien. I know someone there who will be eager to take care of this child."
"You mean Arwen then?" questioned Gandalf. Aragorn nodded, not embarassed. "And after that?"
"To Rivendell, of course," Aragorn answered. "I must learn more of the news from the North before I move again."
"Perhaps I will see you there," Gandalf shrugged. "But for now, I go to my blankets. I will be gone before you rise in the morning. Farewell!"
"Goodbye," nodded Aragorn. He crawled over to the child. "Who are you?" he whispered. "Who are you little one?" He bent over and kissed her forehead.
She stirred and cried out in her sleep. "Éomer!" she shouted. "Théodred, help me!"
"Hush," soothed Aragorn. "Aragorn is here, and he will take care of you." Once more he began to sing.
"I'll try to make the sun shine, brighter for you
I'll will even play the fool, if it makes you smile.
I'll try to make you laugh, if there's a tear in your eye.
After all is said
After all is done
I'd do anything for you.
Come with me, close you eyes
Hold my hand, it'll be all right
Don't be scared, don't be shy
Lift your head, it'll be all right.