Gods-girl2004: Yes I think I noticed that later on, after it was done. I believe at the time though I must have been thinking that the Dunedain carried the blood of NĂºmenor...basically that while all the rangers were Dunedain, not all Dunedain were rangers? Something to that effect. I was just trying to push the point that I was believing the whole legend that Imrahil's family had the long-lived blood, which explains why some members of his line seemed to have long lives. I'm still not sure if Dunedain means strictly ranger, or bearer of that spiffy elven gene, lol.
Thank you all for the reviews!! Sorry
about the delay, busy weekend...White Hawk readers, never fear, I'm
just going through an annoying bout of writer's block, happens every
few weeks. Must be the moon cycles :P Give me a few days more for it to
pass, lol...
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Lothiriel felt her spirit lift, high above the dashed hopes and her readiness for death, above the blood and gore and flame. The Black Captain had vanished, and while they were still strong, the enemy seemed to cower from the Riders. And as the Princess stood looking down, tears fell from her face, tears of release. Hope was not gone, not when she could see the King of Rohan leading his huge company forward. The King of Rohan, his standards flying high and grand against the blackness, as a golden light into the gloom.
And then she turned, heeding her Uncle's command. By some miracle, the stable that housed Bela had not yet burned, though the fires crept near. The mare was thrashing about, aching to know what all this madness was. She calmed to see Lothiriel, and the Princess mounted swiftly, leading her mount quickly out into the burning level of the City.
"Take not all." Imrahil called, "The rest shall wait until due time they are needed...Imrahir! Lead them!"
There was little time to wonder over. Before Lothiriel knew it, she was flanking Imrahir, along with her brother, leading a third of Imrahil's men out to meet the Rohirrim. Edemer looked at her, his eyes no longer lost, no longer a little boy's...they flashed with excitement, the excitement of battle. "They'll not take us yet, eh Lothy?"
"Never!" She cried, a surge of energy rising in her chest. And as the Rohirrim met their enemy from without, the Swan-Knights met them from within, pouring from the Gate...
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Eomer could not help the swell of pride and energy that surged in his blood, as he rode flanking his Uncle. The Lords of Rohan and The Golden Hall, leading the Rohirrim into battle against their most terrible foe. As his sword cleared it's way through the foul sea, his voice joined those of his men in song. Gondor would not fall, not while they had strength to defend it.
He paused to look up, to see Theoden fighting with as much vigor and fire as any of his younger men. Eomer was glad at that, and though their enemy was thick, the Rohirrim's spirit was thicker.
He then saw a company tearing though the mass of fell ones that were crowding all around the Gate, making to join them on the field. The Swan-Knights of Dol Amroth, he realized by their armor and flying blue banners. And did his eyes mistake him, or was that a green standard of Rohan he saw among them? His blade cut into the enemy once more, before he glanced up again. Even more puzzling, did The Prince of The Seaside Halls now send women to battle?
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She wore no helmet, it had long been lost whilst trying to quell the fires that burned in the City. She also did not look her fairest, her dark hair wild and her face dirtied. But Lothiriel did not care if she looked the part of a great Lord's daughter. Her kin had arrived, and she still had her blade and her hope, and she would fight.
The enemy drew back from the Swan-Knights for a time, and Lothiriel looked about, wary of when they would return to them. She glanced at Imrahir, who did not hesitate in leading them forward, nearer to King Theoden's host. The two forces joined without a word, as the enemy pressed nearer, only to be hewn away.
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"A woman fights among the Company of Dol Amroth?" Lothiriel heard a voice to her side speak, and she turned when she was able, to see a solder of Rohan addressing her even as he was fighting, his helm hiding much of his face. Behind him rode another, a Halfling, which would have surprised Lothiriel were her nerves not already working at their fullest.
"She does." Lothiriel cried in reply, not caring if her voice was jovial and breathless. Her heart knew no heaviness, not now. "For none could stop her coming, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth would not be left behind."
"Then I, Dernhelm, commend thee, Lady Lothiriel!" The soldier cried back, his sword now held high in the air to her. Lothiriel felt her spirit soar even higher. Her kinsman had commended her... .
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She looked to see Edemer, but he was no longer at her side. No, he had found another to fight beside. Lothiriel smiled. Yes, in the midst of battle and death she smiled, for she had turned in time to see her brother clasp shoulders with the Lord who rode at King Theoden's side...there was only one who would recognize Edemer, son of Eodier and his standard, and that was he who was the son of Eomund.
"I greet you, Edemer Son of Eodier, and friend." Eomer cried, above the din of battle, and Edemer smiled.
"And I you, Eomer Son of Eomund, and friend." He replied, and the two suddenly seemed as boyhood friends meeting for the first time in years.
"Now let us draw swords together!" And they did, their horses close, their swords held high, and all seemed that it would go in the host's favor...
And then came the horrid and angry cries from above. The Ringwraiths were not done with them yet...
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Try as Lothiriel might to calm her, Bela went mad. The shrieking, cursing beasts upon which the Nazgul rode sent the horses rearing, and while Theoden King called out for his men to be strong in the face of evil, many a rider was thrown, Lothiriel among them.
"BELA!" She cried, but her steed simply ran, thrashing wildly, to be lost in the dust and smoke. Lothiriel leapt up quickly, lest she be trampled by other fleeing mounts, some still with their riders upon them. The orcs and fell men took this time to descend upon Rohan more boldly, but Lothiriel stood strong, seeing her brother and cousin still standing firm and hail. The blackness surrounded them to all sides, driving them apart, yet still they fought on, unable to stop, for to stop would be to die. Lothiriel grit her teeth as a blade nicked the temple of her uncovered head. "I have lost hope once this day." She rasped to herself, her blade tearing into the evil flesh around her. "I will not again!"
But again, they were met with ill fate. The Lord of The Nazgul was still among them, a terrible being, and the Rohirrim cried out as he descended upon their King, who had been among the thrown. The Black Lord and his winged beast meant to finish the fallen King, and none could make it to his aid in time...save Dernhelm.
Lothiriel did not see it clearly, but she saw enough as she helped drive the forces back, away from fallen Theoden and the Dark One. She saw Dernhelm, saw him rush between the Witch King and the King of Rohan, one soldier standing, as the Halfling bent by the King, sword and shield drawn and stance proud.
"Thou fool! No living man may hinder me!" The words proclaimed by Lord of the Nazgul echoed over the battlefield, rumbled in the ears of all who heard. But Dernhelm laughed, in a voice like cold steel, and Lothiriel looked up to see the helm fall, the long golden tresses fly freely in the face of a woman, a woman with eyes grey as the sea.
"But no living man am I!" She cried, "I am Eowyn, Eomund's daughter! You stand between me and my lord and kin. Be gone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you if you touch him!"
All were amazed who saw; from the brave Halfling who accompanied the woman to the Rohirrim to Lothiriel, who tried not to gape lest she lose her footing and fall to the enemy. But none were as shocked and unsure as The Witch King, whose mount screamed while he himself was silent in doubt.
And then he was upon her, his mount tearing at her with claws and beak like razors. But Eowyn stood fast, and with a swift stroke cleft the beast's head from it's neck, and it came crashing to the earth in a blackened bloody heap. The Black Rider rose from it, rage burning where his eyes should have been. He swung his mace, and it shattered the shield Eowyn held aloft, breaking the arm that held it. She fell to her knees, and The Dark One made to finish her...
But He too stumbled, with a great shout. For the Hobbit that had been Eowyn's companion had come up behind him, and driven his sword into the Witch King's back. "Eowyn!" He cried, and with her last strength she rose to drive her sword between crown and mantle.
A great cry, a shriek never heard in any world rose, and Eowyn's sword broke into a thousand pieces, a great black cloud rising from where The Witch King had stood to be swallowed up by the air and never seen again...
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Moved by an instinct she did not understand, Lothiriel broke away from the fighting and ran to the side of Eowyn. The Hobbit seemed torn between the golden haired Lady and the King, but when he saw Lothiriel kneel beside Eowyn, he seemed to be able to leave her to go to Theoden, tears standing in his wide eyes.
"You fought bravely." Lothiriel heard herself whisper to him as he turned away, and he seemed to take heart.
She looked back down at Eowyn, taking her head into her lap. "Lady Eowyn?" She tried, gazing into eyes that were reeling, blue-grey eyes becoming paler, almost white. Lothiriel shut her eyes, embracing her. She had not known her for but an hour at best, and then as a man she was not, but she could not bear to see this woman die. Another woman who had obviously defied convention and order to come here, to fight with and for her people and in doing so, defeating the Black Captain. Lothiriel willed strength to her, prayed to be able to give some life into her...
But when she looked again, Eowyn had gone entirely still, as if death had taken her. The Princess felt tears in her eyes, and in grief she looked about...to see her brother and the son of Eomund standing over Theoden, as he named this Eomer his heir and took his final breath. The Rohirrim cried out in sorrow at the loss of him, yet Eomer bid them not to grieve, for he had died brave and strong. "We shall honor those who have fallen and have them taken from the field..."
And it was then he turned, and saw Lothiriel, saw his sister lying in her arms, stilled and pale in death...
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Lothiriel had a vague memory that lurked, deep and hidden within her heart and never brought to the surface, not since the day it had occurred.
She had been nearly five years old, and awaiting the arrival of a new brother or sister...a midwife had come, in the middle of the night, and she and her older brother and father had waited in the summer night as Lethemine pained to give birth inside. There was a long cry, and then silence. Confusion, frustration.... and then the midwife was speaking, words that little Lothiriel did not want to understand...
'The...the child.... the boy was born dead. And his mother will not last long.'
No, Lothiriel did not remember it very clearly, but what was branded on her memory was her father's face. Profound loss, shock, looking as if his heart had been suddenly torn from his chest.....
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It was the same look on the face before her, the tall Rohirrim Lord who stood above her, mouth agape as if wishing to cry out, but his spirit was too pained to do so. And then he fell to his knees before her, grasping Eowyn's hands in his own, as bitter tears fell from his eyes.
"Eowyn! Eowyn!" He cried, "Eowyn how came you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, Death, Death take us all!" He brought her cold hands to his lips, as a shudder went through him...
"I will take her to the city." Lothiriel whispered after a long moment, and Eomer raised his face to look at her. Her heart lurched...such loss...such pain...
"See that she is cared for." He breathed, as he tried to chase all sorrow from his face.
And then he rose, as if taken by his own emotion, and leapt onto his mount. He spurred headlong back into they fray, horn raised to his lips and then crying aloud, "Death! We ride to ruin and the World's Ending!" And the Rohirrim followed.
From across the Pelennor Fields, Edemer looked at his sister as if in indecision. "Ride!" She shouted simply, and he turned and did so, to Eomer's side. Into the evil horde they rode, lead by a young King who had seen the last of his family die in an instant...
No living being had ever more deserved the slaughter they received then those who died under the King of Rohan's blade that dark day...
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Was I the only one highly dissapointed that the scene of Theoden naming Eomer his heir was not in the movie? Here's hoping it'll be in the extended cut...hehe
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