The wind whistled in her ears, the tall cliffs around her sheer walls of stone surrounding the shelf of rock that she stood on. Asterin leaned on her Galadrim bow and all around her the men prepared to ride to war, the valley of Dunharrow alive with the movement of the men. She felt a dark presence gathering in the back of her mind, slinging her bow over her shoulder with ease she made her way through the encampment. Restless men and horses moved all around her and she moved across the camp, the darkness of the night all around her. Standing over the valley she looked down on the army below, six thousand men armed, with mounts all resting below her. The winding trail led to the mountain ledges where the King and his captains camped. A brief flash of movement caught her eye, a mounted rider cloaked and hooded, making their way up the mountain.
The white horse bearing the black-cloaked figure approached her, and her hand drifted to the hilt of her sword. Her muscles tense she raised her gaze surprise racing through her as she met the figure's eyes, releasing the grip on her sword she quickly bowed. For the figure atop the horse, was Elrin's father, Lord Elrond of Imladris.
"My Lord Elrond," glancing to the side she saw one of the Rohan guards, quickly motioning for the man to stay his post. "Asterin," she stepped to the side as he dismounted, his dark cloak shifting. "I've come to speak with my children," Asterin nodded leading him into the camp inwardly cursing her decision to allow Elrin to ride ahead to Minas Tirith. "Your sons are resting for the coming fight, Elrin," she faltered slightly, not wanting to be the one to tell him that his daughter had rode already to the white city.
"She rode seven days ago with Mithrandir; they are now in Minas Tirith. Aiding the city against the army that marches against us all," Elrond's face grew grim, "I see, have you or any others been in contact with her since she rode." Shaking her head, she led him to the tent she knew was shared by his sons Elladan and Elrohir. Nodding to the tent to her left, hearing the familiar voices of Elrin brothers, she ducked inside, and upon seeing what lay inside, was forced to restrain her laughter.
For Elladan and Elrohir were not alone, sitting with the brothers who animatedly told the story of the battle of Fornost, where the Witch King was defeated, but not slain. Grimly she remembered the long and terrible fight, but her eyes still rested upon the small figure seated alongside the brothers. Gimli sat grinning and she rolled her eyes deciding better to say something sooner rather than later. "Elladan, Elrohir," she snapped, easily getting the pair's attention both of them looking at her with curiosity. "Your father has come," she knew there was no easy way to tell them what she suspected, about why Lord Elrond had come. Motioning for them to rise, she exited the tent turning to face Elrond once more. "This is where I leave you," she moved away from the tent, leaving to allow for the family reunion. Even as she wished she would ever have the same experience, seeing the brothers embrace their father the familiar pang of sadness and grief.
Seeing the family reunite, she turned away, striding towards one of the tents, the white cloth billowing, her memories flooding back. The image of a pure white shroud fluttering in the wind, the trees towering over the small clearing. Shaking her head, she snapped herself back to reality, stopping in front of the entrance to another one of the tents and ducking inside. Seeing the pair inside and smiling at those inside as she came in, greeting Eowyn and Merry cordially. Her smile widened when she saw Merry wearing the armor, she and Eowyn had designed and commissioned for the young hobbit.
"A true esquire of Rohan," Eowyn said with a grin as Merry settled the steel and leather helmet on an endearing and innocent smile on his face. "I'm ready," the short sword whined as he drew it for his sheath, narrowly missing Eowyn, who jumped backward slightly, the smile still on her face. "Watch out, Eowyn we have a real warrior on our hands," patting Merry on the shoulder as she passed, and the hobbit's gaze fell to the sword in his hand.
"It isn't that dangerous. It's not even sharp," the women looked at each other rolling their eyes at Merry's words. "Well, that won't do. You won't kill many orcs with a blunt blade," the pair ushered the young hobbit out of the tent while Merry began sparring with the air. Spinning the blade over in his hand a thrusting it forward as if into an enemy before she pushed him forward, saying, "Go, off to the smithy." As the small figure dashed off, she smiled sadly,, wishing she had never taught him the ways of combat, but she met Eowyn's eyes and laughed alongside her friend at Merry's antics.
Friend, the word settled in her mind. The term all knew, but the concept of which was still slightly foreign to her. But she knew she could call the Lady of Rohan friend, yet even as she enjoyed and cherished Eowyn's friendship the way she did, her friend Elrin's sadness still crept into her whenever she was reminded of one sad fact. Eowyn was mortal, human like her ancestors before her and she knew one day her friend would fall, whether by the sword in battle, by her choice to fight. Or by the far sadder fate, the slow decay of time, she had never thought of this before, because she had never thought she would call one of the race of men, a friend.
The only other time, she had been within the presence of the race of man had been during the Battle of the Five Armies at the Lonely Mountain. And even there, she had spent most of the battle amongst her kinsmen, fighting first against the dwarves and then against the army of orcs that marched upon their position. She had fought alongside all three kindreds alike after ordering the Mirkwood warriors to aid the massively outnumbered dwarves. The order ringing through the air to, "draw bows and fire," her actions had nearly resulted in her banishment from Mirkwood.
But she could not stand by while warriors fought what would have been a massacre. Thranduil had just before ordered the fighters to stand their ground and do nothing. She had defied a direct order and had drawn her sword to charge into battle alongside her kinsmen. After returning to Mirkwood she had been summoned to the throne hall, and Thranduril had ridiculed her in a tirade that had lasted many an hour. Afterward, she had not been shaken in her belief that she had done what was right.
Yet even as she had only known Eowyn for a brief time, she valued her friendship as much as she did Elrin's. Unfortunately, she could not say the same thing about Eowyn's brother Eomer who sat next to the fire outside the tent. "You should not encourage him," Eowyn turned to face her brother as Asterin glared angrily at the man. "Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you." Asterin snapped at him, much less polite than his sister, "Why can he not fight for those he loves?" Eomer stood to face them, wincing as she glared at him, "You know as little of war as that hobbit. When the fear takes him, and the blood and the screams, and the horrors of battle take hold of him. Do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee, and he would be right to do so." Eomer placed his hand on his sister's shoulder gently saying, "War is the province of men Eowyn."
At this, Asterin snapped striding forward and purposely knocking Eomer back into his seat, "I'm sorry but did I hear your brother wrong I have never really known the common tongue well. But what I thought he said is that Merry knew nothing of war, yet he has fought alongside the members of the fellowship in Moria and at the battles of Amon Hen and Amon Zul. Against orcs, Uruk-hai, and the Nazgul," she turned to face Eomer, anger burning in her eyes when she finished. "And as you should have figured, war is not the province just of men; it is for any who decide to fight for those they love. Do you think I should never have fought in battle or the Lady Elrin when I do not doubt either of us could outfight any of your men?"
Striding away, she ducked inside the tent she shared with Eowyn barely managing to avoid driving her fist into Eomer's face. Sitting down, she sighed in frustration wishing she was back home in Mirkwood where at least she would not be scorned for being an elf maiden. She saw Eowyn come in and sit down, a similar sigh leaving her the woman as to the one that had just left her.