[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
doing everything one-handed, though an injury of her own, perhaps? He tried estimating
her height from how far she could reach sitting on the edge of his bed it worked out to
about five and a half feet. Once he was incredibly lucky: she leaned over him, and her silky
hair brushed the prince s face. Thus he learned that she was not wearing her hair up (that
meant a woman of the North, from Rohan); but most important was that now he would never
confuse this smell with any other, an aroma like that of a steppe breeze, mixing the dry heat
of the sun-kissed earth with the pungent refreshing smell of sagebrush.
In the meantime Aragorn s medicine was working; the very next day he could speak his first
words, which were, unsurprisingly: What s your name?
Éowyn.
Éowyn. Like the sound of a bell not a regular brass bell, but one of those porcelain bells
that are sometimes brought from the Far East. Yes, the voice fit her owner quite well at
least it fit the image he had put together in his mind.
So what s the matter with your left arm, Éowyn?
Oh, you can see already?!
Alas, no; this is just a conclusion I ve reached in my musings.
Really? Explain!
He described her appearance as he had put it together from the scraps of information he had.
That s amazing! she exclaimed. All right, tell me what kind of eyes do I have?
Most certainly large and wide-set.
No, I mean the color?
The color, hmm& Green!
I ve believed you! there was genuine disappointment in the girl s voice, but you must ve
simply seen me somewhere before.
71
The Last Ring-bearer
I swear by anything, Éowyn, I ve simply named my favorite color. So I guessed right?
But you still haven t told me about your arm. Have you been wounded?
That s only a scratch, believe me, especially compared to yours. It s just that men have a
habit of brushing us aside when dividing the spoils.
Éowyn described the Battle of Pelennor Field clearly and crisply, like a professional warrior,
all the while taking care of him, now giving him medicine, then changing the dressing on the
wound. It seemed to Faramir that she radiated some kind of special warmth; it was this
warmth, rather than medicines, that chased away the deathly chill tormenting his body. But
when, moved by gratitude, he covered Éowyn s hand with his, she took it away politely but
firmly and left her charge, saying: This is quite unnecessary, Prince, and instructing him to
ask for her should a real need arise. Saddened by this strange rebuff, he dozed (this was real
sleep now, healing and refreshing), and upon awakening heard the tail end of a conversation,
recognizing Éowyn as one of the participants and Aragorn much to his surprise as the
other.
& so you ll have to go to Ithilien with him.
But why, Ari? You know that I can t be without you now.
It s necessary, dear. It won t be for very long three weeks, perhaps a month.
That is very long, but I will do what you need, don t worry. You want me to be by his
side?
Yes, you will complete his treatment, you re good at it. Plus you will check out how he
does in the new place.
You know, he s very nice.
Of course! You will have excellent conversation, I think you won t be bored with him.
Bored? Oh, you re too kind!..
Forgive me, I didn t mean it to sound like that& The voices went away, a door banged,
and Faramir thought that although this was none of his business, nevertheless& Suddenly
he cried out from an abrupt pain: previously unseen light flooded his eyes and seemed to
burn the retina that had grown unaccustomed to seeing. She was already by his side,
holding his hand in alarm: What s wrong?
Nothing, Éowyn I think I m getting my sight back.
Really?!
Everything around him swam in rainbow areolas, but the pain subsided quickly. When the
prince finally managed to wipe away tears and take his first look at Éowyn, his heart stopped
for a moment and then poured a heat wave through his body: he was looking at the girl he
72
The Last Ring-bearer
had pictured in his imagination. Not a similar girl, but that exact one, from the color of her
eyes to the way she brushed her hair aside. I ve created her myself, he thought in
resignation, and now I will never get away.
& The fort of Emyn Arnen, now the official residence of His Highness the Prince of Ithilien,
was not, strictly speaking, a fort. It was a log house of monumental proportions, with three
floors, an unbelievably labyrinthine plan, and a cornucopia of architectural excesses: all
sorts of turrets, dormers, and outside galleries. Nevertheless, the whole thing looked
surprisingly harmonious. One could see the hand of the master craftsmen of Angmar in the
construction it is there, in the forests of the far North, that this wood-building technique
flourishes. The house was impeccably positioned from the landscaping standpoint, but
horribly from a military one, not protecting anything. Besides, the unknown fortification
experts that had built the stockade around it had done it in such an obvious revulsion for
their craft that it could only serve as an exhibit for the relevant course at the Academy of
Military Engineering: How not to build external fortifications: find eight mistakes. This
must have been why Emyn Arnen had been abandoned by the Mordorians without a fight as
indefensible, and passed to its current owners intact.
It was not quite clear, actually, who these new owners were. The Prince of Ithilien could
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]