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Between a Ranger and a Shieldmaiden

First Sight

Everywhere Aragorn looks he sees hopelessness; it beams forth from the people who watch with half-wariness and half-suspicion as he, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli ride through Edoras. There are no smiles, no laughter. All is silent, bare the wind which whips about the city and the sound of their horses' hoofs against the dirt road. His weary heart grows heavy as he sees the same grief on each face. He sighs silently.

Aragorn lifts his eyes from the people he passes and turns his gaze toward the great Golden Hall of Meduseld standing proud and majestic with an air of gloom surrounding it. On the terrace is a woman, alone and still, who was not there before. She is dressed completely in white – unlike the other Rohirrim who wear black – with long golden hair which flies on the breeze. Her eyes are on him and his companions. She is like a light piercing the darkness which covers this land, a last ray of hope withstanding despair. His pulse quickens as he gazes at her and, unnerved by how the sight of this woman makes his weary heart feel lighter, he looks away, returning his gaze to everything which she is not.

As each cheerless face gaze upon him with its cloudy eyes, Aragorn feels himself slowly being pulled into the hopelessness that hangs in the air he breathes. He needs rescuing, to gain a hold onto something to help him not be overwhelmed by the overcoming despair. Swiftly – almost desperately – he returns his eyes to the Golden Hall, searching for the light which had stood bravely there.

But she is gone. Aragorn is startled as his heavy heart sinks and by strange feelings of disappointment and regret. He gazes for a long moment at where he had seen the woman, wondering if maybe he had not imagined her.

First Touch

Out of a corner of his eye, Aragorn becomes aware of a flash of white and gold. He springs forward and stops her; even though Legolas is closer, he reaches her first. He grasps her arm firmly yet also gently, drawing her back to himself. He places his other hand on her shoulder. A flood of gold is before his eyes until she jerks her head back and her deep blue eyes, full of anxiousness, anger, challenge, and a hint of confusion, meet his calm gray ones. She means to escape and go to Théoden.

"Wait," Aragorn gently breathes reassuringly, relieved when she turns to watch the unfolding scene but does not attempt to free herself from his hold, trusting him. Though also watching Gandalf and Théoden intently, he is aware of his heart beating fast in his chest. He was not dreaming. For the woman pressed beside him is the very one whom he had glimpsed outside the Golden Hall not too long ago. He had been amazed by how much coldness and grief was on her face for one so young. And when he looked into her face for the first time, he felt something pass between them – what, he was uncertain, but he had felt it. He tightens his grasp a little and steps a little closer to her protectively as he watches Théoden struggling between the power of Gandalf and Saruman.

He feels her tense under his hold as Gandalf, with a cry of "Be gone!" causes Théoden, pressed back into his throne, to let out a great yell. All gathered hold their breaths, waiting for this strange battle to continue; but Gandalf lowers his staff, and Théoden is silent, slowly slumping against his throne, and begins to fall forward.

Now the woman wrenches herself from Aragorn's grasp – he lets her go this time – and races forward, catching the king and stopping him from falling to the ground. Aragorn looks down at his hands, which tingle from the cool air that had been kept back by the warmth which had come from her being so close to him. Something of a smile touches the corners of his mouth as he watches Théoden transformed from the great aged, weak man, to himself, noble, his short hair blond, and his face full of life. The king's glazed eyes move over the onlookers with bewilderment. He pauses as his gaze lands on the woman kneeling before him, with her back to the rest of the company. His brow furrows a little, then smoothes away as his eyes clear.

"I know your face," Théoden speaks for the first time in his real voice, amazed. A smile brightens his face slowly. "Eowyn… Eowyn."

Aragorn continues watching the touching scene between the two. None, except for perhaps Legolas, hears him try out almost soundlessly the name on his own lips. "Eowyn."

First Words

Slowly Aragorn approaches the horse as it tries to rear up and tosses its head with fury, fighting against the men who struggle to control him with halter and rope. Not paying heed to the man who warns him not to bother with the horse – nor to everyone else in the stable – Aragorn humbly keeps his eyes turned toward the ground as he slowly brings his hand up to the beast's halter and talks to it soothingly.

"Fæste! Stille nú, fæste... stille nú... Hwæt nemnað ðe? Hwæt nemnað ðe?" (Oh fast! Be quiet now... What is your name?)

The proud, wild horse slowly ceases his struggle and calms down, sweating and trembling. Aragorn strokes his head as the men unfasten the ropes which bind him. The horse nudges the ranger with his nose.

"His name is Brego," answers a soft voice.

Aragorn turns and meets the eyes of Lady Eowyn, who watches him from nearby. This is not the first time he has seen her since Théoden was saved; nor is it the first he has heard her speak. For there was Theodred's funeral, where she had sung a haunting song of mourning in the Rohirrim ancestral language during the procession, her voice shaking with grief. And there was the time when news reached Edoras of the terrors the wild men were bringing upon the villages, Théoden refusing to ride out and meet Saruman's forces, thus resulting in the city's present evacuation. He had watched her care for the children who had brought the warning, heard her voice tremble with emotion as she told of the defenseless people, whose only hope had been to flee, though sometimes even that was not enough to save them. She had cast several glances upon him as Théoden refused to listen to him and Gandalf to face open war. But this is the first she has spoken to him.

A soft sadness enters her eyes and voice. "He was my cousin's horse." She averts her eyes and gets a saddle.

Aragorn's eyes follow her for a moment before returning his attention to Brego. He continues stroking him gently. He says, "Brego? Ðin nama is cynglic." (Brego? Your name is kingly.) He gazes at the noble horse, aware of Lady Eowyn coming near, observing him and Brego.

"I have heard of the magic of Elves, but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North," Lady Eowyn says, with wonder as she gazes at him. Aragorn meets her eyes for a moment, and then he looks away. "You speak as one of their own." He can sense the question under these statements.

"I was raised in Rivendell for a time," he explains quietly, gazing for a moment into space as an image of Arwen stirs in his mind and vanishes quickly as he once again looks upon the king's niece. Silently she holds his gaze, her own eyes thoughtful.

Aragorn pats Brego a final time and steps back. "Turn this fellow free. He has seen enough of war." He nods slightly to Lady Eowyn, steps around her, and retrieves the saddle he had brought into the stable. He glances back at Lady Eowyn who has not left Brego yet. He turns away from them and goes about his task.

THE END