A/N: Once again, I am more than humbled by the response I've been getting to this story. I was happy to be getting five or six reviews per chapter, but now that I'm getting above ten for every chapter I post, I just can't tell you how happy that makes me. If it weren't for the stunning response that I've been getting, I'm not sure that I would be working so hard to make this story the best that it can be. That being said, you will have to forgive me if the updates don't come as quick as they have been. I will be working almost every day of the week starting soon and I am doing some major overhauling of the story. It's all for the best, but it takes some time to get just right. But enough delay. Review responses are at the bottom.
Legolas sat by Braedia's bedside, whispering to her. He was trying to keep her from falling into darkness and despair. He told her more stories from his childhood, knowing how much she liked to hear those stories. The night had fallen, and the city was quiet. He still whispered on, laughing for the both of them at his own jokes. He could not help the heavy feeling in his chest. He was sure that Braedia was going to die. But even as he held her hand, her skin was growing cooler and her breaths were evening out.
Legolas held her hand in his, stroking it lightly with his thumbs. He had not changed since the battle, and every so often, he would breathe deeply and the smell of salty air would come back. The winds had been strong off the sea, and the fabric held onto the scent tightly.
He sighed and looked down, pausing in his speech for the first time since he had started. He watched the hands that were clasped together, and found that his voice was failing him. He had told her every story that he knew, save a few personal ones. Braedia began to pant a little again, and Legolas's panic to keep her alive overshadowed any fear of losing his own dignity.
"I do not believe I have ever told you how I became an archer," Legolas started softly.
He looked back to Braedia's face, which had become flushed again.
"All little elflings spend much time with their parents as they grow, and that is how they often decide what they wish to do with their lives. My father just happened to be a ruler, which meant he did not have much time for me. But my brothers always made sure I was looked after," Legolas said, chuckling softly at fond memories.
He stopped for a brief moment, gauging her reaction. Braedia had calmed a little, but was still very flushed.
"Thrandir, my eldest brother, was the one that first took me to the archery range when I was not even out of my teens. I knew even then that all I wanted to do was be a warrior and carry one of the great bows.
"When I reached the age where elflings begin to learn their trade, my father made me a bow. It was a child's bow, to be sure. There was hardly any resistance on it, and I did not have to work hard at all to master it. I was so proud, but my father was prouder still. His pride in me was a rare gift, but I did not see it as such at the time.
"As the time passed when I was to reach my majority, I had to have a new bow. This time it was from Thrandir. It was real bow, not the practice one that I had been using for so many years before. I remember being so mad at him, thinking that the bow was a trick, that no one could pull it back. But then he just swept it from my hands and fired three perfect shots into three difficult targets."
Legolas chuckled again, remembering the dose of humility that had been served that day. He looked away and out of the window, remembering how much Thrandir had taught him, in one way or another.
"Thrandir always did know how to remind me that I was just the third son to a blessed king, regardless of how talented or fair I was. Of course, his lessons were always much more subtle in nature than the ones that Arnion taught me."
So lost in his memories he was, Legolas did not notice right away when tears began to run down Braedia's cheeks. It was only when she began to whimper and cry did Legolas turn back to her. He was startled for a moment before he dropped to his knees, unsure of what to do. He looked at her face with wide eyes, watching as she tossed her head from side to side, her mouth forming silent words. Legolas stood and put his ear to her mouth, trying to understand what she was whispering. He only had to understand one word before he ran from the room.
Éomer.
Legolas usually refrained from moving too quickly, because he did like to remain slightly discrete. But in this instance, Legolas sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him to Éomer's room. He ran to the bed and violently shook the man awake. Éomer had been deep in a dreamless sleep when he felt someone's shaking him. He woke with a start, thrashing against the hands. When he looked up, he saw that Legolas was standing over him with frantic look on his face.
"Braedia?" Éomer asked roughly.
"She called for you," the elf said.
Before the words had fully left his mouth, Éomer was on his feet and sprinting toward Braedia's bed. When they reached the room, she was turning her head from side to side, panting, and there were tears running from her eyes. Éomer dropped to his knees beside her bed and took her hand in his.
"I'm here, mín gebléodu [my beautiful] Braedia. I'm here," Éomer said pleadingly.
Braedia stopped her tossing and turning, and Éomer relaxed. He reached up and put and hand to her face. His hand was cool against her skin, but she still felt a little cooler than the last time he touched her.
"I won't leave again, I promise," Éomer said, his eyes watering.
He kept to his promise. He sat beside her bed in a chair when he was awake, and knelt beside her bed to sleep. She was slowly getting better, but Éomer could still feel her fevered skin. He spoke softly to her, telling her about his childhood. Legolas had told him that she had responded when he spoke in the Common Tongue, so Éomer rarely spoke Rohirric to her, excepting the occasional endearment.
Éomer kept his vigil faithfully, only leaving when nature called or when water needed to be fetched. He always fetched the water himself because the servants took much too long to complete the task. As the sun began to rise, Éomer had begun to notice strange behavior among the servants. They whispered about Braedia behind her back, and Éomer did not doubt that they whispered about him too. His uncle's body had been recovered found, crushed by his horse, which made Éomer king now. He knew that it wasn't proper for him to lay on the bedside of a servant to his sister, but he didn't care. He needed to be here. Legolas always said that Braedia moaned when Éomer wasn't there, and he would not cause her more pain.
At midday, the day after the battle, an unexpected visitor came to Braedia's ward. He stood at the door, watching at the new king of Rohan gently washed the servant girl's face. He had been told that she was here, but he was still in disbelief. The man walked over to Éomer once he had sat back down in a chair and watched Braedia sleep over his shoulder. She had changed very little since she had left. She had been dressed in a soft white gown and was lying peacefully with her black curls as a halo. Éomer did not notice the man's presence until the man spoke.
"She always was reckless, even when she served my father. She never thought about anyone except the people she loved. She would have gone to the ends of the world if my father asked her to. But he did not see her loyalty," Faramir said softly.
Éomer started violently and stood to face this man.
"And who was your father? The Steward?" Éomer asked heatedly.
This man had not been here before, and if he had been sent to banish Braedia again, Éomer would kill him.
"Yes, but Lord Denethor has passed. I am Faramir, the new Steward of Gondor," Faramir said with a short bow.
The movement still pained him from his injuries, but it was respectful to bow to a king.
"Have you come to reinforce her banishment? Can you not see that she is dying?" Éomer said, his hands balling into fists.
"Banish her? Of course not, my lord. I never wanted her banished in the first place," Faramir said, shocked by the man's anger with him.
Surely Braedia would have said something about him to the people she lived with. He had met this man's sister, Éowyn, and they had discussed how Braedia came to be in the lady's service.
"Faramir, you said?" Éomer asked. The name struck something in his mind, but his head was too full of concern for Braedia to really be able to place the name effectively.
"Perhaps Braedia spoke of my brother, Boromir," Faramir suggested.
Éomer then was able to place the man's name. Faramir was Boromir's brother, and had been a good friend to Braedia when she served in the Steward's household. Éomer nodded and introduced himself.
"I'm glad to see that Braedia has found a good friend in you," Faramir said as Éomer sat down.
"It was hard not to like her. I first met her out in the Wilds, you know," Éomer said with a little laugh.
Faramir looked at him strangely. Braedia in the Wilds? Faramir had known that Braedia was strong, but never thought that she would go to the Wilds to survive.
"Please, if you wish, tell me more about her time with you in Rohan. Lady Éowyn was still very distraught over the whole matter," Faramir said.
Éowyn had woken at dawn and Faramir had found her sitting in a courtyard, crying. She felt immeasurable guilt over Braedia's current state, for if she had only gone back to Edoras as she had been bidden, Braedia would not be dying. Faramir had helped to ease her guilt as best as he could and, once she had been soothed, Faramir went off to find his old friend for himself. He pulled another chair next to Éomer and sat down stiffly.
"I was on a patrol in the foothills of the mountains. I had sent out scouting parties to search for bands of Orcs. One of my parties came back, and they had this strange person with them. When she entered my tent, I was convinced we had found a deserter or a traitor. She walked like a man, but she was smaller than any man I had ever seen. She talked in a voice like a man's. It had my men convinced at least. She wanted to speak to me without lowering her hood, which I could not have," Éomer said, chuckling slightly at the memory.
He looked at Braedia's face as he recalled the first time he had ever seen her.
"Her eyes were what struck me the most. Her hair was matted, and her clothes were dirty, but she had beautiful, clear eyes. I knew she was Gondorian from that first moment. No one in our land had eyes like that. But as time went on, I found that she was distantly of Rohan as well. She speaks excellent Rohirric, you know," Éomer said, almost to himself.
Faramir nodded, but Éomer did not see. His eyes were still on Braedia's face. He was wearing a distant, sad smile.
"I remember the first time I tried to get her on a horse. When I told her to get on, she looked like I had asked her to murder her first-born son," Éomer said with a little laugh.
Faramir also chuckled, remembering her aversion to horses.
"But she rides perfectly now. Narmírë, her horse, was perfect for her, and they bonded so well. She learned to shoot from horseback in only three days. I watched her blind a Mûmak during the battle," Éomer said, his heart swelling with pride.
The smile she gave him after the Mûmak went down played behind his eyes as he closed them. Even from under her helmet, he could see the fire in her eyes. She was so beautiful like that.
"After she came to Edoras, Lady Éowyn told me of how you began to give her lessons," Faramir said, trying to get Éomer to talk more about her time at the capital.
"Yes. She was a quick study, but it took some time for me to let her ride without me holding the lead," Éomer said, shaking his head at his own over-protective streak.
"Is that when you fell in love with her?" Faramir asked suddenly.
He had been watching Éomer's eyes and how he looked at Braedia. He had seen that look before in a man's eyes, and it had been from Boromir. Éomer looked up at Faramir suddenly and sighed. He looked back at Braedia. He brushed a piece of hair that had fallen into her face away. His fingers lingered on her skin, and their skin temperatures were about the same.
"It is hard not to love her, would you not say? Any man in his right mind should be falling at her feet to do her bidding, just because she is beautiful beyond compare," Éomer muttered with a little chuckle.
"And what does that make you, my lord?" Faramir asked, honestly curious.
Éomer smirked, but it was a sad little smirk. "A fool. Because only a fool would not gladly accept her heart when she was so willing to give it away. And only a fool would lose his courage when all that she asked of him was three little words that would have saved her life," Éomer said, biting back tears again.
He had felt so guilty, more guilty than anyone else who had been to Braedia's bedside. He should have tied her to a guard and ordered her back to Edoras. He should never have let her go to battle. But he all but encouraged her to ride with them. He should have told Théoden of her intentions, and then he could have banned her from riding in. Faramir chuckled lightly and Éomer's gaze snapped to him angrily.
"Do not blame yourself for her stubbornness. Short of killing her, you could not have prevented her from riding to defend Minas Tirith. It is her home, and she would have given her life to defend it," Faramir said, looking at his childhood companion fondly.
"She nearly did," Éomer said, rubbing his thumb on her hand again.
"Lord Aragorn is going to call a meeting soon. He is planning something, and he wants you in attendance," Faramir said, rising from the chair. Éomer looked up at him.
"When?" Éomer asked.
"In a few hours. You should bathe and change. It would do you good," Faramir said, placing his hand on Éomer's shoulder.
His heart went out to the man; Braedia had captured his heart just as easily as she had captured Boromir's. Both were honorable men and he was glad that she had found someone that loved her so deeply. Éomer nodded vaguely, but Faramir left it alone.
"She will not be alone, I promise," Faramir said softly.
Éomer nodded, rising from his chair. "I could use a bath. I wouldn't want to smell like death when she wakes," Éomer said trying to joke.
Faramir laughed at the feeble attempt, leading the man away from the room. Éomer dressed in his armor, the only clothing that he had. Aragorn's meeting could not have gone any worse. Éomer had been ready for anything. Trying to retake Osgiliath. Walking into Mordor and demanding a treaty be drawn. Anything, except a direct attack on the stronghold of evil itself. Éomer had sworn loyalty to Aragorn, or else he would have taken his men and gone home.
When the meeting concluded, it was agreed that all of the forces were to be gathered and the march would start at dawn. It would take them a week to reach the Black Gate. Éomer sent word through Gamling to muster every able-bodied rider and horse. After the particulars had been sorted, Éomer's head ached. He had just lost so many men, and now this mad campaign, this mass suicide, seemed almost more than he could ask of the brave Eorlingas that had answered the call. And, beyond the frightening aspects of marching right into the hands of monsters, Éomer could not shake his terror from Braedia's life. He did not want to leave for battle without seeing her awake, but he knew he could not delay. His only option was to sit at her bedside until it came time to depart. He could only pray that the Valar would see fit to grant him one last good-bye before he went to his doom.
Éomer went back to his quarters and removed his armor. It would need to be repaired slightly before battle, but his captains would take care of that. Once he was only dressed in his tunic and leggings, he went back to the healing ward. His thoughts were muddied with worry, which allowed and whispered about his inappropriate attire fade into the background. Éomer entered the room where Braedia was, but, as Éomer looked to the bed, he nearly fell over. The bed was empty. Braedia was gone.
A/N: Dun dun DUNN! Where did she go? You'll just have to wait to find out. I am in a bit of a rush. So I'm going to be doing the review responses later. So just check back later tonight for them. I didn't forget; I just want you guys to have something today.