Gandalf stopped in the doorway and laved heavily on his gnarled staff. Elrond sat with his back to him, still, his chin resting upon his hand.
`I have looked into the future,’ he told Gandalf without turning around.
The wizard sighed heavily. It was against his will, as he had told Elrond; but it was done now, and the consequences would come later, for good or evil.
`And?’ he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
Elrond was silent, pondering. `I saw a woman,’ he said at length. `She had flowing golden hair, and a sword in her hand. Slender, but as steel, with a valiant spirit.’
He turned around in his chair and looked at Gandalf in the eye. `She will slay the Witch-King of Angmar.’
Gandalf’s eyes widened. It had indeed been a long time since the Nazgul walked abroad, and it seemed that they would in the near future. His heart foreseen danger.
`What is her name?’
`Eowyn of Rohan. She lives at Edoras. Gandalf; you must bring her here.’
`But why? It is not safe to intervene with the future.’
Elrond passed a hand over his eyes. `She is but a babe now,’ he told his old friend. `It is best that she is brought here for her own safety. Ah, Mithrandir, would that I had listened to your advice! A shadow has fallen over my heart.’
Gandalf laid a hand on Lord Elrond’s shoulder. `It may be for the better,’ he tried to comfort him. `But it cannot be undone. I ride for Edoras, and I shall return with the child.’
Theodwyn felt the wind pull at her skirts as she emerged onto the paved platform outside the Golden Hall of Meduseld. She stared over the plains of Rohan, her home, as stray hair blew across her face.
She looked fondly at her baby, Eowyn, but a few days old. Her clear grey eyes were wide and innocent.
Theodwyn kissed her forehead. `Where is your father, o little one?’
Eowyn simply tugged on a stray strand of her mother’s hair.
Theodwyn walked to the edge of the platform, and suddenly her gaze fixed on a rider, galloping towards Edoras. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the cold sun, but the rider’s face was shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat. His grey robes flew behind him as he rapidly approached the gates.
A few days later, Theodwyn’s eyes were full of tears as she clutched her child to her chest. `Goodbye, little one,’ she whispered.
Eomer pulled at his mother’s gown. `Mama, what is wrong?’
`Kiss your little sister goodbye,’ Theodwyn told him, her voice trembling as she gently lowered Eowyn down to her two-year-old son.
She still didn’t understand why her daughter was to be torn away from her, only that it was for her own safety and that she would be in good hands.
Gandalf gently took Eowyn from Theodwyn. He looked down at her from his horse. `She will be happy in fair Rivendell,’ he told her gently.
Theodwyn nodded and stepped away. Theodon stood beside her, his face heavy with sorrow and weariness.
Gandalf nodded briefly to them, and spurring his horse on he galloped away down the dusty track, the horse’s hooves pounding the ground.
Theodwyn watched until he had galloped put of sight, far over the plains of Rohan, her hand pressed to her heart.
She never saw her daughter again.