Dragon Rider in Middle Earth

XXVI

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The villagers head towards Helm's Deep with thei horses and the children weaving between the legs of the mothers.

-It's true you don't see many dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, they are often mistaken for dwarf men- Arya and Éowyn ride besides the dwarf who had been intertwining them throughout the trip with stories from his home. Arya catches Èowyn glance back at Aragorn.

-It's the beards- the ranger mocks a beard on his chin with his hands making both women laugh.

-And this in turn has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women. And the dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!- he laughs with Éowyn-Which is of course ridiculous. Whoa!

Gimli accidentaly hits his horse and the poor animal launches itself into a full blown gallop making the dwarf fall.

-It's all right! It's all right. Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate- Arya hops off of her horse calming the animal down with a few pats and she and Legolas help their friend up.

-One of these days my dear dwarven friend -she tells him -I must tell you the peculiar tale off King Orrik of the Beor Mountains and a few mishaps he has had such as yours. You would enjoy my tales.

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The refugees had camped and were distributing food to those who were hungty. Èowyn carried a pot of stew which she had made Arya try once and she had felt tasted worse than one of Angela's remedies that sometimes included the most vicious of ingredients.

-Gimli?- the lady of Rohan offered her bowl to the dwarf.

-No, I couldn't. I really couldn't- Arya applauds his choice in silence and nudges Legolas when Éowyn then walks towards Aragorn.

-I bet you that he will eat it- Gimli challenges them.

-I do believe he will- Legolas agrees. They turn to Arya and wait for her testimony.

She does a double take on the two and shakes her head as if disappointed.

-I bet he will accept it but won't eat it- she finally said.

-I made some stew. It isn't much, but it's hot- she gives him a bowl and spoon.

-Thank you- Aragorn takes the bowl from her hands. He tastes and looks up at her, trying not to grimace. He nods -Mmm. It's good.

-Really?- he look up at Éowyn's hopefull eyes and then at the three extremely entertained individuals who were just letting him suffer through this.

-Mmm.

Èowyn begins to walk away. Aragorn turns to pour out the stew, but Èowyn turns around. He recovers, spilling some on his hand and almost cursing out loud.

-My Uncle told me a strange thing. He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken.

-King Théoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time.

-Then you must be at least sixty. Seventy? But you cannot be eighty!

-Eighty-seven.

-You are one of the Dúnedain. A descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend.

-There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago.

-I'm sorry. Please eat!

She stays by his side and watches him finish the rest of the broth. Arya curses and Legolas and Gimli smirk.