Buried in the caves, Eowyn hears a triumphant bugle that is the horn of neither Orc nor Rohirrim and a wild hope stirs within her. She musters the women and with knives, clubs and not a few swords, they charge out into the chaos of Helms Deep to find a battle newly won with the timely arrival of the White Rider with Erkenbrand and beside them, a tall, young King leading a great eored of his own that is queerer than any child's bedtime song.
The King admires her Orc-bloodied blade, raises his own in salute, and as he bows before her, says, "Never forget to clean your blade, Warrior of Rohan."
Guh. The entire last sentence is made of win. ADSFLKWEFLKF this is my new OTP toooooo! (Also, is it SUSAN's horn she hears??) This was awesome...MOAR MOAR.
As Eowyn draws the Rohirric shortsword from its scabbard and caresses its length, measuring the lay of it with the flat of her hand, she pays no mind to the others in the hall packing for the journey; while she gives it an experimental swing and, enchanted, goes through a sequence of positions with the well-crafted weapon, she does not notice the man who approaches in green and red bearing the blazing emblem of a lion upon his arms.
She turns; steel meets steel with a resounding clang; Eowyn's eyes widen at the strange warrior who carries himself like a king and does not fear to cross swords with a woman.
"You have some skill with a blade," says Peter with profound admiration.
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The King admires her Orc-bloodied blade, raises his own in salute, and as he bows before her, says, "Never forget to clean your blade, Warrior of Rohan."
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She turns; steel meets steel with a resounding clang; Eowyn's eyes widen at the strange warrior who carries himself like a king and does not fear to cross swords with a woman.
"You have some skill with a blade," says Peter with profound admiration.
Reply
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