Then I Desire
"The west wind, it blows change through all things." Eowyn daughter of Eomund whispered to the darkness, shivering in the dank. Deep below ground in the fastness of earth and stone. Even here the noise, the deep and terrible booming could be heard. Trembling through the rock upon which she sat, the sound of Isengards hammer, that orcish machine of war which even now threatened to tear through the last of the defences of Helms Deep.
Somewhere above, Theoden King mustered what remained of his forces for one final time, one last slaughter before all the lights went out. The fate of her brother, her uncle, of all the lords of the house of Eorl, unknown to her. For she was trapped here in this dark place forgotten and alone. Abandoned to the stone, for such was ever the fate of daughters.
The sound of babies crying. This was no tune for her ears, her, a shield-maiden of Rohan. Her place was in battle. Not here, blind and alone. The sounds of steel and flesh, hoof and wind, her birthright.
To know not. This was the greatest curse that could have been inflicted upon her. For those she loved to die unseen. She did not know whether to mourn. When to mourn, more like, for surely their fate was an unkind and desperately inescapable one.
Aragorn.
"He lives yet."
Eowyn flinched, a voice from nearby. Soft and feminine, yet somehow strangely fey. She had no idea she had spoken his name aloud. Nor even that there were any in earshot to hear. She started to blush, furious with herself that someone had crept up upon her. "Who?" She started.
"This darkness holds no secrets from my eyes, daughter of kings. Your tears..."
Eowyn felt the softest touch of a finger upon her cheek. She reached to flick that intruding hand away, but paused, as the fingertip completed it's stroke and receded. Like a breath of wind. Eowyns mind caught the image of the white horse banner rampant across a field of green, an echo, days of glory. It stirred her heart, spilling a fresh tear to course downwards, replacing the one stolen.
"The Evenstar is my name." The voice continued, "I came in with the elves, though none saw my passing. Why do you sit here alone, with sword and shield, spear and helm. The others press back into the caves, seeking shelter and hiding. Escape even. Yet you, you dwell in darkness here by the stair.
"I have a light. I save it."
"Yet still first in the path of the marauding orc."
"It is my place." Eowyn set her shoulders. "I will stand here, and that first orc shall fall to my sword. And they shall know how a daughter of Rohan can fight."
"And what of the second orc. And the third? Will you oppose the horde of Isengard?"
"If need be." Eowyns voice sounded far braver than she felt.
"Then I shall stand with you."
Eowyn heard the faintest of rustling at her shoulder as her unseen companion crossed to sit at her side. Such was the softness that the physical contact of thigh and shoulder upon her own caused some slight shock to pass through Eowyns body. The disembodied voice at least given flesh, revealed to be not some sallow haunted fiend come to torment her in her final hours, but instead someone warm and womanly.
"How do you move so silently?" Eowyn turned, sight unseen towards her guest, of a sort.
"How do you think?" A hint of amusement.
"Are you an elf then? You said you..."
"Came in with them, yes. An echo of a memory. A duty we once held to be sacred. But I am here because of him."
"Aragorn?"
"My lord casts a strong weaved web."
"Your lord." Eowyn knew then who this was, the owner of this beautiful voice seated alongside her. "The Lady of the gem. Arwen is your name."
"You sound downcast?"
"Do you not wish to be at his side, lest he die in battle this day?" Eowyn said. Too quickly for comfort.
"He is drawn to battle, as though it is his true lady love. It is his wyrd, his fate. He is of the race of man."
"And is not the race of elves a warlike one?" Asked Eowyn, knowing well the songs and stories.
"At heart, no. It is why we must pass into the West and diminish, for we cannot survive this coming age of man. My lord shall fight many wars and he will carve a path of blood to victory. The third age will be a time of angles and of lines. And the burning of trees."
There was silence for a time, the two sat in sorry contemplation. Only the pounding, like a giant's heartbeat. The tempo steady and slow.
"I am afraid." Eowyn spoke, her voice downturned with shame.
"No man would have the courage to admit that, Eowyn daughter of Theodwyn."
"There is no courage in fear."
"Yet here you sit. With your sword by your side, ready to spit your defiance into the teeth of death."
"I should be on the ramparts!" And Eowyns cry was one of heart-torn anguish. "I should be there, with my King. With my kin. With, the heir?" She hung her question in the air, her suspicion for some time now.
"Yes." And now it was the turn of the voice of Arwen Undomiel, she known as the Evenstar, to lament with sadness, "He is Isildurs Heir. And you know now that he can never truly be Lord to any lady. For he has greater tasks at hand. A path to walk alone."
"And yet you follow." Said Eowyn.
"And yet you sit here alone. Sword by your side."
"I am not alone."
"And I am not afraid." Arwen reached forth her hand and in the darkness found that of Eowyn.
Eowyn turned towards her shrouded companion. Some senses heightened as others were impaired, she became suddenly aware of her perfume, a freshness, like spring breeze when the winds blew down from the glacier. Crisp and clean and perfect. It was not a human scent, leaving no taste in the mouth, no hint of sweat nor meat. Silken sheets in the morning, the smell of her made Eowyn want to stretch out and languish. And the touch of her hand, it was unlike anything she had ever known. Soft marble perhaps, cool and smooth and delicate, and almost beyond her ability to comprehend. Alien and unreal. Like some half-remembered dream at last given form.
"Have you known love?" Asked the elf-maid of the human.
The question caught Eowyn off-guard, unprotected. Were she on the training field, she would expect a sharp rap across her knuckles from the wooden practice sword, and rightly so. "I... I have no lord." She stammered in reply.
"As truly neither do I." Arwen replied in a whisper. "But you do not answer my question."
"I am a shield-maiden of Rohan!" Eowyn thought to remove her hand from the soft clasp of her companion, her embarrassment piqued into anger. Yet there was something in that touch that stilled her, touching her soul like burning ice. Making her most reluctant to break that comforting contact. "And I... I have not the tongue for this. My words, they do not suit." Eowyn abruptly halted, cursing herself for her clumsiness.
"We elves do not love as you humans do. What we have is drawn over an age, stately and measured. It resounds as do the stars, with a pace and timing all of its own. It is a thing to move the very mountains themselves by."
"It sounds wonderful." Eowyns voice rang with awe, the thought in her mind, what would it feel like to so love and be loved?
"It is." Arwen said, "It is the most wonderful thing in all creation. And yet, it lacks."
"How so? What you speak of sounds to be the very pinnacle of love?"
"It lacks. I would not, I could not, approach a stranger and kiss them upon the lips. It would be against my nature. I could not seek solace in the arms of another simply because I desired it. My Lord, he sent me away from his side. I was to leave forever to the Gray. My Lord desires not my company, this much he made clear to me when last we met. And so here I sit, a broken thing, and alone."
"Yet you are not alone." Eowyn armoured in the bravery of her line, cautiously squeezed the hand in hers.
"Is there anything you desire, Eowyn daughter of Theodwyn?"
"I long to hear the thunder of the cavalry of the Mark once more."
"A good wish." Arwen sighed.
"I would have a long and happy life. Strong children. And a fine horse to carry me all of my days." Eowyn continued.
"I can offer you none of these. And soon the orc shall come charging down that stair, and there will be no time. No time at all, in all the world for dreams left undreamt."
"Then I desire." Eowyn paused, the sound of Isengards hammer seeming to merge inside her chest with that of her heart, until her whole world was set a-pounding. "I desire but a kiss. A kiss before I die."