Author’s Note: This is a short story about what might have happened in the time between Aragorn’s arrival at Helm’s Deep and the battle. Eówyn accidentally walks in on Aragorn while he is changing. It might seem kind of like Aragorn loves Eówyn back, but he just likes her as a friend. I am a firm believer in Aragorn+Arwen!
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Aragorn had finally rejoined his friends and allies in Helm’s Deep, but there was much that needed to be prepared. He had been about to plunge into the work, directing soldiers and guiding women and children into the safety of the caves, when King Théoden stopped him. Aragorn had protested at first, reluctant to leave when there was so much to be done, but Théoden insisted that he clean himself up first and tend to his wounds. And he did have to admit, he could do with a change of clothes.
So here Aragorn was, in an out-of-the-way chamber that had been set aside for him. He eased his clothes painstakingly off his aching body. A floor-to-ceiling, dingy mirror rested against the far wall, and Aragorn glanced at his reflection in it. His body was battered and bled from many wounds, and he felt exhausted. But none of that mattered – he was alive, and he would live to see another day. It had never been his intention to go and die and leave his friends to fight their battles without him.
Aragorn picked up a shirt of mail, rubbing the chain links between his fingers. Looking down, he did not see the door open, only heard the creak of the rusty hinges.
He froze. The sound of footsteps echoed in the doorway, then stopped abruptly. “Lord Aragorn, my uncle has sent me to bring you some food – Oh!” A gasp, then dead silence.
Aragorn’s heart sank. There was only one person he knew with that voice, and who would call King Théoden “uncle”, for that matter. Looking up slowly, he said, “Eówyn?”
She stood stock-still in the center of the room, holding a plate of sausages in one hand and a glass of water in the other. An expression of shock and horror was frozen on her face. Try as she might, she could not stop her eyes from trailing over his unclothed body. She could not help but see the deep, bloody gashes on his chest where a Warg had raked its claws across him, or the painful-looking bruise on his shoulder where he’d fallen on the sharp rocks of the river. For a second longer, she was frozen, unable to move. Then, regaining control of her limbs, she dropped the dishes with a clatter onto a small table and turned and fled without a word, racing out of the room and down the hall.
Aragorn sighed. That had not gone well at all. Stifling a colorful Elvish curse, he straightened out the mail shirt he still held and pulled it on over his head, wincing when it rubbed against his wounds. Once he was fully dressed, he leaped out of the room and dashed down the hall, looking for Eowyn. He had to dodge and weave to avoid warriors of Rohan who came bustling by, garbed in full battle armor. From between tall mail-clad men, he caught a brief glimpse of a young woman with long, flowing blond hair.
“Eówyn, wait!” Aragorn shouted, but the clanking of armor and weapons nearly drowned out his voice completely. When he finally caught up to her, panting, he called her name softly. “Eówyn.”
Eówyn shook her head and tried to run away again, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. She flinched at his touch, but did not move away. He pulled her gently into a small, sheltered alcove where they could speak in private.
“I-I-I’m so sorry, my lord,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “I never m-m-meant to s-see you like that.”
“I know,” Aragorn told her kindly. He tried to look in her eyes, but she would look anywhere but at him.
“Your wounds,” she said, her concern for him winning out over her mortification. “I had no idea that you’d been hurt so badly… Surely you will rest a little before the battle?” She raised her head to look at Aragorn, but as she did, the image of him standing naked and badly wounded flashed unbidden before her mind’s eye, and a deep blush spread over her features. She buried her face in her hands as waves of embarrassment and shame washed over her.
Aragorn knew all too well what she must be thinking of. He touched her hand gently. “Eówyn. Do not be ashamed. It is all right.”
She looked up at him disbelievingly. “You’re not angry at me?” she asked, her voice edged with doubt.
“No, of course not. It was an honest mistake.” He paused, and gave her a comforting smile. “Far worse things have happened to me than being walked in on by a friend.”
Somewhat cheered up, Eówyn gave him a small, hesitant smile in return. They stood there together a moment longer, alone in the isolated alcove.
“Now.” Aragorn straightened his back. His wounds stung, and it felt like someone was stabbing him in the chest with a spear every time he took a breath, but he tried hard not to show his pain in front of Eówyn. “Thank you for the food. Tell your uncle I will return as quickly as I can.”
“I will – but there is no need for you to hurry. We have some time before the battle, and you look as if you could use the rest,” she answered quickly, an expression of relief on her face.
Aragorn nodded, but then a wave of weariness passed over him, and he leaned heavily against the wall, bringing a hand to his chest.
Eówyn’s eyes widened in concern, and she laid her hand on his arm gently. “Are you all right?”
Aragorn hastily dropped his arm to his side and stopped leaning against the wall, trying to appear as if he wasn’t in pain. “I will be fine, in time,” he reassured her, giving her a wry half-smile. “It is not every day that I fall off a cliff, though I have endured worse wounds before. But it would take more than that to finish me off.”
She nodded quickly and hurried away, with perhaps a bit more speed than usual. Aragorn watched her go, feeling a surge of affection for her rise up inside him. He knew that this conversation must have been incredibly awkward for her. And he did not wish to draw it out even longer, when clearly she wanted to be anywhere but here right now.
But he still wished he could have told her how her friendship took his pain away. How her bright smile brightened every dark moment in his mind. He knew their time together, only a brief moment in their lives, would be fleeting, but their friendship would not. This friendship would last forever.
Meanwhile, Eówyn raced back down the hall and ducked out onto an empty, deserted balcony to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. She slowly sank down to the ground, leaning back against the cool stone wall.
Countless emotions whirled through her mind. Remnants of shock and mortification from seeing a man with no clothes on, and Aragorn at that! Worry and empathy for his wounds. Wonder and gratitude that he had not been angry at her. And respect, because he was, well, Aragorn. What more was there to say?
Perhaps she felt a bit more than just respect towards him…
What was it with this man? Aragorn seemed to be the exception to every rule Eówyn used to think she knew about men. He was not self-centered, nor was he prone to boasting. He never underestimated Eówyn, never thought less of her because she was a woman. There was a certain power that seemed to practically radiate off of him. A nobility – no, more than that – a kingliness.
Eówyn was not intimidated by most men. Neither was she afraid to speak her mind to them, to show them what this shieldmaiden of Rohan was really made of. Yet somehow, Aragorn made her speechless every time. She always found herself staring at him, her mind suddenly and inconveniently blank.
And then there was that feeling she had when she saw him. The way her heart beat faster whenever he spoke. The way her skin tingled when he touched her.
Sometimes she was surprised he even stopped to talk to her. Few men of high rank would converse with a lady like her, even one who was a relative of the King of Rohan. Yet he had done more than just talk to her; he had called her a friend. And after she’d just walked in on him, at that!
Eówyn did not know what the future would hold. She did not know the outcome of the impending battle, or if her people would survive to see another dawn. If she herself would.
But there was one thing she knew for certain: She would stand by Aragorn and fight at his side till the very end.