What Peace You May Find

***

"It is peaceful here."

Instantly she recognized that resonant voice. Standing alone in the desolate courtyard, she had slipped out of the lively banquet earlier in an attempt to find solitude and respite from the piercing gaze of Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He troubled her with his noble bearing, dark thoughtful eyes delving deeply into her soul making her feel pitifully exposed. Standing beneath the shades of the towering walls, she stepped out of the shadows to greet him.

"The bright lights become too harsh for my eyes," Eowyn replied coolly, her shoulders tight with strictly controlled tension. Standing before him with her figure bathed in the gentle light of the moon, highlighting her stark white gown with an unearthly glow, Aragorn understood why she was often spoken of as the White Lady of Rohan.

"Do you often seek solitude small abandoned corners?" he asked cautiously, gently prodding her into conversation.

"As often as I might. It is free from the daily clamor of this palace, a place of my own away from this kingdom and my title." A flash of bitterness streaked across her face. "As the only female of this household, I would be kept here as an ornament, my sole purpose to adorn these castle walls until it is my time to be passed on in a marriage of convenience, a tool to create good will between two kingdoms."

"Marriage between royal families is a common practice in unifying kingdoms," Aragorn replied, his impassive face giving none of his thoughts away.

"Yet this would not be the fate I wish upon myself," she answered evenly, lifting her head up in defiance of age-old custom and traditions.

"Nor I," he replied solemnly, pitying the fate bestowed upon such a free spirit.

Looking up at him in surprise, Eowyn faltered when she met the attentive eyes of Aragorn. As a distraction, she turned her head quickly to cover her hesitation, bending down to pick up a sword hidden in a small dark chest under a stone bench. Standing tall, she drew the blade, her hand gripped around the sparsely decorated handle. The bright medal gleamed dangerously in the moonlight.

Twirling it skillfully in her right hand, she slashed at the air before her, stopping an inch away from Aragorn's throat. "Often I train here away from the disapproving eyes of the kingdom. I would run free as a travelor on the plains of middle earth if I were not a member of the house of Eorl."

"You have skill," he spoke, remaining still, in the mercy of Eowyn's blade. "Not often does one finds a woman so highly trained with the sword."

Backing away a step, Eowyn let her sword hand drop limply to her side. Sorrowfully she replaced the delicate blade into its sturdy leather scabbard. "Theodred, my cousin, saw me as no other. From youth he treated me as an equal," a hint of a smile lingered in her wistful voice. "It is he who had my sword made and trained me to wield it."

"It is a finely crafted sword," Aragorn answered, watching Eowyn replace the sword in it's hiding place.

Nodding quietly, Eowyn knelt next to her prized possession. "It is the first time I have handled it since his death."

Standing silently behind her, Aragorn gave her a moment to grieve. "It pains you to speak of him."

"The wound his death left in my soul is sharp and fresh. It pains me greatly," she acknowledged. Looking down at her palms, she grasped her hands tightly together. "Had he lived, we would have been wed," she confessed.

Looking at her in surprise at the unexpected information, Aragorn could not help but wonder what manner of a man Theodred had been, and further still, what he had meant to his cousin, Eowyn.

"I did not love him as a wife loves a husband, yet love him I did," she continued in Aragorn's silence, standing up to face him. "And he, I. He did not wish to see me trapped in a gilded cage."

"A fortnight before his death," her mouth tripped slightly over the last word and she paused to take a deep calming breath, "We spoke in this very spot. He respected me too much to see me wed to a brute of a man that would see me naught but for my beauty and he loved me too much to let me wilt as a lily deprived of the sun if it was in his power to prevent it."

"He swore to make you his queen," Aragorn finished.

Nodding, Eowyn looked at Aragorn in defeat. "Theodred would sacrifice love to see me well. He was good to me." Despair flooded through her veins and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "He has forsaken me." Forcing a painful smile, she turned towards the castle. "I do not know why I speak of this. I have told no man of Theodred. Not even the closest of my kin, my brother whom I hold dearest above all."

"You have suffered in your silence," Aragorn replied. "You need not carry this burden alone."

"My lord, I do not ask you to share my burdens," she replied proudly, her back stiffening and her cheeks smarting with indignation. "They are my own. I deal with them as I may."

"I ask for your pardon. I did not mean to offend."

"I take no offense." Looking up at the midnight sky, she turned to Aragorn to bid him a hasty leave. "The hour grows late. I wish you a good night."

"And to you my lady," he replied courteously, with a small bow. In a flurry of white silk, Eowyn turned to leave Aragorn, her golden hair rippling like fiery waves down her back as she strode away.

"Eowyn of Rohan," he called out after her, waiting for her to pause and turn slightly before continuing. "Why do you choose me to speak of Theodred?"

Eowyn stared at him with a wisdom well beyond one of her years, a sad smile enduring on her cold face.

"There is a bit of Theodred in you," she replied. "Your eyes, they see me as he once did, and the same question lies plainly in your gaze."

"Do not wish to save me Aragorn," she professed, "there is naught of worth to save."

Aragorn watched Eowyn retreat into the heavily lit hall. Standing alone in the dark where she left him, his troubled thoughts continued to plague him long after her departure.

*****