Slowly my senses return to me... as if I am awakening from a sleep that was too deep. I'm alive?
My eyes slowly fade into day, with heavy lids and straining fatigue. I struggle to turn my head on the feather pillow and look about the room I am in. I see wood, not the beautifully decorated kind like in Mirkwood, but chopped and layered. Though I can hardly see because of how dark the area is. I cannot tell if it is nightfall or daylight because there are no windows. My eyes flash to one of the pillars, wooden, with a band of gorgeous—but not "elf" flawless—carvings around it.
My fingers touch fabric; smooth enough but nothing like the sheets in the Woodland Realm or Lórien. I look down. it is a dark green wool blanket. I shift my body a bit and realize I am lying on a mattress that contains straw and feathers. I look down at the worn white sheets, a small blood stain on the edge.
I frown and try to lift my head, but the pain comes back when I do. My fingers go to my forehead and I feel a bandage wrapped around it tightly. I look to a side table on my left and pick up a bowl of bloody water, in it I can see my reflection. I tear at the cloth and peel the stained bandage off, revealing a scab or scar of a cut on the side of my temple.
I breathe and lie my head back down.
Where am I? What happened? I don't remember anything. It's almost like my arrival all over again.
Just then I hear a woman's voice, "You have awoken."
I look to my right and see a girl roughly my age with long, golden hair and pale complexion, wearing a white and brown gown of cotton. She looks surprised.
"Where am I?" I ask as she approaches me.
She kneels beside my bed and takes a wet cloth to my head. "You removed your bandages."
I want to stop her but the cool water feels nice on my weary head. She almost looks like an elf, but doesn't move as gracefully, and then I catch that she does not have those pointy ears. "Please answer I have to know where I am."
"You are in Edoras, my lady."
I frown. "Edoras...?"
"My brother found you floating down Entwash and bleeding. You were near death. In fact he said you looked dead... It was like some kind of magic kept you alive... I am not sure what would have happened if he had not brought you here." I notice then that she has green eyes, not as vibrant as Nin's though. And light eyebrows to match her beautiful hair as long as an elf's that lies in waves like my hair only less frizzy.
I'm more off course than I thought. How did I get from the MistyMountains to the river that runs through Fangorn? How far was her brother out from the city? And how did I survive the fall onto the snow covered mountains where I should be buried into the cold fluff and dead? Did Morier save me? Where is Morier?
I want to ask her but if I had been floating down the river then I would be far from the beast. I wonder if he's alright. He wouldn't know where I am now...
"How long have I been out?" I ask as she places the rag in the bowl of water.
"A couple of days," she responds.
I sigh. "This is bad. I need to get to Isengard and back to Mirkwood. Nin will be worried sick." It's a good thing I told her that I might be coming back soon.
"Isengard? Why would you go there by choice? Surely you are not allied with Sauron."
"Of course not do I look like an orc? I need something; a book. He has it—wait why would I be allied with Sauron to go there? Isn't Saruman a wizard? I thought wizards were good." I frown and slowly sit up, trying not to let my head throb.
"Not all of them anymore. The unity of Middle Earth dwindles as Sauron's is brought together. Not all know of this betrayal but my brother and I know that it is he who has poisoned the king," she seems hurt by this fact and tries to keep her emotions from showing. Is she close to this king? Or perhaps Saruman has done something that has scarred her... I don't know.
I just try to think about all of this. I can't go see Saruman now... if what she says is true. Do I have anything to do now? Did Thranduil know of Saruman's disloyalty? Surely he didn't. But now I believe even the seal wouldn't have kept me alive there.
"Is this really true?" I ask her.
"There is no proof of it now... But I would not risk it. The orcs swarm these lands now and have put the people of Rohan in danger."
Rohan yes. The name now sounds familiar. This is the great kingdom of men south of Rhovanion (Isengard lies on the northwest border of this land) known for its incredibly large cavalry.
But that means these are men and women. Not elves. She looks almost like an elf but now that I see freckles on her skin and rounded ears I know she's a woman.
"I am sorry for your kingdom," I say to her.
She nods slowly.
"I thank you for your hospitality and for your brother for saving my life."
"You are welcome, my lady."
"You can call me Vil."
She smiles. "And you may call me Éowyn."
"Agreed."
"Is there anything else you need, Vil?"
I almost shake my head but then I say, "Well maybe something hard for the pain."
She nods and exits out the open door.
I breathe and lie back down against the pillow. I stare at the ceiling and wonder what to do now. I can't go to Isengard. I should try to go home. But not until I am healed. I rest my eyes and then find myself falling asleep.
I only remember waking up again, perhaps hours later but my head doesn't hurt much anymore. I look to my left to see a mug of mead placed on the table. I sit up and gulp the stuff, feeling better even as it travels down my throat.
I look around with the mug in my hands my corset is off me and placed beside my bed. I see my weapons also there. Thank goodness I had them strapped to my back instead of hooked on Morier's saddle.
I see other beds in the room with me; all the same. I guess this is a healing place for wounded men. It's not incredibly large so I suppose that this isn't the primary hospital in the city. Probably just for a select few. Or maybe this is one room in the hospital building. Is Éowyn a nurse?
So many questions flood me but none of them really matter.
I sit for a while, half exhausted really.
I should have asked for a book though. I still don't like being alone with my thoughts.
I focus on where I am right now. And how far I have gotten. I told myself I would do what I can to protect or offer any service I can to the Woodland Realm; to Thranduil and his son because the pain I have caused.
But I have fled from there.
Thranduil sent me to learn how to use my gift. How am I going to get home? If I can't get what I was sent to get how am I supposed to learn what I need to so that I can return and use it to defend my home?
Then I remember what Thranduil told me... he said I can use my gift to help Middle Earth... not just Mirkwood. Maybe there is something I can unlock; something I can use to stop this war... I have seen what a revolution looks like and what becomes of it (or invasion I should say). Perhaps I can stop this before this world turns into what mine now looks like.
I look at the rune on my palm... What gifts does this contain?
I remember when Thranduil told me that it was because of this that I could tame Morier... taming dragons? I don't even think dragons are a common thing here. Maybe it just lets me communicate with things of different languages or... species. I don't know...
Is that it? Am I supposed to talk to Sauron?
I laugh to myself at this theory. Talking to the devil surely works and makes him good instead of evil. I just wish I knew what this rune even means.
After a while of thinking I eventually get tired again and sleep for a couple more hours.
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When I wake I hear footsteps walking softly into the room.
I had been sitting up and attempting to stand, but slowly. The pain in my head is almost gone completely but I was still a little cautious. I remember the last time I was faint I almost passed out on the floor of the Prancing Pony.
I look behind me at Éowyn that stands there with a dark green folding of fabric in her hands.
"I had the maid draw a bath for you, Lady Vil. Please take this dress and let them wash your clothes," she says.
I stand up and walk over to her, a little stiff from lying there so long. I stretch a bit casually. "Of course." I walk up to her. "Thank you very much."
"You are most welcome."
I take the dress from her and frown. "You said 'I had the maids...' does that mean you are not one?"
"No I am not. I usually do not tend the wounded but on occasion. My brother brought you here personally and it is not often we receive an injured woman from an unknown land here in the Golden Halls. So I suppose I am here to help as a friend would. So many have died and we must rejoice when we live."
I am shocked at her kindness and hospitality. I don't know how to respond at first. "Those are the words that I too live by, Éowyn. Thank you for your kindness to a stranger. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it."
Her face is meant to be happy I can tell. But deep in her eyes I see sorrow and grief. She masks her pain with gentleness and shows me compassion when I have only just learned her name. She speaks with words of wisdom; words of a positive woman. But in her heart she is damaged and has lost hope. I wonder what her story is.
She smiles. "These are dark times and we women must stick together."
"Indeed we must." I return her expression.
"Come." She turns and walks out of the room.
I follow close behind. "Did you say 'golden halls'?" I ask her as we exit the room.
"Yes the Hall of King Théoden," she responds.
I gape and my eyes are wide. A king? I stay yet again in the home of another king? King Théoden of Rohan?
We walk into a large royal hall with tables past the pillars and a fire pit in the center of the huge room. Natural light flows into the building from the opened windows on the thatched roof above the candle chandeliers. The whole place seems very large, almost a palace but of course not nearly as big as the one in Mirkwood. There is a wide, long hallway with the pillars of carved bands like the one I saw earlier. Very Celtic the atmosphere seems. To the right it leads up to a great throne that I don't take a second look at before I must catch up with her towards the north end of the room, up the couple steps and to the northeast wing, as we were in the southeast wing close to the exit.
"Are you related to the king?" I ask her.
"He is my uncle," she says a bit solemnly.
"So you are royalty?"
"Not really. I am just Lady Éowyn I suppose. My cousin is the one in line for the throne of Rohan."
"But royal blood... that is still something."
We walk into doorway and past a bed to the room where a large wooden tub sits with hot water in it. She closes the door behind her and helps me unlace my tunic.
"Where are you from Vil?"
"Well I wasn't born in Middle Earth. But I live in Mirkwood now."
"But you are no elf, I can tell."
I pull off my shirt. "No King Thranduil just took me in."
She laughs and then says nothing else, as if it was a joke.
I close my mouth and finish unbuttoning my trousers. I pull it off and hand it to her as she offers to take them, me realizing how dirty my skin is underneath. She does the favor of delivering my undergarments to be washed as well but doesn't really understand what they are. Funny.
"Were you travelling alone?" she asks while the maid gathers my things to be washed.
"Yes," I respond while pulling my hair out of its tangled mess at the back.
"I have never been to the northern part of Middle Earth. I've spent my whole life here within these walls." I can tell by the longing in her voice that she wishes to go places, to explore, or perhaps just have some kind of adventure.
"You're lucky. I've spent my whole life running... fighting... surviving. But not living. I never had a home..."
"It is noble. To fight for those you love. I would not know. For I am a woman, and it is not proper for me to see battle," she seems agitated by this fact but I shake my head.
"Battles are ugly, Éowyn. Dark, brutal, torturous... It rips the soul from you and hardens you to a point where you forget the meaning of words like 'soft, warm, beautiful, kind'..."
She thinks on this as silence returns.
I turn around and take her hands. "Hold onto anything pure that you can... it is precious." I speak from my heart. I have been hardened by war and anyone that hasn't is lucky. Women have a job. They take care of the next generation of men to fight. We keep things together. We feed and cloth and look after all those who must suffer in battle... and it is hard work for us women. I know this even though I have had to live as a survivor my whole life. My mother told me these things. She taught me the importance of all the small things we do and in the end they are very large things. Women don't have to do what the men do to have worth. We are strong in what we do that is not seen.
She looks into my eyes with deep thought.
I smile at her with encouragement. "And who would do all of the cleaning and cooking when men are gone to war?" I ask to lighten the mood after I have brought it down.
She grins finally bust only a little.
"I don't think you want men in the kitchen." I make a pained look.
She giggles and shakes her head. "That water is getting cold."
"Right. My apologies." I say and step into the liquid that is plenty hot enough for me. I feel relaxed all over as soon as I am submerged from shoulder to toe.
I breathe and rest my back against the cloth lining of the wooden tub.
She turns and leaves after a few seconds, still in thought about what I had said.
I think on it as well, looking down at my reflex ion in the water. I haven't taken a bath since I was in Mirkwood... I think of my friends and how I miss them already... and Thranduil...
I smile when I remember how he thought I was sleeping when I was in his room and I woke up briefly and barely heard him as he walked around his room doing something.
And I heard his feet stop close to me... and silence... I could tell he was looking at me. I was even surprised he didn't know I was half awake.
I must have looked like an injured puppy and yanked at a soft spot deep within him because before he left he walked over to me, barely touching the lock of hair on my temple, and bent down to place his soft and warm lips against my bruised forehead. I'm glad he couldn't see how stiff I was. But my heart was yanked when he did such a gesture to me. I felt humble and not worth his kindness.
Thinking about this makes me want to hug him again and I stop before I start to miss him. He is the closest person I have to a family now.
I sigh and look at the little table beside me where I can reach soap. It doesn't look as neatly made and doesn't smell as pleasant as the one in the palace of the wood elves. Either way I use it to scrub the dirt off my skin and from my scalp.
After I finish I use a large piece of cloth hung by a peg to dry off and Éowyn comes back in and hands me my bra and underwear freshly washed and dried in the sun. I put them on.
"An interesting contraption," she almost laughs.
"It's for..." I hesitate as I stand in my bra.
She stares blankly.
"...It's hard to explain," I dismiss it but look amused.
She starts to laugh and I shrug but then giggle.
But it is quite funny. And I think she enjoys some amusement. I can tell she hasn't had any for a while.
I slip into the simple green dress with long sleeves and she helps me lace up the back.
"Thank you," I say sheepishly. I have never had to have anyone help me in or out of my clothes before but these laces on the back of bloody everything really requires other assistance.
"It is no problem," she responds.
After that she and I walk back to my room after she gives me a book to read if I wish.
I mess with my hair for a while and end up putting two locks on either side of my head to pull back the front of my hair when I pin them back, then two more below that the same. This tames my hair behind my shoulders. But my head has a painful scab on it that makes me want bangs.
I rest in bed a bit and get lost in the story until a maid comes and asks me if I would like some dinner.
So I go into the main hall where the other 'nobles'—though they look as poor as I would expect a normal citizen to be—are drinking ale and talking merrily to each other as they pick off parts of venison and bread to eat on their rusty metal plates. Some wear pieces of armor; mostly leather, and others wear tunics that were previously worn under armor.
Unlike the elves, they eat with fingers. And there is much talking and visiting that takes place. No eyes turn my way thankfully—I suppose people are too into their conversations—, as I get food from the platter and walk to the other table that is vacant. I sit quietly on the wooden bench and eat, keeping to myself. I don't see Éowyn.
"You seem to be doing better than you were," I hear an unfamiliar husky voice say in my direction.
I look up to see a man sit down at my table with a mug of mead, a curious look in his eye. He has shoulder length dirty blonde hair (that's pulled back like Legolas's was but not nearly as neatly) and a dark colored, casual shirt over his broad shoulders. Dark eyebrows with rugged posture and appearance, a subtle mustache and beard as well. He's about my age. "You look in much better shape than you did when I found you," he says with a deep, rugged voice.
I look up at him. "You are Éowyn's brother?"
"Éomer I am called. Son of Éomund."
"I want to thank you for saving my life, Éomer. I am your servant here and I will owe you forever," I say rather straight forward with a plain expression.
"I will not hold you to that, my lady," he smirks.
I almost smile. "Where did you find me?"
"Floating down the river flowing from Fangorn. Your head was bleeding mildly, and your ankle was swollen. But it seems you have healed just fine." He gives me a weird look.
He is handsome in a different way than the elves are. Kinda like how Strider had been; rugged and masculine. Talking to them makes me feel like a little girl.
I don't let this show and I clear my throat a little, sitting up straight to look as a woman not a girl. But he's taller than me even when we are sitting. Why does everyone have to be taller than me?
"What's the safest path to Mirkwood from here?" I ask.
"Mirkwood?" he raises his brows.
"Yes that is where I am from and I need to return."
"Well you would head northwest over the West Emnet and then over The Wold and take the Great River north until you arrive at the Old Ford."
I nod and think for a moment.
"But it does not matter."
"What do you mean?"
He looks back at me. "These lands are crawling with orcs. You would never make it there alive."
"Do you underestimate me?"
"Perhaps you are overestimating yourself, my lady."
"My name is Vilora. And I am tougher than you think."
"Not tough enough to take on an army of orcs alone."
I don't want to think he's right, being the stubborn self that I am. But my braid searches for anyway I can go home. "I can slip through unnoticed. Maybe I can travel by night and sleep during daylight."
He shakes his head with doubt. "Even our detachment I took up through the Emnet hardly survived. And we are trained warriors."
He is right. I can tell that in his eyes. I sigh without a sound and look down at my plate.
"If your home is Mirkwood, what were you doing so far south?"
"I was... on my way to Isengard to see Saruman the White. But your sister has informed me that his alliance has changed..."
He keeps his voice down and glances to his left. "At least that is what we believe now. I can feel it. This presence. I know it is true. Not all in here are loyal to the king..." he comes to a whisper after leaning forward a little. But none hear him. They are walking and laughing.
My brows tense just a little. I look at all the others. "It seems every kingdom is under a threat now..." I remember the state in which I left Mirkwood.
"It is the nature of all wars, Lady Vilora."
"Well I want to stop it. This war will consume everything I know it..." my thoughts return to Mirkwood. I want to go home. But I can't. At least not for a while. But that doesn't mean I will waste my existence by pouting about it. While I am here I will help in any way I can. I owe that to these people that have taken me in like an injured puppy. I am strong clearly... but I am not there yet. And even strong people need help sometimes.
I look up at him confidently. "As long as I stay here I will aid you all in defending your city," I say. And I mean every word.
"That is very noble of you, Vilora. You have spirit. I do indeed think we could use someone like you here. It isn't proper for a woman to fight but in our last defense we might need all possible to protect our children and our elders."
I smirk. "Oh men cannot keep me from the battle field. I have already been broken by combat there is no innocence left in me. I am a soldier like you and your men. And I will help in whatever way possible."
He pops his brows up a little and doesn't seem to want to argue with me. Probably because he doesn't really have a say in what I do anyway. From this I can tell he is responsible for his sister's hunger for battle... well responsible for not allowing her to quench it.
"Speaking of which, you may call me ignorant if you please but where did these orcs come from? Were they created by Sauron? Or by whoever Sauron works for?" I eat another bite of my meat.
"Long ago they were once elves, but Sauron enslaved them, tortured them. Until they became mutations and devilish creatures of darkness."
"Just out of curiosity, what exactly does Sauron look like?"
He looks at me oddly.
"I'm not from Mirkwood. I am acutally from a place far from here I was just staying there..."
"He does not have a human form," he answers my question. "Just an eye at the top of Barad-dûr; a flaming enchantment that looks over the lands of Middle Earth."
"Right," I mutter, looking down at my plate.
"...And what was a human doing in the realm of wood elves?"
"I was a traveler, just passing through. I was staying there for a brief time..."
"The elves of the Woodland Realm are not known for being hospitable," he says with a confused, but more curious look, not a look that says he doesn't believe me though.
"I was close friends with one of them. And I had a debt to pay there."
He nods with thought and takes another drink. He then gets up from the table. "It was nice meeting you, my lady." He makes a bow. "Perhaps we will speak again sometime," he smiles down at me, a bit amused as to my mannerisms and such. I suppose I am quite different from even the other humans living here.
I grin and make a quick nod. Once I finish eating the others are done as well and the sun has gone down. I head to my room quietly.
But as I walk up to the east wing I look to my left. There on the throne, sits what is supposed to be a king... but he is old, crippled, with the complexion of a pale naked rat, glazed over eyes with white hair like straw, who wears a worn fur cloak and a bronze circlet crown. He leans to one side of his throne. At first he looks almost lifeless, but his eyes move just slightly.
And at the foot of his throne sits Éowyn, with a bowl of soap and a spoon, trying desperately to feed the old man. As she struggles I begin to see tears rolling down her face.
I do not want her to feel embarrassed like I feel when I discover someone watching me in such a vulnerable state, especially crying... So I pretend I do not see and walk into my room heavily. I wonder if it is a disease or perhaps old age that took the king. Either way I feel bad for him and his niece.
I sit and read the book Éowyn leant me. Slowly my eyelids become heavy as I lie there looking over the words... Sleep fights for me and I give in. Besides, I should rest if I want to heal my wounds properly.
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The next morning I wake up not knowing what time of day it is, as there are not any windows. But I sit up and walk into the main hall after I put on my green outer dress over the white under dress that I had slept in, noticing my gear freshly washed and dried sitting on the bedside table.
The men and Éowyn are all having breakfast. I walk over to where they are, casually. And I take some bread and an apple. They are not as tasty as the food in Mirkwood but at least they have meat here.
I don't do a lot of mingling, only catching Mr. Éomer when he stands by the fire, looking my direction.
I behave like I don't notice and finish. Then I realize I have no idea what the lands around me look like or where I am visually. I make my way down the steps and exit the main hall. I squint as my eyes reenter the bright sunlight, I have not seen it in two weeks.
But as soon as my vision comes back I see a great city before me, wooden houses and buildings with thatched roofs, people, young and old, running about their daily business. The whole village stands on a lonely hill, with this great hall at the top, in the huge valley surrounded by snow capped mountains. It is an incredible sight honestly. The wind blows my hot skin that is baking from the sun. It makes my dress dance and my hair whip in the air.
The foundation I stand on is a concrete porch in from of this building, with flags marked with a design of a mighty horse flapping in the wind.
I look around at the kingdom of Rohan... but the whole land is larger than even my eyes can reach. All I can see now is the city of Edoras below me. I watch a woman carry a cart of cabbage from her garden. I spot two small children playing with what looks like rag dolls... but from here most of the people look like little dots. Smoke rises from the houses' chimneys. Plenty of horses are stabled about the city.
I look around at the defenses which are just towers set up around the city that are connected by a tall wooden wall. This place would be easy pray for an army of orcs. No wonder they feel threatened. This lonely little village seems so small as I look around at the sky scraping peaks or brown.
And such a quiet and peaceful life all these citizens live. I want to protect that... I want to protect these people so content with so little.
So unlike what I left on earth.
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I spend the rest of the day reading my book outside as I walk around the village, my eyes searching the little shops and things. And at people that make their living out of daily things all inside these walls.
And the next few days I spend talking to Éowyn. She and I have become good friends. And I also talk to others including Éomer some more...
One night I walk up the hall, seeing Éowyn crying at the foot of Théoden's throne. I am about to speak to her after watching with a broken heart but I hear a clearing of throat. I look to the west wing and see Éomer there motioning me to come near him and leave her alone, a promise of explanation.
I follow him into the west wing which is used as barracks for him and his men to sleep.
Soldiers talk there, some of their heads turning to me when I enter, probably because I am a new face here. Éomer leads me out the back door and out onto another back concrete porch that overlooks the mountains. There he sits and stares out over them.
I sit with him. "What's wrong with the king?" I ask sadly.
"We think he was poisoned... by the White Wizard Saruman."
"...Is there a cure?"
"...I do not know," he sighs. "But do not speak to my sister about it. When we were young our father was killed by orcs. And the King, my uncle, took us in and raised us like he did his son, Théodred."
I think for a moment. "If King Théoden is poisoned, than why hasn't his son taken over?"
"Théodred is still gone. He left with his men and horses to confront Saruman but has not returned."
"...I'm sorry, Éomer."
He is looking into the distance with a heavy heart. But then he looks at me kindly. "It is alright, Vilora. We will find a way."
"I hope I am not causing any trouble staying here."
He gazes out to the mountains. "Do you think I would have saved you if I did not want you around?" he looks back at me with a smirk.
I smile and then look out to where he does.
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