"I am no man"

“Valinor is the place of my people’s origin. Once they sailed the sea and Middle-Earth became their home. Now they’re leaving to return to the undying lands.” There was some sort of longing in her voice. All the Eldar dream of Valinor. A certain longing is ingrained in their beings.

“My mother taught me how to braid my hair this way. It is practical to not have your hair entangled in twigs and bushes or fall into your line of sight.” Eleanor always wore lots of braids held together by silver beads. “My clothing resembles that of Aragorn as I am a Ranger of the North, just like he is. To be invisible is why we choose these colors.”

“Only very few prefer the sun. It is mostly uncommon.” Smiling she turned to Éowyn. “I had heard whispers amongst men and my fellow rangers about me. Many are foolish enough to believe I do not hear what is said silently. They say I am as beautiful and cold as the midnight moon. Whether or not that is true I do not know.”

“I am more than 2500 years old and still the youngest of Lord Elronds children. But that is quite young compared to my father or Lady Galadriel.”

Éowyn had some faint memories about someone talking to her about Valinor and that some Elves sail the sea to go there. She did not really understand how this worked and why did they have to leave Middle-Earth. Now she had the opportunity to ask about it. “Why do they... you have to leave Middle-Earth?” she wondered. 

She took a look at the many draids in Eleanor’s hair that were also decorated with silver beads. Rohirric women also braided their hair, but they wore fewer braids and they were more simple. “It is beautiful,” she said with a hint of admiration in her voice. She did indeed admired the Elves for their knowledge and beauty. “So you do not dress like this when you are at home, do you?” she asked.

At the mention of the men’s opinion on Eleanor, Éowyn looked at the Elvish woman once more. “I do not think you are cold, but I can agree with them in the ‘beautiful’-part,” she said.

The age of Elves was still something that Éowyn had to get used to. For her 2500 years seemed an eternity, while Eleanor was still considered young with that age. “I am not sure if I want to know how old they are,” she mumbled, knowing that they were amongst the eldest of their people in Middle-Earth. They could have been hundreds of thousand years old!

Teresa had gotten a few odd looks, and on her way here, she did get a few comments. They were quickly silenced when she challenged them to a fight. True, if she was a human then she would have lost.

She smiled. “I’m sorry, but yes. Now, my sword is double-edged, but I’ll be sure not to hurt you.” It took Teresa a moment. She could drop the ball and use her powers to surprise Eowyn, and teach her a lesson for not expecting the unexpected- or she could just pass off as a strange form of human and keep her strength to that of a human.

In the end, Teresa went with the first. Using her speed, it looked, to the human eyes, as if she just teleported or turned invisible. Actually, Teresa was running but at clearly inhuman speeds. She appeared behind the young human and rested her Claymore on her shoulder- like a reverse knighting.

“Don’t stop now. That fancy sword of yours doesn’t work unless it’s moving.”

“That is alright,” Éowyn said with a nod, although she was not particularly happy that a stranger began to criticise her way of fighting. However, as she was a woman, mostly practicing in secret, every feedback was appreciated. Especially from another fighter. 

Unless she was walking around in armour because she thought it fitted her and it looked good. Well, most probably this was not the case.

Before Éowyn could have made her first move, the other woman got behind her back, resting her sword on her shoulder. How this was possible? She had not even seen her moving! Or was she too slow? She did not understand what happened. She only knew that she could not allow this to happen again.

She tightened her grip around the hilt of her sword, quickly turned around - not as fast as the other woman did it -, and aimed at the left side of the other woman.

Eleanor nodded her head yes. “Yes, my people are leaving Middle-Earth. They’re sailing home. To Valinor.”

“Not everywhere. No. The East, beyond Gondor, I have not yet seen and I do not wish to.” She did not wish to see Mordor up close but she knew that she would have to ride to the Black Gate. “There are many beautiful places to be seen. Forests older than I am holding a beauty almost incomprehensible.” Eleanor was almost seeing Lothlórien before her eyes and a smile past over her lips.

“You may not be able to see the differences.” She followed Éowyn line of view and watched Legolas as well, who seemed to have felt the two pairs of eyes on him and looked over at them. Eleanor inclined her head towards him, knowing he could hear every word. “All light is sacred to the Eldar, but the Wood Elves love best the light of the stars. We celebrate our beloved stars. The bringers of light. But it is not only the Wood Elves. As I said all Eldar love the light. I do prefer the stars and the moon to the sun.”

“Do not apologize. I may have lived for many human lives already, yet I am not older than you are.” Smiling she looked at Éowyn.

“Valinor?” Éowyn echoed. “Is it the place where the Elves are coming from?” she asked, as she managed to recall some legends she had heard about that country when she was younger.

“I do not wish to see it either,” she said, knowing that right now Mordor was the realm of Darkness. “I have not been outside Rohan before,” she admitted, feeling a little bit sheepish as a she was sitting next to an Elvish Ranger, who had been to many places before. “But I would love to see some other regions,” she added, although she knew that she would not have the chance to leave her country.

“Only a few of them,” Éowyn stated. “Like the different ways you braid your hair or the clothes you are wearing. The materials are different. But that is all I can see,” she added. “Are there any Elves who prefer the Sun over the Moon an stras?” she wondered, although she could associate the Elves more with the Moon and Stars than with the Sun.

She furrowed her brows at Eleanor’s last words. “Does this mean that you are considered young among your people?” she asked.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Teresa said with a slight bow of the head, which made her shoulder armour clank lightly. It was rare in these lands to find female fighters, but then again it was hard to find men on her shores fighting literal demons. Women too, unless you went through the painful transformation into a half-demon.

Teresa tilted her head. She didn’t know why, but seeing this female trying her hardest and seemingly not being noticed was something she wasn’t going to ignore.

“Well, no offence but I see a lot of openings in your swings.” Then Teresa removed the much larger sword from her back. “Spar with me.”

Éowyn watched the other woman’s armour, a little surprised that she could walk around like that and no-one would said a word about it. In Rohan women hardly walked around  in armour, or at least not as openly as this woman did. “The pleasure is mine,” she said, although at this point she was rather intrigued than pleased.

“You think so?” she asked hearing Teresa’s opinion on her swings. Then she grabbed her sword and challenged her. “Alright,” she said with a nod, tightening the grip on the hilt of her own sword. She felt nervous as she hardly fought anyone besides her brother and sometimes the King’s son. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her sword, ready to face the other woman.

Tongues had been wagging around Hobbiton. Hobbits had eagerly been talking back and forth about the upcoming visit. Prestigious guests would visit the little hamlet and of course, there had been rumours about who it was supposed to be. Some rumours whispered about princes and princesses, some said it was the lord of some grand family, others that it was merely a minstrel with a knack for telling epics wherever he went.

Of course, Madeleine had paid close attention to whatever rumour was circulating at the current moment. She was snooping on a couple of matronly ladies eagerly discussing the visitor, or visitors, however, an eager mob of hobbits, young and old, quickly dispatched the two matrons as soon as the caught on. The visitors had arrived! Madeleine hurried to follow along, being just as eager as the next one to see who they were and what they looked like! A scattered selection of “uuhs” and “aahs” were heard all through the crowd. The presence of tall people in the village accompanied by some of the most famous hobbits in Hobbiton lead to a mixture of cheers and a never-ending flood of questions.

Madeleine moved with the stream of Hobbits, eagerly taking in every detail of the visitors. One, in particular, struck her fancy. A tall regal looking woman, with long blond hair, made the little woman stare at her. Her hopes were that during the party tonight she would be able to sneak close to the woman and talk to her, maybe have her tell her more about who she was and where she had come from. Maybe, there would be room for stories too! Taking comfort in that thought Madeleine hurried home to be ready for the party.

The merriments of the evening were conducted in true Hobbit manner. Food and drink galore, singing, dancing and high spirits had every Hobbit smiling from ear to ear! Madeleine had made sure to find a seat close to the guests. She had sneaked glances at the woman from time to time, hoping ti wouldn’t be noticed meanwhile she had been enjoying some of the bountiful dishes. Despite having kept her focus on the woman, she was still caught off guard when said woman directed a question at her. Madeleine, with her mouth half full of apple, looked at the woman with a mixture of disbelief and surprise. Noticing she must have looked at her for too long she quickly chewed her food and swallowed.

    -”Ah. Sorry! Let’s see….”

She scanned the table for something that she thought would suit the woman’s palette. Maybe something sweet? But not too sweet. With an exclamation of success, the Hobbit reached other an assortment of fresh seasonal fruits and pulled a tray of baked goods close to her.

    -”Here we are! I recommend these for sure. Mrs Tunnelley’s lemon and lavender muffins. Scrumptious, especially with a nice cup of tea. Hope you like them, miss”

Madeleine peeped happily, placing two muffins in front of the woman while taking one for herself too.

The Hobbits surely knew how to party, she stated in mind: there was music, dancing, singing, enough food and drinks to feed both the Rohirric and the Gondorian army, and ear-to-ear smiles everywhere! Éowyn was quickly infected by their good mood and she found herself laughing ad grinning the whole night long.

She could tell that she had caught the young Hobbit off-guard, for which she felt a little bad. “I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” she apologised with a small smile.

She watched the Hobbit curiously as she pulled a tray of baked goods closer to them - they all looked so good that she felt the urge to taste all of them, even though she knew it would be too much.

“The house of healing?” Lily questioned Éowyn giving a small tilt of her head. She tried to stand upright and keep her eyes open for she could feel them become heavy. Pippin saw Lily injured as did a few other knights who swiftly went to aid the hobbit and placed her upon a horse carefully “my lady perhaps you should ride with her” one of the knights commented to Éowyn holding the reins so the steed didn’t bolt or move. “Is she going to be alright?” The male halfling asked.

As Teresa watched with her silver-eyes she took in everything about this young lady and her sword-skills. She took in her stance, defense and attack movements. It was impressive for a human but there was something off about it too. Empty to her, which all the more made her stay.

“It’s Teresa of the Faint Smile, but just Teresa will be fine.” She knew people here always gave their titles or birthright, but she was quiet about her parents. The title will be enough. “No need to apologize. I couldn’t help but watch you fight. Who taught you?”

Éowyn furrowed her brows, trying to remember whether she had heard this name before, but it did not ring a bell. Her title was probably not a place, at least not in Middle-Earth, she thought to herself. What place could be called “Faint Smile?” - she wondered. A river? Or a waterfall?

Éomer pivoted around as soon as he had struck down one of his own men, raising Gúthwinë - his beloved sword - to block another sword that had been swung down at him. He felt sweat rolling down his forehead and into his eyes  but only shook his head and continued to strike and block the sword of the other tall man sparring with him. He had not noticed the company of five that entered into the courtyard and were now watching him train.

After several more minutes of maneuvering around the courtyard, striking out, and jumping back, Éomer held Gúthwinë to the man’s throat and then stepped back, finally wiping his forehead with his sleeve. He turned around and called out to the group surrounding the training pit, “Let him come forth, the next man who would like to test his skill!”

He raised a brow as a shorter, slimmer man stepped out before him with a helmet upon his head. He lowered his sword slightly, thinking it to be a much younger man, but dug his feet into the dirt in a stance ready to fight.

“Whenever you are ready…” he said, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Éowyn pressed her lips together to hide the smile forming in the corner of her mouth seegin that Éomer had not recognised her in that helmet. Besides the four men that had accompanied her to Aldburg, no-one realised that this shorter and slimmer man was actually a woman. Well, no-one expected her to be there - not only on the training field, but in Aldburg either, as she had not warned anyone about it. It was a surprise visit. 

She decided she would not reveal herself until the end of the match or until he found it out by himself. She nodded her head with her fingers clenching around the hilt of the sword, then she quickly lifted it up for a strike, trying to hit his brother from the left side.

He considered her for a moment. The night was exceptionally clear, not a cloud in the sky, and there were infinite numbers of stars above. He wondered how it was that despite such enormous beauty there was such a weight on his shoulders - he could not appreciate the display as he should. Éowyn admitted she could not sleep either - likely carrying the same weight as he did for different reasons. However, she didn’t admit that verbally.  It was apparent with all the events as of late.

He shifted towards her. “Many things,” he said in a low voice, “My thoughts race and cannot seem to leave me be, not even to sleep.” He looked out once more - this time to the landscape below the horizon of the mountains that surrounded them. “Perhaps they could be summarized as thus: the impact of ‘war’. Whether it’s worth it, the death and fighting. Is it really worth the cost?” He thought of all the people asleep below, safe from harm. For now. Perhaps that is what made everything worth it. Someone had to step up, to fight for them who could not defend themselves. If no one did, they would be dead. The numerous families, gone. “Being out here, looking out below makes me feel better.” He could not look upwards at the stars; for that scared him. It made him think of the maiden he left behind. Looking below, however, did help. His thoughts shifted then to the men the populace had to provide to the war efforts. His heart sunk again.

Éowyn felt the urge to look away at the moment she felt Aragorn’s grey-ish eyes on herself, but she decided to keep her gaze on him. She did not want him to see her being some somehow embarrassed for being looked at. She was not used to that - at least not from people like him.

She felt a little relieved when he turned towards the landscape. The mountains underneath the stars looked as if nothing had changed, but to be honest, nothing was the same. They had just come back from a batlle, losing many-many people: Men and Elves alike and defeating Saruman and the Uruk-Hai. Even though Éowyn did not participate in the battle herself, it changed many things for her as well. Anger, disappointment and desire was growing in her - desire to fight, instead of sulking in the mountains waiting for the men to come home. She was not sure she could perfectly understand Aragorn’s words. “But if we do not fight, all will be worse, will it not?” she asked. “Would people not die if we surrender to the enemy?” She had not been there, she had not seen the dead and the wounded - only when they were brought back to Edoras. All she knew about war was what she had read and heard from the legends and of his brother and cousin. 

“I wouldn’t call them guests. They’re more like travelers, looking for a safe haven to rest on their way into the west.” Eleanor almost seemed sad after these words. Thinking about those travelers meant thinking about her mother and every elf leaving Middle-Earth.

“Sometimes I’m gone for a few days. Most of the time I leave for months or years. I have travelled through the Shire to the Blue Mountains. Over the Misty Mountains and through Mirkwood, the cities of Gondor and the lands of your people.” Her fingers started to twist the bindings of her bracers. “I tend to only remain in the North since I became a Ranger if the North.”

“I, for my part, think the elves of Mirkwood to be darker of mind and thinking. They do not wander in the light but stay inside their dark kingdom under the trees. King Thranduils tends to only think as far ahead as his borders go.” Eleanor looked at Legolas and saw nothing of his father in him. He would be a good king. “My people, no matter of what descant, love the stars. Mereth Nuin Giliath - The Feast of Starlight is a beloved tradition of my people.”

Her eyes swayed back to Éowyn and lingered on the smile and honest curiosity. It was refreshing. She was still so young and yet so very strong and steadfast from what Eleanor has gathered so far. “We do speak the same language. It is Sindar. Most refer to it as the language of court.”

“Yes. Beren, the mortal, who fell in love with Lúthien, an elf maiden.” Her eyes searched for Aragorn and lingered on the jewelry on his neck. The evenstar. Her sisters necklace. It pained her to think about Arwens fate. “My father is their great-grandson.”

“They are going to the west to sail the sea, are they not?” Éowyn asked, as she had heard something like this about the Elves that many of them had left Middle-Earth to sail towards Valinor. 

“Then you have been to almost everywhere in Middle-Earth,” Éowyn stated with genuine amazement, mixed with a little envy for having to spend her whole life in Rohan, not being able to go anywhere. She sort of forgot about the fact that Eleanor was more than a thousand years old, while she was only twenty-four.

She nodded as she listened to the other woman talking about Mirkwood Elves then she looked at Legolas, searching for traces of the mentioned qualities. However, she failed to find them. Glancing at the blond elf, she only saw an open mind and a kind heart. At the mention of the Feast of Starlight, she looked back at the other woman. “What do you celebrate on that feast?” she asked. “And how?”

◌ Mother/Father

⌘ Guardian

▶ Sibling(s)

▣ Relatives

🔲 Best Friend

❥ Crush

◉ Dream(s)

◖ Ideal Partner

¡ Pet Peeves

☰ Occupation

✯ Perfect day

☂ Preferred weather

☢ Personality Flaw(s)

Apologies for my low activity last week, I’d just like to let you know that I’m still here, but last week was quite busy and tiring. This week my activity won’t be very high either as on Thursday we have a premiere with our drama group. I’ll try to get down some replies today or tomorrow, but I think I’ll only post them when I’m done with all. This might only happen next week, so please bear with me.

And here is the “Who do I owe?” list:

On this blog:

theladyranger

arawynngoldwing

raangerofthenorth

eomertheblessed

fxintsmile

burrowalilyflower

theroseoftheshire

On Bilbo:

burrowalilyflower (an ask reply) II (X)

arawynngoldwing

chainsxwsmile

wxtchofthewoods (a starter)

On John Watson:

governmentofficial (a starter)