Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Not a bloody thing.
Notes: For those that haven't figured it out, the prologue was when Eowyn was dreaming, when she was sick at the houses of healing, after killing the bad guy.
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Hope Unlooked For
Chapter 1: Lost at Sea
But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?
-Gandalf the Grey, speaking of Éowyn
Take note of that lady, Ioreth said to her cousin, Look how proud and tall she sits, as if she would defy Sauron himself! You know, it is said that, on the battlefield she took with her her halfling esquire and defeated an entire legion of orcs all by herself? The White Lady of Rohan, she is called. Look at her, cousin, look at her!
Éowyn listened with half an ear to the women's talk. How they prattled so! She would not mind so much if she were allowed to breathe fresh air, but here their idle speech grated on her ears.
Dread was buried deep inside her body, and burrowing still further. She had escaped death only to live in a dying world with a heavy heart. She felt she was only healed in body; her spirit felt haunted by some malicious demon.
The Dream. She had awakened from it three nights ago; yet still it lay heavy on her thoughts. She could not think of it without shuddering.
And it seemed, now, that she had awoken to find the dream was reality: For her brother, and Aragorn, and ll others that could fight were marching to a war which could not possibly be won. Eomer had been cheerful for her sake when he explained their plans; but he knew that his armies hoped only to distract The Enemy. They were marching to death, and Éowyn was trapped in this domestic hut with no weapons, forced to wait helpless until The Enemy came for her, just as her dream had foretold.
With a frustrated sigh, she got up and climbed the stairs that lead to a small courtyard. Here, at least, she could smell fresh air. And yet this air only increased her dread: the very air smelled of war and death. The sky seemed sick and lifeless, and all seemed lost; she could smell and feel it in the air. The Ring had been found, and The Dark Lord had won. She could see him now, in the form of a great black man riding on a fell bird. Fire was all round, and the darkness would take them all!
Only the guard in the courtyard saw Éowyn fall. He ran forward with a cry, and others joined him to support the lady. Her face was deathly pale, except for two burning red spots on her cheeks; sweat was gathered on her brow. The Lady is delirious, the guard said. See now: though her eyes are open, she sees us not-she walks in the Dreamworld.
****
Darkness. Then ... wisps of grey cloud. Fell voices on the wind. Theoden is dead... Eomer is dying.... You have failed... No!
Brilliant colors. Flashing. A babe's cry. The white tower of Minas Tirith. The black tower of Orthanc. A halfling with a sword. A giant spider. Help us!
No. Yes. No. No. No. Everything dissolving into one image. She couldn't see. She couldn't see. She couldn't see!
****
Ioreth watched with concern as Éowyn cried out in her dream. She had seemed to be recovering, she had gotten up and walked around. But now, she was asleep, and crying out in fear.
Ah, well. Perhaps it was only an ordinary nightmare, that anyone might get in sleep. Ioreth went back to work.
****
The ring is destroyed. The Dark Lord is defeated. My dearest friends are still alive. I should be happy, Éowyn thought. It was a fortnight later, the day that Aragorn was to be wed to Arwen Evenstar. As Éowyn watched them she felt sadness uncurl inside her. They had each other..... Éowyn had no one. No one but the cold voices in her head.
Damn him. Damn him. He had left her, scorned her love when all she wanted was to help him, protect him; and yet still she yearned for those grey eyes to look at her and her alone, to finally understand her and erase her nightmares. But his eyes saw only the lady Arwen.
As everyone was cheering the union, Aragorn looked up, and met Éowyn's eyes, cold and hard as ice. Éowyn did not flinch, and after some time Aragorn flinched and looked away.
Some hours after the wedding, Éowyn left the banquet chamber, and wandered the courtyards. She heard a step behind her, and turned-it was Aragorn. He looked kingly indeed.
She turned away. What do you want, my lord?
To talk with you.
About what, my lord?
You know what.
I am afraid I do not, my lord. Her voice would have frozen Hell.
Behind her she could hear the king sigh. Éowyn, be not so formal with me. Call me by my name, not by my lord'.
As you wish.
He took a few steps closer to her. Will you not come into the feast?
She turned towards him. Why should I? There is nothing for me there.
Eowyn, the Ring is destroyed. Your enemies are defeated. What cause, then, have you for sorrow?
She laughed bitterly. What cause for sorrow? What cause for happiness? Why should I laugh and pretend to be merry so that you and your fellows can be more comfortable? I will not keep up the charade that I am well.
Tell me, then, why you are not well.
If you would have the honest answer, you are half the reason, my king. All I asked was to fight alongside you, to protect you. And you scorned me for a woman-you claimed my place was beside the hearth, not on the field. And you think that still-you think that it was a mere chance that bade me kill the Nazgül king, and mere chance that I am not dead. Do you not?
Aragorn was silent. Then he sighed again. You were pitted against a foe that was beyond any of us, including yourself. That I believe. And you use your dead opponent as an excuse to hang back and become bitter; and for that I pity you-
She slapped him, hard. He reeled back, shock naked on his face. You pity me, Aragorn? she said acidly. I do not want your pity, nor the pity of any man. Who are you to say that I use my opponent as an excuse to wallow about in depression? You do not know what goes on behind my thoughts, nor does any man. You think, also, that I am driven into rage for love of you; but you are wrong. Oh, I love you, Aragorn-but I hate you more. And I will never weep for you again. And then she turned and disappeared into the night.