Title; Naught But This...
For the 'World's End' challenge.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
This drabble is part of a series for the 'Film' challenges, featuring Éowyn. This one takes place during the battle of the Pellennor Fields.
The noise. She had never imagined such clamour; metal on metal, orcs screaming, horses screaming, men screaming; a cacophony.
Nor imagined the deep weariness of muscles that swung the sword, held up the shield, bore the weight of the mail.
Her whole life had shrunk to this; there had been nothing before and she could think of nothing after.
Then Théoden King fell and, as nazgul black overwhelmed him, Éowyn pushed forward, just energy enough to hold her sword high, but as the enemy faded so did all else.
‘At least,’ she thought, ‘we are together, here, at World’s End…’