Chapter Fifty-Six

~ Éowyn ~
"Éowyn? Éowyn, are you all right?"

I started, nearly dropping the arrows I'd been placing in the quivers. The voice had been so unexpected and so close to me that it had finally shaken me out of the reverie I had been in, especially now in my mindless task of preparing the weapons for all of the men that were going to be riding out in a few hours to go to war.

I turned to find the Lady Kiria behind me, a sword and sheath in her hand and a curious expression on her face.

"Yes, Lady Kiria?" I asked, forcing my voice to remain calm.

Her eyes – blue like mine – seemed to relax a little. "That's better," she murmured, stepping to my side.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, child – except for the fact that you have been wandering around in your own little world for the past . . . oh, hour or more," she said calmly, setting down the sword and sheath. She faced me, a clear and steady expression on her face. "So perhaps I should be asking you about what is wrong."

I looked down, hiding behind my hair. "Nothing."

"Hmm." She was silent for a second. "It wouldn't have anything to do with what Théoden King said to you earlier this morning, would it?"

I spun around, scattering arrows as I did so, but too stunned to notice – much less care. All I could care about was what she had just said, so calmly and matter-of-factly as though she had eavesdropped on us.

"How – How did you – " I spluttered.

Lady Kiria paused, her eyes calm as she looked at me. "Those who speak softly and rarely hear a great deal," she said enigmatically. "I've long since learned the value of listening. . . But back to my original question."

After a long hesitation, I relented. "Yes."

"What does he want you to do?"

My uncle's words rang in my ears, loud and clear: "I have left instructions. The people are to follow your rule in my stead. Take up my seat in the Golden Hall. Long may you defend Edoras if the battle goes ill."

"Go back to Meduseld," I muttered in annoyance. "To take his place and rule in his absence until he or Éomer returns to take the throne. And then go back to where I was before."

Lady Kiria nodded slowly. "I see. And do you plan to do so?"

I stared. "What do you mean?"

"Do you plan to do as the King asked or not?"

"Ordered," I corrected at once. "Why are you asking me this, Lady Kiria? He is my King, and my blood kin. I have a responsibility to do as he sees fit. Rohan needs a ruler – now of all times, with Gondor's throne empty."

"Hmm. . . Your King . . ." For a second, I thought her eyes went blank and haunted, as though she was remembering something . . . something terrible. Something she still grieved for, despite all the time that had passed. Something that pained her more than anything I had ever experienced in my entire life, perhaps more than all of my pain put together.

"Lady Kiria?" I ventured tenatively.

Her eyes came back to me. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"My apologies," she murmured. "I fear I do more reflection on the past than action in the present. . . Not that it matters. My children more than cover my share."

"Your son rides to battle?" I asked, slightly surprised. I thought he would have left to rejoin the Rangers, as Aragorn did.

She smiled slightly, but it was a pained smile. I could see that although she agreed with and supported his decision, it pained her to say good-bye and wait in fear about the fate of her only yet very beloved son.

"Of course. He would not miss this chance. He is not of . . . not of Rohan, yes, but . . . does he not also deserve the chance to fight for those he loves?"

Her words shocked me. Those were the exact same words I had spoken to my brother. Exactly.

But Lady Kiria was still speaking, and what she said next shocked me all the more.

"Besides, I doubt Eldarion would wish to be outdone by his sisters. . . They are still very competitive, my children," she finished with a smile.

"Wait – his . . . Lady Tinúviel and Lady Estel are also going to battle?" I asked, bewildered. "But they – "

She faced me calmly, one eyebrow raised in question. "But what, Lady Éowyn?"

"But . . . they . . ."

I floundered, hopelessly lost as I tried to articulate what my thoughts were saying without offending her. Lady Kiria, after all, was a lady of noble birth and older than me as well; I had to be respectful around her, even though I was a great deal higher up than her as the King's niece and second-in-line to the throne.

She laughed gently, smiling at me. "Do not be shy to speak our thoughts, Éowyn," she encouraged. "Don't worry about formal etiquette; that means nothing on the eve of war."

"But they're women!" I blurted out, the permission about three seconds before the gates opened.

Lady Kiria crossed her arms. "And since when has that stopped any of us? My daughters have just as much right to fight today as anyone else here – they've lost people, like their father, just like everyone else; they are just as skilled in battle as anyone else; and there is one irrefutable fact that we need more warriors to add to the lines. The Dúnedain may join us, and the sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris, but even that may not be enough."

It was a matter of how stunned I was that I didn't stumble over the unfamiliar names she spoke.

"Still . . ."

But I was losing ground. She was right – all too right.

"Wait . . . their father?" I said slowly. "You . . . Your husband . . . He's dead?"

The pain entered her face again, but this time her eyes remained with me. She looked like she was carrying a burden I couldn't bear or understand until I experienced it myself, a burden that tired her more than anything else. But she just . . . kept going.

In an odd way, I admired her for that.

"He's been dead for many years," she said dismissively. "It's an old wound."

But even as she spoke, her hands shook slightly. An old wound it might be, but all wounds took their time – and their toll. It was obvious this wound had taken a great one, and still was.

"But my children," she continued, her voice warming and her eyes lightening, "are joy enough. My Eldarion is almost exactly like my lord, almost exactly. He's done everything he can to take his father's place, and he's turning out just fine.

"As for my daughters. . ." Lady Kiria faced me, eyes set and dead calm. "Tinúviel is more like a lady than any of us; I know that is what you see. What you don't is that she's also as skilled as any of us. Her work with the bow is the best I've seen. And a skilled archer could be the piece that swings the battle in our favor, for arrows fly further and sharper than swords sometimes."

I gaped at her without even noticing. Lady Tinúviel had seemed like the perfect lady – refined, quiet, beautiful. She didn't seem like an archer.

Lady Kiria laughed at my face. "Oh, yes, I'm being perfectly serious," she assured me. "Tinúviel is just as good as any of the archers the King brings with him. She's always preferred archery; it was only when she started growing up and going into society that she placed it aside."

"Um . . . I see . . . sort of," I said lamely.

"And Estel . . . Well, I think you know what kind of girl Estel is."

I nodded, relieved we were back to easier footing. Yes, I could easily see Estel as a warrior girl. After all, she had fought in Helm's Deep and she carried her own weapons. She wasn't as . . . refined as her sister. No, that wasn't quite right. . . She was refined. She knew how to act, how to speak, how to dance and so on. She just didn't act like it all the time. Nor was she as serious as her brother. She was too light-hearted. Life seemed to come easily to her. She laughed easily, befriended easily, lived easily. She was pretty in all the right ways – graceful, ethereal, intelligent. And despite her obvious ability to defend herself, she carried an almost . . . innocent, naive, curious aura that just made people gravitate towards her, either finding in her a sympathetic friend or wanting to protect her.

I knew which I found her to be.

"Yes, I know," I said after a moment. "But what does this all have to do with me?"

Lady Kiria smiled slowly. "Well . . . Aren't you going off to battle with the rest of them as well?"

I thought about it. I really did.

On one hand, it was something I was dying to do. I had been dying to do it for so long I'd forgotten when the urge had begun. I wanted to do battle, to know for myself how good I was, to know for myself that I wasn't simply a damsel in distress that others had to rescue. I wanted to prove it to myself.

On the other hand . . . I had a responsibility to my uncle. Rohan needed a ruler. And my uncle had done me the very great honor of entrusting me with the task of defending Edoras while he was away and until he returned. If I left, I would probably never get this kind of chance ever again, especially as I had a brother.

Going to battle versus following my responsibility.

The choice, after this discussion, was almost all too easy to make.

"I'm going," I answered abruptly.

Lady Kiria smiled, almost approvingly now. It was like she wanted me to go.

That made me pause.

I had just realized that I actually didn't know her that well. I had spoken to Estel a great deal on the way to Helm's Deep, and to Eldarion. But not to Lady Kiria; in fact, I had only ever seen her from a distance, the day she arrived.

"What about you?"

Her smile turned tight and secretive and she went very, very still, like a predator planning her next move. Her hand shot out, and suddenly the bow and arrow in my hands were gone. She whirled around, the bow flashing up to her ear and the arrow flashing to the bow – and then the arrow was still, quivering, in the bull's eye of a tent flag on the other side of the armory.

Even I couldn't have made that shot.

"Oh, I think I can take care of myself," Lady Kiria said casually. "You run along now, then, if you plan to go with them. They leave soon."

With that, any doubt was erased. She understood me, and she was giving me the chance to live my dream.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

"My pleasure." She smiled again. "They say you will live out what we didn't have a chance to – the dawn of a new age. I look forward to seeing you championing that, Éowyn."

More of my uncle's words flashed in my mind as she spoke: "You shall live to see these days renewed. No more despair."

And so shall you, Uncle, I promised. So shall you.

Then I marched over to the armory to get my armor, my weapons, and my horse.