eowyn

He could not move.

He could see them—Eowyn, a splash of scarlet velvet, backing away; the dark wolf, head lowered, jaws dripping, padding towards her—

But he could not move.

The wolf was feigning indifference—making Eowyn think that, if only she moved slowly enough, it would ignore her…

Legolas was not fooled. He willed his legs to move, his hands to raise his bow.

But his limbs were leaden.

He awoke with a cry.

Eowyn’s shift was stained with blood.

“It is my monthly flow, my love,” she whispered, “that is all.”

He hugged her close, weeping.

 

Legolas
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