return

the battle of the pelennor fields 1101
‘Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!’
Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It
seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like
the ring of steel. ‘But no living man am I! You look upon a
woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between
me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless!
For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.’
The winged creature screamed at her, but the Ringwraith
made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt. Very
amazement for a moment conquered Merry’s fear. He
opened his eyes and the blackness was lifted from them.
There some paces from him sat the great beast, and all
seemed dark about it, and above it loomed the Nazgûl Lord
like a shadow of despair. A little to the left facing them stood
she whom he had called Dernhelm. But the helm of her
secrecy had fallen from her, and her bright hair, released
from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders.
Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears
were on her cheek. A sword was in her hand, and she raised
her shield against the horror of her enemy’s eyes.
Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also. For into Merry’s mind
flashed the memory of the face that he saw at the riding from
Dunharrow: the face of one that goes seeking death, having
no hope. Pity filled his heart and great wonder, and suddenly
the slow-kindled courage of his race awoke. He clenched his
hand. She should not die, so fair, so desperate! At least she
should not die alone, unaided.
The face of their enemy was not turned towards him, but
still he hardly dared to move, dreading lest the deadly eyes
should fall on him. Slowly, slowly he began to crawl aside; but
the Black Captain, in doubt and malice intent upon the woman
before him, heeded him no more than a worm in the mud.
Suddenly the great beast beat its hideous wings, and the
wind of them was foul. Again it leaped into the air, and then
swiftly fell down upon Éowyn, shrieking, striking with beak
and claw.
Still she did not blench: maiden of the Rohirrim, child of