Words are like breath on a cold day, you say them and they're gone. But write them down and they will be remembered. The stories of the people of Rohan are their history, and will never be forgotten. Songs of their deeds will be sung long after their passing.
Here are the words of Mearhe, as she herself has spoken :
When was the beginning? Was it when my father Éodain met my mother Mearwen, and lost his heart to her? Or was it when I was born? I should have been the first son and a first son. A seer had predicted the birth of a male child, but Béma had different plans, and I was a girl. And after she gave birth to me, my mother died. My father was a strong Rohir, but when he lost her, the light in him went out. It was all men, mead and horses. That was all he cared about. So I grew up wild in the forest around our halls in Aldburg.
I wasn’t the first son of the old tales, the one that was destined to carry on my father’s line, but I was not aware of that. Without the guidance of a mother, I was a feral child, one of the ‘boys’ of the town, and they accepted me and raised me as one of them. They taught me to fist fight, ride a horse, drink mead, and belch. All things I can still do today. My unusual upbringing went unnoticed until my father’s sister reminded him I was his only heir, and as such I needed an education and some female guidance in my life.
I shall speak sometime of my early years, as I recall events that took place. People I met, and challenges I faced. I will tell of how my father eventually came to accept me and even love me in his own way. I shall speak of how my lord husband Léofwine made a woman out of me. And of the greatest gift he bestowed upon me, our son Léofara, who will carry on his line and the line of his grandfather Éodain.
From the highest mountain, my story is flowing down fast. It quickens like a stream coming to a waterfall in the hills and, like a cascade foaming down dark rocks, it gets angry and violent, unhinged even. For it is the year 3011, a time when the Great Enemy is starting to crawl out of the shadow, and make its greatest effort yet to rid Middle-earth of its freedom and peace, and the onslaught will be huge, savage, and sudden.
Now, looking back, I see the pattern of my life’s journey. It began in Rohan and took me south, until I reached the farthest coast of Gondor and could go no further or hear my own language. That was the journey of younger Mearhe. As a woman I have gone the other way, ever northward, I came back to my land carrying sword and shield and ax to clear the path, to where I began, to restore my honor, and to be remembered.
If orcs are outnumbered, they won’t fight. They’re like dogs, the orcs. Cowards at heart, but they’re given courage by being in a pack. My quest is to find the one orc that took my lord husband’s life. At times this seems as an impossible task, for those vile creatures are equally cruel and similar in appearances to us. However this orc was one the leaders of his pack, his name is Undug ‘Dark Filth’ and one day I will kill him.
In truth, only fools seek war, but once a war starts then it cannot be fought half-heartedly or with regret. And so I will wage this war with a savage joy in defeating my enemy, and it is that savage joy that will inspire the bards of Rohan to write their greatest songs about love and war one day. Until then I must follow the path carved by my destiny, where along the way my memories are scattered, like smooth rocks in the river.
I have had a vision. A powerful vision. It may have been my battle lust, or a delirium caused by the grief of my man’s death but...I touched Léofwine's shield. And when I touched it, the vision came on fast. There was a wolf, howling and fierce. And then a figure. A goldenbeard in a cloak. I was on a mountain in a violent blizzard, climbing toward the summit, following the wolf. I saw Béma . He was spinning the thread of fate, showing me the way forward. My life. my path. What lies before me, and where it ends. The wolf was eager for my attention. As if it were... beckoning me to follow. I saw the gates to Bema's hall. They opened for me. Léofwine was there. He came towards me and then the wolf reappeared, and beside him was a great white horse.
That is what I must do. Help to rid this land of the Dark Enemy and its dogs. Today the people of Rohan cower under a cloud of fear. But it need not be like this. We are not the heel-trodden subjects of the Shadow! We are the Rohirrim! Our destiny is our own! My anger burns hotter than fire. But I will not let that drive me into despair. We cannot live in Rohan under the Dark Enemy's boot, so this is the beginning of war. And after we crush our enemy, we'll push forward. To a newer and better future. For Rohan! Our kingdom! Our home!
Wyrd bi ful aræd.
Photo by me
