Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters, settings, or events I have taken from Tolkien's works. I just can't help writing about them.


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Tents of all sizes sprang up in the great field at Dunharrow. Eowyn had found a healer, and Leofa was back with her family.

Erin led the two horses through the bustle of people to a patch of ground that had been set aside for the horses. She tethered the pair so they could graze, then removed their saddles. Windfola's gray coat was streaked dark with sweat.

You did well, Windfola, climbing those steep paths with two on your back, Erin murmured, rubbing him down with a blanket.

The big gray sneezed, spraying Erin's face. She grimaced as she wiped horse slobber off her cheeks.

That's the last time I try to talk seriously with you, you big lump of horse flesh! The horse responded to the mock scolding by completely ignoring Erin and ripping up a mouthful of grass.

Rolling her eyes, Erin turned to rub off Eowyn's mount. She was facing the cliff.

A tall stone rose in front of the sheer wall of the cliff, barely visible above a dark stand of trees.

Erin shivered, her scalp prickling. She hastily moved the the other side of the horse. With the stone behind her, though, Erin felt a cold presence watching her.

Okay, now your imagination is getting the better of you. Get a grip on yourself. There is nothing there, no one in this whole area but the Rohirrim.

The feeling subsided, but Erin still felt chilled. She bit her lip.

There is still something strange about that stone. There are standing stones elsewhere in this field, but that one seems to be marking something. Eowyn will know what it is.


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Eowyn was busily setting up the tent and directing people as they looked to her leadership. A vast spread of tents stretched across the Firienfeld, as the great field was called. Erin quietly helped however she could, and as dusk fell she and Eowyn finally entered their tent.

Erin knelt to start a small fire in the center of the tent.

My lady, may I ask a question?

Eowyn barely glanced up as she straightened out her cot.

Of course you may, Fara. What is troubling you?

Erin blew gently to ensure that the flames caught, then looked up.

What does the great stone behind the trees mark?


Erin heard all the air leave Eowyn in a slight whoosh.' Eowyn sat down slowly in a chair and stared at the fire for a moment, motionless. Erin pulled a stool up the the fire and sat, watching the shadows play across Eowyn's face. When the lady finally spoke, her voice was low and solemn.

That stone, Fara, is a warning, for beyond it in the cliff wall lies the Dark Door. Her voice grew quieter, and Erin strained to hear her words.

The Door leads into the Paths of the Dead.

Erin shivered in the warmth of the circle, then said so quietly it was almost a whisper, What lies in the Paths of the Dead?

No one knows. Some say treasure, some say nothing. No mortal can tread the Paths and live. Many years ago, Baldor, the son of Brego, king of Rohan, entered the Paths of the Dead. he never returned.

Silence, thick and heavy, hung on the pair sitting in the circle of flickering light. Outside, the darkness had fallen completely.



Finally Eowyn spoke, abstractedly and staring into the fire. Even now, Fara, as we sit here waiting, the Riders of Rohan are fighting. My brother and my uncle defend Rohan while I must stay her and do nothing.

Her voice was passionate and intense. Why must I always stay? I can fight for Rohan as well as any...

Eowyn's voice broke as she continued softly. But I am a woman, and so I must wait helpless for then to return. She blinked away bitter tears and looked straight at Erin.

I pledge you this, Fara. Someday I will ride to the defense of my country and I will prove myself. I will win renown for my deeds instead of staying behind!

Then she bowed her head and was silent.

Erin quietly whispered, as much to the night as to Eowyn, And on that day I will be there to help you, my lady. This I pledge to you.

Eowyn's eyes flickered across the fire to meet Erin's, blue meeting brown in wordless empathy. Then both dropped their gaze down into the dancing flames and spoke no more.