I feel like a heretic for writing this. :-P But it's just a little
something I thought up after rereading (for the zillionth time) Éowyn and
Merry's battle with the Nazgûl King. Don't get me wrong, I didn't write
this because I thought the scene needed to be elaborated upon. It's one of
my favorite scenes ever written, and I just wanted to see if I could write
it from Éowyn's point of view. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer - Everything belongs to the good Professor and those fine folks over at Tolkien Enterprises. Also, I took some lines directly from RotK, so none of the dialogue belongs to me either. I'm just playing around in the sandbox and hoping I don't screw things up too royally. ;)
The Ecstasy of Death
*~*~*
Pelennor Fields
*~*~*
"Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!"
Admist it all, the roar of battle, the cries of anguish, the suffocating feeling of despair that filled the air of the Pelennor that day, Éowyn found a smile forming on her blood-stained face. And she laughed. Such a strange sound to those who could hear, such mirth in the middle of the ruthless and unforgiving onslaught of destruction. But Éowyn cared not. All she knew was that death was near - and what a sweet and bitter ending it would be for the Lady of Rohan.
She tossed her helmet to the ground, Dernhelm no more, and allowed the breeze to dance through her golden locks. "But no living man am I!" she cried, her defiant voice lifting above all others in the fields. "You look upon a woman. Éowyn am I, Éomund's daughter." Her grim smile widened as the Nazgûl King paused, uncertain. "You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him."
As she spoke, tears rolled down her grave and beautiful face. She cried for the King, she cried for Rohan, but she also cried for death. And the last were not tears of sorrow. Tears of joy were on her face as well, joy for the death she knew to be near. Yes, she would die that day, and it would perhaps even be a hero's death, for she would guard her fallen king and uncle to whatever end be met. She would make her mark on the fields of the Pelennor on that foul and magnificant day, and she would breathe her last next to the body of her slain foe. The shield was her only ally, the sword her only friend, and that was all she needed in those final moments.
Éowyn would die free, and neither friend nor enemy would hinder that.
*~*~*
With a final, terrible shriek, the Nazgûl King fell, and Éowyn followed him to the ground. Her strength was gone, and she did not even attempt to move away from the foul robes of her adversary. Distantly, she thought she heard Meriadoc the hobbit calling her name. How it had warmed her heart to see that brave little creature fight to defend the body of the king he had barely known. She could only hope that he would escape her doom, and that enough of the people of Rohan would remain to honor his deeds that day.
Honor, glory... it all seemed so small, so insignificant. Éowyn had once dreamed of the day when she would rise above the status of a simple shieldmaiden. She had longed to win renown by becoming the glorious warrior her people needed. But now it seemed that such things were unimportant. She did not need honor, she did not even need to be remembered. What she needed was to die with her sword in her hand, and that was exactly the chance that was being given to her.
At last the shadow fell, and as darkness took her, Éowyn smiled.
*~*~*
Disclaimer - Everything belongs to the good Professor and those fine folks over at Tolkien Enterprises. Also, I took some lines directly from RotK, so none of the dialogue belongs to me either. I'm just playing around in the sandbox and hoping I don't screw things up too royally. ;)
The Ecstasy of Death
*~*~*
Pelennor Fields
*~*~*
"Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!"
Admist it all, the roar of battle, the cries of anguish, the suffocating feeling of despair that filled the air of the Pelennor that day, Éowyn found a smile forming on her blood-stained face. And she laughed. Such a strange sound to those who could hear, such mirth in the middle of the ruthless and unforgiving onslaught of destruction. But Éowyn cared not. All she knew was that death was near - and what a sweet and bitter ending it would be for the Lady of Rohan.
She tossed her helmet to the ground, Dernhelm no more, and allowed the breeze to dance through her golden locks. "But no living man am I!" she cried, her defiant voice lifting above all others in the fields. "You look upon a woman. Éowyn am I, Éomund's daughter." Her grim smile widened as the Nazgûl King paused, uncertain. "You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him."
As she spoke, tears rolled down her grave and beautiful face. She cried for the King, she cried for Rohan, but she also cried for death. And the last were not tears of sorrow. Tears of joy were on her face as well, joy for the death she knew to be near. Yes, she would die that day, and it would perhaps even be a hero's death, for she would guard her fallen king and uncle to whatever end be met. She would make her mark on the fields of the Pelennor on that foul and magnificant day, and she would breathe her last next to the body of her slain foe. The shield was her only ally, the sword her only friend, and that was all she needed in those final moments.
Éowyn would die free, and neither friend nor enemy would hinder that.
*~*~*
With a final, terrible shriek, the Nazgûl King fell, and Éowyn followed him to the ground. Her strength was gone, and she did not even attempt to move away from the foul robes of her adversary. Distantly, she thought she heard Meriadoc the hobbit calling her name. How it had warmed her heart to see that brave little creature fight to defend the body of the king he had barely known. She could only hope that he would escape her doom, and that enough of the people of Rohan would remain to honor his deeds that day.
Honor, glory... it all seemed so small, so insignificant. Éowyn had once dreamed of the day when she would rise above the status of a simple shieldmaiden. She had longed to win renown by becoming the glorious warrior her people needed. But now it seemed that such things were unimportant. She did not need honor, she did not even need to be remembered. What she needed was to die with her sword in her hand, and that was exactly the chance that was being given to her.
At last the shadow fell, and as darkness took her, Éowyn smiled.
*~*~*