On the Wings of the Storm

Chapter 4

I nodded, feeling sheepish that my limitations were so easily perceptible. "May I come back another day?"

"You are very welcome to." He grinned. "It puts my men on their mettle to have a woman shoot so well."

Warmed by the compliment, I smiled back. "I'm not distracting them?"

"They will have to learn to cope with distraction. Besides, they fight better with a pretty woman watching them."

That made me blush. I looked round for a diversion. "Where is Lady Éowyn?"

"Knocking the stuffing out of one of my young trainees."

When I stared at him in surprise he guffawed. "Come and have a look yourself."

Heorogar had spoken truth. Éowyn was sparring with a lad about my own age, both using shields and swords with blunted blades. Tall and heavily built, he had the reach of her and outweighed her, but again and again she used his own momentum against him. As I watched in disbelief, she ducked one of his charges, landing a blow on his unprotected back as he went by. I winced. Surely that had to hurt even through the padded armour.

"It teaches them not to underestimate an opponent because of his size," Heorogar commented. I nodded mechanically, finding it hard to accept that they allowed her to put her person at risk in such a way. To ride and shoot was one thing, but to fight with swords! Even with their edges blunted, they routinely caused nasty bruises and could even break bones.

"Does King Théoden know she's practising sword fighting?" I asked.

"Of course."

I marvelled at his complacency. "And her brother?"

"Marshal Éomer? Oh yes, he knows. Although I suspect he's not altogether happy at her desire to train as a Shieldmaiden. But she's of the House of Eorl, it runs in her blood."

That moment Éowyn tripped her opponent as he went by on another futile charge, making him fall to the ground. When he rolled over he found her sword pointing at his chest.

"Yield?" she asked. Amazingly, she wasn't even breathing hard.

With ill grace he conceded defeat and Éowyn stepped back. Heorogar barked an order and another of his men picked up his sword to face her in the training ring. I had watched enough of my brothers' bouts to judge this one an experienced fighter as they exchanged the first blows. Even so she held her own. Lithe and graceful as a cat, she evaded closing with him, melting away under his strokes and letting him do all the work. I had thought her cold, but now I saw her eyes flash with temper when he managed to get a touch on her. She possessed the same fire as her brother I realized, only she hid it under a mask of ice.

Then at the crucial moment she struck. Sliding her blade under the man's guard, she unbalanced him, forcing him to give ground. He took a step back, but she gave him no chance to recover, pressing him and letting his riposte slide off her shield harmlessly. In what looked almost like a dance move, Éowyn spun round, following through her momentum and ending up with her sword against his throat. "You're dead, Wiglaf!"

"So are you."

Éowyn looked down at the sword at her midriff and laughed. "I am!"

Beside me, Heorogar stiffened. "What's the matter with you, Éowyn. You know your defensive movements better than that."

She shrugged. "I get tired of defending myself all the time. I want to attack."

Heorogar opened his mouth as if to argue the point, but at that moment a boy came running up. His green tunic with a white horse depicted on it identified him as one of the pages from Meduseld. He gasped out his message and I caught King Théoden's name.