A/N: Did anyone for a moment think this wouldn't get angsty? vbg My favourite Jane Austen novel is Persuasion, none of those sparklingly ironic marriage comedies, thank you very much! BTW, for anyone, who like me, is thinking, 'Shouldn't this woman be doing some work?' I'm pleased to report that the reading for chapter 3 of the thesis is now well under way, and the first tiniest inkling of its content is starting to trickle into my head. Looking at my fanfic word count in the past three weeks, I see with horror that it's around 25,000 words, which is just under half of a PhD thesis. Wonder if they'd take all this as a submission?

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IV

I would have liked to travel with my husband as he went on his journey through Ithilien for, as his wife and the Lady of Emyn Arnen, I believed it my duty as much as his to care for the realm and its people. Was I not of the house of Eorl, a house of kings? Had I not been judged worthy of leading our people while the King and my brother had ridden out to battle at Helm's Deep? Was I not a warrior as much as he, capable of wielding a sword and standing firm in battle? And while I loved our home and our life together, I was eager, even restless, to see more of the land in which I now lived, and its people, to whom I wished now to devote all my energies and care.

He rode out from Emyn Arnen on a grey morning early in December; saying farewell with much regret, and speaking of his great desire to remain here at home in peace. It was on the tip of my tongue to offer to exchange places with him; but I restrained myself and, after one final fond and loving embrace, we said goodbye, and he rode off northwards. And the house seemed diminished without him; as if some of its soul had departed. I rode out daily along my usual haunts, but they seemed a little sadder, and the weather was bad, and the house too quiet upon my return. The Lord of Emyn Arnen valued greatly the serenity of our home, and often we had no need for speech; but still his company brought great consolation and our silences were those of people who did not need to talk much to understand what was in the mind of the other. But this quiet was not the quiet that we shared together. I could, of course, have gone to our home in Minas Tirith, where the King and Queen would, no doubt, have welcomed me and insisted on keeping me company throughout - but, despite my love for them both, I found the city itself somewhat stifling, and the intricacies of life at court tiresome. I preferred to remain in the country - but I missed my husband badly.

But as December wore on, I became glad that I had not gone on the journey with him, since I became first very tired, and then ill. Some mornings I would struggle from bed coughing and retching, and then return in exhaustion to spend much of the day shivering under the covers. And I was most mortally afraid for, until I had been wounded and succumbed to the Black Breath, I had barely had a day's sickness in my life, always enjoying my strength and good health, and the pleasure I took from being active, walking and riding. I began to think that the darkness was descending upon me again, and I desperately wanted my husband to return. Very foolish I must seem - but I had no mother, no sisters, and I had grown up among men, that I admired greatly and wanted to be like, and whose talk I had made my chief concern. I had a head full of horses, weapons and battles. It simply did not cross my mind.

Lying miserably in bed late one morning, with the curtains drawn and the room dark, and believing that I was truly going to die, I heard the door to my chamber open, and in came Haleth, our maidservant. I heard her tut quietly as she saw I still lay abed, and then the curtains were drawn back and a pale winter light filled the room. I screwed up my eyes and hid deeper beneath the covers. Then I heard a soft sigh, and felt her sit by me on the bed.

'You know, my lady, you can't stay like this forever.'

'I feel so dreadful, Haleth,' I whispered.

She looked at me kindly. 'I know, my dear,' she said, 'but it's not as if you're the first woman ever to have a baby.'

My face must have given me away, for she looked utterly shocked, and then a great wave of pity passed over her features. 'Oh, you poor girl!' she cried softly, and reached out to wrap her arms about me as I burst into tears. 'Did you really not know?' And then she held me tight and rocked me gently in her arms until my crying abated. She spent the rest of the day fussing about me, getting me washed and dressed, and we talked long, even managing to laugh at how I had imagined I was dying, and she explained to me how I would feel over the next few months, and what I could expect at the end. But I found all of a sudden that I missed my mother for, although her absence had been a constant in my life still, at this time, I wished above all things to have her near me. How foolish that too must seem, to want the presence of a woman I had never known. But Haleth was kind when I told her this, and I slept well that night for the first time in more than a month. And as the next week or so went by, I found myself wondering what it might be like to be a mother myself, and I even became a little excited, particularly when I thought of telling my husband the news.

One wet evening towards the end of December, when I had curled up in bed early to be warm and comfortable, and as I was beginning to drowse, I heard the door click and, looking up through sleepy eyes, I saw with great surprise that my husband was there. I had not expected him back for at least another fortnight. I sat up to greet him, but he seemed to have stopped to lean for a moment on the chest that stood opposite the bed. Even in the half-light I could see the strain across his shoulders.

'My love?' I murmured.

His shoulders hunched a little more, and then he slowly turned to me. His hair and clothes were wet, and he looked exhausted - haggard even. I was reminded of the closed, pinched look his face had worn the first time we had met in the garden of the Houses of Healing. A great fear enfolded me.

'I was not expecting you home so soon,' I said. 'Is something amiss? Are you ill?'

His mouth screwed into what I thought he intended to be a smile, but it seemed very bitter. 'Ill?' he said, giving a short laugh. 'Indeed, no - I am in fine physical condition.' And then he started to unbuckle his sword from about his waist. As he set it to rest against the wall his fingers seemed to linger for a moment upon the hilt. Then he pulled his hand away, and began to undress in silence.

I shifted to my side of the bed - for while he had been away I had taken to sleeping in the middle so as to feel less lonely - and watched him as he climbed in beside me; then he reached over to blow out the candle, and the room was in darkness.

After a moment, I felt him reach out for me and wrap his arms about me. His body was frozen. I curled onto my side so that my back was pressed against his chest, for so we always slept, and I felt his face burrow into the nape of my neck.

'You are so cold...' I murmured.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I rode some way, and it was raining.'

I bit my lip, then continued, 'Tell me what troubles you.'

He sighed deeply. 'Not now. I am so tired. I want nothing more than to hold you and to sleep.'

And so I did not press him, and we lay in silence. But after a little while he spoke again, in a halting whisper. 'Think you... think you ever about the war, Éowyn? About your part in it?'

I was now becoming alarmed, for while I had often seen his face grow sad, particularly when he was thinking of his brother or his mother, I had never seen him in a mood as dark as this. I twisted a little so that I could catch a glimpse perhaps of his face, even in the darkness. I could just make out his features, and I was sure that he was crying. I did not know what to say.

'Sometimes,' I said, caressing a cold hand. 'And I am filled with fear and great dread. But you taught me to live beyond these things.'

He did not answer me, and I was afraid I had misjudged his mood. Then he kissed me softly on my neck, and I felt the tension in him lessen somewhat. 'Thank you,' he murmured, and then he did not speak again and, after a short time, I heard his breathing change, and knew he had fallen asleep. But I lay awake for some time, and I was most anxious; and confused also, for this was not the homecoming I had imagined, and I had not yet told him my news. It was an hour or so before I drifted off myself into an uneasy sleep, thinking that my husband's gift for peacefulness could also, seemingly, lend itself to bleak silences.

Very early in the morning, I woke suddenly, for I had heard a cry - and I realized that my husband was shouting out in his sleep. I shook him, and eventually his eyes opened and came into focus on my face. He was sweating and shaking, so I put an arm about him, and he leaned his head on my shoulder, gulping for air. He had often talked about how he would dream, but he had not done so since we were married.

'I'm sorry,' he said at length. 'Sorry to wake you.'

I stroked his dark hair. 'What was it you dreamt of? Was it the wave?'

A shadow passed over his face and he shook his head. 'It was naught... naught of consequence. Just a dream.'

I could not make him tell me what was distressing him, but I could perhaps make him feel better. So I told him my own news.

His face was utterly transformed. His mouth creased into a wide smile, his eyes lit up, and he began to laugh. He wrapped his arms about me and started planting kisses all over my face and neck and shoulders. Then he started talking; about how happy he was, how clever I was, how delighted all would be; then he started talking about the respective merits of sons and daughters, and then names for boys and names for girls, and when he had exhausted these and many more topics, he returned again to his initial theme of his great happiness and my exceptional cleverness, about which I privately felt he was making rather too much. But eventually I too was laughing and chattering with him, and the shadow of the night before was completely dispelled. In the mid-morning, after we had risen, and we were sitting together looking out onto the garden and holding hands, I asked him whether he intended to leave again soon for Poros, and he brushed the matter aside, insisting that it was of greater importance that he remained near me in my condition. This was plainly not the whole truth, but since I did not want to tell him of my own fears while he had been away, about which I felt ridiculous - for who would ever have thought that the Lady of the Shield-arm would be brought so low by so small a matter - all now seemed fair, and as we were both again happy, I did not insist he share with me the cause of his disquiet.