Author's Note: Here it is. My very first try at FemSlash. This idea came to me…sometime or other, and I've just been thinking about it ever since. Here goes nothing! Italics are Arwen. Bold type is Eowyn. Bold italics are Arwen and Eowyn both, or neither. This isn't really written in either book or movie verse, but there are lines from the movie, so I guess you could call it movie verse. I WANTED to incorporate Dernhelm, but it was hard to do, since Merry is the one who knows her that way and this fic is very not centered on Merry. (Not that I don't love him.)

Warnings: Slash, really quite AU. (Arwen at Pelennor Fields.) If you don't like slash or AUs, DON'T READ!!! Honestly! Why put yourself through that torture?

Setting: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields. I KNOW Arwen wasn't there. But she is in this fic.    

~**~**~*~*~**~**~

I am a man. I am a man. I must be a man today, for Rohan, for Gondor, for all. Today, I am no woman. I am man today.

My hair is hidden under my helmet and my breasts are bound. Today I am a man. I will conquer.

I fear a cage. I fear being locked away, unable to do what I feel is right. I must fight today. I fear neither death nor pain. If I die, so be it. I will have died a man.

I am coming. Do not fret. I am riding, riding out from Rivendell, riding to you. I cannot wait by myself. I cannot lay in neutral waiting for something to happen. I must fight. I must help. I ride to Gondor, for I know that is where the tide changes. I feel it.

I ride to you, to you all. I do not sleep, I do not eat. I just ride, ride, ride.

And then I am there.

The very tip of the blood red sun peaks over the hilltops, seeing what is happening. We are in battle.

I am a man today.

I put my hand on Merry's shoulder. We are men, though he is a Hobbit, and I a woman. We must be men.

A white horse appears on the horizon. Riding upon it is a man that glitters in the rising sun.

The city is surreal and broken into pieces. Brave warriors are lined up ready to fight. I watch them charge and I join them.

I spot a man, on a horse. Riding with him is a boy, though why they let a boy fight, I know not.

The man has an air about him. Determined, tired, fierce, brave, frightened. This man is not what he seems.

The sun casts a red glow over all. Red like the blood that has been shed.

My hair has been swept out of my eyes and on top of my head I wear an elven helmet. I also clad myself in armor and mail before I set out from Rivendell. Now I am glad I have done so, for I must now fight off many orcs.

A man. A man. A man. The words become a chant of strength in my head. I develop a slow rhythm, saying it out loud. The horse is galloping to the rhythm. I am striking my sword with the rhythm. A man. A man. A man. Merry chants it too. We are men.

I see the white horse and shimmering riding glide past, swiftly and smoothly. I ride harder, the chant become a battle cry that none could hear over the tremendous sound of war.

A man. A man. A man. Today I am a man.

I ride past the man with the child. The brightening sun hits his helmet and bounces off, creating more ligh, more hope..

I want to meet the man.

I watch as my uncle is thrown from his horse by an enormous black beast.

The only thing I think is no. No. No. This can't happen.

I will kill you if you touch him.

I feel something behind me and turn, pulling my once glittering sword out of a dead Uruk.

There is the man, attacking this beast that reeks of fear and loathing and hatred.

I am afraid. I know not what to do. I hack away at the beast's neck. Fierce. Fierce.

I am a man. I am a man.

I look for the glistening rider. I see him. He gives me hope.

Fierce. Fierce. Fierce.

The beast is dead.

The empty soul emerges from the beast's flailing black wings. The darkness rises from the dark fire. Hatred and fear. Fear and hatred.

I am scared for the man that faces it, for he will come to certain death. I want no more than to hold that man, if not for only a little while. I want to love him.

No man can kill me.

I must be man. I must be a man. I cannot kill you if I am a man. I am not a man, though. I am a woman. I have always been a women. I am a woman who fights as well as a man. And I have fallen in love with the glittering rider.

I am no man.

Right before me stands a woman. I sit upon my horse in shock. She is beautiful. Her red hair flows in the bright morning sun, and her eyes are filled with fierceness only a woman could possess.

I watch her gather up her strength.

The blade seems to burn my hand with the coolness traveling from the emptiness it is in. I feel the soul being taken away from me and I am filled with coolness. I break my hand away and hold it in pain.

I watch the foul soul shrivel.

I am no man.

Where is my uncle?

I watch her, lying over an older man, King Théoden of Rohan. She is sobbing. I dismount, walk over to her and remove my helmet from my head.

The woman is beautiful. I want to love her still, even though she is a woman. I do love her.

I feel a gentle hand upon my shoulder and look up. I breathe in quickly, tears still escaping from my eyes. The body that belongs to the hand on my shoulder is the Glittering Rider.

But it is not a man.

It is a woman.

Long, thick, brown hair cascades down past her shoulders and her eyes are open wide. I can see there is love.

I look at the woman and smile tenderly. She tries to smile back. I see love in her eyes, through the many tears. I kneel next to her and embrace her.

I hear cries of victory but we do not heed them, locked in our embrace.

I thought you were a man,

I say with a small smile.

I thought you were as well.

I also thought you were beautiful.

Surely not as beautiful as you…

I notice her ears. She is of elf kind.

This is--was my uncle…

She gestures to the man.

I'm sorry…

I want to comfort her.

You were very brave…

I cannot find better words to say.

I smile sadly and look up at her through tears.

Maybe, but I am no man.

No, I answer.

You are a woman.

And I love you.

I look deep into her eyes and see nothing but love.

Love and sadness.

She needs ice melted.

I feel her lips on mine.

She is the spring, and she is the winter.

 Arwen, dark, gorgeous, warm spring evenings, elven perfection.

Eowyn, light, icy, winter morning, earthly beauty.

Love joined in the midst of hate

As the sun rises.

~**~**~*~*~**~**~

Author's Note: So. That was it. I don't really like the ending, how about you? I couldn't think of a better one. Also I don't know what call this: "As the Sun Rises," "Love Joined," "Winter and Spring," or "I Am No Man." For now it's "Winter and Spring" just because I like that one best…But please, review and I might change it. ^_^

Oh, and no flames please.