Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate.

Author's Note: This is a sequel to Watching Through the Night.

Unspeakable Bond

Aragorn seats himself on a rock after Théoden calls for a halt. The Rohirrim are returning to Edoras from Helm's Deep. Wearily the ranger runs a hand through his hair. His eyes search restlessly and fruitlessly among the people resting. He glimpses the king, Eomer, and briefly meets Gimli's and Legolas' concerned gazes but turns away from them. Aragorn drops his head into his hands and sighs.

He has tried to see Eowyn since that night she had stayed with him. But she has avoided him. Aragorn wonders what he may have done or said in those hours of troubled sleep to cause her to shy away from him. Her eyes are now filled with a sadness that wasn't there before. And his heart is pained at the knowledge that he, somehow, is the cause for it.

So lost in his troubled thoughts is he that Aragorn is not aware of the shadow which falls over him.

"Would you like some stew, my Lord? You have hardly eaten all day."

For a moment Aragorn fears he only imagined her voice. But then he lifts his eyes to behold her standing in front of him, her face uncertain, eyes downcast, and a small bowl in her hands. He can only stare at her for some moments before regaining his senses.

"Thank you, my Lady," he answers and accepts the offered bowl. When their fingers meet for a moment, he trembles at her touch.

Eowyn nods to him respectfully, still averting her gaze, and turns to go. Aragorn hastily rises to his feet.

"My Lady! Would you please sit with me?" he calls after her.

She quickly faces him and finally meets his beseeching eyes, searching them. Aragorn at first believes she will refuse when she remains silent. She stands still for a long moment before coming back to him. Her face is blank, but her tightly clasped hands give away her nervousness; and when she can bear his intense stare no more, she drops her eyes.

Stiffly she sits down on the rock. Her knuckles turn white as Aragorn sits down next to her. Eowyn looks everywhere except at him. As Aragorn eats some of the stew, a lengthy silence passes between them, each attempting to gather one's thoughts.

"I wanted to thank you," Aragorn speaks, setting aside the empty bowl. "Gimli and Legolas told me what you did that night."

Eowyn turns to him. "I fear I did nothing, my Lord. I did not know what to do," she objects.

"Your presence was enough," he smiles a little. Aragorn can vaguely recall the dark figures haunting his dreams fleeing at the sound of a soothing voice and his sleep filling with calm and peace at the touch of comforting hands.

But Eowyn only looks away, shaking her head slightly. "It may have been enough, but not want you desired." She does not see Aragorn's eyes become full of troubled confusion at her words.

"You called out for a woman in your sleep," Eowyn goes on softly. "Arwen."

Aragorn stares at the back of Eowyn's head before frowning. Had he indeed dreamed of Arwen? His dreams that night had run together and were blurry; he can remember nothing clearly say for the terrifying figures.

"You did not want her to leave." Eowyn's voice lacks emotion as she speaks, yet her chin trembles, and she is glad he cannot see her pain. She cannot stay.

The frown on Aragorn's face darkens. He cannot recall saying those words. But was it really Arwen he had not wanted to leave…? He is startled when Eowyn suddenly stands up. He looks up at her.

"I should go. Excuse me, my Lord."

In a moment Aragorn is also on his feet and clasping one of her hands tightly in his.

"Eowyn."

What words she means to speak escape her when she discovers in his eyes something akin to disappointment. Her own eyes become fearful and searching.

"Eowyn," he repeats, holding her gaze. "Will you leave me again, little Eowyn? Did you not hear me calling your name when you left that morning? It was you whom I wanted to stay," he says.

There are surprise and doubt in her eyes as she takes his words in. As though hearing her silent wondering, Aragorn says:

"She has left Middle-earth."

Eowyn hesitates a moment before replying, "But not your heart." She cannot hide her sadness from him; Aragorn can see too far into the depths of her eyes for him not to see it.

But Aragorn firmly shakes his head and caresses her hand gently. "No," he counters. "She is gone," and lays her hand, clasped in his, over his heart.

A small smile slips over Eowyn's face. She and Aragorn look at each other with silent knowledge and acceptance of what has just happened. She steps back and frees her hand from his release.

Aragorn lets her go, though for a second he rests the back of his hand against her cheek. A light flickers in her eyes before vanishing and she moves away, leaving him to gaze after her.

Not yet. Not yet is he ready to give voice to what is between him and the shieldmaiden: this unexpected but not unwanted bond. Not yet. But soon, soon he will dare to.

THE END