I awoke the next morning to a lovely strain of music. Quickly I dressed and
walked out onto my balcony. The Lady Eówyn sat on a wee green hill, lovely
in her white dress, playing a stringed instrument much like our fiddle. The
head carved like a horse's, so that the seven strings seemed to be its
mane. The bottom of the instrument narrowed to a swallowtail-like point.
The whole sound was different from a fiddle, it had a different voice, less
mournful. Rather then lift it on her shoulder, Eówyn held the strange
instrument across her body so that her left hand held the horse's head and
the point rested on the ground at her right side. She seemed to alternate
between strumming it and rolling a curved bow over it. Spotting me, she
finished the final notes of her cheery morning song and waved. Her voice
carried easily to where I stood.
"I bid thee good morning, Wayfarer! I trust your sleep was as sweet as mine!"
The clean new air had put me in a good disposition so I answered back; "If the lady's sleep was as sweet as mine then she has indeed rested well." We both laughed and she invited me to join her for a breakfast on the hill. "A picnic!" I said.
We sat looking over Edoras as we ate of fresh bread and fruit. She pointed out to me the various points of its geography, naming the mountain ranges and telling me bits of history about her country. When we had finished the morning mist had lifted and the sun began its trek across the sky. I loved the way the deep green of the pastures contrasted the colors of the grazing horses. The sky was so blue, and the mountains were so dark. I felt a deep peace. "It's so beautiful." I told her. She looked out across the fields smiling thoughtfully.
"And would you believe that at one time my only thought was to leave this place forever?" Her gaze was serious as she looked at me. I knew that at last I would hear the story surrounding her. She smiled and looked away again, her eyes not seeing the ghosts of the past. "My father died when I was very young. He was killed in a battle. Not long after my mother also left my side, and my brother and I were taken to live with our uncle, the king. For a time the sun was bright in my eyes, and to all was beautiful. My cousin appointed himself my friend and my brother my protector. In these halls I was the princess. Then a dark time arrived, in the form of Grima Wormtongue" There was a fathomless depth of disgust in her voice as she said the name. "He appointed himself as friend and advisor to the king, and to all Rohan he seemed a loyal companion. But his words were poisoned, and they awoke in some the heart to do much evil, in others the heart of discontent, and in still others the heart to do nothing. Many realized soon what craft he worked upon them and shook off his enchantment. To all the kingdom he became loathsome, except to two."
She became silent and at last I dared say, "You?"
She nodded sadly. "Over the king he wove a spell of apathy. When enemies rose up to strike us at every side the king sat on his throne and allowed the words of Grima to dull his mind. To me - " she gave a little sigh. "To me he wove a great spell of discontent. I began to hate that which I had loved before. My heart was turned away from the good and I longed for glory and adventure. Inside." She turned to face me now as she spoke intently. "Inside I was bitter. The death of my cousin and banishment of my brother did nothing to lighten this burden. I professed love for all, but in truth I felt it for none - least of all for myself. Thus my heart was ripe for the arrival of the king." Her voice took on a different tone, one of respect and awe.
"King?" I asked, "Not your uncle?"
She gave a merry laugh. "Nay, dear friend! Not my uncle, for he sat on his throne unaware of even the death of his son. This king was one who walked tall even among the tallest of men. Fair of face and noble of spirit, he walked boldly into the Golden Hall. With him were strange companions, although one at least I knew by sight. T'was Gandalf the Grey, the Grey Pilgrim, he is known by many names. Also with him were an elf and a dwarf, though surely a stranger pairing was never seen!" For some reason that I have yet to fathom she found this bit quite funny. I suppose it may be because the elves are tall and fair and the dwarves are short and swarthy. [To any readers who do not understand, the elves and dwarves have a longstanding feud that has a lot to do with greed and gold. If you wish to know more please look in another volume, as this diary never goes into detail.]
But I digress, she continued. "The Grey Pilgrim proved himself to have gained much more authority then when we had last met. He was now Gandalf the White, the head of his order. With his new power he assisted Theóden King in throwing off his apathy and ousting the traitor Wormtongue. My heart was lost to Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. Perhaps it was the confidence with which he walked, perhaps it was that he seemed to posses everything that I lacked. But his heart had been given to another, to Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar to her people, from the fair land of Imladris. While his attitude toward me was all kindness and propriety, his devotion to her never wavered.
"My heart was hardened when I learned that I must go with the women and children while the men fought in our great fortress, Helm's Deep. I feared for those whom I would never see again. Yet they returned triumphant. I learned that King Elessar-" At this point I interrupted to inquire who the King Elessar was, and she remedied her statement. "Aragorn was going through the paths of the dead, on a march sure to be doomed, I begged him to allow me to go. He was kind toward me, but firm. I must stay with the women and children. I could not follow his path. I think that perhaps he knew that my true desire was to meet death. When my brother and Theóden King were summoned to ride to the aide of Gondor, I begged to go along. I pleaded to them to allow a shieldmaiden of Rohan to ride with her people, yet they also refused. It was then that he arrayed myself in men's armor and became known as the knight Dernhelm. With me rode a hobbit, a halfling called Meriadoc."
Now her voice deepened and softened, like a mother reading to her child a very sad part of a book. "And it came to pass that in the battle Theóden King was crushed by his own horse. And the knight Dernhelm would not allow her king to be killed by his enemy, so she challenged him, the witch-king of Angmar. When she had slain his ferocious mount he turned to her and shattered her shield arm with a swipe of his dark maze. She fell to the ground awaiting death, nay welcoming it. It was then that she heard a small voice cry out 'Eówyn, Eówyn!' Lifting her head she saw the Black Rider falling, stabbed in the knee by a hobbit sword. Rising with all her strength she hewed the great head from the body." Tears glistened in Eówyn's eyes and she panted as if living every moment one last time. She had not the strength to tell her story directly, and had begun to tell it as if it were someone else's tale. Now she pulled herself together and continued in a calmer way. "Darkness fell around me. The last memory I have of that battlefield is the piercing wail of the slain. Then I awoke in a room to find kind faces bent over me." She stopped as if that were the end of her story and looked at me.
I sat for a long moment in silence. I had felt some of the despair that the Lady had felt, even thought as she that I would welcome death, but I had yet to do any great feat. I had not redeemed myself. I looked at her, so beautiful, and saw for the first time the lines of age around her eyes, and the slightly crippled arm. At last I spoke, "So by doing a great deed you redeemed yourself?"
She shook her head. "No, for when I awoke the shadow was as thick in my heart as ever. The enemy had been driven back, indeed, he was being challenged in his very gates, but in my own soul he still held the throne. For when I had awakened from dark dreams, and found the face of my lord the King and my brother bending near me, I felt no joy of my deeds, nor hope for the future. My only hope was in riding out again, in taking the saddle of a fallen Rider and finding respite in death."
"I don't understand," I said, "You are not dead, yet you no longer search for its peace. What changed?"
She smiled in a lovely way as she spoke. "Love, Helen Wayfar, love transforms even the hardest of hearts. For when I awoke again I found the armies gone and myself restrained into the house of the healers. It was then that I met the son of the steward of Gondor, Faramir." She said this name in a caressing manner, and seemed transported to happy times. The look on her face told me that this was the great love of her life. "While the King of Gondor is the healer of my body, Helen, it is the Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, who healed my heart. It was when my heart stopped desiring after being a Queen that I was truly free. I discovered that it is love, not death that brings the truest freedom."
So it was that I heard the story of the Lady Eówyn, and learned a great truth.
"I bid thee good morning, Wayfarer! I trust your sleep was as sweet as mine!"
The clean new air had put me in a good disposition so I answered back; "If the lady's sleep was as sweet as mine then she has indeed rested well." We both laughed and she invited me to join her for a breakfast on the hill. "A picnic!" I said.
We sat looking over Edoras as we ate of fresh bread and fruit. She pointed out to me the various points of its geography, naming the mountain ranges and telling me bits of history about her country. When we had finished the morning mist had lifted and the sun began its trek across the sky. I loved the way the deep green of the pastures contrasted the colors of the grazing horses. The sky was so blue, and the mountains were so dark. I felt a deep peace. "It's so beautiful." I told her. She looked out across the fields smiling thoughtfully.
"And would you believe that at one time my only thought was to leave this place forever?" Her gaze was serious as she looked at me. I knew that at last I would hear the story surrounding her. She smiled and looked away again, her eyes not seeing the ghosts of the past. "My father died when I was very young. He was killed in a battle. Not long after my mother also left my side, and my brother and I were taken to live with our uncle, the king. For a time the sun was bright in my eyes, and to all was beautiful. My cousin appointed himself my friend and my brother my protector. In these halls I was the princess. Then a dark time arrived, in the form of Grima Wormtongue" There was a fathomless depth of disgust in her voice as she said the name. "He appointed himself as friend and advisor to the king, and to all Rohan he seemed a loyal companion. But his words were poisoned, and they awoke in some the heart to do much evil, in others the heart of discontent, and in still others the heart to do nothing. Many realized soon what craft he worked upon them and shook off his enchantment. To all the kingdom he became loathsome, except to two."
She became silent and at last I dared say, "You?"
She nodded sadly. "Over the king he wove a spell of apathy. When enemies rose up to strike us at every side the king sat on his throne and allowed the words of Grima to dull his mind. To me - " she gave a little sigh. "To me he wove a great spell of discontent. I began to hate that which I had loved before. My heart was turned away from the good and I longed for glory and adventure. Inside." She turned to face me now as she spoke intently. "Inside I was bitter. The death of my cousin and banishment of my brother did nothing to lighten this burden. I professed love for all, but in truth I felt it for none - least of all for myself. Thus my heart was ripe for the arrival of the king." Her voice took on a different tone, one of respect and awe.
"King?" I asked, "Not your uncle?"
She gave a merry laugh. "Nay, dear friend! Not my uncle, for he sat on his throne unaware of even the death of his son. This king was one who walked tall even among the tallest of men. Fair of face and noble of spirit, he walked boldly into the Golden Hall. With him were strange companions, although one at least I knew by sight. T'was Gandalf the Grey, the Grey Pilgrim, he is known by many names. Also with him were an elf and a dwarf, though surely a stranger pairing was never seen!" For some reason that I have yet to fathom she found this bit quite funny. I suppose it may be because the elves are tall and fair and the dwarves are short and swarthy. [To any readers who do not understand, the elves and dwarves have a longstanding feud that has a lot to do with greed and gold. If you wish to know more please look in another volume, as this diary never goes into detail.]
But I digress, she continued. "The Grey Pilgrim proved himself to have gained much more authority then when we had last met. He was now Gandalf the White, the head of his order. With his new power he assisted Theóden King in throwing off his apathy and ousting the traitor Wormtongue. My heart was lost to Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. Perhaps it was the confidence with which he walked, perhaps it was that he seemed to posses everything that I lacked. But his heart had been given to another, to Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar to her people, from the fair land of Imladris. While his attitude toward me was all kindness and propriety, his devotion to her never wavered.
"My heart was hardened when I learned that I must go with the women and children while the men fought in our great fortress, Helm's Deep. I feared for those whom I would never see again. Yet they returned triumphant. I learned that King Elessar-" At this point I interrupted to inquire who the King Elessar was, and she remedied her statement. "Aragorn was going through the paths of the dead, on a march sure to be doomed, I begged him to allow me to go. He was kind toward me, but firm. I must stay with the women and children. I could not follow his path. I think that perhaps he knew that my true desire was to meet death. When my brother and Theóden King were summoned to ride to the aide of Gondor, I begged to go along. I pleaded to them to allow a shieldmaiden of Rohan to ride with her people, yet they also refused. It was then that he arrayed myself in men's armor and became known as the knight Dernhelm. With me rode a hobbit, a halfling called Meriadoc."
Now her voice deepened and softened, like a mother reading to her child a very sad part of a book. "And it came to pass that in the battle Theóden King was crushed by his own horse. And the knight Dernhelm would not allow her king to be killed by his enemy, so she challenged him, the witch-king of Angmar. When she had slain his ferocious mount he turned to her and shattered her shield arm with a swipe of his dark maze. She fell to the ground awaiting death, nay welcoming it. It was then that she heard a small voice cry out 'Eówyn, Eówyn!' Lifting her head she saw the Black Rider falling, stabbed in the knee by a hobbit sword. Rising with all her strength she hewed the great head from the body." Tears glistened in Eówyn's eyes and she panted as if living every moment one last time. She had not the strength to tell her story directly, and had begun to tell it as if it were someone else's tale. Now she pulled herself together and continued in a calmer way. "Darkness fell around me. The last memory I have of that battlefield is the piercing wail of the slain. Then I awoke in a room to find kind faces bent over me." She stopped as if that were the end of her story and looked at me.
I sat for a long moment in silence. I had felt some of the despair that the Lady had felt, even thought as she that I would welcome death, but I had yet to do any great feat. I had not redeemed myself. I looked at her, so beautiful, and saw for the first time the lines of age around her eyes, and the slightly crippled arm. At last I spoke, "So by doing a great deed you redeemed yourself?"
She shook her head. "No, for when I awoke the shadow was as thick in my heart as ever. The enemy had been driven back, indeed, he was being challenged in his very gates, but in my own soul he still held the throne. For when I had awakened from dark dreams, and found the face of my lord the King and my brother bending near me, I felt no joy of my deeds, nor hope for the future. My only hope was in riding out again, in taking the saddle of a fallen Rider and finding respite in death."
"I don't understand," I said, "You are not dead, yet you no longer search for its peace. What changed?"
She smiled in a lovely way as she spoke. "Love, Helen Wayfar, love transforms even the hardest of hearts. For when I awoke again I found the armies gone and myself restrained into the house of the healers. It was then that I met the son of the steward of Gondor, Faramir." She said this name in a caressing manner, and seemed transported to happy times. The look on her face told me that this was the great love of her life. "While the King of Gondor is the healer of my body, Helen, it is the Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, who healed my heart. It was when my heart stopped desiring after being a Queen that I was truly free. I discovered that it is love, not death that brings the truest freedom."
So it was that I heard the story of the Lady Eówyn, and learned a great truth.