Own nothing, never will. This scene turned out quite different in the movie
(still wonderful though) but I always kinda liked it so I decided to
expand.
Merry looked at Dernhelm shocked. Because Dernhelm had disappeared, before him stood a woman, the helmet she had worn at almost all times was lying on the ground beside her, letting her hair fly in the wind and a gash across her side had undone the binding holding her breasts.
As she stood staring defiantly at the Witch-King Merry was surprised he had ever fallen for her ruse.
His mind flashed back to his first meeting with Dernhelm, he'd looked despairing and agreed to ride with Merry saying, "The different must stick together." He supposed that was what this war was all about. Everyone in Middle-Earth was working together to defeat Sauron.
None the less he would feel safer if it were the man he'd ridden with all this way he was fighting beside instead of a stranger. Except she wasn't really a stranger, she couldn't be all that different from he.
And it doesn't matter anyway, he told himself. All the rest of the contingent of Rohirrim-except Theoden-had looked at him with curiosity but other then that ignored him. He, (she) had spent almost all of her time with him. Maybe it was only because she thought he wouldn't be able to tell that she was not what she appeared. But Merry thought it was more then that. They had forged a friendship and even if that friendship had been built on an untruth that didn't mean it wasn't viable anymore.
Although Merry's mind went through al of this amazingly fast it was still not fast enough. An orc's club came flying at him and he was tossed backward before he cold react. The orc rushed at him snarling and reflexively he held his sword up and flinched. There was a crunch as a large weight fell upon it. Merry opened his eyes cautiously. The orc's face was inches from his and frozen in a look between rage and shock.
"Keep making that face and it'll stick like that," Merry muttered and rolled out from under the corpse.
The Witch-King was laughing and Merry shuddered, it was a worse sound then their screams.
Eowyn, for that was what she had said her name was, held her chin up and glared at the Nazgul. Her sword in the defensive position that Boromir had taught him and Pippin first. He wondered where Pippin was, he had to be somewhere in all this chaos. No, he couldn't think about Pippin now. Now he had to help her, even if she wasn't who he had thought she was he still felt responsible.
She can bloody well take care of her self, came a nagging thought from the back of his head. It had been there ever since he took off with the Fellowship, a part of him that still wondered why he hadn't gone back to the Shire when he had the chance.
He squashed the thought and made his way toward her, the slow- kindled courage of his race awaking, she would not die alone, unaided.
Merry looked at Dernhelm shocked. Because Dernhelm had disappeared, before him stood a woman, the helmet she had worn at almost all times was lying on the ground beside her, letting her hair fly in the wind and a gash across her side had undone the binding holding her breasts.
As she stood staring defiantly at the Witch-King Merry was surprised he had ever fallen for her ruse.
His mind flashed back to his first meeting with Dernhelm, he'd looked despairing and agreed to ride with Merry saying, "The different must stick together." He supposed that was what this war was all about. Everyone in Middle-Earth was working together to defeat Sauron.
None the less he would feel safer if it were the man he'd ridden with all this way he was fighting beside instead of a stranger. Except she wasn't really a stranger, she couldn't be all that different from he.
And it doesn't matter anyway, he told himself. All the rest of the contingent of Rohirrim-except Theoden-had looked at him with curiosity but other then that ignored him. He, (she) had spent almost all of her time with him. Maybe it was only because she thought he wouldn't be able to tell that she was not what she appeared. But Merry thought it was more then that. They had forged a friendship and even if that friendship had been built on an untruth that didn't mean it wasn't viable anymore.
Although Merry's mind went through al of this amazingly fast it was still not fast enough. An orc's club came flying at him and he was tossed backward before he cold react. The orc rushed at him snarling and reflexively he held his sword up and flinched. There was a crunch as a large weight fell upon it. Merry opened his eyes cautiously. The orc's face was inches from his and frozen in a look between rage and shock.
"Keep making that face and it'll stick like that," Merry muttered and rolled out from under the corpse.
The Witch-King was laughing and Merry shuddered, it was a worse sound then their screams.
Eowyn, for that was what she had said her name was, held her chin up and glared at the Nazgul. Her sword in the defensive position that Boromir had taught him and Pippin first. He wondered where Pippin was, he had to be somewhere in all this chaos. No, he couldn't think about Pippin now. Now he had to help her, even if she wasn't who he had thought she was he still felt responsible.
She can bloody well take care of her self, came a nagging thought from the back of his head. It had been there ever since he took off with the Fellowship, a part of him that still wondered why he hadn't gone back to the Shire when he had the chance.
He squashed the thought and made his way toward her, the slow- kindled courage of his race awaking, she would not die alone, unaided.