Translation of Elvish: Melethen - my love. Nín anoriel - my sun-maiden.

Chapter 13 - The Fields of the Pelennor

The path through the hills proved to be well chosen; from above they could see the fires of the orcs on the road, hear their foul voices. The Wild Men had told Théoden the truth. Soon the path turned south and descended once again to the main road. A small host was sent back to destroy the enemy. All around them the night air was filled with sounds of war. The sky in the south was red as if a great fire was burning ... Minas Tirith lay in that direction. Were they too late? Smoke was in the air and breathing became hard as they drew close to the besieged city.

Éowyn was still riding with the elves. But now other horsemen would ride up to her and bow their heads to their Lady. Indeed, everyone who knew that the Shield-maiden was with them was feeling stronger, braver than before. She smiled at those around her, but now fear began to take hold of her heart, fear that they might loose this maybe final battle. Fear that she might loose people she loved. Her hand gripped Haldir's tightly. Why had she given in, he could be save now. On his way to Lórien ... why had she let her heart decide?

The elf urged his horse towards her and moved his hand up to her cheek. She leaned into his touch, would she ever feel his hands upon her body again? "There is still time, nín anoriel. Time to turn back." Her eyes were flashing. No, she would not run away. She was a fighter, Shield-maiden of the Riddermark. She only shook her head, feeling his finger close about her hand again. Her heart was filled with pain, but then...

Then suddenly she felt a change, wind upon her cheeks. The air not as heavy as before. She could again breathe freely. She could see the clouds in the south as great grey shapes. Light seemed to struggle with them; she prayed that the sun would win the battle. Song filled the air, a war song of the Riddermark. The horns of Rohan were blown and all of Gondor finally felt hope return to their hearts. Rohan had come at last.

Hearing the song, she felt strength return to her. She had to be with her own people now, with her family. She could not stay with the one she had given her heart to. The fear for him would only hinder her in battle. So Éowyn urged her horse forward, letting go of Haldir's hand. For a fleeting moment she turned her face to her lover, memorizing it. "Melethen," she whispered and then she was gone. Swept away in the flood of riders. Haldir tried to follow but it was too late.

---

Éowyn had finally found the King's host. They were fighting a path towards the city gate, and for the first time in her life did her sword meet flesh. The dark and terrible flesh of orcs. Soon her weapon was stained in the black blood of the cursed race, but she fought on wanting to kill as many orcs as possible.

Neither of them saw the dark shadow that was circling above them ... not until with a piercing scream the Nazgûl dived into their lines. Many riders were killed; the claws of the foul steed of the Ring-Wraith had destroyed many horses and now sank into the white horse of the King. Théoden himself lay on the ground, his backbone broken. Éowyn jumped off her horse, not waiting for the hobbit. And then she stood before the creature so many dreaded. With one swift stroke the steed of the Nazgûl was slain. But now the terror of the Witch-King reached out to her.

He was rising, towering over her, laughing his terrible laughter. "Run you fool, no man will ever kill me." With one swift movement Éowyn took off her helmet, her hair falling about her freely. Behind her the clouds broke apart. The light of the dawning sun bathed her. Meriadoc was filled with awe as he saw her, no fear upon her face only resolve to rid the world of this evil creature forever. "It's no man that you see before you, for I am Éowyn, Shield-maiden of the Mark, Lady of Rohan."

The Nazgûl raised his weapon and thrust at the woman. Barely she could cover herself with her shield, but she felt a pain greater than anything in her arm. She couldn't move it anymore and fell to her knees. The hobbit had crawled up to the Witch-King from behind, his dagger shining in his hand. His eyes met Éowyn's and with one final effort she launched an attack upon the creature before her. The hobbit also attacked and together they felled the Lord of the Nazgûl. But even before his death-cry died down Éowyn fainted and only the arms of the hobbit stopped her head from hitting the hard ground.

---

Amidst the sounds of the battle he could hear a piercing scream, a Nazgûl. But this time it brought no more terror with it, quiet the contrary. The scream itself was filled with terror. Someone had undone the horrible creature. Felling orcs as he rode he came to the place the cry had come from. But he saw not the fallen stead of the Black Rider, nor the dead King. His eyes were fixed upon two persons, a small one, a hobbit, trying to hold up someone with long golden hair. But this was no elf. His vision, this dream ... but it could not be; it could not.

"Éowyn," Haldir cried as he rushed to the Shield-maiden's side. "What happened?" The hobbit raised his head. With a breaking voice he told Haldir what had come to pass. How Théoden had fallen to the Witch-King, how he then was challenged by Dernhelm, the Nazgûl's laughter at this, and then his shock as the Lady of Rohan revealed herself. "We killed him, but I fear the Lady has taken a terrible wound from it, but I cannot see any blood..." his voice trailed off.

The elf fell to his knees by the hobbit's side. Carefully he took the limb body of Éowyn into his arms, her face turned to his. Her eyes were half closed and his voice almost broke as he called her again and again. Slowly she stirred, her eyes opening, looking up into Haldir's midnight-blue eyes, which were now filled with terror. She tried to move her right hand to touch his face but failed, she could barely feel her right arm; it was cold as ice.

"What happened? My uncle..." she looked around and saw the dead body of Théoden. She jerked back her head and cried out in sorrow. Haldir pressed her closer to his body, wishing he could bear the pain for her. His heartbeat heavily in his chest, a thought spinning in his mind, 'I will loose her!' With his left hand he touched her face, the face he had kissed only a few hours ago. Now it was contorted with pain. His hand moved down her left arm, hearing her whimper. Broken. He took her right hand into his and was shocked to feel it not warm but icy. His eyes widened with fear, the Black Breath was upon her. 'Don't leave me my love, my life', his heart screamed.

The hobbit had busied himself among the bodies of the dead orcs around them, ignoring the pain that was building up in his right arm. He had found what he had been searching for, a small bottle filled with a clear liquid. This was the only thing that was not foul about this race. Pippin and he had been forced to drink this when they had been in the hands of the Uruk-hai of Saruman. So he knew of the life-restoring effect of the draught. He sipped a bit, and once again was able to raise himself onto his feet.

He stumbled back to the elf who looked up at him with grief beyond tears in his eyes. Meriadoc understood. Éowyn, and apparently he as well, had taken severe wounds from their battle. He held out the bottle, the elf staring at it puzzled. "Make her drink, it will restore her will to live, to fight." Haldir nodded, taking the flask into his hand. "Éowyn, beloved, drink this," he whispered softly to her. She raised her head to meet his eyes and he almost dropped the bottle. Her face was white as chalk, death written upon her brow. She had to force herself to swallow, but her voice was stronger when she cried out, "What is this, it burns like fire!"

Meriadoc kneeled down by her side, explaining the origin of the draught. Haldir almost reached out to throttle him and Éowyn's eyes widened in terror, but at least she could feel her right side again. Haldir caught the hobbits eye, pointing at his saddlebag. As fast as he could he stumbled on his feet again and retrieved a small package from the elven lord's horse. "Lembas, it will make her stronger. Eat some as well, young hobbit." Haldir tried to keep his voice steady, but his fear for the one he loved was recognizable. Breaking a small piece of Lembas off he said, "Eat my love, eat for me." She forced the elvish way bread down her throat, drank yet a bit more of the orc draught. She smiled weakly up at Haldir, the smile breaking his heart. "Don't leave me," he said hoarsely, "I cannot be without you." His hand stroked her face, colour had returned to it, but also heat. She was burning under his fingers.

Éowyn could read in his eyes that she had been mortally wounded. She saw it in the way he looked at her, felt it in the way he held her, so close, as if he could not bear to be further away from her. "My arms?" Haldir sighed, "The left is broken, it will heal in due course. The right," his voice broke, "Everything will be fine, trust me." She longed to touch his face, to reassure him that she was there, that she was still with him. But all she could do was whisper," I love you, I always will."

The sound of hooves made them realize the situation they were in, the battle was still raging around them. But the voice she heard behind her filled her troubled heart with joy. "Aragorn has come, he's driving orcs and Southrons into the river." Only then did Éomer see his sister in the arms of the elf. "What is this, I told you to protect her with your life." He jumped off his horse and rushed to his sister's side.

Once again Meriadoc explained what had happened. Éomer's eyes filled with sorrow and grief when he saw his fallen uncle. "Now it is your duty to lead our people. Hail, Éomer, King of the Riddermark," Éowyn smiled at her brother. Seeing his troubled face she added, "Don't worry, dearest brother, I shall be alright again." Haldir looked away, tears starting to well from his eyes. The new king of Rohan raised himself and while mounting his horse again said to the elf, "She needs a healer, Haldir, I'm begging you, get her up to the Houses of Healing in the city. If she dies..."

Haldir looked up at him, "If she dies my life is worth nothing anymore. I would even thank you if you killed me..." Understanding came over Éomer. The elf really and truly loved his sister. "We both love her, we both want her to live. Haldir, I give her into your keeping again. Take her to the healers, she has to live!" With these words he was off again. Éowyn's head rested on Haldir's shoulder when he slowly stood up, lifting her off the ground.

Before he could make a hundred steps, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth had appeared in front of them. Now his men were carrying the dead King into the city. Haldir had refused to let go of Éowyn, clinging to her as if she was filling him with life. "I love you," she had whispered to him, "I always will." He had whispered, his voice almost failing him, "Do not leave me, do not go! You are everything that matters to me in this world, what should I do without you?" She had smiled at him before she said the last words he had heard from her sweet lips, "I would have gone with you, lived with you for all eternity, Haldir, my only true love, forgive me, I can't hold on, too much. The pain ... I can't ... I love you, I love you..." Then she was gone, her breath getting shallower and shallower. Haldir looked up to the heavens above him, praying to the Valar. 'Why did you give her to me, if you wanted to take her from me so soon again? Let her live, spare her!'