The Golden Eaglet
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Why did he look at her that way?
Eowyn, daughter of Theodwyn and niece of the King of Rohan, could not help feeling something like a chill whenever she entered a room where also resided her uncle's counselor, Grima son of Galmod. He stared at her, his gleaming, serpentine black eyes hooded by heavy lids, his lips twisted into a strange smile. Why did he stare at her that way? It made her ill.
Shaking off the feeling of nervousness and irritation as she felt the counselor's eyes slide over her figure in its steel blue riding dress, she bussed her uncle's cheek with a kiss, slapped her cousin's shoulder playfully when he tugged her long, golden braid affectionately, and walked out to meet her brother in the Royal Stables. Her shoulder blades itched, as if they knew a knife was waiting to stab between them. She ignored that feeling as well. She was safe in her uncle's halls.
"What took you so long, Sis?"
She smiled up at her brother when she stepped across the stable threshold. Both their mounts were groomed, saddled, and eagerly awaiting being taken out for a morning run. Eowyn shivered in anticipation of allowing her horse to stretch its legs, and being allowed to fly through the air upon her stallion's back, stretching her wings, as it were, as if she were flying through the air.
"Someone, though I shan't mention any names- Eomer- tied my hair in a knot last night. It took me twenty minutes to get it out."
"That sounds almost like a personal problem, don't you think so?"
"Shut up, Brother," she said, still smiling, and mounted her blood bay stallion, Flameheart. The two walked slowly out of the stable and down the main road of Edoras, until they reached the gates. Eomer took one of the small horns from the gate watchmen, in case he or Eowyn ran into trouble, and then they left Edoras behind and cantered out onto the plains.
"Care to race, Eowyn?"
"A chance to stretch my wings and fly? How could I pass that up?" She said, and kicked Flameheart into a gallop. Here, out on the plains, galloping like the wind, flying like an eagle, there was nothing. No pain, no grief, no fear, no nervousness. There was no Theodred, who often told her that while she was a shield maiden, she was also a noble lady of the Rohirric Court and to act like it. There was no house keeper, trying to force her to be something she was most certainly not- a nursemaid and a scullery wench. And there was no Grima, giving her strange, questioning looks and crooked, violating smiles. There was only the wind through her hair and the horse surging like a wave beneath her.
Overhead, she saw a strange sight. An eagle, its wings glinting like gold in the sunlight, and beside it, a black bird that sang sweetly, a nightingale's song. A wren, its feathers like russet apples in the fall and beaten copper, flapped alongside. A duck, ugly and drab and brown, flew with it. Something with gleaming white feathers and a long, elegant neck glided along next to them to the birds- a swan. And above it all, still part of the group but apart from them in some elusive, essential way, was a falcon with scarlet markings along its wings. These six birds flew in a flock to the South, towards Gondor, towards the Sea.
"Do you see that?" She called to her brother, reigning in her mount. "Do you see those birds?"
"Aye," he said. "How strange. I have never seen birds fly together like that."
"What do you suppose it means?" She asked.
"Means? What are you saying? Must it mean something?"
"Yes," she said. "Yes, it must." And she felt in her heart that the sight of that strange flock was an omen, though a strange one. An omen for good, a sign of hope in dark times to come.
"Sis?"
She shook herself from her reverie and turned her horse around to trot back to her brother, who pointed to a far off gleam of water, a thin little river, and grinned at her, saying, "Race you to that, dear heart."
"I'll win."
"We'll see," he replied, grinning broadly, and they both kicked their horses into a gallop. Headlong into the race, halfway to that tiny stream, a strange sense of foreboding filled Eowyn's heart, and she opened her mouth to cry out some sort of warning to her brother. Something, a red hot slice of pain, cut through her ear, and an arrow sank into her brother's shoulder. He cried out and fell from his saddle as Eowyn screamed, shrill and high, in a desperate attempt to attract attention even as she leapt from her horse and ran to her brother's side, cursing the fact that he had the horn and she did not.
She grabbed the silver horn and put it to her lips, blowing three sharp, long, echoing blasts- an urgent call for aid- and then drew her brother's long knife, turning to meet the seven Warg Riders fast approaching. She might die here, defending her brother, but surely, some of these vermin would die as well.
As they approached, as one peeled off from the rest and bounded swiftly toward her, the twang of a bowstring sang against her ears, and a long, thin arrow with bright blue fletching sank into the Orc's chest, piercing its foul heart.
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yay, new chapter. Next we meet two drakes & a duckling. Things are picking up, I swear. This is like... filler fic to explain certain relationships in my more action-packed fics. I do series a lot, mostly 'cause I want so many things to happen it interferes w/ the plot- too much secondary character here's chapter 3. There will be... I'm thinking... 24 chapters. Maybe 30. Bye.
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