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EOWYN THE WARRIOR
(on Eowyn's unrequitted love for Aragorn and her desire for battle)
"I am weary of skulking in the hills, and wish to face peril and battle." - Eowyn (J.R.R. Tolkien)
You have entered the lands of my kindred, and now you turn and leave so quickly.
This world is breaking. So give me my helmet and shield, and let us go swiftly!
I will not stay behind. For I have loved you, but all too briefly.
It has come. I hear the restless drums of doom.
I will vanquish the Witch King, since there is nothing left for me here
and the stifling air of this old fortress, is lulling me into its lifelessness.
My uncle, my brother, my lord, let me be your little soldier in the fire!
I know how to weild a good sword and how to sharpen it.
My eyes are hard like a wolverines, on the edge of winter.
Now I care for none but my weapon and my ability to strike. The world is fatal.
Yet it cannot cut through this ice.
I have walked in the mist upon an island for too long.
How it hemmed me in with its forked tongue.
The voice was as smooth as obsidian, volcanic glass from far away.
Then it sang to us like nightingales, but it was trickery.
The winter moon became my only friend.
My bare feet have grown accustomed to snow.
This hard clear ice is the only path that I have trodden, as a woman.
Winter is pure and it is barren and wild. How must it surrender to the Spring,
if it has not known but one true season? How must it be what it is not?
How must it melt and flow, into new rivulets onto unknown lands
where the guarantees are none to speak of?
My brother I will never fail you. I am amongst men.
My Uncle, I give to you all that I have left. It is yours to take to war.
This world of well worn paths is not for me.
Were it spring or autumn or summer again, I would not know.
I have only one season within and only one ignition,
and that is the spark of fire from the ranger, Aragorn.
In my love for him there is one hope, yet there exists but one sad ending.
I would choose die before my heart is broken. |
