Here's #26. I'm sorry that it took so long. I do intend to finish this story, little by little if need be. thank for the pleasant reviews. we'll be starting off in Celeste's POV.

Well, now I'd screwed it up. As soon as I'd denied him, I'd regretted it. My stomach hurt and I wanted to turn around and run back into the room and leap into his arms again. But what I had said back there had been all true. He would die. And I really would live forever. We were fucked no matter what. And why prolong that kind of pain? It was cheap and cowardly, but I needed to make this a clean break before I fell in love with him.

I just hoped that he would understand in time. When I'd left the room, he'd looked so angry. As if he would have torn me in two if I'd stayed a second longer. But at the moment, I felt as I'd been torn in two regardless. If I'd thought that ending our relationship would have made my life better, I'd been stupid.

I walked through the hallways without a destination in mind. I was still wearing the clothes I'd worn in the battle, although my armour had been taken off in the hospital room I'd woken up in. I hadn't seen myself in a mirror, though I was sure that I was still dirty and bloody from the fighting. And my hair was probably mussed.

I wiped at my face, trying to rub off dirt that I wasn't sure was there. I needed a bath. At the end of the hallway, I spotted the arched doors into the hospital I'd been in only moments ago. Someone in there might know where to find a bath.

"Lady Celestina!" cried out a woman when I stepped in, "is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm feeling fine. I was wondering where I should go to get a bath," I answered, feeling silly not knowing the building I was in.

"Of course, I'll take you to the bathhouse," she said.

I looked around at the crowded hospital and noted its lack of doctors. "You don't need to take me there. I should be able to follow directions. You look busy."

The woman, more of a girl, really, touched my arm and steered me back towards the door. "The Citadel is a confusing place, and I would be more than happy to escort you myself."

"If you insist," I replied as she all but pulled me out the door.

"My name is Lothiriel," she added, once we were again in the corridor. "And you've just briefly rescued me."

"Rescued you?" I asked, wondering why the hospital was so horrible.

"I enjoy my work. Being a healer's apprentice is fulfilling. But the House of Healing has become so crowded that getting outside to breathe is a rarity." She paused a moment, eyeing me curiously before beginning again, "Lady Celestina, weren't you just with Lord Éomer? Did he want a bath as well?"

"No, I do not think so," I replied, planning out my answer, "he is attending to a personal matter right now." I hoped that 'personal matter' wasn't too obvious but gave her enough of the story to know better than to ask.

Lothiriel took the hint and changed the subject, "Lady, I'm sorry, I forget that you must be tired. The bathhouse is not far. Do you need someone to fetch your clothes?"

"That would be good," I answered, adding, "you don't have to call me 'Lady'. 'Celeste' will do fine."

"I understand. I hate it when anyone calls me 'Lady Lothiriel'. My brothers all call me 'Lothy' instead. At first I hated it, but when I got older and all my father's friends started calling me 'Lady Lothiriel', I found that I much preferred my childhood name."

"Lothy it is then," I agreed. "How many brothers do you have?"

"Three," she said, pausing before a stone doorway. "Elphir, Amrothos, and Echirion."

"This is the bathhouse?" I asked.

"Aye, the attendant will find you a tub. I will have someone bring your saddlebags to you so you can put on a fresh dress."

I almost opened my mouth to tell her that I wouldn't be wearing a dress, but I realized that she would have to hurry back to the Houses of Healing, as she called it. She obviously had better things to do. I, on the other hand, had nothing to do now that the battle of Minas Tirith had been won. But after I'd bathed, I intended to have some supper and get a long night's rest. Provided that Éomer was gone from my chambers.

Inside the bathhouse, Derdola, the bathhouse mistress, showed me to a private tub and made sure that I had soap, shampoo, and towels. I thanked her profusely before closing the door and sinking into the steaming tub.

I lay back against the edge of the tub and watched the steam rise in lazy tendrils. My mind was filled with thoughts of Éomer. I'd broken his heart by letting things go too far. To be fair, I'd never known the intensity of his feelings towards me.

And there were my own feelings to consider. I hadn't loved Éomer in the way that he had, but I was nonetheless hurt by the breaking in our relationship. He had been a good friend, and a good kisser.

Bitterly, I remembered our night together at the encampment. While he hadn't expressed any interest in having sex with me, he'd given me a gentle kiss goodnight. And, in the ebbing light of the fire outside the tent, he'd rested a heavy arm across me and held me loosely as we both fell asleep. By morning, he'd rolled so many times in his sleep that we were at opposite ends of the tent. I'd quietly watched him from my side of the tent. Hair had fallen in his face and the breath from his nose made the strands dance before his closed eyes. It was a wonder that the hair had tickled him awake. He must have been exhausted.

I, too, was, exhausted, I thought as I sat in the tub. I had been so lost in my thoughts that the water had already started to cool. Had it not been steaming hot only a moment ago? I splashed water on my face to wash away the salt of my tears.

The bath had cleansed my skin and relaxed the tense muscles in my back and shoulders, but it had done nothing for the soft ache in my stomach. Perhaps I had been hit there in the battle and hadn't bruised.

There was a knock at the door and I hurriedly wrapped one of the towels around my torso and stepped out of the tub.

"Come in," I called softly.

A girl in her mid-teens entered carrying my saddlebag. I took it from her and set it on the bench before thanking her for the errand. She curtsied and left me to change.

I opened the bag and rummaged through the many contents. All of the things that I had packed at a moment's notice in Toronto. When I had been Celeste Petrovna instead of Lady Celestina. I shook my head, trying to clear that part of my life away. I'd begun a new life in Middle Earth … and already I'd mussed it up. From the bag, I retrieved a comfortable pair of jeans, a grey tank top, and a snug zip-up sweater.

I dressed in moments and folded the towels and set them beside the tub. I thanked Derdola on my way out of the bathhouse and retraced the route back to the Houses of Healing and to my temporary room.

I opened the door very slowly, ducking my head close to the door and listening closely for sounds of anyone inside. The air was very still, not a single breath stirred the dust. Satisfied that Éomer was not there, I crept inside and set down my bag on the chair closest to the door. I sat down on the bed and drew my knees up to my chin in a tight hold. My mind went numb and I felt the tears returning to my eyes.

I didn't want to waste my time crying alone in my room, so I forced myself out of the bed and into the hallway again. I'd explore if I had to – anything to get me out of that room. The room where it happened.

I wound my way through hallways until I came to a kitchen. Uncertain of what to do, I walked into the adjacent dining room. Once inside, the happy hum of people eating and talking was audible. I looked desperately around the room for Éomer, but didn't see him. That was good, this room was safe.

I sat down at a table with Legolas and Gimli and took a plate from the stack at the centre of the table. There were platters and baskets in the centre of the table filled and heaping with meats, rolls, cheeses, and fruits.

"The Gondorians say that it s'not much," said Gimli as he added another roll to his plate, placing it atop the three he'd already procured and making a neat pyramid.

"It looks like a bloody brilliant feast if you ask me," I answered, helping myself to some of the meat and layering it between bread to make a sandwich.

"Funny way to eat yer food, lass," commented the dwarf, "but I s'pose it's all the same in yer belly."

A ghost of a smile crossed my lips. Legolas took quick notice and his sharp eyes met mine in concern. I forced my lips in a stronger upward curve, but it was too late. I hoped that the elf would be kind enough not to confront me later. I covered the moment by taking my first bite into my improvised sandwich. It wasn't bad, but could have used some cranberry sauce for flavour.

"You look better. We were worried that you'd be spending the rest of the week in the House of Healing," Legolas commented.

"But I wasn't that badly hurt!" I protested.

"Yes and no. You were in a sort of sleep state, according to Aragorn. He said that your body and mind needed a reprieve from the battle."

I didn't like the answer, so I decided not to reply. I averted my gaze downwards to the plate of fruit. There were a dozen apples there – they must have been in season. It was a miracle that the orcs hadn't destroyed all the crops.

"Lady Éowyn is still in the House," he continued, "she has been healed of the Black Breath, but is still very weak. And her arm is still healing from the Witch-King's blow."

I winced as I remembered the dismal scene on Pelennor Fields. I had watched the Witch-King attack Théoden and then Éowyn. She had barely survived, not thanks to my help. If only I had run a little faster, reached out with a little more force – I could have helped her instead of watching her get beaten into the ground by an immortal foe. I was the fighter, the heroine of legend and I couldn't even gave helped my own friend.

"I will visit her before I retire," I said quietly, setting my unfinished sandwich down on my plate. I did not feel like eating it. Grief over Éomer and guilt over Éowyn filled my stomach with lead and stalled my appetite.

"Ya gonna finish tha', lassie?" asked the dwarf.

"No, I should… go" I answered, not bothering to say where. I stood up as calmly as I could and took a moment to push my chair back into the table. Legolas' eyes followed my actions and he, too, stood up.

"Celeste, wait," he called, "I'll go with you."

I almost denied him, thinking that I wanted to be alone. But company could help ease the pain, I reasoned. And Legolas would be able to understand better than anyone why I had left Éomer. So I nodded my assent and slowed my pace so he could walk beside me.

At the table, Gimli grumbled loudly, but turned happily to the rest of my sandwich.

"Something is wrong," the elf stated after we'd left the busy dining room.

I sighed, holding my breath in for several seconds before letting out in a shaky gust. How could I begin to tell him what was wrong? I didn't belong here. I'd broken Éomer's heart. I had no place to go now that the fighting was done. Théoden was dead and Éowyn was badly hurt because of my inactions. I saw carnage whenever I closed my eyes. And my heart felt like it was breaking.

"Everything is wrong," I said in a rush.

Legolas nodded and steered me out onto an empty balcony. We sat down on a bench, and I began to speak, "I've gone and done it. I've left him. He was asking me to marry him, Legolas. And I said no."

My eyes were burning and I knew that the tears were coming, so I quickened my speech to get everything out before my voice would be muddied by sobs. "The King is dead and Éowyn almost died as well. I could have saved them. I'm supposed to have saved them. They shouldn't have died – none of the men should have died. I still see them, Legolas. I don't belong here, this isn't my world. The wizard must have found the wrong girl. And I've nowhere to go when this is over. I thought – I thought I could go to Rohan, but now, I've… I've gone and ruined…"

That was all I could say before my body lurched forward in a body-shaking sob. "I, I can't!" I cried out while I clutched my arms into a desperate self-hug.

"You would be welcome in Mirkwood, Celeste. My father would be honoured to have you as a guest."

"Guest? I don't want to be a guest – I want a home."

"It would be your home, in time. And, you do belong here, very much. You've killed just as many orcs as any of the men have. And you persuaded the King of Rohan to ride to Gondor's aid."

"And to his death!" I interrupted, before sobbing once again. I had lost Théoden as quickly as I had gained his respect.

"It wasn't your fault. No one could have saved him. Men don't live forever, Celeste," Legolas said soothingly as he stroked my hair and tried to wipe away my tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

Men don't live forever. That comment served only to remind me of Éomer and what I had done to him. But how could I apologize without restarting our relationship? There was no way, he was lost to me. My sobs quieted and were traded for an aching guilt in the pit of my stomach.

"I don't know how the elves have the stamina to live forever," I said, my voice stained with my despair.

"Forever is not as long as men think it is. Time is not such a burden when it is filled with the many joys of life," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder and drawing me into a half hug.

I hoped that he was right, but my mouth felt too dry to say anything more. Thankfully, Legolas had sensed my need for sleep. He pulled me to my feet and led me back through the corridors to my room. I was grateful that we didn't see Éomer on the way.

When we stopped in front of my door, Legolas wished me a good night, adding, "If you need anything, you can talk to me, Celeste. If nothing else, we could be great friends."

Exhausted from crying, I nodded my head in response and walked into my room alone. On my second step into the bedroom, I nearly tripped over a piece of paper lying on the floor. I picked it up, noting that it was a letter. Someone must have slipped it under the door while I was at dinner.

I unfolded the thick paper to see wide, masculine handwriting. Tears choked my throat two sentences into the letter and I had to sit down to finish it so that I would not tremble and fall down.

Celeste,

I am deeply sorry for my angry outburst earlier today. It is not how I would have you remember me, should we never see each other again. But, no matter the outcome of this war and of this life, know that I will never stop loving you. As much as your rejection may pain me, I know that the pain will fade and that I will not die of a broken heart, as you might have if we had married.

Be happy again. And take care of yourself. I fear to watch over you for what it might do to us both. I would have loved you until the end of the world, but it seems that you wish for me to stop after the end of this day. It is a day that I will remember.

Yours,

Éomer

As much as I wanted to crumple the letter and throw it out the window, I resisted the urge. Instead, I folded it back into its original shape and tucked it away in my saddlebag before beginning a night of restless sleep.

I've left on a sad note, but I promise that it'll get better.