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Chapter XXIII: THE RIDE OF THE ROHIRRIM

The white Lady of Rohan stood on the battlements of Edoras. She watched the Riders of the Mark approaching the city, her uncle and brother leading the Rohirrim back from Helm's Deep and Isengard.

A whole day had passed since the Gray Company led by Aragorn had departed for the Paths of the Dead.

Eowyn had no more tears to shed, no more hope to hold on to. She had made up her mind through the last night. She would master her destiny. No man would decide for her anymore. But she would do it on her own terms, biding her time.

She descended from the battlements and rode and meet the King and her brother, taking care that neither her sadness or determination showed. Eowyn was a different woman from the one they had left behind few days ago.

Merry Brandybuck was in awe as he rode next to Theoden approaching the City of Edoras. He had never seen a City like Edoras before, set like a jewel on a hilltop, the only hilltop on the plain.

He was still wondering at the city and the landscape surrounding when he saw a lonely rider coming toward him. When the rider was close enough, Merry recognized that it was not a man, but a woman with long blonde braided hair wearing a helmet and armor and a sword belted at her side. She reminded Merry of Cyrene, the Amazon.

"Hail, Lord of the Mark!" she called. "My heart is glad at your returning."

"And you, Eowyn," said King Theoden. "Is all well with you and the city?"

"All is well," she answered. Though it seemed to Merry that her voice belied her, for her voice was laced with deep sadness.

"My king, my brother, your lodgings are prepared; I had full tidings of you and knew the hour of your coming."

"Is Aragorn still here?" asked Eomer.

"No, he is gone," said Eowyn turning away and looking at the mountains. "He came at night and rode away in the morning. He was riding to the Paths of the Dead and he has passed into the shadows from which no one has ever returned. I could not dissuade him. He is gone."

Merry was strangely touched by the sorrow in Eowyn's voice. But somehow, the hobbit new that he would see his friends again. The Fellowship would be reunited. He was certain of it.

**************

Merry was given a chamber close to the King's, since he was Theoden's squire. He waited on the King at the supper table and sat next to him awaiting the opportunity to tell Shire tales that Theoden had told him he wanted to hear.

But supper provided no opportunity for story telling. An uneasy silence had settled among the Knights of Rohan at the thought that the brave Aragorn might be lost and with him the hope of facing and defeating Sauron and Saruman's army. The brave Rohirrim would ride into war as soon as their forces were gathered.

When the meal was almost over, the captain of the Guard announced the arrival of an errand-rider of Gondor.

Theoden summoned the man to his presence at once. The rider was a carrying a red-pointed arrow, a token of war that reminded Theoden of a war alliance long forgotten. Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, was summoning all possible aid: Minas Tirith would be soon under siege; enemies were closing in from every border.

Theoden's face darkened with ill foreboding. This was happening faster then he had anticipated.

"Tell Lord Denethor that even if he had not sent the red arrow the Army of the Mark will come to join the defense of the White City. But we had great losses at Helm's Deep, and we need to gather strength and supplies before riding to Minas Tirith. We will be there in seven days," said the King.

The messenger's face fell. "I hope, Sir, that you may find there more than the ruins of the city walls in seven days, unless help from somewhere else comes to Gondor."

The King of Rohan acknowledged the despair in the messenger's face with a nod. "'Tis what I can offer you now, there is no more I can do. Stay this night in Edoras and ride tomorrow back to Minas Tirith. We will come to your help as soon as possible."

With that the king stood up, and they all rose. "Go now each to your rest," he said, "and sleep well. In the morning counsels are best, and night changes many thoughts."

Later that night, Merry could not sleep and decided to walk on the battlements.

The moon was high and clear, but a dark, menacing cloud was approaching from Mordor.

Besides the guards, there was only one other person on the battlements. A gust of wind blew away the hood of the cloak of the figure, and Merry recognized the beautiful White Lady of Rohan.

She was looking towards the Dwimor Berg, speaking in hushed tones to the night air. But the wind carried her words to the hobbit.

"You were my last hope to escape the golden cage and live up to my lineage. But you denied me and left, for good. I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield a blade, and I do not fear either pain or death. I will not submit to stay behind bars, until use and old age force me to accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire. I will take my destiny in my own hands."

Merry was again touched by the pain and bitterness in the determined voice. He wished he could walk up to Eowyn and say a word of comfort. But he did not want to intrude. So he quietly stepped back into the shadows and went back to his rooms. He missed his friends, especially now, among strangers. He chased the sad thoughts away, thinking about the battle ahead of him.

*****************

The next morning arrived with no sunshine. The cloud had darkened all the land; even the air seemed heavy and dark. Merry stood up and went to the King's chambers. Theoden, Eomer, Eowyn, the knights, and the messenger from Gondor were there.

The king's face was clouded. "War has already begun," he said. "But at least there is no longer need for hiding. We will ride the straight way and the open road and with all our speed. The muster shall begin at once, and wait for no one. Have you good store in Minas Tirith? For if we must ride now in all haste, then we must ride light, with but meal and water enough to last us into battle." The messenger from Gondor nodded. "We have very great store long prepared. Ride now as light and as swift as you may, sir!"

"Then call the heralds, Eomer," said Theoden. "Let the Riders be summoned!"

Before the King left the chamber to prepare himself for the ride, he turned to Merry.

"I am going to war, Master Meriadoc. In a little while I shall take the road. I release you from my service, but not from my friendship. You shall stay here, and if you will, you shall serve the Lady Eowyn, who will govern Edoras in my absence."

"But, but, Sire," Merry, stammered, "I offered you my sword. I do not want to part from you like this, my King. And as all my friends have gone to the battle I should be ashamed to stay behind."

"Brave hobbit, we ride on horses tall and fast, and great though your heart be, you cannot ride on such beasts. But at the least you shall ride with me so far as your pony Stybba can bear you. The great race will not begin till we reach the plains," said Theoden, giving to the hobbit a smile that showed his great fondness.

Then Eowyn stood up. "Come now, Master Hobbit," she said, "I will show you the gear that I have prepared for you. Aragorn requested of me that you should be armed for battle."

She led Merry to the armory of the king's guard and there an armorer brought out to her a small helm, a round shield, and other gear.

"We do not have a set of mail that would fit you," said Eowyn, "nor any time for forging such a hauberk; but here is also a stout leather jerkin, a belt, and a knife. A sword you have."

Merry thanked to Eowyn and bowed deeply.

"Take all these things," she said, "and bear them to good fortune! Farewell now, Master Merry! Maybe we shall meet again, you and I." Merry looked up into the beautiful face and said, "I wish you good fortune as well, Milady. May all the sorrow in your heart be gone soon." Eowyn looked at him in surprise, and then smiled sadly. Then she walked away.

****************

Eomer wanted to say goodbye to Eowyn before he left for war and possible death. He found her in the stables, seeing that Theoden's steed, Snowmane, was being prepared.

"Eowyn, I wish a word with you," Eomer said. He was ready to leave.

She turned to him. "Of course, brother," she said and walked with him outside the stables.

"Sister, this will be a hard battle. I don't know if we will come back. But I want you to know that whatever happens, I love you deeply. Be strong and be happy, beloved."

Eowyn felt tears stinging her eyes. She embraced her brother and he held her tight, trying to show her all the love he felt for her. She refused to cry. They were Rohirrim.

"Promise me one thing, Eomer," she whispered. "Yes, sister?" he asked.

"Live," she said. The Marshall held her close once again. "I will do my best, sister. I will see you after we vanquished Sauron. Farewell, Lady of Rohan."

"Farewell, Marshall of Rohan."

****************

Soon the Army of Rohan was ready to depart. Theoden and Eomer rode at the head of the muster. Merry and the messenger of Gondor rode next to them. The people of Edoras gathered to see their men off to war. Hearts were heavy and many waited in the shadow. But they were stern people, loyal to their King, and little weeping or murmuring was heard. Doom hung over them, but they faced it silently and resolutely.

The King's and his entourage rode past the long ranks of waiting soldiers with stern and unmoved faces. But when they had come almost to the end of the line one face looked up glancing keenly at Merry. A young man, the hobbit thought as he returned the glance, less in height and build than most. He caught the look of clear gray eyes; and then he shivered, for it seemed to him that it was the face of one without hope who goes in search of death. **

They rode until they reached the plains, and there Theoden spoke to Merry. "This is no journey for such steeds as Stybba, as I have told you, and in such a battle as we think to make on the fields of Gondor what would you do, Master Meriadoc, swordthain though you be, and greater of heart than of stature?"

"As for that, who can tell?" answered Merry. "But why, lord, did you receive me as swordthain, if not to stay by your side? And I would not have it said of me in song only that I was always left behind!"

"I received you for your safe-keeping," answered Theoden, "and also to do as I might bid. None of my Riders can bear you as burden. I will say no more."

Merry bowed and went away unhappily, and watching the lines of horsemen. Unnoticed a walking rider came up and spoke softly in the hobbit's ear. "You wish to go wherever the Lord of the Mark goes: I see it in your face."

Merry looked up in the face of the young soldier he had seen earlier. "I do," he said.

"Then you shall go with me," said the soldier. "I will bear you before me, under my cloak until we are far into the plains, and this darkness is upon us. Such good will and bravery should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!"

"Thank you indeed!" said Merry. "Thank you, sir, though I do not know your name."

"Do you not?" said the rider softly. "Then call me Dernhelm."

****************

Eowyn looked back to see Merry walking as fast as his short legs allowed him, to keep up with her long strides. She was doing her best effort to appear as a young warrior rather than the Lady of Rohan. If the hobbit had not recognized her, she felt safe with her disguise.

Nobody knew who Dernhelm was, except the captain of her group, Elfhelm. He had accepted her presence due to the friendship that bound him with Eowyn and Cyrene, himself having ridden with the Amazon more than once.

He respected their fighting skills and courage and understood Eowyn's longing for battle. He was taking the greatest risk of all; if Eomer or Theoden found out he was assisting Eowyn in her ruse, Elfhelm would be dismissed from his command and most likely disgrace himself with the King and the Marshall.

To avoid further risk of recognition, Eowyn, or rather Dernhelm, stayed away from the other riders, under the pretense of taking care of her steed Windfola.

If she had been perfectly discrete about this disguise, she would have left the hobbit behind, but she just could not. She had seen herself in the expression in Merry's eyes: the sorrow and frustration of being left behind and not being able to heed the wishes of one's heart. That was why she had volunteered to hide and share her mount with him.

She mounted the little man on Windfola and mounted up herself, hiding him in the folds of her cloak. They had a long and hard ride ahead of them.

********************

After four days riding hard, Eowyn felt deeply sorry for the hobbit. It was clear that he wasn't used to riding, unlike herself or the Rohirrim, and the army of the Riddermark had made as few pauses as possible on their way to Minas Tirith. The darkness had settled over the land, making almost no difference between night and day, except for a faint glow that made the days lighter than the black nights. This was their last pause; they were one-day ride from Minas Tirith and Theoden had sent scouts out to prepare his approach on the city.

She observed the small figure of Merry curled up on the ground, and, looking around to assure herself that nobody watched her, she walked over to him and laid the blanket closer about him. Eowyn then retreated quickly. The halfling had made an effort to speak to her but she had kept her silence, for fear of being discovered and because she was busy with her own dark thoughts.

How far would her disguise hold once she was engaged in the battle? Would she be able to hold herself in the midst of it? She made no fantasies. Eowyn had never engaged in a real battle before, but she had been trained for it and she would defend herself and bring as many enemies as possible down with her. Still, Eowyn admitted silently that she had no hope as to surviving the fight. Men stronger and with far more experience than her would die in this war.

Despite the likelihood of death, however, Eowyn was not afraid. She did feel deep regret for not having known most beauties of life, most importantly love.

Eowyn recounted in her head the blessings the gods had given her in her life: Theoden, her kind uncle, who had taken care of Eomer and her when their parents died; Eomer, her proud and loving brother; Cyrene, her best friend and companion, the one who had opened her eyes beyond the limitations or her state and her gender; the people of Edoras, who had always given her love and admiration; and last, but not least, Aragorn, Isildur's Heir, the one who had touched her heart and then rejected her girlish attachment to him, making her understand that she had to make her own decisions if she didn't want to be a pawn in others' games.

Life had been good, but if only she could have known true love . She shook her head. She had made her choice about her fate on her own, and that was the meaning of true freedom.

****************

Elfhelm called his group together: Theoden had ordered them to ride at once, for the Minas Tirith stood in flames. They felt the tension in the air. No one spoke; the hours passing slowly while the surrounding darkness grew tinged with the red glow of a huge fire, and as they approached the White City, they saw it burn.

Theoden addressed his Army. "The hour has come, Riders of the Mark, sons of Eorl! The enemy and fire are before you, and your homes far behind. Yet, though you fight upon a foreign field, the glory that you earn there shall be your own forever. Oaths you have taken: now fulfill them all, to lord and land and league of friendship!"

The soldiers clashed their spears upon their shields in applause, and then they rode towards the walls of the burning city. They soon reached the outer walls. Wild cries broke out, and there was some clash of arms, but it was brief. The orcs standing by the walls were few and amazed, and they were quickly slain or driven off.

Dernhelm kept close to the king, though Elfhelm's company was away on the right. Merry peered from behind Dernhelm's back, no longer wholly covered by Dernhelm's cloak. Now silently the warriors of Rohan moved forward into the field of Gondor, pouring in slowly but steadily. A smell of burning was in the air; the shadow of death hung over the plain. The horses were uneasy. But the king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. Theoden seized a great horn from his banner-bearer, and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder. And straightway all the horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains. "Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"

Eowyn commended her soul to the Gods and drew her sword. Merry did the same and their eyes met over her shoulder.

"We shall be victorious or die, my friend," and saying this, Eowyn spurred Windfola towards the battle.