Four days and three nights they had traveled, navigating by stars and
the sun, crossing Dunland on the South Road, which would soon turn into the
Gap of Rohan. Eowyn had asked whether she could visit her brother at
Edoras, as they had taken the alternative route on the way up, following
the southern side of the White Mountains.
"I am inclined to visit the King Eomer, your brother, for he is a good man," Arwen had replied.
But would they? Arwen had revealed nothing in her answer. She made a good politician, giving an unquestionable reply that revealed no answer. Yet it made Eowyn nervous.
They had been traveling on an open path. They could be seen for miles, and this also made Eowyn nervous. A steep hill, almost cliff-like, rose up on her left; above it, she presumed, would be a long field covered in sweet-smelling flowers. She longed to climb up it and see the landscape, which reminded her so much of her homeland.
Eldarion was restless in his mother's lap; noon was approaching, and he was hungry and tired and irritable, and he kept hitting the horse with stubborn fists. Eowyn smiled despite herself. He was enchanting when he was upset, as long as he wasn't upset with her.
"I think it is time for luncheon, Lady," she told the Queen.
Arwen looked up at her blankly, as if she had been torn from some thought. The Queen had been looking preoccupied for the past few days, and had been very jumpy. She even looked tired as she glanced up at the sky and nodded her head in assent.
As they dismounted, Arwen sought Eowyn from where she was taking out her rations. "Eldarion is restless. Will you take him to get some flowers for me? I would enjoy them, and Eldarion will enjoy getting them."
Eowyn had no choice. "But of course, my Lady."
"Up there," Arwen gestured up the hill. "It will be difficult, but I daresay you may enjoy the experience. You've been stealing glances up there all day, Lady Eowyn. Don't deny it."
Eowyn smiled gratefully.
"I will expect you in three hours. The horses are tired, they need rest. I do as well, Eldarion had been most trying."
"Shall I take..."
"Do not take his nurse. She is weary of him as well. He is a demanding child, perhaps I indulge him too much..." Arwen sighed. "Go, now, before Eldarion makes a fuss."
"I will."
Then Arwen embraced her. She paused for a moment, and returned the gesture. It was kind and friendly, at first overly uncomfortable but soon Eowyn appreciated it. Arwen pulled back, gave her a weak smile, and walked towards the ensemble, issuing orders. She paused next to her son, and reached down and hugged him, kissing him on the forehead, her lips lingering on his princely skin. She bent over and whispered something in his ear, and he nodded, and she pushed him in Eowyn's direction. Arwen nodded to her, and Eowyn returned the gesture. When Eowyn looked up, Arwen had turned away.
"Eldarion! Come with me!" Eowyn grasped the boy by the hand, and reached for Luthien's reins.
"Where are we going?"
"To pick some flowers for your mother. Come on, we'll eat once we're on top of the cliff," she replied, and began to climb up.
"It's too steep!" Cried Eldarion.
"The trick," Eowyn said, pulling Luthien along behind her as Eldarion bounded in front, "is to go sideways across the hill. That way, it won't be too trying."
Eldarion looked back and gave her an angry stare. "I knew that," he said, and began climbing up.
It was an effort, but when Eowyn finally reached the top, she was content. The view was beautiful. Far off in the distance, she could see the river Isen. Below her, the troupe had formed a circle, and she could hear them talking. Arwen looked up, and Eowyn waved her hand once. Arwen smiled. She almost looked sad. Eowyn narrowed her eyebrows in concern, but Arwen had, again, turned from her. Brushing it off lightly, she reached for Eldarion's hand, and pulled him up.
* * *
They had wandered across the plain, over a hill, and were now moving slowly back. Eowyn now sat in the hot sun, leaning against the grass, her book propped on one knee. She was reading it for the second time, and had just begun reading of Eorl's quest to avenge his father. Seeing it as a good stopping place, she put down the book and looked at Eldarion, who was bent down over a flower some three meters to her left.
"Is it pretty, Eldarion?" She called.
He looked up, nodded, and plucked it, running over to display his treasure.
"Ah!" She exclaimed, and took it from him. "It's very pretty. And an uncommon color for these fields. What color is it, Eldarion?"
"Red. Like blood."
She frowned. It had a tinge of orange, more vermilion, not like the dark liquid. It was a poppy. She played with it in her fingers, contemplating what to say.
"It's more orange, Eldarion, not like blood."
"No. It's red. Like blood," Eldarion said defiantly.
The boy refused to admit he was wrong. Eowyn sighed and handed it back to him. "We'll see what your mother says. You've assembled a beautiful bouquet, Eldarion. I'm sure she'll be pleased."
Eldarion smiled smugly. He was obviously immensely pleased with himself.
She stood, stretching, and walked towards Luthien. "Would you like to head back now?" She asked Eldarion, placing the book in the saddlebag.
"No. I want to stay here," Eldarion replied. "I like it here."
Eowyn turned around. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. She wanted to go back. She almost felt as if she needed to. She bent down towards his level. "I do too, Eldarion, but I'm sure your mo—"
She stopped, listening.
"What is it?" Eldarion demanded.
"Shh," Eowyn hushed him. She looked back towards Luthien, who was suddenly tense, and moving back and forth anxiously. It was all she needed to panic. She grabbed Eldarion and tore across the field as fast as she could, her hair whipping back as Eldarion bounced in her arms. He was heavy. Her legs began to burn in effort, and her blood pounded in her ears.
She finally recognized the noise. People were screaming, shouting; swords were clashing. Eowyn ran faster; her throat began to burn. She collapsed at the beginning of the cliff, and when she looked up her fast breaths caught in her throat. Below her was an ambush. Fifty orcs closed in on four small figures; Arwen was one of them, wielding her sword, her hair twirling around her head. The rest of the camp lay dead, the orcs on the outskirts seemed to be investigating them, taking their swords and shields. Memories flashed before Eowyn's eyes, insuppressable...riding across the Pelennor Fields with Merry before her, striking down on them, killing the enemy...she had not seen an orc for ten years...
When Eowyn finally fell back into the present, Eldarion was out of her arms and running down the hill. She cried out and flung herself after him, picking him up as he screamed at her, kicking at her...she pulled him up and threw him on top, holding him down as he bit her arm in protest.
"Mother!" He cried.
She looked down and fear clutched at her throat. The scavenging orcs had heard Eldarion's cries over the clamor of the battle, and now had seen them. She watched in horror as they began to scale the hill. There was no time to think. She had to protect Eldarion. She had to protect the son of the king...
She stood, a grim resolution on her face. Eldarion's sobs were muffled by her skirt. She turned, and her heart stopped. Eldarion followed her gaze, and let out a high-pitched scream.
In front of her was an orc.
He was smiling.
"I am inclined to visit the King Eomer, your brother, for he is a good man," Arwen had replied.
But would they? Arwen had revealed nothing in her answer. She made a good politician, giving an unquestionable reply that revealed no answer. Yet it made Eowyn nervous.
They had been traveling on an open path. They could be seen for miles, and this also made Eowyn nervous. A steep hill, almost cliff-like, rose up on her left; above it, she presumed, would be a long field covered in sweet-smelling flowers. She longed to climb up it and see the landscape, which reminded her so much of her homeland.
Eldarion was restless in his mother's lap; noon was approaching, and he was hungry and tired and irritable, and he kept hitting the horse with stubborn fists. Eowyn smiled despite herself. He was enchanting when he was upset, as long as he wasn't upset with her.
"I think it is time for luncheon, Lady," she told the Queen.
Arwen looked up at her blankly, as if she had been torn from some thought. The Queen had been looking preoccupied for the past few days, and had been very jumpy. She even looked tired as she glanced up at the sky and nodded her head in assent.
As they dismounted, Arwen sought Eowyn from where she was taking out her rations. "Eldarion is restless. Will you take him to get some flowers for me? I would enjoy them, and Eldarion will enjoy getting them."
Eowyn had no choice. "But of course, my Lady."
"Up there," Arwen gestured up the hill. "It will be difficult, but I daresay you may enjoy the experience. You've been stealing glances up there all day, Lady Eowyn. Don't deny it."
Eowyn smiled gratefully.
"I will expect you in three hours. The horses are tired, they need rest. I do as well, Eldarion had been most trying."
"Shall I take..."
"Do not take his nurse. She is weary of him as well. He is a demanding child, perhaps I indulge him too much..." Arwen sighed. "Go, now, before Eldarion makes a fuss."
"I will."
Then Arwen embraced her. She paused for a moment, and returned the gesture. It was kind and friendly, at first overly uncomfortable but soon Eowyn appreciated it. Arwen pulled back, gave her a weak smile, and walked towards the ensemble, issuing orders. She paused next to her son, and reached down and hugged him, kissing him on the forehead, her lips lingering on his princely skin. She bent over and whispered something in his ear, and he nodded, and she pushed him in Eowyn's direction. Arwen nodded to her, and Eowyn returned the gesture. When Eowyn looked up, Arwen had turned away.
"Eldarion! Come with me!" Eowyn grasped the boy by the hand, and reached for Luthien's reins.
"Where are we going?"
"To pick some flowers for your mother. Come on, we'll eat once we're on top of the cliff," she replied, and began to climb up.
"It's too steep!" Cried Eldarion.
"The trick," Eowyn said, pulling Luthien along behind her as Eldarion bounded in front, "is to go sideways across the hill. That way, it won't be too trying."
Eldarion looked back and gave her an angry stare. "I knew that," he said, and began climbing up.
It was an effort, but when Eowyn finally reached the top, she was content. The view was beautiful. Far off in the distance, she could see the river Isen. Below her, the troupe had formed a circle, and she could hear them talking. Arwen looked up, and Eowyn waved her hand once. Arwen smiled. She almost looked sad. Eowyn narrowed her eyebrows in concern, but Arwen had, again, turned from her. Brushing it off lightly, she reached for Eldarion's hand, and pulled him up.
* * *
They had wandered across the plain, over a hill, and were now moving slowly back. Eowyn now sat in the hot sun, leaning against the grass, her book propped on one knee. She was reading it for the second time, and had just begun reading of Eorl's quest to avenge his father. Seeing it as a good stopping place, she put down the book and looked at Eldarion, who was bent down over a flower some three meters to her left.
"Is it pretty, Eldarion?" She called.
He looked up, nodded, and plucked it, running over to display his treasure.
"Ah!" She exclaimed, and took it from him. "It's very pretty. And an uncommon color for these fields. What color is it, Eldarion?"
"Red. Like blood."
She frowned. It had a tinge of orange, more vermilion, not like the dark liquid. It was a poppy. She played with it in her fingers, contemplating what to say.
"It's more orange, Eldarion, not like blood."
"No. It's red. Like blood," Eldarion said defiantly.
The boy refused to admit he was wrong. Eowyn sighed and handed it back to him. "We'll see what your mother says. You've assembled a beautiful bouquet, Eldarion. I'm sure she'll be pleased."
Eldarion smiled smugly. He was obviously immensely pleased with himself.
She stood, stretching, and walked towards Luthien. "Would you like to head back now?" She asked Eldarion, placing the book in the saddlebag.
"No. I want to stay here," Eldarion replied. "I like it here."
Eowyn turned around. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. She wanted to go back. She almost felt as if she needed to. She bent down towards his level. "I do too, Eldarion, but I'm sure your mo—"
She stopped, listening.
"What is it?" Eldarion demanded.
"Shh," Eowyn hushed him. She looked back towards Luthien, who was suddenly tense, and moving back and forth anxiously. It was all she needed to panic. She grabbed Eldarion and tore across the field as fast as she could, her hair whipping back as Eldarion bounced in her arms. He was heavy. Her legs began to burn in effort, and her blood pounded in her ears.
She finally recognized the noise. People were screaming, shouting; swords were clashing. Eowyn ran faster; her throat began to burn. She collapsed at the beginning of the cliff, and when she looked up her fast breaths caught in her throat. Below her was an ambush. Fifty orcs closed in on four small figures; Arwen was one of them, wielding her sword, her hair twirling around her head. The rest of the camp lay dead, the orcs on the outskirts seemed to be investigating them, taking their swords and shields. Memories flashed before Eowyn's eyes, insuppressable...riding across the Pelennor Fields with Merry before her, striking down on them, killing the enemy...she had not seen an orc for ten years...
When Eowyn finally fell back into the present, Eldarion was out of her arms and running down the hill. She cried out and flung herself after him, picking him up as he screamed at her, kicking at her...she pulled him up and threw him on top, holding him down as he bit her arm in protest.
"Mother!" He cried.
She looked down and fear clutched at her throat. The scavenging orcs had heard Eldarion's cries over the clamor of the battle, and now had seen them. She watched in horror as they began to scale the hill. There was no time to think. She had to protect Eldarion. She had to protect the son of the king...
She stood, a grim resolution on her face. Eldarion's sobs were muffled by her skirt. She turned, and her heart stopped. Eldarion followed her gaze, and let out a high-pitched scream.
In front of her was an orc.
He was smiling.