The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 765-767

The journey that Aragorn takes with his friends and with the Dúnedain takes him from Edoras to Dunharrow where the Lady Éowyn greets them. She has taken the women and children of Edoras to the comparative safety of the stronghold high in the mountain valleys and there she has been fulfilling the task to which Théoden assigned her, to command the people in the absence of her uncle, the King, and her brother, Éomer.

Her first reaction on seeing the coming of the Dúnedain and the sons of Elrond is one of awe for never before in her life had she laid her eyes on “mightier men” than these. She wonders why they have arrived before the rest of the Rohirrim and when Aragorn tells her that he must depart after breaking his fast in the early morning she assumes that it was to see her that he has come in haste.

“It was kindly done, lord, to ride so many miles out of your way to bring tidings to Éowyn, and to speak with her in her exile.”

But it is not for this reason that Aragorn has come to Dunharrow although he courteously replies that such an errand would not be regarded as wasted by anyone. Aragorn has come to Dunharrow because the entrance to the Paths of the Dead lies close by.

Éowyn’s first reaction on hearing of Aragorn’s intent is one of horror. She has been raised on stories of the Paths of the Dead and of what lies beyond the door near Dunharrow that were intended to prevent any from attempting to pass them. She knows the story of Baldor, the son of Brego, the second king of Rohan, who stood at the feast that consecrated the Golden Hall of Meduseld and vowed that he would tread the Paths of the Dead; and she knows that Baldor never returned from that journey. All her people know the story and all hold the door that Baldor opened with dread.

But Éowyn has a desire that goes deeper than her fear of that path. She fears being left behind. And most of all she fears being left behind by a man who has captured her heart. For much of her life she has stood but a few feet away from the malicious whisperings of Wormtongue as he spoke them into Théoden’s ears and she had to watch her lord and her people as they declined into a pale shadow of what they had once been. I once wrote of how Théoden had to look upon the image of Eorl the Young, his mighty forefather and founder of the kingdom of Rohan, as he rode from the north to rescue Gondor at a time of need. We know that Théoden felt deep shame as he thought of the might of his ancestor and how at the moment of his death the thought uppermost in his mind was that because of the manner of his death in battle, doing what Eorl had done, riding to the aid of Gondor in their time of need, that he would be able to face him without shame. And Éowyn has looked upon Eorl herself and felt the same shame and she has felt the shame of her position, to be a servant to an old man, a decrepit king of a degraded people.

And now into her life has come this man. A son of kings surrounded by knights of whom she could only dream. Indeed she probably has dreamt of men like this, men so unlike those among whom she has grown up. Can we blame her for nursing a fantasy within her heart that this man might lift her high above all other women and might set her free.

“What do you fear, lady?” Aragorn asked her.

“A cage,” she said. “To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall and desire.”

Éowyn longs to break free from her cage, to spend her life, not as others command her, but as she will.

“May I not now spend my life as I will?”

We will be thinking about Éowyn and the story of her life over the next few pieces on this blog and we will think about Aragorn’s answer to her question in the next week, but perhaps we might want to begin with compassion. Compassion for the life that she has been forced to live behind the bars of her cage. And that is a good place to begin.