A/N: As in the previous chapter, there is mention of suicide, self-harm and miscarriage. If you find these topics uncomfortable and/ or triggering in any way, please do not read. This chapter is really dark, so fair warning.

Chapter 8

Malady

Despite his best intentions to spend more time with Ithíl and to watch over her, Lord Aragorn's impending visit entailed a lot of preparation and since he was involved in the itinerary and she in the practical considerations of hosting the High King and Queen of Gondor and Arnor, the Prince of Dol Amroth and other dignitaries from the south and north, both he and Ithílwyn were often far too exhausted. She slept soundly, as far as he knew, and from his guard's report, she no longer fled in the middle of the night. Aethelwyn and Mathilde reported that she had been eating more than before, still not as much as he would have liked, but he did notice that her cheeks were beginning to fill out slowly.

He made up his mind to investigate the rumours Aethelwyn had whispered about once Lord Aragorn's retinue was back in Mundburg, but for now, the knowledge that Ithílwyn was sleeping instead of crying her eyes out would have to be enough to comfort him. She sat across from him at her escritoire, leafing through pieces of parchments, her eyes reading over its contents quickly. He glanced over at her plate of half finished food and cleared his throat. She did not look up at him, still occupied with work. "May I ask what keeps your attention, wife?"

"Aedelfrae and I are just confirming the arrangements for their travel from Edoras to Helm's Deep. Do you think that a brief excursion might be possible, if so I have to have Mathilde pack more food for the journey, and some tents in case it gets too hot. Water for the horses too," she rambled on, rummaging among the sheafs to locate a blank scrap of paper and scribbled hurriedly.

He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I think you need a brief reprieve from this, let us ride away, for a short while and return for discussion when Mathilde joins our board in the evening." Ithíl appeared conflicted between her work and wanting to be with her husband, who was rarely present and such opportunities to have time alone were rare. She stood up and smoothed down her skirts, brushing unruly wisps of hair from her face. "You look beautiful," he murmured into her ear, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Come Éomer, we must hurry if we should return by the evening meal," she smiled and broke away from his embrace.

Snatching up some apples, bread and cheese and stuffing them into a bag, he led his wife by the hands as they mounted their horses barebacked and rode off. They dismounted by a small pool, a spot frequented by them. Freckles and Firefoot grazed contentedly, their tails swishing insects away. Ithíl spread cloth on the ground by a large oak tree. Éomer bounded over and playfully attempted to tackle her, letting out a small roar.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, bewildered at his unexpected behaviour.

"Just playing around, things have been so serious as of late," he muttered, opening his arms so that she could snuggle against him. "Anything to see you smile," he thought to himself. He noticed her gaze on him, and he smiled down at her.

"Thank you, for trying to cheer me up. It is an exhausting effort, I know things are different between us, but it warms my heart that you show such affection. I love you Éomer," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. "I only want you to be happy," she mumbled, dissolving into tears.

"I am," he responded, worried by her sudden outburst.

"No, you are miserable, how could you not? I have been sad, very sad, for a long time now, I understand if you grew weary of me, of this weight on your mind."

"Why would you say such things, dear Ithíl? There is not a day that I do not long to be with you, no matter how you feel. You comforted me throughout the bitter days of the War, is it not fair that I should do the same now, when my wife is suffering because of me?"

"I am only suffering because I am not fit to be queen. My role is to support you, and care for you, but I am always deep in dark thoughts," she turned to him, her expression full of anguish.

"I am your husband, and you are my wife. I vowed to make you happy, that is also my duty and you should not begrudge me this joyous task, for you do not know the happiness the sound of your laughter imparts to me. Remember when you splashed pond water on me?" he asked, relieved to see her blush.

"I was not being sensible," she commented disapprovingly at her past self.

"I love when you are not sensible, but also when you are, because I just love you, all of you. No amount of love is lessened because you are sad, and gladly I bear the duty of bringing you joy, believe this truth, Ithíl." She smiled, her eyes shining bright in the afternoon sun and she blushed as he leaned down to kiss her, words of affection soon translating into a physical demonstration of their union.

The king and queen of Gondor and Arnor and their retinue arrived on a sunny spring day, near three years to the day the battle at Helm's Deep was fought. Before a celebration to commemorate their victory at the Hornburg, the party were to stay awhile at Edoras, and rest from their travels. Luncheon was served after their guests had time to refresh themselves and Ithíl was introduced to Prince Imrahil, a great friend of her husband, and he spoke kindly to her. She knew that in Théoden King's absence, he had found a father figure in the Prince. She was honoured to be in acquaintance with such noble and esteemed guests, but she was intimidated by their accomplishments, and by the names of their forefathers, feeling very alone and insignificant among the host of lords and ladies in the Golden Hall.

After their meal, the guests were led on a tour of Edoras, and Éomer was eager to show King Aragorn how well the supplies he had sent in goodwill had been utilised to rebuilt livelihoods and homesteads, as well as to express his gratitude. And while the men talked about war, strengthening defenses and political treaties, Ithílwyn was acquainting herself with their female counterparts. She rode beside Queen Arwen while Lady Lothíriel and her sister by marriage chatted behind them. "I hear from Éomer king that you were responsible for beginning the rebuilding of villages," she commented, her grey eyes keen and wise.

"Oh," she spluttered, taken aback by the kind words, "no, I merely contributed building supplies, with which you were so generous to give our humble people. My husband exaggerates," she dismissed.

"I have not known him to be a man that would claim more than the truth, Queen Mildred. You have done much for your people, and you should accept recognition for Éomer King was bursting with pride as he told us about you." She shrank into the hood of her cape at the praise given, uneasy about receiving such a compliment from an elf-queen. At that moment, she heard the sound of clear laughter and jests, Lady Lothíriel and Lady Éowyn racing past them in a flurry of grey and green. They passed by the men, and she heard Lady Éowyn issue a playful challenge to her brother. The King of Rohan chased after his sister, the Princes of Dol Amroth not far behind him. Queen Arwen smiled in amusement and glanced mirthfully in her direction. "It is lovely to see Lady Éowyn so happy and carefree, she wrote to me about her life in Ithílien and her letters are mostly filled with glad stories. She said they were constructing many gardens there, that she is now worried about not having enough plants," she spoke, glad to hear Queen Arwen laugh. "Well, one day you will pay her a visit and see for yourself. Perhaps you might bring her some saplings and seeds from Rohan to aid in her endeavour."

"I would very much like to see the gardens of Ithílien and Lord Faramir mentioned that there are many books on herblore and species of plants in the libraries there. Éomer tells me that there is a garden of coral in Dol Amroth amongst the shallow pools by the sea, and that the gardens in the Houses of Healing have such sweet fragrance that they soothe the soul."

Queen Arwen laughed merrily, "Dear Lady Mildred, you have a curious soul, and I see that you long to explore Middle Earth. Rest assured, when it is your turn to visit us, I shall arrange a visit to the most beautiful gardens and we shall tarry there, and fill your eyes with beauty." The young queen's eyes grew large, then a frown appeared and she turned away, thanking the elf-queen in a quiet but respectful tone. She knew that they were being compared, and though she loved and held the elf-queen in the highest respect, she wished to be distant from such unfathomable grace and beauty, for it could not be helped that she paled in comparison, not only in beauty but also in poise and charm. And though Lady Éowyn was fair, she could match the elegant appeal of the Princess of Dol Amroth. When she had laid eyes on the princess, she understood immediately the lords' insistence that she be made queen instead. Éomer once mentioned that the Princes of Dol Amroth had elf-blood in their lineage, and she saw evidence in Prince Imrahil, but also in his only daughter.

During the feast that evening, as she sat by her husband's side amongst the lords and ladies of the land she grew increasingly uncomfortable, remembering that she was a bastard and these were all men and women of great houses, born into honour. The knowledge that she was being compared to the Queen of Gondor and Arnor nestled heavily in her mind. Still, she resolved to be a gracious host and made polite conversation with her guests, often slipping away to find Mathilde so she could be distracted about other matters pertaining to the feast. Then she felt a familiar hand reach for her, his warm smile melting her heart.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, kissing the back of her hand as she nodded wordlessly, his dark eyes hungry for her. The minstrels played a quick and merry tune, and if not for Éomer's strong grip on her, she might have fainted as they twirled to the rhythm. "You are so beautiful, my queen," he whispered in her ear, "look at how festive the hall is, and the food is delicious. Lord Aragorn was impressed that his favourite dessert was served, and I could not be more proud to have married such a capable and beautiful woman. If only we were alone, I would show you how grateful I am," he growled for her ears only, sending shivers of anticipation up her spine.

But when he retired to bed later, his wife was no longer responsive to his advances. Instead, she set his cup of tea by his bedside and washed her face in silence. He put his arms around her middle and kissed her neck.

"I cannot, Éomer, I am bleeding," she said in small, but firm voice.

"Then let me hold you," he murmured, inhaling her scent. She wriggled out of his grasp almost instantaneously, and he looked at her in disbelief, surprised at her rejection.

"They are still enjoying the revelry, you should be there with them and make merry," she suggested. With a subtle shrug of her shoulders, she added "dance with several beautiful ladies." He opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him, a flash of anger in her eyes, "No, I am not beautiful," she said the last word with such spite that he grew afraid, "there is not one lady there that is not more beautiful than myself. Stop it," she warned, "how could you ve lied to me, to make me think that I could ever be queen? I have taken the place of someone more deserving of this title, of your affection."

"I chose you," he responded, irritated at her constant self-degradation, her dismissal of his earnest praise and ignorance of his affections, "despite knowing all these ladies."

"You were a fool, Éomer," she spat, pointing an accusing finger at him, "a damned fool. Do you realise how out of place I felt, how silly I looked pretending to be of import amongst your royal guests?"

"Why would you think this? No one thought that," he retorted, frustration spilling out of him. "You always do this, Ithíl, you put yourself down and refuse to listen to when I tell you truths, not lies. I do find you beautiful," he paused when he noticed Ithíl covering her ears and shaking her head, whimpering the word "No" repeatedly. "That is enough Ithíl!" he shouted, "I am so weary of this, of this malady of yours, this sickness in your head. I have tried so hard to make you happy, but it seems that what efforts I have strove to have been futile. Can we spend one night where we do not fight nor argue?" he yelled agitatedly, then let out a loud sigh. "Sorry," he apologised, and left before he said anything else hurtful, his frustration bursting after being pent up for long.

However, despite rejoining the feasting and merrymaking, her words came to haunt him. His promises to her, made to comfort Ithíl in her anguish now seemed so empty and worthless.

"I cannot help but think that you will regret marrying me, it is a notion that plagues me."

"Would you wish that kind of queen to have by your side? They would hardly think about me once they know of my past. Consider the shame you will have to endure with me at your side."

"Do you see that it has come to pass, what I have foretold in the past? Your love will grow to hate, because I am not like you, or your kin."

A few days later, the king's company departed for Helm's Deep. While they spoke little about the argument, their interactions had been civil. The night before the journey, Ithílwyn had been unwell and despite his insistence, she stubbornly refused to go and had Aethelwyn unpack her valise. arguing that she would only ruin the festivities and that Aedelfrae was more than capable of hosting the festivities. Although he did not wholeheartedly agree that her presence was unnecessary, he wished to avoid another confrontation and resolved to speak to her when she was feeling better.

The king's retinue were joined by Gimli and Legolas returnign south from Fangorn forest, where it was told that the dwarf had been accompanying the wood elf as part of a wager between the two friends during the war. Despite the long journey, the dwarf leapt from his saddle as they neared Helm's Deep and spoke of Aglarond, and the delving of the dwarves, inviting the company to see with their own eyes the bright gems, the lake of many sparkling hues, the glittering crystals. His vision encouraged many in the company but Aragorn smiled fondly at his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Patience, Master Gimli, but there are those in our company who need refreshment, and Lord Erkenbrand will be expecting us. Let us at least greet our host and renew our vigour before you show us the great works of your kin." At his suggestion the dwarf nodded, and the company were greeted by Lord Erkenbrand and his wife.

There was much merry making as people reminisced about the war, and talked about life after war. Gimli retold stories of his travels throughout Fangorn, to which even Lady Arwen laughed aloud. And Legolas was full of praise for the beauty and wonder of the caves. Indeed, his stay was only incomplete because of Ithílwyn's absence. He knew she would have loved to see the caves once more and listen to Gimli's many humorous tales.

"One wonders what plagues your mind on such a joyous occasion," Imrahil said, coming up to stand beside him and clapping him on the back.

"Good evening, Prince Imrahil, I trust everything is to your liking?" he asked.

"Perhaps, but I wonder if there is something amiss, Éomer King, there is sadness in your eyes. Mayhaps it is because of the queen?"

"Yes," he admitted and sighed. "I have proven an inept husband, despite my best intentions I have failed her time and time again. She has changed, and I hardly recognise the woman I married. She is fey, and so full of sorrow that it has devoured the lust for life in her and left her hollow and unfeeling."

The Prince of Dol Amroth sighed heavily and ushered the king into a secluded alcove to allow him privacy as he grieved. "Sometimes love is not sufficient, sacrifices have to be made. She appeared so frail when I first met her, and it seemed to me that there she was haunted by her own dark thoughts. It may not be too late to save her, but you must be patient and understanding. A lasting marriage is full of dark moments, but the triumphs over trials are what strengthens your love and transforms it from mere words into an unbreakable bond."

His conversation with the Prince had strengthen his resolve, and he was determined to address the council upon his return and to quell any ill-wishes or malicious remarks about his wife. He made up his mind to dedicate his evenings to his family, and attend to his duties as husband. First, he had to see his wife, and apologise for his crude behaviour and harsh words. He departed earlier, returning to Meduseld with only two members of his household as he traveled light and with much haste.

He arrived that very evening after beginning his journey at dawn. His unexpected return caused quite a commotion in the Golden Hall, but he strode past and made his way to Ithílwyn, casting his cloak on the ground in his haste. But as he entered the royal quarters, Aethelwyn flew out of the queen's chambers appearing hysterical. He caught her as she ran into him, sobbing in his arms.

"Sh-she," the lady-in-waiting spluttered staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, pointing in the direction of the queen's chambers and fell faint in his arms. He lifted her and pushed the door open hesitantly.

"Ithílwyn?" he called nervously, licking his dry room was dark and cold, the curtains billowing hauntingly in the faint moonlight. He dropped Aethelwyn onto the disheveled bed and noticed a large brown stain on the bed. The blood had dried, and he calculated that it had been a few days, perhaps even a week, around the time that he had left for Helm' Deep. The room was empty, but the door to the bathroom was ajar. An ominous foreboding crept into his heart and he felt the hairs on his arm raise. He called her name once more and stepped into the room, looking around the dark room.

He found Ithílwyn laying in the tub, hands folded in peaceful slumber. Her face pale and lifeless, lips blue with the cold. He drew her out immediately, horrified to discover that the water splashing about him was red. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he laid his wife down on a chaise by the fire, her dress stained with her blood. Tears sprang into his eyes when he saw the cuts on her wrist and he tore his own clothes and bandaged her wounds through blurry eyes. Then he stripped her out of her tattered dress and examined her nakedness for other injuries, and seeing for the first time the cuts she had made on her arms and legs, some old and others fresh. Though the cuts on her wrist were shallow, he deduced that she had been soaking in the tub for long. He washed her with warm water and a damp cloth, before drying her and placing as many furs over her as he could find. Then he build a roaring fire with all the firewood available, knowing that he had to warm her up.

"My Lord," Mathilde spoke, knocking on the door.

He sat in silence, staring at Ithíl's face, the lines of weariness on her face, the downturned mouth and sobbed. "My Lord," the matron called once more, sounding more urgent than before. With reluctance to leave her side, he rose and opened the door carefully, leaving Mathilde with only enough space to view a quarter of his face.

"Are you alone?" he whispered. She nodded, her face filled with worry.

"Come in," he said and shut the door behind her, bolting it securely. Mathilde glanced at the messy room, Aethelwyn lying unconscious on the bed and the king kneeling by the queen, his head resting on her side, a pile of wet bloodstained clothes the the foot of the chaise.

"What happened?" she questioned breathlessly, terror causing her voice to tremble, hands over her open mouth, shocked at the sight. "Is the queen...," she began, but the king turned to stare at her sternly and she bowed her head in shame.

"Barely," he replied in a dark tone. "You cannot tell anyone, Mathilde, not even your husband. Do you understand?" he asked, walking over to her and shaking her by the shoulders. "Get some broth, quickly!" he barked, causing Aethelwyn to stir. "Take her away, and make sure she says not a word. Not a word," he emphasised harshly, unbolting the door so that Mathilde can act on his orders. She dragged the young woman away as the king shut the door once more, trembling with fear at the king's temper.

She returned with broth a while later and the king snatched it out her hands, causing some to spill but sped to his wife and patiently spooned some of it into her mouth, coaxing her to eat. Mathilde watched the king's desperate care and her heart was full of pity for the both of them.

"I gave Aethelwyn a calming draught and she has fallen asleep. She will not wake till morning and there is some food for you, Éomer King," she reported, her hands shaking as she spoke.

"Thank you, Mathilde. Please have the room cleaned, and the tub," he choked on a sob and paused to compose himself, "emptied out with utmost discretion. I expect Aethelwyn to be brought here as soon as she wakes, that will be all," he said quietly. Despite having his back turned to her, she bowed her head and set about cleaning the room, the king paying her no mind, staring endlessly at the lifeless figure of the queen, pale as death.

The next day, Aethelwyn was brought to the king, trembling before his presence. Mathilde stood next to her, weary from washing blood from the bath tub. The girl needed more strength at present, and she stood straight so that Aethelwyn could lean on her. "Speak," the king commanded bitterly, seated on the chaise, cradling the queen's head on his lap. He stroked her hair gently, and looked not upon the two ladies.

"My lord king," Aethelwyn addressed respectfully, clearing her throat and retold what unhappy events had led to inspire the queen to take her own life. There had been rumours since the announcement that Ithílwyn was to be crowned queen but Éomer had not known how vile and despicable they had grown to be in recent months. He knew that she served as a shield, preventing him from hearing such malicious gossip and that the council quelled it whenever he brought it up. While he was away, the council had presided in lieu of the king and Ithílwyn had attended meetings on his behalf as Queen, despite her illness. "I did not know what they discussed in that room, but my lord, I had never seen her cry so much or demonstrate such despair. I implored for her to confide in me, but she was stubborn and insisted that it was her burden to bear. She became so distraught and barely slept or ate, amongst other things," her voice grew quiet, then she sighed and continued "the day before your arrival, she dismissed me, saying that she had gifts for my sisters and that it was time for me to visit my family. I did not leave, for she seemed fey but the next day, she appeared frantic, and the room looked to be in a state, but she had food crumbs on her mouth and she was busy writing when I saw her. In that way, I believed for a while that she was hale enough to be eating and working and she convinced me to go. But before I left for my home, I felt something awful in my stomach, as if knowing something terrible was about to happen so I ran to see her, but it was too late," her voice faltered. She sank to her knees, bowing her head. "Forgive me my lord, I should have been more vigilant and protective. It is my fault that the queen is lost," she sputtered, bursting into tears.

"She is not dead!" the king burst, standing up from his seat, slamming his fist on the desk in his rage. Mathilde could not help but tremble at his display of anger, glancing at where the queen lay and felt sick. The king cleared his throat and sighed deeply. "Forgive me, Aethelwyn, Mathilde," he said after a long pause, returning to the chaise and placing Ithíl's head back into his lap, caressing the side of her face reverently. "She cannot die," he mumbled, his throat tightening with emotion. "It is not your fault, Aethelwyn. You have not failed her, I am grateful for the companionship you both have given to the queen. She loved you both dearly," the king said in a soft voice. Mathilde bowed her head so no one could bear witness to her tears, for she loved the queen also. "If there is anyone to blame, it is I. Thrusting her into such a precarious position and leaving her to fend for herself was foolish, and I was too late to protect her. You may go, find some rest, but breath not a word about what has happened here in this room."

The next few days brought several crucial clues to light: a stash of burnt letters in the fireplace, a letter addressed to him in Ithílwyn's writing detailing her denouncement of their marriage, enclosed was a list of eligible noble ladies and a small vial of brown tablets were found in the drawer by Ithílwyn's vanity, which Aethelwyn recognised but though they pressed her for answers, she refused to say; during violent interrogations with the members of his council, Éomer discovered that a majority of them had been pressuring her to leave Meduseld. They had been planting rumours of the Queen having an affair with a guard and running off together should Ithílwyn agree. It hurt him all the more that she had considered their vile suggestions and agreed to them in her letter.

If not for King Aragorn's presence, he would have had them executed immediately, but he was wisely advised against such a judgment and through the gentle coaxing of Queen Arwen took a sleeping draught and rested after being ensured of Ithíl's safety in the hands of the king. He had once saved his sister from the Black Breath, and he was sure his wife would heal in the same hands.

Ithílwyn woke on the fourth day, appeared dazed and went back to sleep. She woke again in the night and Éomer nearly stumbled over the chamber pot in hasting to her side. "Éomer," she whispered, attempting to smile but she was far too weak to succeed. "You need a new wife," she added, slurring her words. "No, you are my wife and none other may supplant you," he replied with such stern conviction that he felt himself shake with anger. "I-" she paused and took a deep breath, "cannot fulfill my duties. I have failed you, and I would like to leave Meduseld" she recited, Éomer recognising the contents of the letter to confirm her affair. "I am a dishonourable woman, and have brought shame upon the house of Eorl," she gasped for air, whispering agitatedly.

"Ithílwyn, shh, stop. I know the truth, I know you did nothing wrong. You will recover and we will put those despicable beasts to justice." She shook her head, "No, they just wanted to secure your kingship by ensuring that you sire an heir." Ithílwyn sucked in a deep breath, struggling to maintain the conversation in her weakened state. "I was stubborn, I thought you loved me." "I do, I love you."

"Yes, but you must stop. Please, let me go. I cannot bear anymore of this damned place," she whimpered, starting to cry and tremble. Fearing her distress, he soothed her and promised that she would be free. He managed to coax a spoonful of cold medicine that Lady Arwen had prepared into her mouth as he sung a lullaby to soothe her. She settled back and went to sleep. Éomer decided to take a walk to clear his head, his world was crumbling apart and he was losing his wife.

Despite the cool night air, the storm in his mind did not abate, and he trudged heavily in the direction of Ithíl's chambers. "Lord Éomer," he heard someone call.

"Aethelwyn!" The young lady nodded and gestured for him to be quiet. "We need to speak alone," she whispered, looking around furtively. He led them to his study and she bolted the door, inhaling deeply. She was clearly distressed, and he knew that she was about to tell him more about what happened to his wife.

"The brown vials, they are medicine. Ithíl- Lady Mildred brewed them herself, and she hid them from me at first, but I discovered them by accident and she made me swear not to tell anyone, not even Mathilde. And I swore, but you should know about them," she spoke frantically, pacing around the room, clasping and unclasping her hands.

Aethelwyn took several deep breaths and he poured her some water. After she had several sips, she exhaled and said "My lady lost some babies. The vials were medicine for the pain." He cursed under his breath, feeling his chest tighten but he gestured for her to continue.

"She mentioned that her womb was damaged, and that it was no longer suitable to nurture a baby or allow it to grow, that was why they all died early. I did not know until one day I found her lying in bed, her dress stained with blood. She said it was her monthly bleeding, but she was weeping uncontrollably, so I made her tell me the truth."

"How many?" he croaked, wiping tears from his face, "how many, Aethelwyn?" he pressed.

"She never told me how many, but I witnessed it happen twice."

"When?"

"About this time last year, my lord. I know I should have told you, but she made me swear to keep it a s-secret, and I could not betray her confidence. She s-said no one could know, she was so afraid."

He sighed, "You are not at fault here Aethelwyn, I thank you for disclosing such important information, and for your service to my wife. If not for you, I think she would already have been lost to us. Will you allow me some time to grieve in solitude?" The young lady nodded, wiped her tear stained cheeks and left the room.

Babies.

He cursed over and over again, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. He was fey, and his body shook as he strained to prevent from doing anything foolish. In the end, he wept, beating on his chest for the pain within was indeed too great to bear.

"Éomer, my friend. Your hospitality is well appreciated and though we are loth to leave Rohan, it is time that we returned," King Aragorn spoke, his wise eyes casting a concerned look at the king of Rohan, who had not been pleased to sit in the Golden Hall while his wife still lingered in death's realm. "There are grave matters that need to be resolved between you and the members of your council regarding your wife. Your time will be wholly given to seeking justice for Queen Mildred, and the Lady Arwen has suggested that she be taken to Mundburg, to stay in the Houses of Healing and find rest."

"The queen has confided that she was keen to visit the lands in the South, and she will appreciate walking in the many gardens in Ithílien, and in Dol Amroth where there are coral gardens in the cerulean pools by the sea. The queen appeared trapped, and perhaps without that constraint, she may be able to recover her spirit where there are no expectations placed on her."

"She will be free?"

"In other words, yes. Free from the concerns of court and the worries of a kingdom."

Éomer nodded after pondering a while for though his heart was reluctant, it shattered his soul to have witnessed the extent of his wife's distress. "She has never been to Mundburg, I expect she will be very excited," he said, in an attempt to sound jovial, "I promised to take her one day, but I could not fulfill that promise. She read all the books about Gondor in the libraries in Aldburg and Edoras, and she knows some words in our tongue. I have no doubt she will enjoy her stay, and that you will host her most graciously on my behalf. Thank you, my lord and lady," he said, though he could feel a tight vice around his chest as he spoke.

"Yes, though I have met her in a grievous time, I imagine that your wife would be glad to visit Gondor." Lady Arwen nodded her head, sympathy in her eyes.

Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder, "Try your hardest not to worry, we will keep you informed of her progress. In the meantime, your sister has expressed her desire to remain in Meduseld for an extended stay. She is worried, and so are we. As much as Queen Mildred needs to heal, so do you. Worry not about her, she is in a much preferable predicament than you are, and we are only a missive away if you need us." He bowed his head as they departed to make preparations for their journey while he wrestled with his thoughts.

Éomer entered his chambers the next evening and was surprised to see Ithílwyn packing her things. "Where is Aethelwyn?" he asked. "I am going to Gondor, and will remain only a queen in name. Aethelwyn is free to do as she wishes, and she has been sent back home to care for her family. She has seen too much," his wife said softly, looking down at her hands, "and she needs to heal as well," she finished. "I was very foolish," she admitted, her eyes apologetic. "I did not think anyone cared for me, and had not expected Aethelwyn to find me so soon, nor you return from Helm's Deep so quickly."

He nodded. "You were desperate," he said, and she looked at him, sighing in acknowledgement.

"I am sorry to cause you much grief."

"Your grief, was a result of my neglect. I do not hold you guilty of anything, save that you loved me more than I deserve," he whispered, taking her hand. She pulled her hand back and retreated back to her valise, continuing to pack.

"May I help you?" he asked, coming closer. "No, I do not require help, but I thank you."

"May we speak, before you leave? I know," he paused and gulped, "about the babies," he finished, exhaling loudly.

Ithílwyn froze and turned to face her husband slowly, an indiscernable expression on her face. She nodded and joined him on the bed. "Why did you hide it from me?" he asked, and his pain was apparent.

"You were busy, and I did not want you to worry. It was, embarrassing for me," she confessed, her arms crossed against her chest as she fought to keep her composure. "It happened very early, before I knew, and there was not much blood," she added, in an effort to console him.

He yanked her bedside drawer opened and took out a vial, thrusting it in her face angrily. "You had to take medicine for the pain!" he shouted.

"It was just for a while," she whimpered, "it helped me sleep while I recovered from the loss."

Cursing again, he picked at the hairs on his beard in agitation while his wife sobbed. "You should have told me, they are of my blood as much as yours."

She looked up at him with haunted eyes, and shook her head slowly. "You would never know them, they would never grow or be born," she spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, and it terrified to see her spirit broken. "I tried everything, I read all the books on medicine, poisons, antidotes and consulted on all matters of pregnancy. I made so many potions, poultices, medicines and consumed every single one," her voice rising to a violent crescendo, "and every single time," she stopped, unable to finish her sentence. Her eyes grew red, and her breaths grew ragged as she attempted to hold back her frustration. "It is impossible," she muttered under her breath, "I can never bear children, there is no hope for an heir while I am your wife. Let me be, Éomer, for I cannot stand much more of this cruel torture. No more death, no more blood, no more secrets, no more pain. Please," she begged, her eyes desperate, her body rocking back and forth as she clung on to a thread of sanity.

"Ithílwyn, do you truly wish to be free from this?" he whispered, deeply concerned at her behaviour. She nodded, keeping her head down.

"I think it is for the best," she said softly, unable to met his gaze.

"And what about this marriage? What about us?" he asked, feeling the familiar stinging in his eyes as he blinked back tears.

"I suppose we can use this time to reflect on what is necessary. You need an heir, and I can never give you that. Perhaps, in my absence, you will find another lady, one deserving of your affection, a lady who is healthy and happy."

"You do not understand, Ithílwyn. I could not feel that way, even when I remained in Mundburg for months, my thoughts and affections belonged to you."

"Yes, but circumstances have changed. There was hope still, but now there is nothing left that I can offer you. Nor is there anything that you can offer that would outweigh the cost. I am not happy, and it is strange, to feel so empty," she paused and stared into space, her voice hollow and without feeling, then she turned to him and exhaled, "I am not the same person, and I grieve for her. Lady Arwen spoke to me and her words were wise, and it may be that I shall find pieces of the old Ithílwyn in the south. Forgive me, but this time I have to be selfish. I love you still, and this separation may yet bring good."

"I love you, and do not consider this a transgression for you have been selfless in all your undertakings. I wish you happiness and joy, and that you will return to me healthy."

"Yes, but should you find yourself even the least bit attracted to another woman, I urge you to seek her while I'm away and engage in physical-" she stopped when he shook his head at such a despicable suggestion. Still she persisted, and continued to encourage him to consider infidelity, "You should not feel lonely, and be loved by another. Listen to your advisors if they propose new candidates to replace me as Queen. And I will not begrudge you this, for I too wish to see the House of Eorl established and strong. Do you understand Éomer? It is my desire for you to marry another woman."

He exhaled loudly. "That is not a decision you have authority over. My heart belongs to you, and no one else."

"Yes, but can you deny that your affections have lessened of late? Do you love me or is it the old Ithílwyn whom you love and wish eagerly to return to? You do not know the future, and what we want may not be best. I thought that our love could overcome the differences between us, and the pressures of kingship. I know now that it was a mistake to entertain such foolish thoughts and have suffered many hurts as a result. While I am your wife in name, I would like you to consider this marriage temporary until time imparts on us the wisdom needed to decide for the best interests of the Mark. If you truly love me, then promise me that you will court the eligible ladies in this list, and betroth yourself to whomever you deem fit to be queen."

"Ithílwyn," he protested but she hushed him. "In exchange, you may request a favour from me while we are apart and I will strive to fulfill it."

"I," he began, searching for any sign of affection in her eyes and sighing when he found only emptiness, "no, I cannot think of a favour to ask from you. Just, just be safe, and to do what you love, without concern for the happiness of others. You have sacrificed enough, do not be hesitant to indulge yourself as you wish. I shall claim this favour when I have thought of one. I will leave you to your packing," he added then departed, his emotions overwhelming and his heart breaking. Preparations were made in too short a time. Ithílwyn refused to see him after, until the morning the king's company left for Mundburg. She waved farewell and bowed her head, there were no words of farewell to her husband as she departed. He knew not if he would see her again, but consoled himself with the thought that she would be well, and that it would be enough to sustain him during her interminable absence.