In the Midst of Adversity: Part III
Author: Maram68
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The guards made way for the rushing woman entering the dungeon. Lady Eowyn’s companion was well known among the soldiers, since she had more than once accompanied the troops to battle when Theodred had been at Edoras and Wormtongue didn’t have the influence he held now over the king.

Cyrene reached Eomer’s cell quickly and Eomer jumped up from the cot.

“What is happening, Cyrene? Is Eowyn well?” he asked.

The woman said, ”You should know she is worried about you, but well.” She looked suspiciously around and then added softly, “Visitors have been announced from the gates. It might be those we are waiting for.”

“Then you are more valuable to me in the King’s Hall then at my side, my friend” said the Marshall.

“I don’t trust Wormtongue, Eomer. I won’t leave you unarmed and alone.” She turned to the guard and ordered: “Go and find Eothain, he should hurry here!”

The guard nodded and left. “Here, keep my dagger, it’s the only weapon I carry on me now. I will leave Eothain with you. He is one of the few we can trust. Then I will go to the King’s Hall.”

Eothain arrived shortly after, and Eomer gripped Cyrene’s forearm in warriorlike greeting: ”Be careful, my dear friend. ”

“I will be, Milord.” She turned to leave and saw her reflection on Eothain’s shield.

“Eothain, give me your helmet and your cloak, I’ll find a spear somewhere.”

Eomer watched amused as the woman pulled the helmet on her head, hiding her features, and threw the cloak over her manly garb. “You look like a very young warrior, Cyrene.”

“There are no young warriors in times of war, my friend.” She said and left the dungeon running for the Golden Hall of King Theodred.

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If the armed guard who joined Lady Eowyn at the entrance of the Hall surprised her, she didn’t show it. Neither did the King, who was being supported by her and Grima. Grima looked at the guard and then at Eowyn, who just lifted her chin in defiance.

Grima lowered his eyes and muttered something while he helped Eowyn to lead the old man to his throne.

Once Theodred was seated, Grima sat himself at the stairs below the King and Eowyn stood at the back of the throne. Cyrene stood a few feet away from the lady, half in shadow, holding a spear.

The visitors were lead into the Hall.

Cyrene could very well observe the strangers from where she stood, without attracting any notice to herself.

There were four men, all different from one another. There was an elder man with long flowing white hair and beard, dressed in a gray ragged cloak. He carried a wooden staff and leant heavily into it.

Next to him stood a black haired, rugged looking man in the prime of his life. There was something appealing to the eye in the man but also something mysterious, and Cyrene couldn’t figure out what it was.

To the right of the black haired one stood a man who didn’t reach further then her own chest, heavily built, with red hair and braided beard. The man was short but impressive and seemed to be weary of his surroundings. For his height, she assumed this was the dwarf.

The last traveler was tall and light from built. He had long blonde hair, lighter then Eowyn’s hair, a beautiful boyish face and … pointed ears? Cyrene couldn’t believe her own eyes. So this was one of the fabled creatures that lived in the forests of Middle Earth! No doubt about it, this must be an elf.

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While Cyrene walked swiftly to the dungeon, sent by King Theoden to free Eomer, she recalled the events from moments earlier in the Golden Hall.

Though she hadn’t recognized Gandalf the Wizard, she had heard enough about him to know he was powerful and devoted to the good of the creatures of Middle Earth. It was Gandalf himself who had hit Grima with magic and then led King Theoden into the daylight; something the old man hadn’t done for many weeks.

Eowyn was concerned for the King’s health, but it seemed, as by the sheer power of sunlight shining on him, that Theoden was reborn, being away from Wormtongue and beholding his kingdom from the castle’s walls. His stance straightened, his eyes shone. The great King of the Mark of Rohan was back, and he wished his nephew at his side to fight the approaching enemy.

Cyrene opened the cell herself.

Eomer was elated to see her end his imprisonment.

”Did the king send you? What happened? What happened to the Wormtongue? Is all well?”

“The travelers brought good winds into Meduseld. The King wishes to see you” On the way up the longwinded stairs of the castle, she told him what had happened at the encounter of the travelers with the King.

When they stepped in front of Theoden, Eomer knelt before the King. He was holding the sword that had been given back to him once he was set free, never taking his eyes off Theoden, who could see courage and loyalty in his nephew’s eyes. Eomer offered him his sword as a sign of loyalty, something that Theoden really didn’t need.

“Rise, my sister’s son. You are the heir to the crown of Rohan. And to keep Rohan away from darkness we must go into battle. “

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By the time Eomer and Theoden had instructed the calling of the army, it was late and the travelers were honored guests for dinner.

Eowyn and Cyrene served the king’s table. Cyrene noticed the way that Eowyn looked at Aragorn. And also noticed that Aragorn treated Eowyn kindly, but there was no longing in his eyes when he looked at her golden beauty. Eowyn looked at him as if he were the only man in the room.

What Cyrene didn’t notice, was the way the elf looked at her. She was pretty in her violet gown, a thin silver girdle on her waist. Her black tresses were held back with silver ribbons, loosely braided. But Legolas wasn’t looking at her face or her body, but at the way she moved. She wasn’t awkward in the way she helped the table, but she moved as if she wasn’t used to the chores. Her movements were fluid and elastic, almost like a cat, but she strode with wider steps then women usually did, and even if she was careful handling the dishes and serving the wine, she somehow didn’t belong there.

Eomer noticed the elf’s attention on Cyrene and felt a pang of jealousy. Eomer had thankfully acknowledged Cyrene’s friendship with his sister, and cherished her as a friend and comrade in arms. He had seen her in battle and knew her to be more than equal to any other warrior he knew.

Now, watching another man (or elf) pay attention to his friend, he saw her in another light. He noticed her lithe body, which was well trained in the arts of war and the fine hands that filled his goblet. He looked up to her face, the shiny amber-colored eyes he knew so well, the full mouth with lips lightly tilted upwards at their ends, as she was almost always smiling or laughing.

It was like seeing a well-known painting again with new eyes.

Cyrene smiled at Eomer and wondered at the odd look in her friend’s eyes. She was going to talk to him after dinner anyway.

Legolas noticed the Marshall’s reaction to have found him looking at the lady who attended the table. Maybe there was some kind of relationship between them. He turned his attention to dinner and talked to Gimli. But he could have sworn there was something strange about the dark haired woman who served his wine.


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