Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) Title: Deorwyn, or She Who Delights In Wild Things- Book One of the Eryniel Saga (#3695) Author: RazeNymphette Chapters: 5
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Archive: Tolkien Category: Lord of the Rings Description: A child of Rohan, narrowly escaping an orc attack on her village, finds herself at the mercy of Fangorn Forest, and all the creatures that live there. Meanwhile, an attack from the Enemy looms over Rohan and Fangorn, and Gandalf is troubled by dreams. (Set approximately 15 years before the War of the Ring) Published: 19 Jan 2008 Updated: 28 May 2008 Warnings: n/a Type: General Characters: OC; Gandalf; Eomer; Eowyn; Treebeard; Eothain; Sar Chapter 1 - 00 - Prologue : Manen Sa Ilya Yessei; That Is, How It All Began Manen Sa Ilya Yessei That Is, How It All Began “Who is she, Grandfather?” Merry Brandybuck stared down at his grandson, Pippin, and then looked at the sketched portrait of the woman with the long, flowing hair and wise old eyes. It was a black and white sketch in the Red Book of Westmarch of a fair woman, whom Merry had known very well and for a very long time. On the opposite page was a sketch of King Eomer of Rohan. “I’ve always wondered that myself, Uncle Merry,” Elfstan Fairbairn replied, scruffing his thick golden curls. “The name only says the Lady of All. What does that mean? Who is she?”Meriadoc stared at the picture for a long time, and a tear rolled down his cheek as memory whispered softly through his mind. Peregrine, his grandson, named for his cousin and dearest friend, tugged at his sleeve and said, “Grandfather?” “She is Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, the Swan Princess, the Queen of Rohan, and it is her banner that flies alongside the green banner of Rohan, her cobalt pennant with the swan-prow ship and the ivory blossom. She is the wife and queen of Eomer, the King. "But she was not born a princess and she was not raised a princess and she did not sit back during the War against the Enemy, the Shadow of the East and let the warriors around her attempt to defeat it without her aid. She fought for the war alongside your Great-Uncles, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam. “Once, a long time ago, a little girl was attacked by orcs, and she escaped, and she brought Lothiriel of Dol Amroth from the shores of the Sea, from the city of Dol Amroth to Rohan, brought the Woses to the King and renewed the Line of Eorl. "This little girl was nameless for a long time, and she brought Lothiriel, the Lady of All, to us when we needed her most, when the Shadow came. "Do you remember the story of the War of the Ring?” “Oh, yes,” said Samwise Took, ten-year-old son of Faramir. “We remember the stories of the War! Did the little girl and the woman help win the War?” “Yes,” Merry said softly, “yes, they did help win the war.” “Can you tell us the story, Uncle Merry?” Elfstan smiled up at him. The old hobbit smiled a little wistfully and said, “I cannot tell you the story, but I can read it to you. I have this book,” and he lifted up a tome bound in hunter green leather, tooled in gold. “And this book can tell more of the story than I know from memory. But it’s an important story, and few know it, so I’ll read it to you children, and you will know who the woman in the picture is, how the little girl brought her to us, and how her part in the War began.“Book one, part one, day one: Deorwyn is missing….” oo8oo8oo8oo In the words of JunoMagic: Please feel free to leave a comment! Anything at all: If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Disclaimer/Author's Note: don't own anything you recognize. Chapter 2 - 01 - Book One- Part One: Deorwyn of Rohan- Day 1: Lord Deorwine of Deorwang Province Day 1 Lord Deorwine of Deorwang Province Deorwyn is missing. Lord Deorwine tasted metallic fear in his mouth, like fresh blood, as his treacherous mind hissed those words in the back of his mind. Grima, the King’s new counselor, had been the one to tell him. With sympathy dripping like poison from every word, and what stank of feigned outrage and sly mockery, he had been the one to tell Deorwine that his lands, his province of Deorwang, the wild country less than a league from Fangorn, lay burned by Orc hands. That his oldest son, twelve-year-old Eothain, was wounded, and that only the luck of the young and foolhardy and the quick thinking of the King’s nephew, Eomer, had saved them both from being massacred along with many of the people of Deorwang. That yes, his other two children, Gleowine and Delwyn, were both safe and sound, completely unharmed, awaiting him in the warmth of Meduseld’s kitchens, and only frightened for their sister. That his wife, Gwynaeth, was alive and well. But Deorwang was in ash and ruin, and his little one, his Deorwyn, his wild one, was missing, out and alone in the frigid chill of clinging winter’s death grip. Grima had said all that, with pity in his tone but none his eyes. There was no sympathy from him, only those words like blows from an axe. Your daughter is missing. He made his way into the kitchens of Meduseld, and found his other two children sitting with the young lord Eomer and young lady Eowyn, sipping cups of frothy, fresh milk and eating piping hot, freshly baked bread. Gleowine sat with Eomer, the little boy tensed and his face white and pinched. The King’s nephew patted him on the back, though there was something akin to misery on the older boy’s face when he turned to glance at Delwyn, the Lord’s second daughter. Delwyn rubbed at her face, and Deorwine felt his heart jerk in his chest. Delwyn and Deorwyn were twins, and to see Delwyn’s face and know that his other child was lost, wandering in the wilds of Deorwang… “Papa!” Delwyn scrambled off the table bench. The Lord of Deorwang dropped to his knees and opened his arms to let her run to him. “Deorwyn! Deorwyn is gone! You gots to find her, Papa!” “We will,” he murmured, stroking her golden hair. “We’ll find her. There, there, now, we’ll find her, leofa.” He held out his free arm to Gleowine, who toddled over to him and cuddled into his chest against Delwyn. “We’ll find her, I promise you.” “Lord Deorwine,” a warm voice murmured from the doorway. He turned his head to see Prince Theodred standing hesitantly behind him. “My Lord King Théoden wishes to see you now.” Gently, Deorwine disengaged his trembling children from where they’d wrapped themselves in his travel-stained cloak to burrow close to him, and got to his feet. Ignoring the fear cloying on the back of his tongue, he began to follow the Prince out of the kitchens, when he stopped and leaned on the doorframe. “Lord Eomer?” The boy jumped, startled, and stared up at him. “My lord?” Deorwine stared for a long moment into the young lord’s eyes, saw the self-loathing and the yearning, the heartache. This boy, this youth, had saved the life of Eothain, his son, but at the cost of Deorwyn, Eothain’s sister. Could he really say it? Could he really? “I….” The look on the boy’s face broke the grieving lord’s heart. “I thank you," he said, though it nearly choked him, "for the life of my son.” With that, he walked out. oo8oo8oo8oo Please feel free to leave a comment! Anything at all: If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Disclaimers: I don't own anything you recognize. Chapter 3 - 02 - Book One- Part One: Deorwyn of Rohan- Day 1: Deorwyn, the Lost Child The monsters had finally gone. Deorwyn trudged on, stumbling now in her weariness. It was getting late, she had to get back or her mama would be worried and might even cry…. But she couldn’t go back. The monsters had set the village on fire, and everything had been burning and so hot it had hurt to be near and the flames had roared at her like the dragons Gleowine had told her about in his lisping baby talk, and she’d been scared. She hadn’t been able to find anyone, not her Papa or Mama, not her baby brother Gleowine or her twin sister Delwyn, not even Eothain… or Eomer…. Thinking about her brother Eothain made tears roll down her cheeks, but she hastily wiped them away. Only babies cried, and she was a big girl. She was six whole years old! She wasn’t gonna start crying like a baby! What would Eothain say? What would Eomer say? Eomer, who was strong and brave and big like her brother, and nice, not like the other boys who were friends with Eothain. Eomer, who promised to teach her how to ride, how to dance, both on her own feet and on horse back, with knives and with swords. Eomer, who told her that one day, they would ride along the plains together as Riders of the Rohirrim, even though she was a girl. Eomer, who told her that even girls could be brave. What would Eomer say if he could see her crying? With that thought, she dashed her tears with one clenched fist and kept walking. Tripping over her own feet, she tried to pretend it wasn’t getting dark as she made for the forest. Gleowine and Eothain had told her about fairies and elves and things who lived in forests and helped little girls who were lost and didn’t know the way home. She would go find one in Fangorn, even if she had to wander around in the scary dark to do it. But… maybe she’d suck her thumb a little, and hold Beornulf a bit tighter. No one would see, so no one would make fun of her babyish thumb sucking and doll coddling because the dark was coming, and with it, all the scary things the older boys who played with Eothain said came in the night and ate cry babies. She kept walking, deeper and deeper into the forest, holding her Eorlingas doll to her chest, tripping every time her skirts caught on sticks or nettles. When she could go no longer, she huddled up against a tree- a roan, she thought, I think that’s what Mama called it- and fell asleep with her thumb in her mouth and her doll, her wooden and cloth doll her Papa had made for her to always feel safe, as if one of the riders of Rohan were with her always, clutched tight to her chest. She suddenly wished for her sling, the sling Eothain had made for her to keep the wolves away from their sheep. She could hit a wolf from yards away, and make it hurt, make it mean something. Even Eothain and Eomer couldn’t sling stones like she could. She wished for her sling, but more than that, she wished for Delwyn- they’d never been apart for more than a few minutes, ever, not since they’d been born- and she wished for Eothain. Even Gleowine, with his soft, lisping voice, timid as a mouse in a kitchen, and his stories that helped her sleep after she’d had nightmares. Her Mama and Papa… Eomer…. Deorwyn began singing softly, only to herself, and then remembered what Gleowine said, that trees liked music, too. So she sang a song that Gleowine had made up once, to help her sleep, and sang it to the tree. “Ni mera ten i aure ar i lauca numen vaiva Ni mist i landa tier esse utuv o vana Tuile I ancale selma fain ar i vilya selma luine Yare ni utuv i irima laiqua Rien Tuile Quen erin ni selma utuv i laiqua Rien Tuile….” She knew it was just her little brother’s baby talk, but somehow she knew what he meant, what the song meant, and the song lulled her into sleep.The rowan tree whispered something with its leaves, and the wind carried its messages on through the great forests. The late winter air tasted Elder whispers, and wondered at this innocent mouth that sang such sweet words. In the darkness, wild things caught the child’s scent, even from the great distance, and followed the sweet smell of innocence. oo8oo8oo8oo In the words of JunoMagic: Please feel free to leave a comment! Anything at all: If you noticed a typo, if you don't like a characterization or description, if you thought a line especially funny or poignant or interesting, if there was anything you particularly enjoyed … I am really interested in what my readers think about my writing. You can leave a public comment (signed or anonymous), though if you want me to respond to it, signed is best, OR send me a private message, though I do prefer comments and reviews. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter 4 - 03 - Book One- Part One: Deorwyn of Rohan- Day 1: Eomer, Eothain, and Eowyn Eothain is crying. That’s what his sister had told him when she’d stood at the table in the hall’s kitchens, plucking at his sleeve. Her eyes stormed with worry, twin skies steely with thunderclouds. Sighing, he’d left his supper and followed her to the stables. He didn’t believe her, though. He and Eothain were old enough to wield swords, fight orcs, train to be riders of the Rohirrim. Riders of Rohan did not cry. But there he was, curled up in the stall that held his horse, Deorwyn (named for his sister, he’d said, because she was the best sister of any he’d ever known, better even than Eowyn, though Eomer failed to see how anyone could be better than Eowyn, despite how she could nag sometimes and despite how brave and Rohirrim-like Deorwyn could be). The mare whuffed at the crying boy’s wild blond hair, nudged him with her nose, but Eothain kept his head down in his arms and did not look up. “Eothain?” Eomer sat down beside him, his stomach twisting. He wasn’t quite sure what he ought to do. He somehow knew that if he went to get Theodred, Eothain would be upset. But Theodred always knew what to do, and he had no idea, he was only thirteen. He couldn’t remember the last time his mother had comforted him, it had been a long time before she’d died- killed herself, you mean, took her own life- and he doubted that what his mother did would work for Eothain, anyway. “What if no one finds her?” Eothain’s voice was soft and muffled by his shirtsleeves, but the other boy understood. “What if the orcs took her?” Eomer tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t scare him, and finally settled for the truth. “My father says orcs don’t care for children the way they do for women,” whatever that meant, he still didn’t know, only that it had something to do with virtue and a woman’s honor, “and that they wouldn’t have kidnapped her. So if she were dead, she’d have been found among the dead of the village. So she must be all right.” The older boy thought he might feel a twinge at what he expected to be a lie, but he found that he really believed it. Deorwyn might not be as good a sister as Eowyn, but Eomer had met her, liked her. She was brave, for a girl, and smart. Not one of the spoiled brats that tried to follow Eothain’s other friends around. “I have to find her,” Eothain whispered. He finally looked up, resting his chin on his arms. His eyes shone like wet emeralds. “She’s lost out there, alone. She could get hurt.” Eothain tasted something bitter. Eomer didn’t understand. If it had been Eowyn, Eomund’s son wouldn’t have hesitated to rescue her. And Eothain… he had failed Deorwyn. His sister, he sweet little sister… if he and Eomer hadn’t been off making mischief, he would never have lost her, he would’ve been there to protect her and fight the orcs when they descended on Deorwang. “I have to find her.” “Your father would never let you do that!” “Then I’ll run away and find her on my own!” Eothain was on his feet now, and even as he talked, he began saddling his mare. “You don’t have to come with me, if you’re scared of getting in trouble or anything. I don’t need you to come with me, I’m not a child. But I’m going to find my sister.” Eomer stared at his friend as if he thought the other boy were stark raving mad, then grinned widely. He clapped the other boy on the shoulder, a gesture his father had used, a gesture Theodred used on him still, and he said, “Not a chance. No one will say Eomer Eomund’s son is afraid to help his best friend and brother. I’ll ready Amberfire.” Eowyn From the other side of the wall, Eowyn narrowed her eyes as she listened. Of course, those two would just go gallivanting off and leave her behind. Well, not likely! Just because she was a girl, and just because she wasn’t old enough to train as a Rider, certainly didn’t mean she was going to let them go off on their own and get into all sorts of trouble. If there was going to be trouble, she was going to be in the thick of it, right by her brother’s side. Silent and swift as a deer, she slipped away. Chapter 5 - 04 - Book One- Part One: Deorwyn of Rohan- Day 1: Gandalf The wizard slept, and dreamed. A little girl, with hair like tumbling gold and eyes like the forest, her rosebud lips wet with blood and she coughed and coughed, shivering in the cold morning light. She clutched a doll in one hand, and tried hard to keep the thumb she sucked for comfort in her mouth. Even in sleep, Gandalf knew the child was sick, dying, but not so close to death that she could not be saved. Was this dreaming, or foresight? Distanced as he was from his dreaming, he knew it was at least not reality. But who was this little girl? She seemed so familiar…. Two boys on horseback, both about thirteen, riding as if their lives depended on it, galloping away from a group of orcs. They try to make for the great hall looming up before them, but before they can make it, an arrow pierces the smaller boy’s back. He cries out, clinging to his horse, and the orcs gain on them. Gandalf recognized one of those boys: Eomer, King Théoden’s nephew. The bigger one who had remained unscathed, as far as the wizard could tell. These dreams had the taste of foresight to them, and he had to wonder why this was all so very important. Treebeard, the Ent of Fangorn, looking as if something were eating away at him from the inside out, something that blackened his leaves and twisted his branches, and brought hideous, painful shadows to his eyes. He shuddered and coughed and wheezed, none of his usual ba-ra-ra-room! He seemed shrunken and weak, sickening, and all around him Ents lay dying on the ground, and the forest was screaming. With a cry of horror, the wizard bolted upright in his bed, and found himself safe, right where he’d expected, Rivendell. But on the covers of his bed lay three things: a single golden hair, the black fletching of an Orc arrow, and a twisted, dying oak leaf. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sun Nov 15, 2026 12:53 am