Twelve careful steps, a gentle touch on the shoulder, and a few whispered words later, I was standing under the stars with my childhood friend just outside the reach of the camp torches.
I had expected Mildthryth to be full of questions, but she was silent. I thought I saw disapproval in her features, but perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me in the dark. As she would not begin, I must, and to that end I took a deep breath.
"You must help me. And trust me, for I cannot fully explain now what my purpose is."
"I must trust you -- and you will not trust me?" The disapproval in Mildthryth's voice was unmistakable.
"You would only attempt to dissuade me." I took her hand, adding, "And why should I explain what you have already perceived, sister?"
"This is madness, Eowyn," she whispered, moving closer to me so I could not ignore the urgency in her eyes. "You cannot think this is the same as when we were girls! How can you think of it? How can you deceive yourself into thinking this is right by any measure?"
"My honor demands that I do this. You cannot expect me to ignore it, to --" I paused, working out the phrasing in my head. Mildthryth must be convinced; there was no one else who could ever be my ally in such a matter. Only she who knew me from the cradle, who had grown and grieved with me, could begin to think my plan anything other than madness. "-- to stand by while fortune takes its course."
"You have a duty here -- one given you by your king! Will you call it duty to flaunt your king's orders? And can you think that there is no dishonor in abandoning such a commission? Surely you can claim no honor if harm befalls those you are meant to protect."
"I have a duty also to my destiny --"
Mildthryth snorted derisively. "This is simplicity! Who can know their destiny? Tell me, have --"
I interrupted my friend by turning away. Time was wearing on; if I wanted to blend in with the men, I would have to be dressed and situated an hour before sunrise. I began to guess at the time, when Mildthryth began speaking again, in softer tones.
"Eowyn, truly, sweostor min, I only fear for you. Nothing less than that could ever make me attempt to change your mind. I am not so foolhardy as that." Her tender words were enough to erase any true ill-will I may have felt against her, and I turned to look into her eyes.
"All I ask, before I help you," she whispered, "is that you will swear to me that you are not being rash."
I gladly gave my word, and she listened somewhat less gladly as I outlined my plan.