Fickle
Eowyn shies away from the bee buzzing harmlessly by like a frightened pony, sweeping up her skirt and ducking, dodging as it swoops back.
She sprints a few paces to get away from the little creature that never meant any harm from the beginning, breathing hard as she brushes a lock of tangled, sweaty hair away from her face.
Eowyn has always been so ridiculously frightened of bees, ever since she fell off her horse and into a nest of aggressive yellow-jackets when she was just a little girl.
Eomer's words from earlier come back to her, 'Woman is such a fickle thing."
She had scoffed at him then.
Eowyn is not afraid of dragons, nor orcs, nor blood, nor famine, nor darkness.
She is not even afraid of death.
But she is afraid of bees.
Eowyn laughs at the thought, throwing her slender arms up into the air and going the rest of the way at a slow skip.
Maybe Eomer was right about something after all.
Written because Eowyn is one of my favorite characters, and it's been ages since I wrote anything about her XD
Have a stellar day!
:DDD