Chapter Seven:

Life within Rohan, was agonizing. Every morning I woke with a damned, doomed, feeling clutching my heart. The war was at full height, and my heart was squished beneath a lingering guilt and panic. We had no celebrations, and though the falling out of Lady Laresleighn and Audeomos was spoken on loud whispers, haunting my footsteps, I realized one, key, finalization that erupted like spikes around me, almost as if I moved without processing my thought, I would be slaughtered.

I had known of my desolate circumstancs, finding them, just as my life was. Yet, a crippling thought seduced me. For days on end it gnawed at my innards, weeks, in fact. I lived alone, without Eowyn as a simple being amongst me, with only the silent Isaura to comfort my loneliness, which seemed to envelope and devour me willingly. I had become a ghost of anger, and my thoughts were often permeated by heated moments, anguish willing itself within me, but always loitering, was rage and resentment.

As for my brilliant thought, it was a brilliant plot, and unravelled before me as if life was coaxing me onwards, showing me the right path. It was absurd, yet inviting and desirable, almost like a stream in one of those deserts. My oasis, a lovely glimpse of untravelled terrain, of possibility and direction.

But, could I do it? I mused along the web of ideas that came to me. They were all the easy way out, but then again- I was not anything close to a brave one. I was willing to stop the pain, even if a life turning event had to be it.

I often took a turn about my room, the piece of fabric that Eomer had once held, between my palms. I would breath into it, imagining his hands there, warm and soft upon my face. I clung to everything that reminded me of him, because as my mind wandered to more eclectic thoughts, I felt ashamed that I was so weak.

I walked about the castle unashamedly, holding my head high as I past a gaggle of gossiping women, Eowyn among them. I'd heard word of her final engagement through Isaura, and was notified I was uninvited from her wedding. At this, I felt backstabbed, and pained. Was I truly so loved to be hated? Nonetheless, I held to what I had left of my confidence, so built in the past months, now so demolished and ruined.

He, was it. He was my strength, as pathetic as it sounds. The words he'd whispered in my ear gave me hope, and fear at the same time.

Did he really feel for me at all? The idea gave me chills, and I would usually have to retire early.

At dinner, I found him staring distractedly at me, his wine glass lifted halfway to his lips, and then a ghost of a smile twitched his mouth upward, and then he drank. The sinuous spell he'd so captivated me with, entwined round my legs and up to my navel, making me sigh at the dinner table, setting my glass down quite violently.

A woman beside me gave me a perplexed expression, but I looked anywhere but at the people round me. I simple ate my roast chicken diligently, almost as if I were famished, tearing into the bread.

I supposed he thought he was amusing, gazing at me from the head of the table, and then whilst I was in the hall, he would brush past me, his shoulder rubbing against mine. I shivered when he would torment, and excite me with these happenings. On more lazy days, I would find myself up in the tower once more, as in the old days had been a habitual preferance of mine. I would sit upon the stone steps, a book in my hands, reading history or fables alike.

His presence was instantly known, and as he stood in the doorway, I did not have to look to see him. I could feel him, and I had to coax myself to keep calm, as we had not been alone since the night of my pathetic incedent. His voice rung through my ears, the ones he had whispered, and I simply stared down at my book, pretending to read, but listening to my heart pound beats through my head.

He walked ahead, lounging in the huge window, pretending, himself, that he did not see me.

It was I that broke the silence.

"Why do you come here?" I asked, echoing his question so long ago asked to me, myself.

I could see his eyebrows lift, and then his face set grimly, almost as if I had chosen incorrect words. But this was just his thinking face. He was recalling, recollecting. I had to bite away a smile, and supposed I appeared positively glum.

"The sun." He spoke lightly, and turned to face me.

I did not look up, and thus found that my hands were shaking. How had I found the courage to speak to him? I swallowed tightly, and knew I must. I must face him. If not, where would I be, but back in the same skins that I once thrived in? I was not the same phantom- only a different strain of her. Yet, it was better this way.

He still said the sun, though it was evening, and I let him view a trace of my never before seen smile. It was a present, of some sort. For I had never smiled once among him. I had to smile, to show him I cared. What was love without agression?

"And I suppose I should leave now, right?" I said with a coyness I had not known was in me. It must have been lying dormant until this moment, because he was oddly enthused.

"If that's what you see fit, Maiden," He said starkly. I found that I glowed from the inside, and all along this is what I had wanted. I just wanted his company…that was it.

"Why would I, my Lord?" I spoke keenly, questioning his own actions so many months before. His eyes flitted to mine, surfacing avid emotion, and twinkling curiously. I wanted to laugh mishcheviously, but thought better of it. My mind was a blur, and as he let out a tight exhale of something I could only define as laughter, my eyes glittered.

"Because you are a coward," He spoke tough, and I had no image of this muscled man being a coward. What did he mean? I was utterly lost, and laid my face in my palm, staring up at him.

"I am not a coward, and never have been." I said bemusedly, my eyes drawing a circle up to the ceiling. He could see me blatantly questioning him, and though he smiled roughly, he shook his head.

"Then you are lying to yourself," He said lightly, matter-of-factly, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were sore. I wished to rub his neck for him, to ease his pain. I could imagine it, and though the images crept a blush unto my face, and I looked down once again, I found still, more words.

"What form of cowardice, might it be, if I may be so bold?" I asked, shifting my book upon my lap. He seemed to sigh, and etched in his face, was anger. I placed it as anger in himself, not in me. This I now understood from past experiences, yet he stood there, willing to halt my ramblings.

"Couldn't you see for yourself?" He uttered, and put his hands on his hips, walking away from me, my eyes quivering upon his back. He seemed to be battling with something, and I wished to aide him, but I did not know what to say to rid him of the conversation that obviously pained him.

"I'm hardly the observer, my Lord," I whispered into the evening air, and my voice seemed to be sucked into a vorex of his rage. He spun on his heel, and his eyes narrowed, as if he did not understand.

"You…" He began a thread of a question, but thought better of it, and dried his lips of any thoughts that lumbered along his brows.

"What do you think of Rohan's horses, Maerien?" He asked, filing over his more personal question that might have been the death of us both. I breathed easily now, and looked him in his mahogony eyes, brilliant and enchanting.

"I adore them," I blinked, and looked up into his enchanting, sweet chestnut eyes.

"I never heard of you, being taught how to ride," He spoke testily, almost as if saying this was putting him though sufferage. I did not know how to react, or where he was getting at, and thus nodded delicately.

"Do you want me to…teach you?" His eyes were at the floor, his brows lowered, but then he glanced up at me, and I saw traces of his boyhood link to him. He looked innocent, and perhaps, filled with hope. It made all the difference in his expression, and I cherished this moment for the years to come. It rattled me, his question, and salvaged some of the wounds he had inflicted upon my heart.

"I shall not refuse…" I murmured, feeling quite lost of breath. He nodded in affirmation, and went towards me, struggling within himself, and he grabbed my hand, placed upon my lap, and he brought me to a stand. I went into a dazed cut, and once again, the world about me was hazy and simply limp. He took precious moments, staring into my eyes, and I am sure he could hear my breath coming in quickening paces, almost as if I had been running for miles.

"Well then," He said cunningly, and kissed my hand, his lips excruciatingly soft, leaving my skin burning and tingling. I almost screamed, or something of the sort, and had to master every emotion that bellowed within me at that moment, just so that I did not swoon.

Leaving me standing, breathless, he called over his shoudler, "Tomorrow. Same time in the stables." And then he was absent, leaving me to crumple to the floors from weakness, my limbs shaking madly. Was I still such a fool? I smiled to myself, feeling rather victorious, but livid all the same. Had he really just told me to meet him for lessons? Lessons were not the more intoxicating part, but just being in his presence would slick my gloom away and settle as a tourniquet for my heart.

I belonged with him, despite my thoughts only weeks earlier, of running away.

Leaving the tower which resounded with our tension-filled voices, I climbed unto the safety of my room, taking a bath, adding extra scents and taking my time brushing through the tangles in my hair as I hardly ever did. Things had to be perfect tomorrow, and I wished to display myself as beautiful as Eowyn. I chose a pale gray dress that fell across my body in a draping fashion, showing my figure quite well. The neckline did not run low, but the sleeves dipped below the shoulders, and the color was glamorous on my southern skin; olive tan.

Of course, this was all before that next day, when the day was as sweet as honey. I awaited him in the stable, and waited. For a long while, I settled in resentment, until he came barging through the stable doors.

He seemed taken aback by my appearance, and then turned away suddenly, as if he could not stand to look at me.

"My Lord?" I questioned silkily, knowing all too well what men's weaknesses were.