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Meduseld bustled in a way that the Eastfold never had. At home, Eowyn had always been able to find an empty corner in which to hide when she did not want to deal with adults. Her favorite haunts had long been her father’s stables. The stables at Meduseld were smaller, constrained by the hill on which the great hall sat, and they were busier on top of it. Eowyn found herself scolded and in the way when she ventured there without an adult or at least her brother or cousin.
Her uncle the king had been nothing but kind to her since she and Eomer had come to live with him, but she had wanted nothing more in all her seven years than to go home. She resented Eomer for his joyous semblance, joining in the. Games and training of his peers with enthusiasm. There were few children of her age in Meduseld. She was certain that there were plenty in the whole of Edoras, but she did not have rein to run wild across the whole of her uncle’s city as she had in her father’s.
In the winter months, when the crowding of the hall at last became too much for her to bear, Eowyn had taken to wandering the dustier halls, and had, at last, hit upon a solution. There were small, rarely used storerooms where important but not precious belongings of those long since passed were stored. They were quiet and rarely visited by even so much as abn errand boy, but there were not locks on their doors, so Eowyn saw no harm in spending parts of her days visiting them.
In her favorite of the storerooms, she found the chest. There were many chests in these storerooms, but none were so fascinating to her as this one. It was small but finely crafted in a smooth, dark wood that Eowyn had only seen in a small table her Mother had had, brought to the Mark by her own mother. The chest reminded her of sitting at her Mother’s feet and hearing tales of the deeds of her Grandmother. The chest bore similar carvings of blue flowers and silver swans to the edge of the little table. Eowyn suspected that it held belongings of her Grandmother, Morwen Steelsheen, but she was loath to ask, for then her Uncle would know that she was hiding in the storeroom, and he might tell her not to.
Instead, she spent many afternoons staring at the chest, tracing her small fingers over the carvings and wondering what it might contain. She spent her mornings in lessons, and she spent her evenings with what remained of her family, but her afternoons were her own and the chest’s. It took three months, most of the length of the winter, to decide herself. Her eighth name day passed, and she felt a certain sense of rightness, for she had been opening presents all the day before. She placed her fingers in the indents meant to let someone open the chest and lifted with all her might. The chest creaked and protested a bit, but it opened. There was no dust inside, much to her surprise, but at the very top of the chest gleamed the hilts of a pair of swords. One was far longer than Eowyn could even dream of using, but on top was a shorter sword, little more than a long knife, but full sized to a child of Eowyn’s age.
She had only meant to look, curious as to what Morwen might have left behind to interest her granddaughter in many years, but the beauty of the sword was so great that she could not bring herself away from reaching out to touch it lightly. The leather grip on the hilt was smooth and soft, blue like the flowers on the chest, and the metal of the pommel gleamed as though it had been polished only the day before instead of over a decade prior. She knew from her Mother’s stories that Morwen Steelsheen had wielded both blades fiercely in battle, and in that instant, Eowyn knew that she needed to learn to wield her Grandmother’s swords. She too could be a shield maiden of Rohan.
Over the next several days, she screwed up her courage, and one evening, when she was supping privately with her Uncle, Cousin, and Brother, she at last brought up what she had found. She waited until they were contented with food and had exchanged their news of the week, and then Theodred had said, “You have been strangely quiet little one. What troubles you?”
She shifted awkwardly in her seat and said, “I found something in one of the storerooms not far from the great hall.”
Her Uncle looked startled and asked, “What brought you there Eowyn, sister-daughter? And what did you find?”
In a rush of words, Eowyn told the story of hiding and finding the chest, “I started going there because I couldn’t spend my days in the stables or watching the training fields like I had at home. I just wanted an out of the way place to be alone for a time, and everywhere was busy. One of the storerooms had this chest that reminded me of my mother’s table, the one that had belonged to her mother, and I went and looked at it for weeks and weeks. I knew that I probably shouldn’t, but the day after my naming day I tried opening it because I was curious. I didn’t mess with the things in it, I promise, I just looked. But on the very top, there were Grandmother’s swords. I did touch one for just a moment. I want to be a shield maiden like Grandmother. I want to learn to use her swords and ride better than my brother.”
She was starting to cry by the end of her speech, and she did not entirely know why. She rubbed furiously at her face with her sleeve, embarrassed by her tears, and waited for a response. She was surprised when her Uncle Theoden drew her close in a hug and said, “I am sorry that you have been feeling so trapped my little Eowyn. I put the chest there many years ago, thinking that perhaps one of my sisters’ children might someday want it, and I had quite forgotten it was there. So in a sense, you found something already meant for you. If you wish, after your morning lessons, I will take you down to the training yards, and we will settle you in to work with one of the teachers there.”
Eowyn sobbed for real then, not just a leak of tears, and she threw her arms around her Uncle’s shoulders, crying, “Thank you! Thank you!”
When she had calmed a bit, Eomer, trying not to sound overly intrigued through his twelve year old dignity, and also a bit put out by Eowyn’s comment about wanting to ride better than him, asked, voice full of curiosity, “Could we bring the chest out and see what is in it?”
Theoden nodded and sent Theodred to retrieve the chest. Eowyn was glad that it was her cousin and not just some near stranger who went to get it. She was restless waiting for the chest to be brought, and there was a part of her that did not want to show the things to her brother for fear that he might want them in her stead.
When Theodred returned with the chest, Theoden brushed his hands across its surface fondly, saying, “I remember my Mother packing this when news came that we were to leave Gondor. My father told her that there were plenty of chests and tables in Rohan, and that she could always send for her things later if she missed them so, but my Mother would not hear of it. The chest made the journey strapped to the back of her saddle, and the table spent the whole ride hitting me in the back of the head, but they made it to Meduseld safely.”
Theoden opened the chest carefully, though the wooden hinges still creaked in protest, and Eowyn watched the swords come into view. Theoden lifted them and looked at Eowyn, “My Mother would have wanted these to be yours little one. None of her own daughters took up the path of the sword, and these have sat with little use. There is a stand for them somewhere in here, and I will have it put up in your rooms.”
Eowyn nodded, overwhelmed that the chest was no longer a secret, but that she got to keep the swords nonetheless. Once the swords had been set safely to the side, Theoden began to pull out various other treasures from the chest. There were fine dresses and cloaks, mostly in blue and silver, and Theoden said that they might be Eowyn's when she was older if she ever grew to fit them. At the bottom of the chest were other beautiful things, and there was a fine knife there that Eomer looked at with longing. It too had a silver hilt with blue leather wrapping, but in the pommel was set a sparkling green stone. Theoden looked at him and said, “It is only fair that you have something of your grandmother as well Eomer, sister-son.”
Eomer took the knife with such delicate wonder that Eowyn could not resent it being his. He tied it very carefully to his belt, hand lingering over it for some time. She had the swords, while Eomer had their father’s swords. She went to her bed that night full of anticipation for the day to come.