2,500-year-old Female Siberian Warrior Is Beheaded By Excavator

The excavator smashed the prehistoric ceremonial burial chamber in the Altai Mountains, wrecking the grave of a suspected the grave of a suspected 16 to 20 year old combatant from the colourful Pazyryk culture. Local culture heritage official Dr Vasily Oinoshev said: 'Only the human head and upper part of the horse remained intact in the burial ground.Unfortunately, the rest was destroyed by heavy machinery.

'Apparently, this was a young woman, judging by the teeth. All of them are intact and in good condition. We attribute her to Pazyryk culture, and we have preliminarily dated the burial as being 2,500 years old.'

There is evidence in the shattered grave that indicates the woman was a 'warlike' fighter, with a seemingly elite status in her society, a standing that intrigues archeologists after previous similar finds -- and has been linked by one noted scientist to descriptions from Greek physician Hippocrates about the Sarmatians, which, like the Pazyryks, were a Scythian grouping famed for their mastery of mounted warfare...

There was an embossed cheek piece made of antler -- part of the ancient bridle set. This was to obscure her horse's hind view, to allow it to race...

Dr Oinoshev, head of the Agency for Cultural and Historical Heritage in the Altai Republic, explained: 'The mound was 8 to 10 metres in diameter, the depth of the burial was 3.2 meters. There was also a wooden construction -- 2 x 2 metres. We presume that this was a rather wealthy girl, but that the burial chamber was robbed in ancient times.'

In other words, the grave would have had more valuable items in it -- as found in a handful of similar burials which remained intact -- but that these were stolen by ancient raiders.

http://www.henneth-annun.net/events_view.cfm?evid=477

But Theoden was not utterly forsaken. The knights of his house lay slain about him.... Yet one stood there still: Dernhelm the young, faithful beyond fear; and he wept, for he had loved his lord as a father. Right through the charge Merry had been borne unharmed behind him, until the Shadow came; and then Windfola had thrown them in his terror.... Merry crawled on all fours like a dazed beast, and such a horror was on him that he was blind and sick.... He dared not open his eyes or look up.

Then out of the blackness in his mind he thought that he heard Dernhelm speaking; yet now the voice seemed strange, recalling some other voice that he had known.

‘Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!’

A cold voice answered: ‘Come not between the Nazgul and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.’

A sword rang as it was drawn. ‘Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.’

‘Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!’

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed.... ‘But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn I am, Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.’

The winged creature screamed at her, but the Ringwraith made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt. Very amazement for a moment conquered Merry’s fear. He opened his eyes and the blackness was lifted from them. There some paces from him sat the great beast..., and above it loomed the Nazgul Lord like a shadow of despair. A little to the left facing them stood she whom he had called Dernhelm. But the helm of her secrecy had fallen from her, and her bright hair... gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy’s eyes.

Eowyn it was, and Dernhelm also. For into Merry’s mind flashed the memory of the face that he saw at the riding from Dunharrow: the face of one that goes seeking death, having no hope. Pity filled his heart..., and suddenly the slow-kindled courage of his race awoke. He clenched his hand. She should not die, so fair, so desperate. At least she should not die alone, unaided.

The face of their enemy was not turned towards him, but still he hardly dared to move.... Slowly, slowly he began to crawl aside; but the Black Captain, in doubt and malice intent upon the woman before him, heeded him no more than a worm in the mud.

Suddenly the great beast beat its hideous wings.... Again it leaped into the air, and then swiftly fell down upon Eowyn, shrieking, striking with beak and claw.

Still she did not blench: maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings..., fair but terrible. A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly. The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the hewn head fell like a stone. Backward she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away. A light fell about her, and her hair shone in the sunrise.

Out of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, towering above her. With a cry of hatred that stung the very ears like venom he let fall his mace. Her shield was shivered in many pieces, and her arm was broken; she stumbled to her knees. He bent over her like a cloud, and his eyes glittered; he raised his mace to kill.

But suddenly he too stumbled forward with a cry of bitter pain, and his stroke went wide, driving into the ground. Merry’s sword had stabbed him from behind, shearing through the black mantle, and passing up beneath the hauberk had pierced the sinew behind his mighty knee.

‘Eowyn! Eowyn!’ cried Merry. Then tottering, struggling up, with her last strength she drove her sword between crown and mantle, as the great shoulders bowed before her. The sword broke sparkling into many shards. The crown rolled away with a clang. Eowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe. But lo! the mantle and hauberk were empty. Shapeless they lay now on the ground...; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing..., a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of this world.

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