Moonlight And Shadow
Prologue
The trees were laughing. It had been nearly six years since these woods had resonated with the sound of elven laughter, a sound that they had heard for centuries before the last exodus of the High Elves to the lands in the west. Eowyn paused amid her game of hide and seek with the children, her mind suddenly filled with milky memories of the past, veiled echoes that reached out to her across the years. Eldarion's laughter sounded natural here, mingling with the wood-noise, the rustling of the absent wind. The little half-elven boy's birthday was to be celebrated that afternoon, amid the ancient halls of Lothlorien, and every noble of importance had been invited, as well as those included in fond remembrance of times past. Eowyn, still unmarried despite the affections and promises of Faramir, for whom she had held only a passing fondness, had spent her time playing with the children for most of the festival. Eldarion, son of Aragorn and Arwen, her own little cousins Tyer and Thana, the young bearded dwarves of Gimli's kin and the Hobbit children of Sam's, Elenor and Dillon were like a junior fellowship, reminding her of all that had passed with the sight of their smiles. Today they had wandered far into the woods, wondering at the ruins and remnants of ancient buildings and graceful statues they found there, remnants from the last age, before the time of men. She should have known that this would be an easy game for Aragon's son. A half elf with a ranger's training; it would be hours before she caught him. As she walked, listening for his tinkling, childish laughter, she found herself in a glade of silence, where not even the birds sang, but were reverently hushed. In the centre stood a pedestal, and on it a deep, wide bowl. A small jar rested at its mossy feet, dappled in the sunlight coming from the gaps in the leafy canopy stretching far above. As she took a step nearer, she heard a voice in her head speak in tones of silver and cool water;
"Be Careful, Shield maiden. Look into the Mirror if you wish, but have care. It will show you what your heart seeks..."
Eowyn stopped, shocked. The Elven Queen who had once ruled these woods, now gone to the west, had possessed a fabled mirror that could show the future; The Mirror of Galadriel...Dare she look into it? Eowyn thought about what had transpired in her past. She had thought herself content until now. As the tendrils of doubt ensnared her, she wondered what it was her heart sought. What would she see...? More curious now than she had ever felt, Eowyn picked up the jar, disturbing the moss and other small plants than had grown all through the quiet glade, and pored the still clear, fresh water into the bowl, and looked deep into the water. When it had stilled, she instinctively touched it so the ripples spread out from its centre and watched as a vision unfolded before her.
...A hunched figure, swathed in a grey cloak, its deep hood pulled down against a blizzard, sat astride a large black stallion, progressing slowly through a deep black forest...the same figure on horseback, plodding determinedly, looking hunched and tired, the horse thin and dull eyed, across a barren plain, with mountains that looked like clenched fists in the distance...a cave, where a man lay in front of a weak and pathetic fire, shivering and exhausted...a man...Grima...
Eowyn looked up with a start as the little hobbit boy, Dillon, touched her arm. "Eowyn, why weren't you looking for us?" The Shield Maiden scooped up the tiny halfling and laughed, "I was looking for you, but I was distracted. Come now, help me seek the others." she said to the smiling child, but her eyes held the ice and snow of the times before the Great War, as her thoughts were bent on one she had once thought long dead.
Upon returning later that afternoon to the camp the Rohirrim had set up beside the elven dwellings she returned the Prince, her cousins, the dwarves and two "quarterlings" to their parents and made preparations for the nights feast. She worked with the women who were preparing the nights feast for a while, as she was loath to feel useless, but returned to her tent in good time to dress. While her handmaiden poured away her bathwater and tidied up the detritus of dressing, Eowyn donned her silver gown with its long, draping sleeves and white lace bodice and brushed out her long fair hair, its light colour more like moonlight than the usual golden sunlight of the Ridermark. Her Uncle Theoden had always called her "his dove-child" because of her hair. She remembered Wormtongue had said it was spun silver. He had loved her hair... He had loved her...
Prologue
The trees were laughing. It had been nearly six years since these woods had resonated with the sound of elven laughter, a sound that they had heard for centuries before the last exodus of the High Elves to the lands in the west. Eowyn paused amid her game of hide and seek with the children, her mind suddenly filled with milky memories of the past, veiled echoes that reached out to her across the years. Eldarion's laughter sounded natural here, mingling with the wood-noise, the rustling of the absent wind. The little half-elven boy's birthday was to be celebrated that afternoon, amid the ancient halls of Lothlorien, and every noble of importance had been invited, as well as those included in fond remembrance of times past. Eowyn, still unmarried despite the affections and promises of Faramir, for whom she had held only a passing fondness, had spent her time playing with the children for most of the festival. Eldarion, son of Aragorn and Arwen, her own little cousins Tyer and Thana, the young bearded dwarves of Gimli's kin and the Hobbit children of Sam's, Elenor and Dillon were like a junior fellowship, reminding her of all that had passed with the sight of their smiles. Today they had wandered far into the woods, wondering at the ruins and remnants of ancient buildings and graceful statues they found there, remnants from the last age, before the time of men. She should have known that this would be an easy game for Aragon's son. A half elf with a ranger's training; it would be hours before she caught him. As she walked, listening for his tinkling, childish laughter, she found herself in a glade of silence, where not even the birds sang, but were reverently hushed. In the centre stood a pedestal, and on it a deep, wide bowl. A small jar rested at its mossy feet, dappled in the sunlight coming from the gaps in the leafy canopy stretching far above. As she took a step nearer, she heard a voice in her head speak in tones of silver and cool water;
"Be Careful, Shield maiden. Look into the Mirror if you wish, but have care. It will show you what your heart seeks..."
Eowyn stopped, shocked. The Elven Queen who had once ruled these woods, now gone to the west, had possessed a fabled mirror that could show the future; The Mirror of Galadriel...Dare she look into it? Eowyn thought about what had transpired in her past. She had thought herself content until now. As the tendrils of doubt ensnared her, she wondered what it was her heart sought. What would she see...? More curious now than she had ever felt, Eowyn picked up the jar, disturbing the moss and other small plants than had grown all through the quiet glade, and pored the still clear, fresh water into the bowl, and looked deep into the water. When it had stilled, she instinctively touched it so the ripples spread out from its centre and watched as a vision unfolded before her.
...A hunched figure, swathed in a grey cloak, its deep hood pulled down against a blizzard, sat astride a large black stallion, progressing slowly through a deep black forest...the same figure on horseback, plodding determinedly, looking hunched and tired, the horse thin and dull eyed, across a barren plain, with mountains that looked like clenched fists in the distance...a cave, where a man lay in front of a weak and pathetic fire, shivering and exhausted...a man...Grima...
Eowyn looked up with a start as the little hobbit boy, Dillon, touched her arm. "Eowyn, why weren't you looking for us?" The Shield Maiden scooped up the tiny halfling and laughed, "I was looking for you, but I was distracted. Come now, help me seek the others." she said to the smiling child, but her eyes held the ice and snow of the times before the Great War, as her thoughts were bent on one she had once thought long dead.
Upon returning later that afternoon to the camp the Rohirrim had set up beside the elven dwellings she returned the Prince, her cousins, the dwarves and two "quarterlings" to their parents and made preparations for the nights feast. She worked with the women who were preparing the nights feast for a while, as she was loath to feel useless, but returned to her tent in good time to dress. While her handmaiden poured away her bathwater and tidied up the detritus of dressing, Eowyn donned her silver gown with its long, draping sleeves and white lace bodice and brushed out her long fair hair, its light colour more like moonlight than the usual golden sunlight of the Ridermark. Her Uncle Theoden had always called her "his dove-child" because of her hair. She remembered Wormtongue had said it was spun silver. He had loved her hair... He had loved her...