A/N: It's funny, I was going to cut the line about it not being Faramir's greatest diplomatic success as a bit flippant (hence Imrahil's remark after it). Huh, shows you how much I know. You might like to know that over the weekend I scribbled down detailed notes of the whole of the rest of this story. So I know how it ends! Cackle! Trust me, I'm a sociologist.

Very big thank yous to Isabeau, Kshar, and Joan, who may well recognize the odd bit here and there in this and the next chapter (which will be up later today). I hope you take my thieving as the flattery it's meant to be.

Éowyn appears to have been listening to Leonard Cohen, and so have I while writing this one (and the next one, when it comes).

Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing.

Altariel

***

XIII

'I will break every bone in his body.'

Such remarks as these my brother, pacing around behind us, had been casting into the conversation for the past ten minutes. I tried to ignore him and continued speaking to Lothíriel.

'I am sorry I was so overwrought yester eve...' I said again. For I had arrived in great distress, pausing only briefly to greet my brother and the Lord Aragorn before allowing Lothíriel to sweep me and my children away to bed.

'You had had a long journey; it is no surprise you were exhausted.'

'You have been very kind. I know this must be difficult for you - '

She waved a hand. 'Do not even think that! This is your home as ever it was - '

'If he sets one foot in Rohan...'

Lothíriel raised her eyes and shook her head, and then gave her full attention back to me. 'But, sister, you have said very little about what has happened - might I ask?' she said gently. 'Your letters have said naught that led me to expect this; indeed, you have spoken only of how well you and the children have been, and his successes in his work...'

And so I had, for it had seemed disloyal of me to write ill of my husband and, most of all, I had not wanted to draw in Lothíriel, dear to me though she was, for she was my husband's cousin, and it was, I deemed, unfair to make such a demand upon her. My brother, it seemed, was not troubled by such niceties. And while I loved him for his loyalty, it was proving rather a strain.

' - never trust a man that reads so much - '

Lothíriel turned to him. 'I beg you, will you please be quiet?'

'Brother,' I said, and my voice was rising as I spoke, 'think of your wife. This is her cousin of whom you speak. And how must I feel, to be the cause of this strife, placing her in such a position? And if neither of these arguments sway you, then think of my children. Is it right for you to speak thus before them of their father? I swear, brother, that if you do not stop, I shall quit this place, and you will have made me and my children homeless for a second time.'

Lothíriel reached out and took his hand. 'Leave us for a little while,' she said gently, and he nodded and went, stopping only to press my hand and to place a kiss on the top of my head, which I received gratefully.

Lothíriel looked at me with great compassion. 'Tell me what has passed between you,' she said.

And so I gave her an account of the dreadful year we had had, of her father's return to the city and his advice to speak to my husband. And I spoke of our bitter row, my foolish fit of temper and attempt to strike him - and then his fury, the like of which I had not believed him capable; the shouting, the raging, and his sudden act of violence.

Her face became more and more horrified. 'I can scarce believe it of him,' she murmured.

'Aye, well, it happened,' I replied sharply.

She took my hand. 'Your pardon, I did not mean to sound as if I doubted what you said. But... this is so unlike him. Always I have known him to be so very gentle, so kind.'

'He is those things. Or he was. And also he is cold, and cruel.' I felt tears welling up. 'His face, Lothíriel... it was as if a different man stood before me. I have never even heard him raise his voice before, and this was not simply raised - he was screaming!' The tears were coming down my face now, and I looked at Elboron, playing quietly at my feet, and Morwen, fast asleep beside me. 'Then he threw something, his ring I think, but when he raised his arm I thought he was about to strike me. And then the sound of glass breaking... I did not know for a moment what he had done - to punch at glass like that! And I could only think that the blow was meant for me... How could I stay, how I could keep my children there?' And I wept freely, as all the fear I had buried away during my journey came rushing to the surface.

Lothíriel put her arms about me, and consoled me until the tears stopped. And at my request we spoke no more about it that day, for I was tired, and she told me instead the news of Edoras. I went to bed early, and I curled my son up close to me to sleep.

The next morning the day was overcast, and we stayed indoors. My brother was more subdued, but I knew him well, and did not doubt that his opinion of my husband remained much the same. The day and I were both gloomy, and I did not much feel like speaking. My sister chattered for a while, and I did not mind listening, but my mood soon affected her and she too fell quiet. But after a while she did speak again, softly and thoughtfully.

'How troubling your tale,' she murmured, 'for he sounds much changed. More like his father.' She grimaced in memory.

I shuddered, for although I had not met him, I had heard enough from my husband's uncle and cousins to know it was no particular loss to my life. 'Aye, that is what I had thought.'

'But even still, it is hard to believe of my cousin. For even if his nature has indeed changed so much, I would have thought his illness would make him loathe violence all the more.'

Ice coursed through my veins. I looked up at her. 'What did you say?'

She frowned at me. 'That he would loathe violence all the more - '

'Before that! What illness?'

She looked at me in horror. 'Éowyn, surely you know? His collapses... He cannot fight...' She stopped. I imagine she saw the look upon my face.

I took both her hands. 'Lothíriel, you must tell me all that you know, all that he or your father or Éomer have said. For I truly do not know of what you speak.'

And so I heard from his cousin what my husband could not tell me; what he had suffered in Ithilien, and then later in Minas Tirith. And at last I understood why it was he had stayed behind, and why he no longer bore my gift to him.

'He is war-fettered...' I murmured. I stood up and paced the room for a while, thinking hard, and it seemed as if all of our life together took on a different complexion, beginning with a cold winter's night when he came home unexpected from Ithilien. 'Well,' I said at length. 'Much now becomes clear to me.'

'He had not told you?' she said, aghast.

'He had not.' I breathed deeply. 'Who else knew about this?'

'The King. The Queen. My father. Your brother,' she paused when she saw the look emerging on my face. 'My brothers...' she added a little warily.

'I see,' I said. 'And was there any thought that perhaps his wife should be informed?'

'We thought it would come from him; that it had come from him - '

'Expecting the Prince of Ithilien to speak to his wife is perhaps somewhat naïve on the part of all concerned,' I said very bitterly.

'I thought that you knew - ' she said with real distress.

'My dearest sister, I do not hold you to blame.' I went to her and took her hand. 'I do not know who to blame, and although it is tempting to start with that poor, foolish man I married, nevertheless I think there are others to hold at fault for allowing this ridiculous charade to continue. My brother and I must have words. Never mind the words I intend to have with your father - and the King. It is lucky indeed for him he left this morning.'

In great turmoil, I left the children with my sister, and went to my chamber, for I needed some peace. As I thought, my anger with his uncle and with the King did abate - a little. For I saw that the Prince had explained to me as best he could and encouraged me to ask my husband why it was he did not go to war. The King, too, before going east, had hinted to me that there was something more behind my husband's decision to stay. And yet all of their remarks and clues had depended on one thing - that my husband would speak to me.

And so I had then to wonder why it was that my husband had not felt free to tell. It was not hard to grasp, I thought rapidly with mounting remorse, and tears came to my eyes when I thought of our bitter quarrel the night before the armies went east, and all I had said about a man that would not go to war. And I had been unremitting after that, forever accusing him of being undutiful, of being a coward. It was almost too much to bear. But while it was easy to see why he had not spoken in recent months, I could not understand why he had not at the start. What could he have believed of me, to think that I would not have understood?

For although he had not spoken much of it, I knew how his war had been. His uncle had told me of his brush with the shadow after he had escaped Ithilien, and of the slow retreat, conducted in the knowledge that his father wished him dead. I knew, none better, how the darkness would have slid its grip imperceptibly about his throat. And I could remember so clearly his face, when first we met, very grave and held very still, but yet able to show me pity in my own plight.

And surely he knew that I had experienced directly some of what he had? One battle, he had said, but it was enough. Dernhelm seemed to me now like a phantom, a figure conjured up from the darkest night, but as she had fought, she had seen with my eyes those she loved killed, and so wept. And I knew, as he did too, that it was not only on the battlefield that despair took us, that it was enough to be at home amongst those that you loved, and see the darkness take your family, and with it your soul.

And what of my whole life, brought up among men of war? When my brother and I came to live with my dear uncle the King, we were both well loved, but I in particular, for I was the only girl among men and boys, and they delighted in me, and spoiled me. I loved them fiercely in return, and admired them; tall men and strong, who rode and sang and laughed and wept. And they put me on horses and gave me a sword, not to jest with me, but because these were the things that made them free, and they wanted this for me too. I remembered one man, who as tall and as fair as the rest, who had helped me learn to ride. Others would speak in admiration of his deeds and his fearlessness, but I marked that he no longer rode forth with them, and this puzzled me greatly, and I thought long and hard about it, to no avail. Then one day, when I must have been no more than twelve, I had ridden out with my cousin, that I worshipped, and who spoiled me the most, and I asked him about this man, and why he did not ride, when all knew of his courage.

And Théodred, still only young himself - although to me at the time he seemed a great age - fell silent for a moment, and his face went sad as he looked across the fields.

'Ah, Éowyn,' he said at last, and he sighed, 'sometimes even all of our singing cannot heal a heart.'

And so now, at last, some of the changes in my husband made sense. I did weep then, for his war and what it had cost him, and for my cruelty - through ignorance, yes, but cruelty nonetheless. But yet I could not forget what his uncle had said to me, about how hurt and disappointment might alter my husband, and I thought of his transformation that night, and a voice whispered within me that he had needed neither sword nor knife to hurt me.

That afternoon the sun shone and we took the children outside. My brother had been appalled to learn that my son had not yet sat upon a horse, and told me I had been living among barbarians. I protested for a while that Elboron was still too young, but Éomer insisted that if the boy was walking he should be riding. So I sat and watched their exploits - perhaps a little anxiously; and Lothíriel sat beside me, and despite her laughter I sensed a little sadness, for she had lost a child earlier in the year, their first. I stroked my daughter's dark hair and was very thankful for my two healthy children; and looking upon my son, I wished with all my heart for his life to be a safe and a happy one, and above all that he should never have to go to war, and suffer as his father had suffered.