THWACK!
The blade of the knife buried itself in the chest of the wooden target. Eowyn smiled in satisfaction, imagining that the target was a snarling orc,
and retrieved her knife. She drew back her slender but strong arm and threw again.
THWACK!
This time, she imagined that the target was the greasy Grima Wormtongue. How she hated the way he stalked her, his probing eyes following
her when she least expected it. She pulled the knife out from the center of the target's chest and prepared to throw a third time.
"Eowyn!"
She heard the voice calling her name at the exact moment she threw. Startled, her throw went off-target, missing the wooden dummy and
hitting a fence instead. She turned and saw Eomer standing there.
It was early the next morning. After packing her things, she had lain awake for much of the night, unable to fall asleep. When she did sleep
her mind was filled with dark dreams.
"Sister, if you wish to bid Theoden King farewell, now is the time," said Eomer. "Theodred is distracting that greasy Grima with questions
about Saruman. I fear that Grima would try to stop you if he found out what you were up to."
Eowyn, after collecting her knife, quietly entered the Golden Hall and approached Theoden, who sat listlessly upon his throne. "Uncle," she
said softly. "I must leave now on a journey of great importance. I am sorry to leave you, and sorry to see you like this. May the blessing of a
cure be in your future."
"Eowyn," said the king, also softly, but unlike her sounding like he could not speak any louder. "You need not go. Stay safe within these halls.
Saruman will protect us all."
She shook her head sadly, her long mane of blonde hair being tossed about. "You are not yourself. I will do what I can to find someone who
can cure you. Farewell, Uncle. May we look upon each other again in happier times." She turned her back and walked slowly out of the
Hall, her head down, and met Eomer outside the door.
"And now I must speak my farewell to you, brother," said Eowyn. "Stay strong and stay safe, and know that your sister loves you."
"Know that you also have my love, and my blessing to go, though that second thing comes reluctantly," answered Eomer as he embraced her.
"If you must go, be as careful as you can and think often of your home."
Theodred suddenly appeared around the corner. "You must make haste," he said. "Wormtongue is occupied at the moment looking for a
book of Saruman's writings, but if he finds this out he has the king's ear and a band of slimy ruffians on his side." Theodred gave Eowyn a
quick hug. "Go now, and may you find what you seek."
"That which we all seek," she responded. She then slipped into the stables and led out her favorite horse, Windfola. He was a large gray
stallion, swift and strong. She placed her saddle-bag with all her gear onto the horse. Though she had packed as lightly as possible it would
still be a harsher burden than normal, for the journey would be long and rough.
Eowyn mounted Windfola and was joined by half a dozen Riders, who would be her escort for the first part of her long trip, through lands
roamed by Saruman's orcs. Theodred had wanted to give her a larger escort, but she had refused, saying that as many men as possible were
needed for the defense of the kingdom.
"Farewell!" she said to her brother and cousin. "For Rohan," she added.
"For Rohan," they echoed, the clip-clop of the horses' hooves as they began to move partially covering up the sound of the men's voices.
They went down the main dirt road and were swiftly out of Edoras. Eowyn turned her head and saw the small figures of Theodred and
Eomer standing upon the steps of the Golden Hall in the distance. "How ironic, that it is usually me up there, watching them ride away," she
thought.
The Riders were clad in armor and armed with spear and bow, but Eowyn wore no armor, only the simple traveling clothes that a man would
wear. She knew she would have to travel as lightly as possible. She did bring a shield, a small round one decorated with the image of a
rearing horse. Her sword was in its sheath at her right side, and her knife was tucked securely into her boot.
For five days they rode westward together, aiming for the Gap of Rohan and keeping as much distance as possible between them and
Saruman's tower at Isengard. As they rode further west the land became ever more deserted and bleak-looking. They saw no Orcs, though,
save some distant lights at night that may or may not have been Orc-fires. The Riders inquired of Eowyn about her unusual journey, and
spoke of their mistrust of Elves. Other than that they spoke little. Their faces were grim and she could see the strain of a harsh war upon
them. Yet strangely, Eowyn found an odd contentment in the dark journey. She took her turn at watch at night and endured the same things
the men endured, and they respected her. It was a feeling she never could have gotten sitting at home with nothing to do but worry.
By the afternoon of the fifth day, they had passed through the Gap without incident and were beginning to turn northwards. Here the escort of
Riders bid Eowyn farewell and turned back to their home-lands, leaving her to journey northward alone, with no companions save her horse
and the continuous sound of the wind. She feared not the open, empty lands, however, for it was the cage that she feared. Many times at
home she had gone out for a solo ride across the plains, being glad to escape the stuffiness of the Hall and the evil glances of Wormtongue, if
only for a while.
It was autumn, and the days and nights grew steadily colder as she traveled northward and the year grew later. Her favorite part was lying
down at night, snug underneath her warm traveling-clothes and her blanket, and looking up at the stars.
Not many were those who knew the exact way to Rivendell, but Eowyn had looked at every map and document she could back in Edoras,
including some of the maps in Wormtongue's room while he was busy snooping in HER room. She had figured out her path as best she
could. It was a month's journey to her destination, and as the trip wore on Eowyn began collecting wild berries and catching small game with
her throwing-knife to supplement the dwindling food supply she had brought with her.
Finally, one afternoon the sun was setting at her back as she found the right path and turned eastward, entering the valley of Rivendell. Her
mind was filled with curiosity, and a little apprehension, at the thought of meeting the Elves for the first time. What would they be like? Would
they be able to help her country?