GOOD GOD, HOW HAVE I GOTTEN 90 REVIEWS ALREADY?! THAT'S AWESOME! THANK YOU TO EVERYONE RIDING ALONG WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY! HONESTLY! NOW, ONTO THE REVIEWS!
Jo: Glad to hear it, friend! That cliffhanger was a tad evil, but I had pretty much not done one for the story before, and so felt 'justified' in giving you all one now. ;)
Me and Not You 1001: *bows, blushing* Th-thank you. Wow…'my love', huh? I like it! XD *winks* Glad to know you think I 'outdo' myself! Seriously makes my day!
Emperor DeLacus: Sorry about the cliffie; couldn't resist! ;) And I do think, if it comes down to it, Rowena is a badass. She just hadn't had the opportunity to really let it out til now. Glad you liked the Battle of Pellenor Fields and Rowena's part in it! I am honestly blown away by how I got so much attention on a little outlet for my nerdy energy, but I thoroughly enjoy it! Good to hear you are looking forward to more, because here it is! XD
ONTO THE STORY!
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
I slowly open my eyes to find I am in a hall much like Meduseld, but much grander and much more exquisite.
"Welcome, child." Comes a voice behind me. I whirl and find no pain in my movements, but that revelation vanishes when I see what- -or who- -is behind me.
An unearthly, stern, but kind looking elderly man in an armchair that was far more regal and authoritative than any throne I had ever seen, in my world or in Middle-Earth. He looked different than Seanathair, but not by much. I suppose this man is what Seanathair might look like if he had been an Elf; entrancingly beautiful, with an unmistakably irresistible quality about him, as if he were the very embodiment of all things good and beautiful. I liked him right away, and felt comforted in his presence.
"Where am I? What is this place?" I ask reverently, gazing around in awe. He smiles.
"This is the Timeless Palace, and you are here because it is time you have all the answers to your persisting questions, and to become who you were always meant to eventually become." He says. I nod, frowning a little. I had persisting questions? "I am Eru Iluvatar, my child, and you are about to die." He then adds, destroying my previous train of thought instantly. I frown, cocking a brow at that. Iluvatar...as in...the God of Middle-Earth?!
And...did he say I was about to die?!
Frick! NO, NO, NO!
"I beg your pardon?" I ask as politely as possible in my shock. Eru laughs, a merry sound that fills the air and brings a gentle warmth and comfort, as if I had felt a cool breeze on a lazy summer day.
"It's quite alright, my dear. You will not be going to Valinor just yet. No, no. I have no desire to spirit you away yet again."
"'Yet again'?" I repeat, calming slightly in one area and getting worried in another. He nods.
"But of course. Now, I must say, you are quite the traveler, Rowena O'Neil. Vaire must be having quite an enjoyable time weaving your story." He chuckles to himself for a moment. "Ah, but I digress. My dear, you are indeed the last Istarindi, and have been between worlds more times than you realize." I tilt my head.
"What do you mean?"
"Simply put, I mean that when Gilbren passed and you were stillborn, your Fea was recalled and sent via the fickle portal system to the couple you know as your parents. There, it settled in your mother's womb and you grew and were nurtured and adored by your other-world parents until it was time for you to return to Arda." I blank for a moment at all this information.
"So...I have always been an Istarindi? I just didn't know?"
"Quite so. Olorin- -that is, the Istari you know as Gandalf or Seanathair- -came close with his theorizing on the matter, but- -alas- -he did not quite get it precisely right. You know, your grandfather is one of my more favored creations, if I were pressed to rank them. He is the only Istari actively resisting the Dark Lord anymore. And that is why I cannot abandon him. That is why you were returned to your rightful home." I blink. "To assist him." This was a lot to think over and remember and evaluate.
"I'd like to return now. If that's alright." Eru nods.
"So be it. Fare thee well, Rowena. May your days..." He says, voice fading as a gentle, comforting darkness came over me and I fell asleep once more.
=#=#=#=#=
It was a slow, painful process, waking up. I was loathe to give up the comfort unconsciousness provided. Especially after whatever dream I had just had. I could not remember details, but all I know is that it was like a breeze over a peaceful summer field; impossible to catch, but longed for all the same. I wanted to sigh contentedly, but found the pain all over my body enough to dissuade me.
That, and once I was nearly able to open my eyes, I hear sobbing. I slide my eyelids back and am met with a dimly lit room with a muddled, fuzzy grey ceiling far above. As my eyes and other senses sharpen, I come to discover my poor husband, silently crying into his hand as he sat in a nearby chair. I swallow and try to sit up, wondering what could make him sob like that, but can't seem to get the question out. Instantly, his gently strong hands are pressing me back into the mattress I lay on.
"M-min leof, don't try to move. The poison nearly stole you away. Do not tire yourself." I reach up to touch his arm comfortingly. There were dark bags under his eyes and tear stains down his face. I frown. What happened? How long was I...oh, man. What happened?!
"How long have I been out?" I ask raspily, licking my lips. He sighs.
"Nearly five hours now." I groan.
"Did we win?" I ask stupidly. If we hadn't won, I'd be dead, and so would he. Eomer gives a watery chuckle as he smooths hair from my face.
"Yes, min leof. Rest now. Regain your strength." There's clearly something more he wants- -or needs- -to tell me, but he is choosing not to just yet. I take a breath and relax into the mattress.
"As you wish, Eomer."
"I'll be right here til you awake, Winnie. It will be alright." I nod wearily and let the darkness take me once more, though some distant part of my mind wondered just who he was talking to with that last sentence.
=#=#=#=#=
When I wake again, Eomer is (as he said) right beside me in his chair. This time, he is asleep, curled with his head on the cot and hand in mine. I smile.
"Glad to see you awake." A raspy voice whispers from beside me. I turn and see that Faramir's eyes are open and he has a small smirk. That, and he is propped up with pillows into a half-seated position. I grin, slowly moving to sit up myself, careful not to wake Eomer.
"Same to you." He cocks a brow. "I, ah, was, um, I heard about your condition while you were still unconscious." I lie, feeling horrible about it. He doesn't look convinced, but doesn't speak for a long moment.
"I remember you." He eventually confesses slowly. I pale. Crud. How could he remember anything? He had been out cold for most of the pyre incident in that awful, cold place. Right?
"Really?" I ask. "How? I don't think we have met." It was partially true; we hadn't been introduced, but I knew his name and that he is that idiot Denethor's son.
"Perhaps." He replies uncertainly. "Still, your face is familiar, somehow." I nod, licking my lips.
"Well, my name is Rowena." I introduce myself, trying and failing for a smile.
"I am Faramir, son of the Lord Steward Denethor II." He replies. I nod, trying not to let it show that this was superfluous. I knew his name already, though admittedly not coupled with his title.
"Pleasure to meet you." I reply. He sighs.
"I am glad you may still find pleasure, milady. I myself find it an all too rare feeling in these times." I swallow at the hollow, lost, listless edge to his voice.
"D-do you want to talk about it?" I ask timidly, playing with my fingers absently. "I've heard it helps some people. 'Burden shared is a burden halved' and all that." Faramir swallows thickly. Were those tears in his eyes? Frick, I've screwed this all up!
"There is so much death and misery surrounding us. Not a single person is unaffected by this drawn out war. Everyday, more children become fatherless, sometimes orphaned, and more loving wives are widowed and left to fend for themselves and their families. 'Tis a sad, cruel world we live in, milady. I myself have taken a grievous wound at the loss of my brother, Boromir." I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. I'd heard about Boromir, and wondered just how much poor Faramir knew about his brother's last moments. And just now got a glimpse of how his death was affecting those closest to him.
"I am so sorry." I mumble awkwardly. "I know there's nothing I can really say or do to help, but...that is truly sad to hear." He sighs.
"You yourself are affected by this thrice-accursed war, as well, yes?" I sigh. He spoke the truth. I almost didn't notice the changes, but they were there.
"I suppose. This war stole my peace of mind, my reluctance to draw my weapon and kill, even men...but not my heart- -at least, not entirely." I confess. "I have a husband, and I love him dearly." Faramir nods, eyeing the slumbering Marshall.
"I met him when I awoke. I even managed to convince him that I would watch over you while he moved to get some food and rest." I nod gratefully. "He's been asleep for near an hour now."
"Thank you. He's a stubborn, but loving, man."
"And a newly crowned king, I hear." I freeze up, paling. That could only mean one thing; one impossible, terrible thing...
"What?" I breathe shakily, unwilling to believe what I had heard. Faramir frowns.
"Surely, you heard of Lord Theoden's death?" He asks slowly, reluctantly. I swallow thickly, my mind rebelling vigorously against the words. Good God, let it not be true. Please, please, please...
"I...I had not." I manage to choke out through a constricted throat and burning eyes. Tears begin to hit my sheets. "H-how did he die?" I whimper, looking at the growing wet spot in my lap. It was inches from Eomer's hair.
"I hear it was the Witchking of Angmar, and that the Horse-Lord was avenged." Faramir replies heavily. "One of the Rohirrim, I believe, took up his dying master's fight when Theoden fell, crushed and broken beneath his horse." I sob brokenly into my hand at that, curling into myself in spite of the pain it bring me in my right side. I can't help it.
Theoden had been a father-esque figure to me here. He was nothing but encouraging and loving toward me. I only wish I could have said goodbye. But it was too late now. Dead. Theoden was dead.
I distantly hear Faramir tell me something, but I cannot distinguish a word in my grief.
Eventually, I find I must have cried myself to sleep, for I open my eyes to find noon-time sunlight flooding the room. I grimace and sit up again, nearly whimpering at the pain in my hip again.
"How are you, min loef?" Eomer's voice asks beside me. I sigh heavily and turn my head to look at him.
"I...I've been better." I reply awkwardly, fiddling with my fingers. "I still feel a bit nauseous, but I guess that's to be expected from poison." He nods, sinking further into his chair and leaning his head against the back of it in exhaustion.
"That is heartening to hear. I had need of good news." I swallow.
"So...you heard about...about Theoden?" I choke out, tears burning in my eyes again. Eomer's eyes shut tight, as if to block the sight and memory from returning. Or to keep tears from falling.
"I was there when...when he passed. With his last breath, he pronounced us Lord and Lady of the Mark." He all but sobs. I then take a shaky deep breath and stand, hugging my husband before he can protest, though I nearly fall into his arms as my hip refuses to bear weight. I hadn't given any thought to what my title would be if I married Eomer; I only knew I loved him and that was enough. Now...I was a Queen. Queen of Rohan, and I had no idea what to do, how to act, or how to rule an entire people. Being Commander of the Shieldmaidens were one thing, but...all of Rohan?! No way I was ready, but then again…neither was Eomer.
We were all caught unprepared for Theoden's death. It hit us hard and unexpectedly. Now, we were stuck with the aftermath.
I don't say anything. What could I say? I just hold him and we both let out our emotions in the form of tears and sobs for an unknown time. Eventually, in his exhausted state, Eomer falls asleep, and I stagger a little under his weight. I then gently try to pick him up, gritting my teeth against the pain, and slowly get him on the bed, my hip paining me horribly, but at least I can give my husband proper rest.
Iluvatar knows he needs it.
Once Eomer was settled in my cot, I slowly began to make my way around the cots, searching for anyone I recognized, hoping against hope that no one I knew had been claimed by the war we had waged against Sauron's forces, though I knew it was likely. So far, luckily, no one's face is familiar. Then, as I moved into another room, I found that my legs were suddenly pinned together and I have to brace against the wall, looking down at see a short mop of curly sandy brown hair and Rohir armor.
It was Merry.