The plains of Lebennin lay dark and empty. Merry looked and looked, but it was hard to see and there didn't seem to be anything, no moving shadows. He was on one of the high walls of the fortress at Pelargir. They had moved from one doomed stone city to another. Éowyn stood by his side, trying to scratch her broken arm without removing its binding.
"Do you think they're all dead?" said Merry. "Aragorn and the others."
"Yes," Éowyn said, without pause.
"You're so certain."
"Yes," she said again.
He looked up at her. She was very pale and her lips were set in a tight line. Her grey eyes, which had softened a little under the gaze of Faramir, had returned to their original hardness. She was the steel lily again, cold and remote. Her good hand was clenched in a fist at her side.
"What about Lord Faramir?" said Merry. "Do you think –"
"Do I think he managed to defeat the great enemy with just a small band of men?" Éowyn said, turning to him sharply. "Or somehow managed to escape the sack of the city? Could he win? No. Would he flee? Faramir is no coward. I can only conclude that he is dead. Do not feed me on your false hopes. I want none of them."
She looked back east. Merry felt as if she had thrown a stone at him. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "But this is not my fault."
Éowyn's gaze turned back to the fields. They were all red and grey in the dim light. A soldier walked by, whistling a sad tune. Éowyn waited for him to pass before she went to the wall's edge.
"Don't you hate yourself?" she said. "Don't you want to hurl yourself off this wall?"
Merry followed her but said nothing. Maybe he was wrong, but he didn't think she would end her life like that, not when there would be more battles. Éowyn shook her fist at the wind.
"Why, why should I live when others are dead?" she asked. "Others who wanted life more, who fought for it, strove for it, gave their lives to live."
She laughed and shook her head, bit her lip, stifled back the sobs. Cautiously, Merry moved closer and laid a hand on her arm.
"I've felt that way too, my lady," he said softly. "But it doesn't do any good to dwell on it. We've got to…"
But he couldn't think of anything else to say. He didn't have any hope, and even he did, she didn't want it. He let go of her arm, blushing.
"I'm sorry," Éowyn said quickly. "You're right. This isn't your fault."
She took his hand and pulled him close. He looked up into her eyes, which were still hard. They glinted, like a sword point. She knelt beside him on the stone and drew him into her arms. Her body was soft and warm, and Merry leaned into her, closing his eyes and laying his chin on her good shoulder. Her fingers ran through his hair, making pathways through the tufts, gently stroking his scalp.
"Merry," she whispered. He could feel her warm breath in his ear. He nodded, his face brushing against a curtain of golden tresses.
"I love you." The words were spoken so quietly that Merry thought he must have misheard them.
"Pardon, my lady?" he said. He moved his head back, so he could see her face again. Her cheeks were still pale. They showed no flush.
"I love you," Éowyn said again.
"Me?" said Merry. Éowyn had been smitten with Aragorn. They all had truthfully. And then Faramir had reached in and touched her heart, thawed it, made it tender. So, what was he to her? A friend, yes, she meant love as in friendship. To think otherwise would be wrong.
"Yes," said Éowyn. "You."
He studied her, but her face betrayed no emotion. "I love you too, my lady," he said. "You're a good friend."
She smiled. "I am glad you think so." She pressed her lips against his. It took him a moment to grasp what had happened. He felt like he had been struck by lightning. He didn't know how to move and every sense he had was on fire, except he couldn't see. He thought he would die or wake up. His arms wrapped around her neck to catch himself from falling. This was wonderful. It felt like his arms belonged about her, but they didn't. He wrenched away and opened his eyes. She smiled nervously back at him.
"I'm sorry, my lady," he said, "but this is wrong. You loved Faramir, and he's been dead less than a week, and you're kissing me."
"So?" she said. "I'll probably be dead in less than a week. I want to take what I can while life's still giving."
"And if I don't agree to it?"
"Then I won't think about it again," said Éowyn. "I'll die a benighted virgin."
"So, you're leaving this up to me?" said Merry.
"Entirely," she said.
"Isn't that rather unfair?"
"So has said many a maid to many a man," she replied softly. She twisted a foot of her hair through her fingers.
Merry looked around at the guards standing by at their specified points, but none had taken notice of their conduct. The guards were all looking eastward. Their silver armor was covered in red dust. Merry looked back at Éowyn. She had risen to her feet. She was tall, very tall and very beautiful. Her red robe flailed in the hot wind, revealing white ankles.
"Don't you think you should honor Faramir's feelings?" asked Merry.
"I am," Éowyn said. "He told me to go with you."
Merry hesitated. "I don't think he meant it like that."
"We weren't even engaged," said Éowyn.
"But you loved him. You truly loved him. And he loved you."
"I don't know about love anymore," said Éowyn. "Who is to say what love is wrong and which one is true? I fell for two men, and they are now both dead. It seems that I am better off with a friend. This way, no one has to hurt."
"You don't have to hurt," said Merry.
She looked down at him, and her grey eyes gentled. "I could never hurt you, Meriadoc."
Merry felt his heartbeat quicken. He stomped his foot on the floor to keep his thoughts grounded.
"You have, you will. You are doing this for all the wrong reasons," he said. "You think by being with me, you can get him out of your head."
"No," she said. "I just think we could work."
Merry breathed in and out. "With all that's going on," he said, "the war, the fighting, is this really a good time to be thinking of this?"
"It's why I am thinking of this," said Éowyn. "We are going to die, Merry. We're going to die, and I don't want to die alone."
"You won't," said Merry. "I promise you, you'll never be alone, my lady."
He took her hand and kissed it. It was cold.
"No," she said. "Lady, no longer. My people are broken. I am an exile now. Call me Éowyn."
"You'll always be a lady to me," said Merry.
"Then you are a king," said Éowyn. "For you are nobler than I."
Merry shook his head and looked down at his hairy feet.
"For a long, long time," he said. "I've wondered, what it would be like to kiss you, but I was a hobbit, no noble prince, so when Faramir came along, of course, I gave way to him. I harbored my feelings; our moments would be sweet memories. But I won't be able to hold on to them now. Éowyn, what happens after death?"
Éowyn shrugged. "I don't know. I was always taught that there were Halls for the dead, but maybe that was just something to comfort us. Though it is not reassuring now. I would rather just cease to be then be trapped in halls until the end of the world."
"Even if it meant you got to see people you loved again?" said Merry.
He did not like the notion of not existing, at all. It terrified him. He counted his mind as his greatest asset, and idea of his brain just stopping, never thinking, never planning, never imagining, never dreaming again, well, he couldn't bear it. He would rather die and then face grave torment, than not exist at all. The thought of a great emptiness loomed before him. Except, he would not even be able to experience that emptiness, because he wouldn't feel or think anymore. He wouldn't exist.
The thought of Halls was better. Perhaps, there he would see Aragorn again, and Legolas and Gimli, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo. All those people who had left him behind. Oh, and Boromir, who had died for him. That wasn't a bad prospect, but perhaps, it was delusional as Éowyn said. Most good thoughts were.
"Even then," said Éowyn.
Merry reached out and took Éowyn's hand. "Why do you hate life so much?"
"It's rotten." She squeezed his fingers. "Come, let's go down, out of the wind."
They went down into the interior of the fortress. Éowyn was careful, not to go fast, as Merry struggled with the steep stairs.
"So, you'll think about what I said?" said Éowyn, as they were parting to go to their own separate quarters.
"Of course, my lady…Éowyn," said Merry. "Of course, I'll think about it."
She smiled and with one final swish of her hair, she was gone.