More Aragorn/Eowyn

[thrihyrne]

Just a brief update to this story, the one being written for edeainfj. Part I is here and Part II is here.


They spoke up to, and through, the evening meal. Two other Rangers, two of the deathless (whom she had believed to be legend only), and Aragorn. Their accounts of the battle thrilled in her spine, where pulsed waves of shiverchills. Or perhaps that was caused in looking on the rich panoply of strength and nobility in the men present with her. Éowyn was not one to be swayed by pretty words, nor pretty men, but the authority which shone in each handsome face despite the grime of combat and weariness of hard travel was breathtaking. Éowyn listened, unknowingly running her thumb in a crescent near her heart as she focused her attentions on Aragorn.

“I will have lodgings prepared for you, as you all must rest until the King and Éomer return,” she said at last, rising to pour more of the heady wine for her guests.

“We remain only for the night,”Aragorn replied, placing his hand gently on her forearm. “The enemy does not tire, and we must all be in haste.”

“Where do you go?” Éowyn asked, turning to attend one of the others, sensing within herself a blooming dread at his reply.

“The Paths of the Dead.”

She blanched, and pleaded, “You musn’t.” One of the black-haired Elves looked questionningly at her and she suddenly realized that out of shock, she had spoken in Rohirric.

“I must,” he replied in kind, before resuming in Westron. “We mean you no disservice; all of us here could do with a week’s respite.”

“And a bath,” one of the Rangers added.

“This is the way which was foretold for me. That is where I am to travel.”

Éowyn stood, as straight and cold as a pillar in Meduseld. "Is there none to sway you from such madness, for the living do not return from that road?"

She gazed at his face, and seeing kindness in his eyes, a flame of hope kindled within her. For precious moments, she cupped it to her heart.

“For the sake of one, in the morn I shall ride through the Dimholt to the Paths of the Dead. There is no other way.”

The flame guttered out.

An update on RL, for those of you who know about my car fiasco: Ouvrielle was sold on Monday. I actually was rather depressed, since she was my first car and I'd had her for 12 years. I've travelled a lot of the country in her, and had many adventures, some of which you could only pry out of me after festive beverages.

Comments

[helveticat.livejournal.com]

Och, I love it. Flame guttering out and all of it. Especially when Eowyn pleads in Rohirric, and he responds "in kind." Woot! Pucker up and kiss me, boy, says the Shieldmaiden. Sorry. That was a bit too fangirly for the eloquence of this story. My apologies. :-)

Lilies and broadsides for your poor Ouvrielle, though. I will miss hearing about her. *hugs*

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Pucker up and kiss me, boy, says the Shieldmaiden.

I'm sure that's what she was thinking, at least on some level ;)

That was a bit too fangirly for the eloquence of this story. My apologies.

Oh, p'shaw. You can squee over anything of mine. I need to get your website address again; you've been Oisin, haven't you, and I don't think I've read them? Talk about eloquent, my friend...

Lilies and broadsides for your poor Ouvrielle, though. I will miss hearing about her.

*gratefully accepts the condolences* Yeah. It's the end of an era. What was even more dismal was that I was sitting on the couch, martini in hand, and I called my college best friend to tell her the news (it was due to an incident with a visiting British choir and a handsome youth saying "come here little schoolgirl" which led to me naming the car Ouvrielle), but she wasn't there. Then I called my stepdad to tell him, since he had been the one who went carshopping with me and was the co-signer on the loan. He wasn't home either. *sniff*