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Old 04-20-2006, 03:20 PM   #251
littlemanpoet
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: The Edge of Faerie
Posts: 7,072
littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
The writ Eodwine had placed in Thornden's hand had brought home the need for a sign, some thing form middle earth that would mean 'Eodwine, Eorl of Middle Emnet'. He meandered through the grounds of the fair, pleased with his lack of fame, for now, as folk recked him not as their new eorl but as yet another freeholder from some place far or near. He sought no fame until he was ready. What, pray, shall make you ready, O Eorl Eodwine the Unready? He did not know.

But his dream kept pulling his thought from the fair's gaeity and the eorl seal-to-be. What does one do with dreams? Remembered dreams? Folklore had it that dreams were from the gods, and maybe so - but he had learned from no less than Elessar of Gondor about the gods.

It had been as King's Messenger that Eodwine had had right to speak to the King of Gondor, who, being a humble man for all his greatness, looked with a kindly eye upon Eomer's messenger. He beckoned him to walk along the heights night to sunset. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, he had named himself, and 'Strider' he'd confided with a twinkling eye. Stories there were to be told about a name like that, and Eodwine had hoped to hear them some day. He had over the years, more than he felt he'd a right to, but such things had turned him into a student of the War of the Ring that had sent him to the Shire just last year.

On that walk with Elessar, Eodwine had learned of Manwë and Varda and all the great Valar, how they were gods to be sure, but angels of Eru the One. Beyond Eodwine's thought was that One. He clung rather to Manwë, lord of the winds whose messengers were the great Eagles and Hawks. High in the sky they flew, saw all that passed both good and ill, and brought word back to their lord in Valinor.

Eodwine gave thought, now, that he, Eomer's former messenger, was like to Manwë's Hawks; not the Eagles, for that would be reaching too high. So a hawk could be his seal, or a part of it, for it seemed not enough somehow.

Eodwine had found his way to the race track. It was good to see horses and riders, the very soul of Rohan, moving together as if they made two-headed creatures that could run fast and think with a man's thought how to run if not faster, then find some way to reach the goal before others. The out and out races were enjoyable enough, but Eodwine was always drawn to the other skills, for speed was not all that was needed among the Eorlingas. There were the tests of fleetfootedness, with gates and fences and waterholes scattered here and there over a cantering course. Elsewhere were mock battles, warriors wielding sticks in place of swords, their warhorses proving their mettle or not. Then there was this new game with long poles, and a ball the riders smacked toward one goal or another. The horses that were most willing to do their masters' wills served best, and light as cats on their feet.

Elessar had told Eodwine a tale of cats. Some queen, of Beruthiel, Eodwine though he recalled. It made him grin. Then his brow rose as he saw in his mind a hawk with a cat's head. Now there was an odd thought! Nevertheless, it seemed to Eodwine that his seal would have a cat-headed hawk on it. But that was not enough either. And now his thought was stuck as he tried to ferret out, Why a cat's head? He did not know, but contented himself with watching the horses and riders with the poles.
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