The story is about a survivor of an orc invasion, Déorhild, who comes to Eodoras to seek help from King Théoden. However, due to her strange story and backround, no one really trusts her except for Éowyn and Éomer. Also, no one is really close to he...
Within days, they had returned to Edoras. After mourning those who would never return from the bloodied fields before the Hornburg, preparations for a celebration of victory were underway.
Déorhild successfully managed to arrive back in Edoras without Éomer discovering her disguise, changing into more feminine clothing as soon as she arrived and taking a much needed--and wanted--bath. Her armor she left in her room, cunningly hidden. Who knew when the need to use it might arise again.
With that, she had seamlessly slipped back into the life as a humble maiden of Rohan, silently working alongside Éowyn in the victory preparations. Éomer had not spoken to her since he arrived back in Edoras, but he knew she was there. He only viewed her from a distance.
And then the day came that they had all been waiting for...
The Golden Hall was crowded the day of the feast with people of all classes filling the room. Trestle tables and benches were placed in various places in the room, piled high with food of all sorts. Smoking torches and the hearth fire in the center provided all the light that was needed.
Déorhild stood among the populace, watching King Théoden standing upon the dias, Éowyn on one side and Éomer the other. As Théodred had passed to the Halls of the Warriors, Éomer was now the heir to the throne.
Théoden raised a cup of mead in his hand high into the air and said, "Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"
Everyone shouted in unison, "Hail!" before drinking in response. And thus, the feasting began.
In the every beginning of it all, Déorhild, along with many other women, helped with serving all the tables, but once the main part of all the feasting was well underhand, they were free to take part in the festivities themselves.
Déorhild mainly watched it all from a hidden place in the corner. As usual, several were involved in a drinking game, something that happened often in celebrations like this. There was much laughter and song amidst all the excited chatter. One song grew above the rest and she turned her attention to a pair of hobbits who were dancing upon a table, mugs of mead in their hands, as they did some sort of country dance while singing a lively song that they had obviously made up on the spot. It brought a smile to her face and she was glad for them, glad that they could be happy even though they missed their companions and the world was still in much danger from evil.
After some time, she wearied of all the noise and retired for the night, pulling the blanket over her head in order to shut out the noise of the partying that, though was several rooms and corridors away, still was quite loud.
The next morning, she busied herself with helping Éowyn clean up the remains of the feast and put the hall to rights. At the same time, Théoden, Gandalf, Legolas, Celebwen, Aragorn, and the two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, as well as Éomer were busy in some sort of debating discussion. She could not hear what it was that they said, but obviously it was of some great importance.
Moments later, she saw Gandalf and Pippin ride out of the gates, but she did not know whom to ask the reason why. She supposed that if it was important, she would hear about it soon.
Sure enough, that evening she heard all from Éowyn.
"My brother says that Gandalf and Pippin are riding to Minas Tirith to warn them of Sauron's next attack. The rest of them are to remain here until we are called upon by the city of Gondor to come to their aid should they be attacked."
"How will we know? It is a long ride to that city."
"Aye, but there are signal fires upon the mountains from Edoras to Minas Tirith. It was established so in the old days when the kingdoms were first made and became allies, so that if one was attacked, the other would come to their aid."
"Ah, I see. So we are to just wait here, then, until they signal for help?"
"Aye, that is all I know. But I think it will not be long. Lord Sauron will not hesitate in his conquests of Middle-earth," Éowyn said gravely.
Déorhild nodded. "Should they call, will you go with the company?" she asked softly lest anyone around them in the nigh empty hall should hear.
"I do not know. I have not decided on that."
"Do you love that man, Aragorn?" Déorhild asked suddenly.
The flush on Éowyn's cheeks answered the question. "Aye, I do," she replied at last.
Déorhild smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. There is no one I talk to and besides, I have no wish to betray a confidence to anyone."
Éowyn smiled in return, but then it faded. "I sometimes wonder, how many of us will survive this war. And those that perish, will they survive in song? The men will, who do great deeds, of course. But what of the women who stay behind and keep the homes safe and rear the children so that there will be a home waiting for the men who return from war? Are they ever sung of? Will our deeds be forgotten forever?"
Déorhild did not know how to answer. Indeed, there was truth to her question, a hard, bitter truth, that could not be answered easily.
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As the days passed, Déorhild and Éomer did not speak to each other. Something always held them back, as if Fate was saying, Wait. Though she longed to tell him her true feelings, she never succeeded. Something always prevented it. She hoped that, if the call from Minas Tirith did not come immediately, perhaps they would be able to clear things between them after all. But that chance never came.
And then it was too late.
Dum-dee-dum-dum...
I'm going to leave you hanging there till next update--just because I'm an evil author. *smirk*
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! If you did, feel free to leave a vote and a comment!
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