THE WHITE LADY
Part 1: Innocence
Pre Note: I have no immediate intension of making this story part of the 'Hope in the Darkness' trilogy, this is merely a random bit of history and partially made up events by me, but may become part of a different series about Éowyn's life. Then again, knowing me, it might if I get lazy and can't be bothered to write the rest of the story. If I do, then this is the first instalment in the trilogy (another) about Éowyn, some of which will be from her point of view, all true to the books and other facts provided by Tolkien himself. Warning: this is a serious angst story, do not read it if you are not prepared to read experiences of pain, grief and death.
Note on Part 1: This is the first part in 'The White Lady' trilogy, which tells of Éowyn's childhood life as a collection of memories surrounding her parents' deaths and her life at Edoras following. We observe how Éowyn and Éomer each dealt with the deaths of their parents at such a young age, their confusion, and their strength in their situation. We watch them grow at Edoras under the care of their uncle, King Théoden, before the arrival of Gríma.
Disclaimer: So far, all of the characters in this story are Tolkien's characters. Some of the bases of this story are from information given in 'The Lord of the Rings' and other histories of Middle Earth. This is Éowyn's story, as told by Tolkien and me. Oh, by the way, the poem is MINE! And sorry about the first posting of this, the poem was a bit weird to read.
Chapter 1: A Time of Innocence
A young girl stood outside her home, looking out over the wide, wild plains of Rohan. The grasses rolled in waves of green and gold as the wind blew through the fields, ruffling her long, golden hair. She was awaiting the arrival of her father, Éomund, home from a week of riding through Rohan with his men. He was a Marshal of the Rohirrim, a skilled rider and warrior. She and her elder brother had learned much from him in the art of riding and sword fighting.
She looked north to where she expected he would come from, listening for anything; a neigh or galloping hooves, something to tell her that her father was coming home. She closed her eyes as another breeze blew in her face. The wind whispered in her ears. Carefully, she listened. A voice came from within the house, bringing her back to reality.
"Éowyn, come inside, child," it called. "It is supper time. You may wait for your father after supper."
It was Théodwyn, her mother, and sister to King Théoden. Éowyn opened her eyes and stared out, still searching for her father.
"Éowyn," called her mother. "Supper."
Éowyn sighed and walked reluctantly towards the house. She wanted her father to be home; he had been away so long now. It seemed an age since she had last seen his face. She came into the kitchen and sat down beside her brother.
"Eat up," said her mother, placing a plate down in front of Éowyn.
Éowyn stared at it for a while and then began to pick slowly at it, taking small mouthfuls. A soft neighing sounded outside the house.
"Father!" cried Éowyn, leaping out of her chair and running for the door, flinging it open.
She stepped outside and looked frantically around. A tall, rugged figure approached, removing his helmet and stepping into the light. Éowyn smiled hugely and jumped into the man's arms.
"I am so happy you are home safely, daddy," she said as she hugged him.
"So am I, princess, so am I," he replied. He lifted her onto his shoulders and carried her through the open door. Éomer was waiting inside the kitchen. Éomund ruffled his hair as he entered.
"How are you, my boy?" he asked. "Have you been looking after the house for me?"
Éomer nodded eagerly, his shining eyes looking up at his father, adoringly.
"I am pleased to see it," he said, laughing out loud.
He made his way over to Théodwyn now and kissed her on the cheek.
"All is well, I trust," he said smiling.
"It is now," she replied, embracing him warmly.
She turned back to Éowyn and Éomer. "Finish your supper now, you two," she said. "Then you can get ready for bed and maybe your father will tell you a story."
Both children hurried to their seats and began to shovel food into their mouths. When they finished, Éowyn pushed ahead of Éomer in a scramble for the doorway. Éomer followed close behind his sister.
Later that evening, the four sat around a large fireplace, Éomund and Théodwyn in chairs, Éowyn and Éomer on the ground at their feet. Éomund's gaze was fixed on the fire, pipe in mouth, remembering back to the start of his journey. Both children looked up at their father, waiting for him to begin. He turned his gaze to them now, a sparkle in his eyes.
"There were hundreds of them, orcs, all swarming around us," he said, excitedly. "We only had half of the men there; we were all mounted, and at an advantage against them. But their numbers more than tripled ours. They swooped down upon us; we drew our swords and braced ourselves for the assault."
Éomund watched the faces of his two children light up as he told the story of an orc attack on the second night of their watch. Éomer's eyes were alight and his posture was bent forward. Éowyn sat, eyes wide and sparking, mouth slightly open, listening intently.
"We rode around them and came in so that they were surrounded; then, we attacked. Within a half of the hour, they all lay dead in the mud."
"That's enough for tonight, I think," said Théodwyn. "Time for bed."
She stood up and walked over to Éowyn and Éomer, picking them up under the arms and into a standing position. They both followed their mother to their bedrooms, somewhat reluctantly, and climbed into their beds. Théodwyn tucked them in and kissed them both on the forehead.
"Good night, my little ones," she whispered. "May sweet dreams fill your sleep tonight."
"Mama," said Éowyn quietly, as Théodwyn rose. "Will you sing us a song tonight?"
Théodwyn looked at her daughter and smiled gently. "I will," she said.
The song was one that Éowyn and Éomer knew. It was a sad tune with such a tale to match. It was a song about the Rohan and the ways and history of its people:
Here in the kingdom of Rohan,
In the realm where the horse-lords reign;
A rider travels on horseback
To cross over the grassy plains.
On a cliff in the land of Rohan,
The capital, Edoras, strives,
Though windy and harsh its surroundings,
Her people live happy their lives.
In the wild kingdom of Rohan,
Simbelmynë on tombs has grown,
In the Golden Hall of his forebears,
The king rules on high from his throne.
March through the land of Rohan,
To the realm where the horse-lords reign;
Listen, the winds cry for battle,
Rohirrim shall ride o'er the plain.
If you leave the land of Rohan,
Where the winds rush across the plain,
And ride for glory to battle,
You shall ne'er see your home again.
Somewhere in the land of Rohan,
Where once did the horse-lords roam,
A little girl waits for her father,
Not knowing he'll never come home.
Hark, where are the men of Rohan,
The horse and the rider so bold?
They are gone from those places once home here
Where they rode through in times of old.
A little girl waits still in Rohan,
For her father to come home from war,
But what she does not know is that
She will not see him any more.
Théodwyn finished her song, glancing over to the beds where Éowyn and Éomer lay sleeping peacefully. She prayed that their dreams were happy, of flowers and sunny days, not of pain and death or the war that she sensed would come. She felt a growing fear in her heart.
Éomund had been called away again to lead his company along the borders nearest Mordor the next morning. It was long since there had been any threat of war on Rohan. Now it was growing more real. More often, Éomund was being called away from home and his family, sometimes for several weeks on end.
It was becoming too much and Théodwyn feared for his safety and the safety of her children. She stood up from Éowyn's bed and walked towards the door, stealing one last look before closing it behind her.