~*~
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 4- Dashed Hopes
Éowyn was awake, but she did not open her eyes. If she stayed still enough, Théodred or Éomer would come and wake her. Her ears pricked up as someone knelt by her. A large hand grasped her far smaller one. "Little one," whispered a voice she didn't know. "Little one, wake up."
Confused, she opened her eyes and was instantly blinded by the noon sun. The dark shadow of a man moved in between her and the sun and after a few blinks she could make out her surroundings. A man she did not know was looking down at her. He was very tall with blue eyes that were filled with worry. "Good morning," he smiled. "I have been very worried about you."
Éowyn struggled to sit up. He placed a hand on her back and helped her. She gasped at her odd surroundings and then everything came rushing back to her. "Oh dear," she whispered to herself. "I think I have made a mistake."
"And why is that?" asked the man.
Éowyn studied him. He wore a sword and she reckoned he could use it- probably teach her how to use one as well. For a while, traveling with him could be exciting, and excitement was exactly what she was looking for. "Oh, no reason," she answered lamely. "Who are you?"
He smiled a little. "My name is Aragorn," he replied. "My friend and I found you, about to be seriously harmed by Orcs. We rescued you and I healed you."
Éowyn looked around, expecting to see his friend appear. "Oh, he is no longer here," explained Aragorn. "He continued on this morning whilst I remained behind."
"Oh, I am sorry if I've been a burden to you," Éowyn apologized, suddenly realizing Aragorn might not want a tagalong.
"It was nothing," Aragor assured her. "And between you and me, you are far more fair a thing to look upon!"
Éowyn giggled a little. "And now nameless one," smiled Aragorn. "I expect you are quite hungry right about now!"
"Oh, I am sorry," gasped Éowyn. "I'm Éowyn. And yes, I am hungry."
"Then come and eat," suggested Aragorn. They sat down around the fire. Aragorn dished out some stew from a simmering pan and handed a bowlful to Éowyn. He served himself and then settled down across from her. She eagerly stuffed the warm meal into her mouth- her first food in almost three days.
Aragorn ate a little in silence, all the while watching Éowyn closely. After she was done, she hugged her legs to her body, rocked back and forth and let her eyes wander around. Aragorn put his emptied bowl down and looked at Éowyn over steepled fingers. "Well Éowyn, I answered your questions, so I was hoping you will answer mine."
"I will try," Éowyn said slowly.
"What is a child of the Rohirrim doing so far away from home?" Aragorn inquired. "Did anyone try to hurt you?"
"No one tried to hurt me in body," admitted Éowyn. "But my family says I have to learn how to tend the house and cook. They will not allow me to do as I wish and yell at me for no reason!"
"No reason?" frowned Aragorn, beginning to realize Éowyn was in no trouble. She was merely suffering from damaged pride.
"Well, I did hit Cook with a wooden fork," admitted Éowyn. "But only to prove I could fight."
"What is wrong with a life of cooking and housekeeping?" inquired Aragorn.
"Nothing if you enjoy it, I suppose," answered Éowyn reasonably. "But would you give up your life now to keep a house?"
"No, I doubt I would," admitted Aragorn truthfully.
"Well, I wish I had your life," Éowyn sighed wistfully. "Free to go where I would, killing any or all who dared to oppose me."
"My life is not like that at all," smiled Aragorn ruefully. "I have restrictions, just like yours, perhaps heavier." He looked to the East. "Far heavier."
For a moment, Éowyn was startled by the noble look that suddenly flitted across his face and she felt small and worthless. She looked to the east as well, but saw nothing to inspire such greatness. She was still searching when Aragorn spoke again. "Well, Éowyn," he smiled. "What am I to do with you? I had assumed you were an orphan and had decided to take you to Lothlorien, but now I find you have a family. Tell me where they live and I shall accompany you to them. I expect they are very worried about you!"
Éowyn remained silent. "Éowyn?" he frowned.
"I- I do not want to go back!" she blurted out. "Please let me stay with you!" She looked at him, tears shining in her eyes.
He frowned uneasily. He admitted, he still wanted to take Éowyn to Lothlorien, yet she had family and belonged with them as they sounded respectable enough. Still, he owed them nothing and perhaps her absence would convince them to allow her to train as she would. As soon as she wished to return, he could escort her home.
"Very well," he agreed. "You will come with me."
"Thank you!" grinned Éowyn. "Could I ask one more question?"
"You obviously already did," teased Aragorn. "But yes, ask away."
"Could I assume you know how to use that sword?"
Aragorn smiled, thinking of all the blood his sword had seen. "Yes Éowyn," he nodded. "I suspect you could assume that."
~*~
That night, Aragorn tucked Éowyn into her blankets. "Good night, Éowyn," he smiled.
"Good night, Aragorn," yawned Éowyn. Despite her yawns, when Aragorn headed for his blanket almost one hour later, she was still wide awake.
"Why do you not sleep, Éowyn?" frowned Aragorn, sitting down my her. "We have a long journey tomorrow."
"I know," sighed Éowyn. "It is just- well, whenever Théodred sends me to bed at home, he tells me a story."
"Would you like me to tell you a story?" Aragorn asked with a smile.
"Yes please," chirped Éowyn.
"Very well," agreed Aragorn. "I will tell you one of my favorites."
"Once, not so long ago, there lived an orphan human boy, raised by elves. One day while he was wandering in the woods where he lived, he met his foster father's daughter. He had not met her before as she had tarried long in the lands of her mother. Their eyes met and they fell in love. But their love was doomed."
"For he was a mortal and she possessed the immortality of the elves. Yet, they were young and naïve and believed true love could conquer all. The she-elf even planned to forsake her immortality for the man. But when the elf's father heard of her plan, he called the man to him and said that until he had reclaimed his family's throne, the elf would never be his wife. Greatly anguished, the man went into the Wild, only visiting his love occasionally in the Golden Wood. But they both continued to hope for the day when the man will claim the throne and they are free to become man and wife."
Aragorn fell silent. Éowyn glanced up and saw his eyes were filled with pain. She did not wish to disturb him, but was eager to discover the story's end. "Did he ever reclaim the throne?" she asked timidly.
Aragorn looked at her, momentarily confused as though he did not know her. Finally he sighed and smiled sadly. "I do not know," he admitted. "But when I discover it, I promise to inform you."
"Well, I suppose that will have to do," Éowyn frowned. "It was not a very good story, was it? It was terribly sad!"
"Life is not always happy, Éowyn," Aragorn said gently.
"I know," nodded Éowyn. "But wouldn't it be nice if it was?"
"Go to sleep Éowyn," Aragorn ordered mildly, ignoring her question. "We will talk of an ever-blissful world tomorrow."
"Fine," sighed Éowyn, a little put out. But she obediently lay down and closed her eyes. Soon her breathing slowed and Aragorn knew she had slipped into sleep.
He loomed over her. She looked so innocent and venerable lying there. He would have to take very good care of her. He light kissed her brow and then brought his bedroll over right next to hers. He quickly fell asleep.
Around midnight, an evil dream plagued Aragorn, one which hinted darkly at a future without Arwen but with another, unknown White Lady. Protectively, he swung an arm over Éowyn, making sure no harm came to his little one.
~*~
Early the next morning, Aragorn and Éowyn galloped off towards Lothlorien on the back of Aragorn's brown stallion. Meanwhile, Théodred, Éomer and Elfhelm rode to Minas Tirith. Every stride of their horses' hooves took them further away from Éowyn.
On the afternoon of their fourth day from Edoras, they arrived at Minas Tirith. An old guard called down to them. "Oy! Who goes there?"
"Prince Théodred of Edoras," replied Théodred calmly. "And with him the little Lord Éomer and Marshall Elfhelm."
"Good day to you, prince," greeted the guard, as the gates began to swing open. "Word will be sent to the Lord Boromir. I do not believe he was expecting you!"
Théodred frowned. If Éowyn was here, surely Boromir would be expecting someone to come and fetch her. But, if she were not here, then where was she?
~*~
Théodred looked up expectantly when the doors to Boromir's personal parlour opened. After arriving at Boromir's newest home, they had been brought here and told to wait. That had been almost a full hour ago. Boromir strode into the room and offered his friend a smile. Boromir was a very tall man in perfect physical condition. He was a handsome man and it was whispered in secluded places that in Boromir, the Kings of Old had come again. Théodred was sure that there were some who would damn the line of Isildur and put Boromir on the throne.
"Théodred!" Boromir cried, embracing his friend. "What a surprize!" Théodred managed a smile. He and Théodred had been born mere days apart. If Théodred had a dearest friend, than Boromir was surely it.
"And hello to you, Lord Éomer," greeted Boromir. Théodred smiled. Boromir always treated Éomer and Éowyn as though they were fully grown, one of the main reasons they loved him so. "It has been a while since you and Lady Éowyn visited Minas Tirith. You have been sorely missed!"
"Where is my sister?" demanded Éomer, not about to waste time with foolish greetings.
"What?" frowned Boromir, his face going blank.
"Éowyn" said Éomer slowly, as though explaining something to a simpleton. "She left Edoras to come here- now where is she?"
Boromir turned to face Théodred and Elfhelm. "What is he talking about?" frowned Boromir, worry in his eyes.
"Éowyn has run away from home, my lord," replied Elfhelm. "We had hoped she would be here."
"I am sorry," apologized Boromir. "But none in Gondor have seen Éowyn since Midsummer's Eve last year."
Théodred closed his eyes, feeling hope leave him.
~*~
"How is Faramir?" asked Théodred, absently. He was sitting in Boromir's private sitting room, talking to the young Steward to be.
"He was at dinner," Boromir remined Théodred, taking a shallow sip of his mulled wine.
"Right," muttered Théodred, drowning his cup in one gulp. He reached for the pitcher, but Boromir grabbed his hand.
"Drinking yourself into oblivion will not help to find Éowyn," he said lightly.
"I know," sighed Théodred heavily. "But, what am I to do? Tell Éomer there is no hope of his sister being alive?"
"There is still hope," Boromir argued weakily.
Théodred let out a bitter laugh. "Of course there is hope," he growled. "What child could not survive on the Orc-ridden plains alone and poorly provisioned?" Boromir said nothing. Théodred sighed again. "I am glad you have hope, friend, but for me, hope has faded away." He stood up. "I am going to bed."
"Good night," Boromir offered, rather timidly.
"Oh, I am sure I will sleep soundly," Théodred replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. He left for his temporary chambers.
Boromir stood and drained his own glass. He crossed to the window and threw open the shutters. Outside the stars gleamed brightly, unaware that anything was amiss. "Please Tulkas," he murmured. "Please let her be all right. I fear the ruin of the Rohirrim if she should be dead."
~*~
Théodred slowly opened his eyes and immediately recognized his surroundings. He was in a gazebo. In the background there were mountains, woods and a waterfall. Nestled amongst it all was a fair and ancient house. All arould him sounded strange unearthly music. It made his heart ache. He did not know the name of this place, but he had been here before in previous dreams.
She was here.
She turned to face him and, as always, she took his breath away. Her long black hair fell down to her waist in soft waves, her blue eyes were clear and slightly slanted and she possessed the elvish beauty. She was garbed in a simple green gown with flowing skirts, a gold girt and large bell sleeves. "Undòmiel," he breathed.
"Why do you continue to bring me here?" she demanded, her fair face contorted in anger that did nothing to mar her beauty. "I have no feelings for you! Let me live my life." She turned to go, but he caught her wrist. "Unhand me!" she ordered. "When Estel hears of this-"
"Just hear me out!" he begged. "I do not bring you here. Someone continually brings me here."
She studied him for a moment. "Who are you?" she asked slowly.
"Théodred, son of Théoden, son of Thengel," answered Théodred.
Undòmiel's eyes widened alarmingly. "Your name declares the coming of my doom!"
There was a flash of light and Théodred brought his hand up to protect his eyes from the bright light. He lowered it a bit to see his surroundings and realized he was being whipped at by a fierce wind. Undòmiel was standing in front of him, over the grave of someone who had obviously been very important. He realized they were in the Houses of the Dead in Minas Tirith. Undòmiel was garbed in black and was weeping. She did not seem to notice the wind, though it blew her mourning clothes back.
Then he was jolting up in his own bed, panting heavily.
~*~
Aragorn hadn't thought to put his sword out of her reach. He had only turned for a moment to light a fire. "Turn around and face me as a man should!" Éowyn's voice ordered. Only, it was not like her voice. It seemed older and more proud.
He spun to find Éowyn standing tall, his sword held in her hand. She seemed older and taller, not to mention fairer and colder. He stared, aghast. For in her he saw the White Lady of his dreams. "What foul magic is this?" he whispered, shocked.
"Who are you?" demanded Éowyn, eyes smoldering.
"I am Aragorn," replied Aragorn, stalling for time.
"Aragorn," murmured the woman. "I feel as though I know you. Are you a trick of Sauron's, sent here to lure me into danger?"
"Nay lady," he disagreed. "I have no hard feelings for you- quite the opposite in fact."
"I- I," Éowyn stuttered. Her sword dropped a little. Aragorn leapt into action. He kneed the shieldmaiden in the stomach, only hard enough to make her react. Whilst she was at unawares, he wrenched the sword from her hands. He pointed it at her, but he needn't have bothered. The moment the sword left her hands, Éowyn had shrunk back to her normal self, shaking on the ground.
"Oh little one," sighed Aragorn heavily. He sheathed his sword and knelt down by her. He gathered her in his arms and gently rocked her back and forth.
'We must reach Lothlorien soon,' he thought urgently. 'Lady Galadriel will know what to do.'
~*~*~*~
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 4- Dashed Hopes
Éowyn was awake, but she did not open her eyes. If she stayed still enough, Théodred or Éomer would come and wake her. Her ears pricked up as someone knelt by her. A large hand grasped her far smaller one. "Little one," whispered a voice she didn't know. "Little one, wake up."
Confused, she opened her eyes and was instantly blinded by the noon sun. The dark shadow of a man moved in between her and the sun and after a few blinks she could make out her surroundings. A man she did not know was looking down at her. He was very tall with blue eyes that were filled with worry. "Good morning," he smiled. "I have been very worried about you."
Éowyn struggled to sit up. He placed a hand on her back and helped her. She gasped at her odd surroundings and then everything came rushing back to her. "Oh dear," she whispered to herself. "I think I have made a mistake."
"And why is that?" asked the man.
Éowyn studied him. He wore a sword and she reckoned he could use it- probably teach her how to use one as well. For a while, traveling with him could be exciting, and excitement was exactly what she was looking for. "Oh, no reason," she answered lamely. "Who are you?"
He smiled a little. "My name is Aragorn," he replied. "My friend and I found you, about to be seriously harmed by Orcs. We rescued you and I healed you."
Éowyn looked around, expecting to see his friend appear. "Oh, he is no longer here," explained Aragorn. "He continued on this morning whilst I remained behind."
"Oh, I am sorry if I've been a burden to you," Éowyn apologized, suddenly realizing Aragorn might not want a tagalong.
"It was nothing," Aragor assured her. "And between you and me, you are far more fair a thing to look upon!"
Éowyn giggled a little. "And now nameless one," smiled Aragorn. "I expect you are quite hungry right about now!"
"Oh, I am sorry," gasped Éowyn. "I'm Éowyn. And yes, I am hungry."
"Then come and eat," suggested Aragorn. They sat down around the fire. Aragorn dished out some stew from a simmering pan and handed a bowlful to Éowyn. He served himself and then settled down across from her. She eagerly stuffed the warm meal into her mouth- her first food in almost three days.
Aragorn ate a little in silence, all the while watching Éowyn closely. After she was done, she hugged her legs to her body, rocked back and forth and let her eyes wander around. Aragorn put his emptied bowl down and looked at Éowyn over steepled fingers. "Well Éowyn, I answered your questions, so I was hoping you will answer mine."
"I will try," Éowyn said slowly.
"What is a child of the Rohirrim doing so far away from home?" Aragorn inquired. "Did anyone try to hurt you?"
"No one tried to hurt me in body," admitted Éowyn. "But my family says I have to learn how to tend the house and cook. They will not allow me to do as I wish and yell at me for no reason!"
"No reason?" frowned Aragorn, beginning to realize Éowyn was in no trouble. She was merely suffering from damaged pride.
"Well, I did hit Cook with a wooden fork," admitted Éowyn. "But only to prove I could fight."
"What is wrong with a life of cooking and housekeeping?" inquired Aragorn.
"Nothing if you enjoy it, I suppose," answered Éowyn reasonably. "But would you give up your life now to keep a house?"
"No, I doubt I would," admitted Aragorn truthfully.
"Well, I wish I had your life," Éowyn sighed wistfully. "Free to go where I would, killing any or all who dared to oppose me."
"My life is not like that at all," smiled Aragorn ruefully. "I have restrictions, just like yours, perhaps heavier." He looked to the East. "Far heavier."
For a moment, Éowyn was startled by the noble look that suddenly flitted across his face and she felt small and worthless. She looked to the east as well, but saw nothing to inspire such greatness. She was still searching when Aragorn spoke again. "Well, Éowyn," he smiled. "What am I to do with you? I had assumed you were an orphan and had decided to take you to Lothlorien, but now I find you have a family. Tell me where they live and I shall accompany you to them. I expect they are very worried about you!"
Éowyn remained silent. "Éowyn?" he frowned.
"I- I do not want to go back!" she blurted out. "Please let me stay with you!" She looked at him, tears shining in her eyes.
He frowned uneasily. He admitted, he still wanted to take Éowyn to Lothlorien, yet she had family and belonged with them as they sounded respectable enough. Still, he owed them nothing and perhaps her absence would convince them to allow her to train as she would. As soon as she wished to return, he could escort her home.
"Very well," he agreed. "You will come with me."
"Thank you!" grinned Éowyn. "Could I ask one more question?"
"You obviously already did," teased Aragorn. "But yes, ask away."
"Could I assume you know how to use that sword?"
Aragorn smiled, thinking of all the blood his sword had seen. "Yes Éowyn," he nodded. "I suspect you could assume that."
~*~
That night, Aragorn tucked Éowyn into her blankets. "Good night, Éowyn," he smiled.
"Good night, Aragorn," yawned Éowyn. Despite her yawns, when Aragorn headed for his blanket almost one hour later, she was still wide awake.
"Why do you not sleep, Éowyn?" frowned Aragorn, sitting down my her. "We have a long journey tomorrow."
"I know," sighed Éowyn. "It is just- well, whenever Théodred sends me to bed at home, he tells me a story."
"Would you like me to tell you a story?" Aragorn asked with a smile.
"Yes please," chirped Éowyn.
"Very well," agreed Aragorn. "I will tell you one of my favorites."
"Once, not so long ago, there lived an orphan human boy, raised by elves. One day while he was wandering in the woods where he lived, he met his foster father's daughter. He had not met her before as she had tarried long in the lands of her mother. Their eyes met and they fell in love. But their love was doomed."
"For he was a mortal and she possessed the immortality of the elves. Yet, they were young and naïve and believed true love could conquer all. The she-elf even planned to forsake her immortality for the man. But when the elf's father heard of her plan, he called the man to him and said that until he had reclaimed his family's throne, the elf would never be his wife. Greatly anguished, the man went into the Wild, only visiting his love occasionally in the Golden Wood. But they both continued to hope for the day when the man will claim the throne and they are free to become man and wife."
Aragorn fell silent. Éowyn glanced up and saw his eyes were filled with pain. She did not wish to disturb him, but was eager to discover the story's end. "Did he ever reclaim the throne?" she asked timidly.
Aragorn looked at her, momentarily confused as though he did not know her. Finally he sighed and smiled sadly. "I do not know," he admitted. "But when I discover it, I promise to inform you."
"Well, I suppose that will have to do," Éowyn frowned. "It was not a very good story, was it? It was terribly sad!"
"Life is not always happy, Éowyn," Aragorn said gently.
"I know," nodded Éowyn. "But wouldn't it be nice if it was?"
"Go to sleep Éowyn," Aragorn ordered mildly, ignoring her question. "We will talk of an ever-blissful world tomorrow."
"Fine," sighed Éowyn, a little put out. But she obediently lay down and closed her eyes. Soon her breathing slowed and Aragorn knew she had slipped into sleep.
He loomed over her. She looked so innocent and venerable lying there. He would have to take very good care of her. He light kissed her brow and then brought his bedroll over right next to hers. He quickly fell asleep.
Around midnight, an evil dream plagued Aragorn, one which hinted darkly at a future without Arwen but with another, unknown White Lady. Protectively, he swung an arm over Éowyn, making sure no harm came to his little one.
~*~
Early the next morning, Aragorn and Éowyn galloped off towards Lothlorien on the back of Aragorn's brown stallion. Meanwhile, Théodred, Éomer and Elfhelm rode to Minas Tirith. Every stride of their horses' hooves took them further away from Éowyn.
On the afternoon of their fourth day from Edoras, they arrived at Minas Tirith. An old guard called down to them. "Oy! Who goes there?"
"Prince Théodred of Edoras," replied Théodred calmly. "And with him the little Lord Éomer and Marshall Elfhelm."
"Good day to you, prince," greeted the guard, as the gates began to swing open. "Word will be sent to the Lord Boromir. I do not believe he was expecting you!"
Théodred frowned. If Éowyn was here, surely Boromir would be expecting someone to come and fetch her. But, if she were not here, then where was she?
~*~
Théodred looked up expectantly when the doors to Boromir's personal parlour opened. After arriving at Boromir's newest home, they had been brought here and told to wait. That had been almost a full hour ago. Boromir strode into the room and offered his friend a smile. Boromir was a very tall man in perfect physical condition. He was a handsome man and it was whispered in secluded places that in Boromir, the Kings of Old had come again. Théodred was sure that there were some who would damn the line of Isildur and put Boromir on the throne.
"Théodred!" Boromir cried, embracing his friend. "What a surprize!" Théodred managed a smile. He and Théodred had been born mere days apart. If Théodred had a dearest friend, than Boromir was surely it.
"And hello to you, Lord Éomer," greeted Boromir. Théodred smiled. Boromir always treated Éomer and Éowyn as though they were fully grown, one of the main reasons they loved him so. "It has been a while since you and Lady Éowyn visited Minas Tirith. You have been sorely missed!"
"Where is my sister?" demanded Éomer, not about to waste time with foolish greetings.
"What?" frowned Boromir, his face going blank.
"Éowyn" said Éomer slowly, as though explaining something to a simpleton. "She left Edoras to come here- now where is she?"
Boromir turned to face Théodred and Elfhelm. "What is he talking about?" frowned Boromir, worry in his eyes.
"Éowyn has run away from home, my lord," replied Elfhelm. "We had hoped she would be here."
"I am sorry," apologized Boromir. "But none in Gondor have seen Éowyn since Midsummer's Eve last year."
Théodred closed his eyes, feeling hope leave him.
~*~
"How is Faramir?" asked Théodred, absently. He was sitting in Boromir's private sitting room, talking to the young Steward to be.
"He was at dinner," Boromir remined Théodred, taking a shallow sip of his mulled wine.
"Right," muttered Théodred, drowning his cup in one gulp. He reached for the pitcher, but Boromir grabbed his hand.
"Drinking yourself into oblivion will not help to find Éowyn," he said lightly.
"I know," sighed Théodred heavily. "But, what am I to do? Tell Éomer there is no hope of his sister being alive?"
"There is still hope," Boromir argued weakily.
Théodred let out a bitter laugh. "Of course there is hope," he growled. "What child could not survive on the Orc-ridden plains alone and poorly provisioned?" Boromir said nothing. Théodred sighed again. "I am glad you have hope, friend, but for me, hope has faded away." He stood up. "I am going to bed."
"Good night," Boromir offered, rather timidly.
"Oh, I am sure I will sleep soundly," Théodred replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. He left for his temporary chambers.
Boromir stood and drained his own glass. He crossed to the window and threw open the shutters. Outside the stars gleamed brightly, unaware that anything was amiss. "Please Tulkas," he murmured. "Please let her be all right. I fear the ruin of the Rohirrim if she should be dead."
~*~
Théodred slowly opened his eyes and immediately recognized his surroundings. He was in a gazebo. In the background there were mountains, woods and a waterfall. Nestled amongst it all was a fair and ancient house. All arould him sounded strange unearthly music. It made his heart ache. He did not know the name of this place, but he had been here before in previous dreams.
She was here.
She turned to face him and, as always, she took his breath away. Her long black hair fell down to her waist in soft waves, her blue eyes were clear and slightly slanted and she possessed the elvish beauty. She was garbed in a simple green gown with flowing skirts, a gold girt and large bell sleeves. "Undòmiel," he breathed.
"Why do you continue to bring me here?" she demanded, her fair face contorted in anger that did nothing to mar her beauty. "I have no feelings for you! Let me live my life." She turned to go, but he caught her wrist. "Unhand me!" she ordered. "When Estel hears of this-"
"Just hear me out!" he begged. "I do not bring you here. Someone continually brings me here."
She studied him for a moment. "Who are you?" she asked slowly.
"Théodred, son of Théoden, son of Thengel," answered Théodred.
Undòmiel's eyes widened alarmingly. "Your name declares the coming of my doom!"
There was a flash of light and Théodred brought his hand up to protect his eyes from the bright light. He lowered it a bit to see his surroundings and realized he was being whipped at by a fierce wind. Undòmiel was standing in front of him, over the grave of someone who had obviously been very important. He realized they were in the Houses of the Dead in Minas Tirith. Undòmiel was garbed in black and was weeping. She did not seem to notice the wind, though it blew her mourning clothes back.
Then he was jolting up in his own bed, panting heavily.
~*~
Aragorn hadn't thought to put his sword out of her reach. He had only turned for a moment to light a fire. "Turn around and face me as a man should!" Éowyn's voice ordered. Only, it was not like her voice. It seemed older and more proud.
He spun to find Éowyn standing tall, his sword held in her hand. She seemed older and taller, not to mention fairer and colder. He stared, aghast. For in her he saw the White Lady of his dreams. "What foul magic is this?" he whispered, shocked.
"Who are you?" demanded Éowyn, eyes smoldering.
"I am Aragorn," replied Aragorn, stalling for time.
"Aragorn," murmured the woman. "I feel as though I know you. Are you a trick of Sauron's, sent here to lure me into danger?"
"Nay lady," he disagreed. "I have no hard feelings for you- quite the opposite in fact."
"I- I," Éowyn stuttered. Her sword dropped a little. Aragorn leapt into action. He kneed the shieldmaiden in the stomach, only hard enough to make her react. Whilst she was at unawares, he wrenched the sword from her hands. He pointed it at her, but he needn't have bothered. The moment the sword left her hands, Éowyn had shrunk back to her normal self, shaking on the ground.
"Oh little one," sighed Aragorn heavily. He sheathed his sword and knelt down by her. He gathered her in his arms and gently rocked her back and forth.
'We must reach Lothlorien soon,' he thought urgently. 'Lady Galadriel will know what to do.'
~*~*~*~