East across the plains of Rohan, the violet of night shifted to the grey of morning, and the first rays of sunlight stretched upon the browned grass of the plains, brighter than they had in long months. Yet two riders upon a single horse passed this all by and heeded it not.

There was no rest for the children of men that had flown in fear from all hope of life and living, for Éowyn would not slow nor look back upon the city of her youth lest in sorrow she turn back again to that hope which she deemed vain.

Within the second hour of their doomed flight, the pain that Boromir suffered had grown beyond what words could tell. Indeed even speaking had passed from things easily done, and from him, Éowyn heard only his shallow breath which slowed with every mile. Death waited by the door for the Captain of Gondor, and unwitting did Éowyn press him ever toward the threshold.

When the sun was high and its heat bore down upon them at its fullest and Edoras was behind and unable to be seen, Éowyn finally slowed and dismounted Lightfoot. "We cannot stay long," she said, though she knew that Boromir could not reply. "Only for the sake of a little food and drink have we stopped."

At this, she brought forth the provisions Dernhelm had gotten and gave Boromir his portion. The captain had hardly strength enough to bring the food to his lips, yet once he had done so, he reached out to lay his hand on Éowyn's head in thanks. At this, Éowyn's thoughts turned to her brother in the dungeons of Edoras and how often he had done the same.

For the first time, Éowyn allowed herself to look backwards at the path they had taken. Edoras was no longer in sight, and had not been for many miles. Though, on the horizon, there was another shape - a dark rider on a pure white steed - and he advanced toward them with a speed Éowyn had only seen when Gandalf had left Edoras for the last time.

"A rider approaches from the West!" Èowyn cried, and at this, she wasted not another moment. Swinging herself onto Lightfoot behind Boromir, she began to ride once again with a newfound fear.

Never had Lightfoot been made to run so, and indeed never again would she be. But the fear that belonged to her riders had fallen on her likewise for she was in nowise well-treated under the rule of Wormtongue, and no prodding was needed to press her onward.

Still, even for the speed Lightfoot showed, it proved for naught in the wake of their pursuer, and not many moments passed before he overcame them.

"I mean you no harm!" said the rider unto them. "Give me the Lord Boromir, I pray you! There is yet hope for him!"

And Éowyn looked on the man and saw that he was sincere and noble and had no ill will against her or the man given to her charge. Yet, she did not release Boromir, and said, "Hope has forsaken us, and death has taken its stance as a changeling from some dark, fey place. Indeed, in death only there is hope of living yet another day unburdened by the shadow of a war without honor."

At this, the rider took his leave of Shadowfax and stood upon the ground by Éowyn. "You know naught of that which you speak my lady," said he, and reaching into his bosom he brought forth a common weed that Éowyn had oft seen growing in the shades of the Golden Hall but could not name. "Hope lingers still."

In her heart, Éowyn grew once more cautious of her task, for much wisdom was behind the grey of the man's eyes, and it seemed clear unto her that he perceived much of the world as it was in truth. She looked upon Boromir, and his eyes were lit with warmth as they looked upon the rider, such as they had not been all the days he had been in her charge.

"I do not feign to realize all that you now say," Éowyn confessed, and dismounted Lightfoot. "Though, if there is any hope for the Lord Boromir, it is well that we should use it."

At this, the rider sighed, and smiled, and brought Boromir down from Lightfoot, and laid him on the ground in a sheltered place. "Take the horses further onward, Lady Éowyn," the rider instructed. "Much space is required should the Lord Boromir be healed to his fullest."

Without question, Éowyn obeyed. As she led the horses away, her eye caught the bright white of the man's steed, and a horse she knew was brought to remembrance. That horse had been a wild, untamed thing, and a beast of true magnificence as none had before seen. Her uncle had much desired to be its master, yet he could not master it at even his most valiant attempts. Indeed, only the Grey Pilgrim had mastered him of late. "Shadowfax…" she whispered. Hearing his name, Shadowfax looked upon Éowyn and bent his head under her outstretched hand. "How is it that this nameless man has taken you from Edoras?"

Éowyn looked back upon the man as he pressed the weed into Boromir's poisoned wound. In truth, there was an air about him unseen in the men of Rohan or even of Gondor. Almost elven-like he seemed for the age of his ageless face. An upright man and a king among men he seemed unto Éowyn, and as she returned to his side, she felt more that she was being drawn there by an unseen rope tied about her waist than that her feet moved of her own will.

"He is weak," the man said unto her, though he had barely looked back upon her. "His strength of will has not overcome the poison of Saruman."

"But he will live?" Éowyn questioned. "Was that not my lord's promise?"

"Only fools promise life or death to men," said he. "Yet, I have done all that is within my power, and more than like, he shall live. Though, his life shall be bought in some other way, I reckon. Isengard's poison runs deep in mind and body. Not all of it shall be drawn out by the strongest of medicines."

At this, Éowyn knelt by Boromir, and he squeezed her hand in his with some lately unrecalled strength. "I feel I shall yet live, my lady," said Boromir. "You may mark it as yet another valiant feat done by the Captain of Gondor."

Éowyn laughed, and warmth grew in her chest from hearing again the voice of he who she had long since named her friend. "Valiant it will be, but fulfilled it is not."

"The Lady Éowyn speaks in truth, Boromir," the man said. "We will rest here the night and return to Edoras in the morning."

When Boromir had closed his eyes, Éowyn turned again to the man that had healed him. "I am given to curiosity, my lord," said she. "Who is he that knows our names and masters the prince of horses?"

"None master Shadowfax, and he has only borne me out of friendship for one who is at Edoras still," the man replied, helping Éowyn to her feet. "Your name is known to me, my lady, as it is known to many. The White Lady of the Rohan is remembered of all who come and go from the Golden Hall of Meduseld."

"Indeed, I know of myself, my lord," Éowyn answered. "My lord has said nothing of himself or his purpose."

The man smiled. "I am known to some as Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Having said this, he looked down upon Boromir who slept with more peace than he had in many long nights. "My purpose is yet unfulfilled."

"And who, pray, sent my lord unto us?" Éowyn pressed all the more.

"A young lad in the Healing House," answered Aragron. "A goodly lad who was much anxious for thy safe return. And, before him, I was sent to that house by my lady's good uncle."

At this saying, Éowyn was much astonished. "It cannot be so," said she. "My uncle gives no more any command nor does he send any men there or thus."

Aragorn offered Éowyn a smile, brief and small. "My lady will find her home much changed ere she returns to it," he replied and said little more.

As night fell, Aragorn and Éowyn built a fire near Boromir who was again awake and spoke with more ease. Indeed, he spoke to Aragorn as though they had long been dear friends, and Éowyn could not comprehend it.

When the night was dark over the three and Aragorn had long been asleep, Éowyn placed herself at Boromir's side and said, "It is strange to me that you should have so quickly made a friend of Lord Aragorn. Is this some custom of Gondor I have failed to learn?"

"Did he not tell you?" Boromir replied. "Aragorn was one of the Company I have mentioned. Indeed, he was the leader of our Company before it was broken. I do wonder what has become of the others… especially the halflings…"

Éowyn gazed upon the sleeping form of the son of Arathorn. "He must be a very great man to have been named your leader."

"My lady speaks in truth," Boromir said. "Though, he ought to talk more. I have learned nothing from him that I wish to know."

Éowyn smiled. "If my memory serves me well in anywise, I would remind my lord that he too withheld such things from me in the first days he was in my charge."

"Then this is my judgement," Boromir sighed. "I shall sleep through it, and mind it none. Though there is pain still in my arm… It is much lesser than it was, and it shall pass soon, I am sure." He grasped the upper arm that had been poisoned and closed his eyes once more.

In the morning, the three rose and began the ride back to Edoras, Boromir and Éowyn on Shadowfax and Aragorn on Lightfoot. Once more, Aragorn said nothing of the land to which they were returning or the Company from which Boromir had come, though he did amuse them with great tales of Elves and Men who lived in times past.

Boromir was nearly strong again, though he did wince often and tire easily still, and he spoke with great animation of his perilous journeys and mighty feats. Many of which things, Éowyn had heard already when he was yet in the House of Healing, but she would not deny him the pleasure of recounting them.

Time passed in good company, and by evening, the Golden Hall was in view and growing nearer. A tall, golden-haired man stood in wait for them outside the city, and even from afar off, Éowyn recognized her brother. She leapt down from Shadowfax and ran to greet him. Laughing, she took his face in her hands and said, "How is it that my brother meets me at the gate? Were you not the prisoner of our uncle only yesterday?"

And Éomer smiled and declared unto her, "The king is free from the control of Wormtongue and of Isengard. Once again are we a free people, and to the Grey Pilgrim we owe our gratitude."

When Éomer said this, Boromir and Aragorn had drawn near enough to hear. "Mithrandir?" Boromir said. "That cannot be. He was lost in Moria. I, myself, told you as much."

At this, Éomer looked upon Boromir and his face lit. "It is a joy to my heart to see you well again, my friend," said he. "And I take pleasure in reporting that your account of he who is now Gandalf the White was false, else there was some piece of the story that was unknown to you. He sits now in the Golden Hall at the right hand of the king Théoden."

Boromir turned to see Aragorn who smiled, unshaken. "You knew this," said Boromir. "And you did not tell me."

"I would not have taken the pleasure from the Lord of the Mark," answered Aragorn.

Then Éowyn said, "And as for Saruman's snake in the grass... Wormtongue is gone?"

At this mention, the smile fell from Éomer's face. "He is not. He has found his residence in the same cell of the same dungeon he placed me in but two days hence. I would that Edoras, and indeed Rohan, would be rid of his stink and make haste to be. Yet, he awaits the king's judgement still.

"But no more uneasy tidings! Hope has returned to these lands, and with it come my sister and the Lords of Gondor!" Éomer turned again to the two men in company. "My friends, enter the city and may you find better welcome than you have of late."

"Our thanks to you, son of Éomund," said Aragorn. "I must bring Boromir once more unto the House of Healing, but we shall meet you again in the Golden Hall once his business there is finished."

And Aragorn and Boromir rode through the open gate of Edoras, but Éomer bade Éowyn linger a moment."Sister, all is not well," he said. "Grima lives still, and I know this grieves you."

Éowyn hesitated only a moment. "It would be falsehood to say that I had not at times wished life would leave him, yet I find that it still gladdens my heart to hear that we are far beyond his reach. He may yet die still... We do not know the king's mind."

"You speak true," Éomer agreed, nodding. With this, he placed his arm on his sister's shoulder and began to walk her back into the city. "Whatever fate Saruman's puppet is given, you will not hear it alone, nor will I let any trouble you for it. You have many friends, here."

Éowyn smiled. "And the dearest of my friends is with me now. Edoras is no longer a stranger to me."

Éomer placed his hand upon her head and ruffled her hair. "Welcome home, Éowyn."

When at last the children of Éomund reached the steps of the Golden hall, Éowyn looked unto the House of Healing. The son of Arathorn was there with Boromir, she knew. There was strangeness to the man that had healed her friend. Quiet and noble was he, and of a royal bearing. He spoke in such a way that his listeners were made to be attentive to him, and he spoke of wondrous and beautiful things that seemed unable to exist in the ever-darkening world in which they dwelt.

She found that she wondered whether the purpose that Aragorn had spoken of would take him away from Rohan. And as she wondered, she found that in her heart she desired that it wouldn't.