Éowyn's horse shied, snorting uneasily and rolling its eyes, and tried to bite: like most of Rohan's horses, it was well-trained but not gentle, and clever enough to see that the stranger human was responsible for Éowyn's tumble.
Of course, the horse didn't know how powerful Vanessa was. Éowyn did, and the thought frightened her - frightened her enough to scramble back to one knee, even winded as she was from the fall, to soothe the horse. What Vanessa might do to her was bad, but if she were to do anything to Éowyn's stallion - who she had raised from a colt and loved above all others - then Éowyn could never forgive herself. Better she should anger Vanessa and be punished for it, than that the horse should.
She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her forehead against the horse's cheek as she caught her breath, then looked up at Vanessa. "...Let me up first, to tie him off." There was a sullen flame of anger in her eyes, anger that was very close to hate - but her voice held no anger, only a kind of despairing resignation. She thought, for a moment, of the hunting knife she had secreted in one of her saddlebags. She thought of how it would be to drive it between Vanessa's breasts, and be free of this tyranny, this humiliation. And then, with a sigh, she forced herself to let it go.
"Let me up," she repeated, moving to get to her feet, the reins still in her hand. "If I lose my horse for your games, you'll have nothing from me short of killing me." If her own life was the only leverage she had left, well, then she would use it.
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Of course, the horse didn't know how powerful Vanessa was. Éowyn did, and the thought frightened her - frightened her enough to scramble back to one knee, even winded as she was from the fall, to soothe the horse. What Vanessa might do to her was bad, but if she were to do anything to Éowyn's stallion - who she had raised from a colt and loved above all others - then Éowyn could never forgive herself. Better she should anger Vanessa and be punished for it, than that the horse should.
She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her forehead against the horse's cheek as she caught her breath, then looked up at Vanessa. "...Let me up first, to tie him off." There was a sullen flame of anger in her eyes, anger that was very close to hate - but her voice held no anger, only a kind of despairing resignation. She thought, for a moment, of the hunting knife she had secreted in one of her saddlebags. She thought of how it would be to drive it between Vanessa's breasts, and be free of this tyranny, this humiliation. And then, with a sigh, she forced herself to let it go.
"Let me up," she repeated, moving to get to her feet, the reins still in her hand. "If I lose my horse for your games, you'll have nothing from me short of killing me." If her own life was the only leverage she had left, well, then she would use it.