Sorry for the long delay, I'm now working three jobs and don't have as much time as I used to to write. Still, I'm determined to finish this thing and get it edited up and made all pretty.

Alexis, thanks for the helpful review. POVs is something I've spent a lot of time thinking about. While this is currently my first draft, I do plan to edit it and improve the grammar, readability, plot, characterization, etc. I'm between the ideas of adding more distinctive voice to each character or switching to third person omniscient.

Without further ado, the first POV is Celeste's.

Later that night, I left Éowyn and went down to the stables. I hadn't seen Dior all day and meant to go give him a good brushing and make sure his stall was clean. When I arrived, I was surprised to be greeted, not by the stablehand, but by Éomer.

"Celeste! I was just going out to look for you," he announced.

I smiled broadly at seeing him and stepped into the stable, "I came down to see my horse. I was going to find you later, but I seem to be doing both at once."

"I was hoping that you would go for a ride with me," he suggested, motioning to the horses. At the sound of the word 'ride', Dior began to swish his tail expectantly.

I looked between Éomer and Dior, and laughed at Dior's impatience. "I'd like that. And I'm sure Dior would too. He's been kept in the stables since we arrived at Edoras."

"He'll be happy to stretch his legs outside the city walls," Éomer said, patting Dior's neck while he saddled him.

"Outside the city walls?" I repeated, remembering my last trip out of the city.

"You'll be safe on horseback. And you won't be alone," he answered, reassuring me.

"And you're as fearsome as they get," I joked.

Éomer growled with mock ferocity and threw his arms around me, shaking my body from side to side. I squirmed to get away from him, pushing myself out of his grasp.

"Alright, alright," I consented, "you're fearsome enough."

"I'd hope so," he said, winking.

I pulled myself onto Dior's saddle and, beside me, Éomer did the same. He led Firefoot out of the stable at a slow walk. I followed with Dior at a slow pace. Once outside the gate, the horses picked up pace and began to run across the open plains.

We followed a packed-down dirt trail for several miles, before turning back and slowing the horses so we could talk.

"I still haven't thanked you for reconciling with my uncle," Éomer said.

"It needed to be done. Meduseld felt as tense as a taut bowstring," I answered.

The reference made Éomer laugh, "I like your sense of humour." His smile faded and he lowered his voice to a more serious tone, "I'm grateful to you for many things Celeste. You bring hope to a people that have been ravaged by war for many years. And you bring hope to myself – that I may have a happy future."

Did he just say the word 'future'? Because that nasty little word meant that he was describing commitment, which I wasn't prepared to get into. I fumbled for the right thing to say: polite, yet noncommittal. "I'm glad that I've been helpful in my time here."

Éomer stopped his horse and took a long look out on the plains. The sun had set hours ago and the flat lands were eclipsed with the long shadows of nearby hills. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but some of the shadows were banded together and seemed to form a dark hand grasping at the land that was just beneath it. I shuddered, trying to get the image out of my head. It would do no good to think about failure. Sauron would be defeated.

"Aye, you have," Éomer concurred, "but what I've been trying to say, in my own clumsy way, is that I've fallen in love with you Celeste." He turned to face me and gave me a look so intense that I was forced to flick my eyes downwards to the reins in my hand.

He'd mentioned this before, when he'd held it over my head during my quarrel with his uncle. Now he was declaring it properly, and I knew that he'd want a response. But I was clueless as to what to say. I was beginning to love him, yes. But if I told him that I returned his feelings, that would imply a sort of commitment between us, which I wasn't ready to undertake. Should I say 'thank you'? Or pull a Han Solo and say 'I know'? Or just change the subject? Quickly passing the possibilities through my mind, I decided that words were too dangerous for the moment and that I'd run the risk of leading him on or hurting him.

So, instead of opening my mouth to reply, I urged Dior to Firefoot's side, leaned into Éomer, and gave him what I hoped would be a romantic kiss. However, the movements of Dior's shoulders as he walked jostled my balance and I toppled over into Éomer's lap. While it wasn't the gesture I'd intended, our mutual embarrassment covered up the awkward moment. I could give him a better kiss later.

She hadn't told me that she loved me. True, she hadn't said anything to suggest that she didn't love me. But all the same, she hadn't said it. Which meant that I could only guess at her feelings. And, having been raised around more horses than women, I could not interpret the subtle signs that proved that a woman was I love. With a horse, interpreting its mood was easy: they possessed all of the complex emotions of men, but showed them plainly in action and expression.

At the very least, I could see that she was attracted to me. She'd shown it clearly in the way she'd pulled me into a fiery kiss the moment our horses were secure in the stables. Being nighttime, the stable hands had all gone to sleep and she'd taken advantage of our privacy. Thinking back on how I'd pressed her up against one of the beams, I guessed that I'd taken as much advantage as she had.

Now, lying alone in my bed, the memory of those kisses brought lust to the forefront of my thoughts. Celeste was a beautiful woman: tall and strong with slender, supple curves… I shook my head to clear the thoughts from my mind. While Celeste was beautiful, she was no doubt chaste and would be offended by these kinds of thoughts.

I stretched my toes out under the furs and rolled into a comfortable sleeping position.

I couldn't sleep. A sick, foreboding feeling was sticking to the sides of my stomach like old pancake batter to a bowl. My relationship with Éomer was taking an unexpected turn. Love? Why did these things always progress so quickly in wartimes? While falling in love was a logical 'next step', I couldn't see why we couldn't have spent more time just 'liking' each other. Like and love; now I sound like I'm back in high school. This was awkward. And what would I do if he popped up the L word again? I couldn't keep swapping my reply with a kiss. Worse yet, what if he mentioned it in public? The thought of having to answer to him in front of other people sent a shiver through my back. Éomer isn't stupid, he wouldn't do that.

I sat up in my bed, clutching a feather pillow to my stomach. For the first time since arriving in Middle Earth, I was acutely aware of wanting my adoptive mother. Anita had meant everything to me that Lúthien had not. She had taken care of me and brought me up through all of my awkward years. She'd patiently listened to me complain about school, my first jobs, and the first boys that I fell in love with. After Jeff had died, I'd called her, in tears.

In many ways, the problems I'd had with Jeff were similar to the situation I was now having with Éomer. With Jeff, I'd had no problem giving up my virginity and spending a good portion of my free time with him. But, when it came to telling him that I loved him, I was reluctant. I'd known the weight of the phrase from past relationships and hadn't wanted to toss it around lightly. What I hadn't counted on was his life being tossed away just as lightly.

With Éomer, I was just as reluctant to say the same words. But the life at stake now was my own. Legolas had tried to gently explain to me the fate of elves who fall in love with mortals. Aragorn, who was in love with an elleth himself, had given me other insight, warning me to be cautious, but to trust my feelings. And then there was that damn prophecy. Why had my brother even bothered to write the stupid thing down? We all would've been much better without it.

She will win the fight, but at the cost of the man she loves. For he is doomed. But do not despair, she will relive the story of this family and find happiness. Although Jeff had died, I'd certainly gone on to find happiness, some for myself and some for Éomer. And his passing had given me an inner toughness that I had drawn on in Helm's Deep. I could only hope that whatever force was keeping me alive would hold until Middle Earth had been cleaned of Sauron's stain.

Thinking of Sauron brought another point to mind: what if one or both of us didn't survive the war? Wouldn't it be better, then, not to confess what I was beginning to feel until it was safe enough to build a lasting relationship? If a lasting relationship was what I wanted after the war.

I should have eaten more supper. It's an unfortunate certainty that, when their mind is full and their stomach empty, even the laziest person won't be able to fall asleep.

I sat outside on the steps to the hall, pipe in hand, watching the morning sun crawl over the mountaintops in creeps and staggers. From the stirrings behind me, I could hear that the household was all beginning to wake up. Now that Celeste and the King had made their peace, it would be a bright day, unburdened with the tension that had mounted between the two. They were each powerful in their own right. Théoden: earthly and bound to his kingdom by birth. Celeste: ethereal and bound to defend Rohan by right. They were alike, both strong and possessing of deft flashes of boldness.

Celeste was also like the King's niece, Éowyn. For all of Éowyn's attempts at subtlety, it was plain to see that she was falling in love with me. What she saw in a weather-beaten ranger from the north was out of my sight.

There was only one woman who I could bind myself to; she was sailing over the seas to the Valinor, or would be shortly. Although my heart ached to return to Rivendell to be at her side, I knew that my destiny was here with the broken remnants of the Fellowship.

I thought then of Boromir, the passing of Gandalf the Grey, and the departure of the hobbits. I was failing as a leader. What kind of a man joins such a quest without the desire to be king when he is finished? Gondor did not need me. And, while I was tethered to Meduseld, the White City would be tested against the armies of the Black Lord.

I fixed my gaze on a spark that had appeared on the mountainside. Another followed it, this time closer. Were there dragons? There hadn't been any here in hundreds of years. The realization of what the lights were dawned sharply: the beacons had been lit. I dropped my pipe on the stone steps and ran into the Golden Hall at the fastest sprint I could muster. If the beacons had been lit, then Gondor's need must be dire and there was no time to waste in getting to Théoden.

I burst into the Hall, drawing the eyes of everyone who was seated to breakfast. Panting from the run, I yelled out what I had found, "the beacons! The beacons of Minas Tirith are lit!" Théoden, Éomer, Celeste, Legolas, Gimli, and all of the soldiers in the room gave me their full attention. "Gondor calls for aid!" I finished.

The King gazed at me for a moment, as if questioning whether I was correct. He then looked to Éomer and Celeste. The elleth looked to the ground uncomfortably. Returning his gaze to me, he made his decision. "And Rohan will answer! Muster the Rohirrim."

No poem today, too tired.