Author's Note: Due to dark thematic material, this chapter might be deserving of an R rating. I am not sure, so I have left it as it is. If you are uncomfortable with dark themes, you should skip to the next chapter.
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A long month later, Nimoë was astride Finduél's back, riding lightly, while Legolas followed behind on Arod. It had been a difficult month. There would be days when Nimoë's heart seemed as light as a bird's, as if seeing the clear light of day and breathing of the fresh air were all that she would ever need. But beneath her joyful façade, Legolas knew that she was only trying to ease his mind. For each of those days of happiness, there were days when she seemed lost, absorbed in thoughts of her own mortality. On those days Legolas did not press her to speak her mind, but stayed nearby, ready to lend an ear if she wanted one. More often than not, she kept her thoughts to herself.
He watched her that day, as they rode into Edoras, and he saw that she was holding her head high, so that any who looked on her would think that she had not a care in the world. Any but the one who knew her better than any other. To him it was obvious from the set of her shoulders that she was putting up a front. Inside she was dying a slow death.
Legolas ached to be able to wash her cares away, but knew that there was nothing he could do more than make certain she knew he was always there for her. Often he reminded her of their eventual marriage. They had decided that they would not wed until they could return to Mirkwood, so that both of their parents could be present for the ceremony. It would mean waiting for several months, but it was important to them, so they would do so without complaint.
Glancing back over his shoulder, Legolas observed the slow progress of the casket of Theoden. They had been forced to travel slowly, for it was impossible to make haste with the body of the dead King. So with great pomp and reverence the group had set out from Minas Tirith. Included in their number were Eomer, the four Hobbits, Gimli, Legolas and Nimoë, Celeborn and Galadriel, as well as King Elessar and his wife Arwen Evenstar, and her father and brothers. Gandalf rode with them as well, and it was truly a grand company. Upon reaching Edoras, Theoden would be entombed nigh unto his fathers of old, and then would Rohan truly put behind it the days of Sauron.
Nimoë had sworn both Legolas and Galadriel to secrecy regarding her mortality, and, although Celeborn already knew the truth, word had not spread among the others. For that reason, as well as not wanting to trouble Legolas any more than was needful, Nimoë tried to keep her demeanor cheerful. Often she found Eomer looking over at her, as if he suspected something was amiss, but she smiled at him winningly and he seemed to accept her front.
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When they reached Edoras, Eowyn was waiting to greet them on the green grass before the gate, and Halanna stood behind her. The White Lady of Rohan raised her hand in greeting and called out, "Be welcome to Edoras, my brother and my King. All has been prepared for your coming and in three days time we will inter the remains of Theoden-King properly, with great honor. Until that time, I bid you enter the Gates of your City, and celebrate, for I bring you good tidings!"
Eomer answered her, "Of what do you speak, sister?"
Eowyn beckoned Halanna forward, and the smaller woman stepped out even with the King's sister. Her face was down-turned, but a flush could be seen on her cheeks. Eowyn responded, "Ere you rode to Minas Tirith, you asked for the hand of this woman in marriage, but she would not have you. If you still wish her, she is ready now to accept your proposal. Is this your wish?"
Eomer did not bother with words then, but leapt down from his horse, and ran to Halanna, who he picked up in both arms and swung her round and round, overwhelmed with joy. Her laughter filled the air and, when finally Eomer was too dizzy to stand straight, he set her feet back on the ground. "Is this my wish?! Need you to ask? I will wed you, Halanna, as soon it can be arranged. Then our life together can truly begin."
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Three days later the funeral of Theoden was carried out and, while all mourned the passing of a great king, they rejoiced that he had passed from the world in the glory of battle. That his horse had been his bane, for it had fallen upon him, trapping him in harm's way, was of little import, for even riding to war was a great honor for a man of such age.
Songs were sung, and tales told upon the greensward. Then, when the sun began its inexorable march towards the horizon, the massed company went into the Hall of Meduseld and there, in a ceremony both beautiful and simple, Eomer, King of Rohan was wed to Halanna, a woman who had proved herself worthy to be Queen by virtue of her actions.
With Eomer stood Aragorn and Legolas, and with Halanna were Eowyn and Nimoë. The bride was radiant in a flowing white gown, decked with diamonds, although Eomer swore that no jewels could be as lovely as the light in her eyes. He himself wore a tunic of gold, which set off the fire in his golden hair, and he could not keep his gaze from straying to his bride, although he should have been paying attention to the man who was officiating in the ceremony.
Once the vows had been sworn, a party began in good earnest. Halanna's brother, Henodred, had recovered well enough to be present, and he gladdened her heart by dancing with her, although his leg was still stiff from his injury. Nimoë smiled to see him up and about. She danced with many of the men present: Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, and even Gimli, although the dwarf muttered to himself about Elves and their carefree ways throughout the whole long dance. It took great control for her not to break her silence, to shout out that there was nothing carefree about her, nor would there ever be again, but she held her peace, and her closely guarded secret.
Finally the wedded couple was able to escape from the festivities and, hand in hand, Eomer and Halanna made their way up the stairs to the room which they would share. Just outside the door, Eomer bent down and laid a tender kiss on her upturned lips. "Here we begin our lives as one, Halanna. Be always honest and forthright with me, and I will honor you with my respect and my love. Life will never be dull, will it? You will keep me from forging ahead heedless of all else, and I will keep you from hiding behind your insecurities."
Halanna smiled up at him. "You are right. This will be an ever-changing adventure. I for one am ready to begin it."
So they entered into the chamber and what passed there will not be related in this tale. Suffice it to say that the newlyweds passed a night which would be burned into their memories for all of their lives.
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The music played on in the Great Hall, and whirling, swaying bodies filled the room. Too much ale had been drunk, and it seemed that the party would go on all through the night. Nimoë was restless, and when she found herself alone, she took the opportunity to slip out of the building. The moon was low in the sky, and it was uncharacteristically large. Instead of its usual white glow, it shone with a warm orange hue. The rare sight managed to lift her spirits just a little, and a slow smile curved her lips.
As she walked, she pondered what had become of her life. She felt like a shadow, a shade, one already dead. Despite her intentions to live life to its fullest, she found that the knowledge that she would die weighed into her every thought. Not a waking moment went by that she was not aware of her doom.
How could she live like this? One night before leaving Minas Tirith, she had strayed alone on the battlement, a place she had begun to haunt with growing frequency. That night seemed to her now like a dream, hazy in its detail, but strikingly powerful in its emotional impact. All through the long day she had grown increasingly morose, and it felt as if a heavy weight were settled upon her chest, making it impossible for her to draw breath. Trying to escape from the unbearable hopelessness, she had chosen to walk under the stars.
That night it had been the wrong choice. Elves have always had a primal bond with starlight, for when they were brought forth onto the face to the world, there had been no sunlight, only the multitudinous stars which had been hung by Elbereth. Allowing the crystal light to shine onto her and through her, Nimoë edged closer to the stone wall that ran about the edge of the precipice. On that night, the starlight did not reassure her. Instead it only accentuated how much she had changed. Never would she be able to live with Elbereth and the other Valar in Valinor.
Emptiness consumed her and she ached to block out the crushing despair. Slowly she raised her foot onto the high wall, and pulled herself atop it. Looking down, there was such a drop that the ground was in complete darkness. A fall from such a height would kill even a fully immortal Elf. The alluring call of oblivion sang in her mind, beckoning her to lean forward, to take that one step which would stop her torment.
The siren song was irresistible to her and she began to lean out, waiting for gravity to catch hold of her and plunge her down into the final silence of death. Only a few inches more and then the weight of the world be less than a memory… Just as she was about to pitch forward, a voice called out from below, "Nimoë?"
The sound of Legolas' voice had pulled her back from the edge, and she stepped back convulsively. What had she done? Scrambling down, her feet landed back on the safe side of the stone wall, where she clung to its solid bulk, for she was quaking so hard that she could not stand elsewhise. When Legolas found her, he knew immediately that something had happened, but she could not bring herself to speak of it. Within his protective embrace she clung to the hope that his presence offered her. She swore never to let her melancholy bring her to the point where her mind had lost its reason again, and so far she had managed. Although she was by no means happy, she had pulled her control over her, and had never again reached the point of contemplating suicide.
She wondered if he knew how close she had come to ending it all. A shiver ran through her, and she glanced up at the high tower of Meduseld. Thoughts of her good friends beginning their lives together brought her some small comfort. Her sacrifice had brought great good into the world.
She breathed out a sigh. How easy it had been to sacrifice in the heat of battle. How easy to offer her life. Yet that same sacrifice had a bitter taste when death was not immediate, when you knew that it would come for you, but could not prepare for it. Never knowing was the worst part. Nimoë felt her hands begin to tingle and recognized the first signs of a bout of breath-stealing depression.
Shaking her head to dispel the melancholy which was threatening to drown her, Nimoë turned back towards Meduseld. Before entering, she pasted a bright smile onto her lips. Within the Hall, Legolas spotted her and made his way through the dancing to her side. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he did not believe her smile, but she forced herself to keep it in place. With her hand held firmly in his, she rejoined the festivities, and tried her best to make her smile real.