I did not soon forget the lesson of love learned from the lady, but it
would be some time before I truly understood it. These next few weeks were
very pleasant. We took many rides and picnics as Lady Éowyn showed to me
her favorite childhood haunts. On many of these occasions we were joined by
Éomer. It was in these informal moments that I saw the humorous side of
him. He was not all pomp and majesty. In fact, at times he could be quite a
prankster. The responsibilities of a kingdom weighed heavily on him, but he
still found moments to be boyish. I cannot remember how many times I have
been pushed into a brook by a laughing Éomer or how many times I have raced
the siblings across a wide field.
Éowyn and I became such fast friends that when the time drew near for her to depart to her own country we were quite reluctant to be separated. We had spent many late nights whispering and giggling like schoolgirls, and I was going to miss her company. It was Éomer who suggested that I travel with Éowyn to Gondor and meet her husband and the King Elessar. The next few days were a whirl of activity as Meira and Tavah sought to teach me all they knew of Gondor while they packed my belongings for the journey.
Our things were to be loaded in a wagon, but Éowyn and I were to ride on our horses. I cannot remember the name of her horse. I do not know why I can't. Perhaps at long last my age is catching up with me. They say that one first loses one's memory. My hair is white as snow, yet I cannot reconcile myself to the fact that I am old. Perhaps that is why I have decided to write up my tale. I have felt very young as I have written these pages. It does not seem possible that people in that land can grow old. There, I've once again wondered off of my thought pattern. I was writing about the horses. Éowyn's was lovely. She was a sweet chestnut mare, about 6 years old. I can see the way she lifted her little feet when she walked. My Amigo was large and strong, not nearly as pretty as Éowyn's little horse, yet he served my purpose. He was one of the best horses that I have ever owned. But back to my story.
As we left Edoras Éomer promised to come to Gondor in a few weeks time to escort me back to Rohan. As the order was given to move out he suddenly told me that my hobbit guide had improved and that he would be escorting the Proudfoot back to the Shire. I had not thought of the little fellow for quite some time. I guiltily remembered his wounds and chastised myself for not visiting him. Perhaps this Éomer could read minds, for he quickly informed me that the healers would not have allowed a lady near the convalescing hobbit. Then with great fanfare we left Edoras and rode toward Gondor.
Éowyn and I became such fast friends that when the time drew near for her to depart to her own country we were quite reluctant to be separated. We had spent many late nights whispering and giggling like schoolgirls, and I was going to miss her company. It was Éomer who suggested that I travel with Éowyn to Gondor and meet her husband and the King Elessar. The next few days were a whirl of activity as Meira and Tavah sought to teach me all they knew of Gondor while they packed my belongings for the journey.
Our things were to be loaded in a wagon, but Éowyn and I were to ride on our horses. I cannot remember the name of her horse. I do not know why I can't. Perhaps at long last my age is catching up with me. They say that one first loses one's memory. My hair is white as snow, yet I cannot reconcile myself to the fact that I am old. Perhaps that is why I have decided to write up my tale. I have felt very young as I have written these pages. It does not seem possible that people in that land can grow old. There, I've once again wondered off of my thought pattern. I was writing about the horses. Éowyn's was lovely. She was a sweet chestnut mare, about 6 years old. I can see the way she lifted her little feet when she walked. My Amigo was large and strong, not nearly as pretty as Éowyn's little horse, yet he served my purpose. He was one of the best horses that I have ever owned. But back to my story.
As we left Edoras Éomer promised to come to Gondor in a few weeks time to escort me back to Rohan. As the order was given to move out he suddenly told me that my hobbit guide had improved and that he would be escorting the Proudfoot back to the Shire. I had not thought of the little fellow for quite some time. I guiltily remembered his wounds and chastised myself for not visiting him. Perhaps this Éomer could read minds, for he quickly informed me that the healers would not have allowed a lady near the convalescing hobbit. Then with great fanfare we left Edoras and rode toward Gondor.