Chapter 5

It very much had the appearance of a room built and furnished by someone who did not know what the room's purpose would be, and therefore made it suit many different purposes.
The floor was bare, as were the walls and ceiling. At the end of the room were two beds, each low and fairly small. Its sheets looked as though they had not been slept in for a long time. Pushed against the wall there was a dusty table and a broken chair beside it. These, to Harry, seemed normal enough. On the other side of the room, however, there was a wooden rack and Harry could see the faint gleaming of metal, and looking closer, he could see weapons stacked in this rack; swords, daggers and shields. The whole appearance of Helm's Deep took Harry back to a history lesson in Muggle primary school, where they had studied the Vikings and the Middle Ages.
He looked to Eowyn for some explanation, but none came. She simply walked into the room, and gestured with her hands for him to follow her in, which he did, dragging his bag of few possessions that he had taken with him. He lay the bag on the floor and turned again to look at Eowyn. She closed the door behind them and drew the rusty bolt over the door. At last she turned to face him.
"What is this place, Eowyn?"
She looked around the room and Harry could see the recognition in her eyes as she looked around it. She spoke in a voice full of emotion.
"I have not ventured inside this room since I was a small child. Helm's Deep was built many ages ago, and I do not know whom by. There are many rooms like this, which have fallen into disrepair. We only sought them out again yesterday, for the weapons we needed."
"Why did you need the weapons?" asked Harry apprehensively.
"Gandalf will tell you at first light. Take some rest, Harry Potter." She pointed at the beds in the corner of the room.

Harry did as she asked. He walked over to one of the small beds and sat down on it. It sagged a little, obviously old and unused.
He lay down, pulling one of the old musty sheets over him. He looked at Eowyn, who was facing away from him, lost in thought.
"Eowyn?" he said.
She turned around, smiling at him.
"Go to sleep, Harry Potter. I am sorry, for I know that receiving no answers to your questions must trouble you greatly. But for now, I advise you to rest, and prepare your mind for tomorrow."
"Why will I need to prepare my mind?" asked Harry curiously.
"A great number of things are to be revealed to you. That is why Gandalf requests that you rest first."
Harry was glad to know this small redemption. He nodded and smiled, lying down on the bed. He trusted the quicker he went to sleep, the quicker he would find answers.

Harry lay his head against the sagging, old mattress as there was no pillow, and tried to make sense of what was happening around him even though he knew that he did not have nearly enough answers. He thought back to the time when he was standing in the garden of Number Four, Privet Drive. It seemed such a long time ago now...
He closed his eyes, his mind rested. He was fine for now. Gandalf would soon speak to him. Everything was all right...
He soon drifted off to sleep.

Clang.
A sharp sound made Harry awaken. He sat up suddenly, staring around him.
A large candle stood, lit, upon the old table. It's flickering light illuminated the tall figure of Eowyn. She stood a little way from the two beds, a sharp sword gleaming in her hand, reflecting the candlelight.
"Eowyn?" Harry said uncertainly. "What...what are you doing? Aren't you going to get some sleep?"
Eowyn inclined her head towards him.
"I apologise for waking you, Harry Potter."
"I-I don't mind." He stared at the sword in her hand. He slid out of the bed.
She watched him. "You should rest."
"So should you," he replied steadily. "What are you doing?"
Her arm shot out in front of her, the sword pointing straight. She turned so suddenly, spinning the sword round, taking up the same position once more.
"Practising," she said vaguely.
Harry stared at her skill. "What for?"
"I cannot tell you."
Harry had had enough.
"Please, Eowyn! Why won't you tell me anything?"
Eowyn stood facing away from him for a moment, her hands together. Then she walked forward, placing the sword carefully on the rack. She turned suddenly, her beautiful long blonde hair swirling around her as she did so. She walked towards him, gesturing for him to sit on the bed. He did so, as she sat on the other one. They faced each other.

For a moment Eowyn didn't speak. She stayed looking away from him, her eyes not meeting his. Harry could just make out her pale face, faintly illuminated by the flickering glow of the candle flame. At last she spoke in a voice full of emotion.
"We are at war, Harry Potter," she said quietly.
Harry stared at her, shocked.
"War?"
She nodded.
"Just the other night there was a huge battle. The battle of Helm's Deep. It was thought that we would not give out the night, until others came…"
She paused. Harry could see her reliving the experience in her mind.
"There was a huge army. Many of our people were killed. It was when Gandalf found out who the army had been powered by, that he felt it necessary to send for you."
Harry looked away for a moment. He did not want to think about why he might be needed here in this world.
Suddenly something occurred to Harry.
"But…why were you practising with the sword?" he asked curiously. "Surely it is the men who fight, rather than the women in Helm's Deep?"
Eowyn paused for a moment. Suddenly she got up, walking away from the beds, facing away from Harry so he could not see her face.
"I'm sorry, Eowyn," he said quickly, though he was unsure what had upset her. "Please-"
"It is not your fault," she broke in, turning her head to the side. Harry could see a tear running down her cheek, reflecting the candlelight. "You were not to know."

Harry got up from the beds.
"Please, Eowyn," he said, taking a few steps towards her. "Please tell me what is wrong."
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the tears glide out from under them. Eventually she turned back to him.
"My uncle is King," he told him in a quiet, shaky voice. "He is a noble man, a valiant leader. But he will not let me fight. I was not allowed to fight on our journey from Rohan, nor was I allowed to fight in the battle of Helm's Deep. He does not want to see his only niece wounded. Yet-"
She broke off suddenly, letting the tears flow unchecked. Harry walked up to her, reaching out his hand, wiping her tears away. She looked at him, surprised yet touched.
"Last night," she continued in an emotional voice barely more than a whisper, "He was wounded in the battle. And I cannot help but think, that if I had only been there with him, I could have prevented it..."
Silent tears streamed down Eowyn's face as she voiced her grief.
"But Eowyn," Harry said, "What if you had fought in the battle, and been hurt?"
She looked at him with surprised eyes.
"I do not fear battle, Harry Potter, I do not fear being hurt!" she said in a strong voice. "I fear neither death nor pain."
"What do you fear, Eowyn?"
She smiled at him suddenly.
"Only yesterday I was asked that same question, Harry Potter. I answered true then and I will answer true now."
She paused.
"I fear a cage."
It seemed odd to Harry.
"A cage? Why do you fear a cage?"
"Not being able to express my feelings, unable to stand for what I believe in, not allowed to do what I feel is right!" Eowyn said ardently. "Trapped in a world where I am ruled by others. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them...and all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire. I fear that cage, Harry Potter, yet...more and more, as time goes by, others are controlling what I do, all the time..."
Eowyn closed her eyes.
"That cage is becoming a reality," she whispered.
She walked over to the beds, sat on one, laying her face in her hands. Harry stared at her, taking in her grief, her pain, her hurt. Suddenly he understood. He knew exactly how Eowyn felt, caged by others who did not seem to truly how she felt, even though they loved her. Claiming they were helping, telling him they were protecting him…wasn't that how Sirius had died…?
Harry walked over to her, sitting down beside her. It suddenly all became too much. Everything hit him in waves. Tears formed in his eyes, and before he knew it they were streaming down his face.
"Eowyn," he whispered. "I know what you mean. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."
She turned her tear-stained face to his, seeing his tears, realising his pain. She reached out her arms and together they embraced, holding each other, expressing their feelings, crying their tears. Together they wept, holding each other close, finally having someone else who understood. Between them, an enormous understanding was formed, a valuable friendship was created.
And it was never to be broken...