When the Riders reached Edoras, there was no fanfare to announce their arrival. The people of Rohan watched from their homes and it was clear to them that something had happened, something had put wild urgency into the eyes of the Men and the step of the horses. Théodred swayed limply on Brego's back, held upright only by Éomer, who took the stallion directly up the steps to Meduseld. The door guards withdrew as he approached and held open the heavy door as Éomer carried Théodred to his room. There, Théodred was stripped of his armor and laid on his bed.
Éomer found his sister among the Riders, speaking to them about the battle, glancing over the injuries of the wounded. He touched her shoulder softly and did not have to say a word; the expression on his face told her enough and she followed him silently. He stood at Théodred's bedside and she paused briefly at the doorway before moving quickly to the bed.
"Théodred," she breathed softly. Théodred could barely hear her, so lost was he in darkness. He tried to speak, to ease her worry, but found he could not. Éomer exchanged a worried look with Éowyn and she pulled back the Prince's torn shirt to see the damage done by the Warg's cruel claws and teeth.
"Éomer," she said softly, once they were in the hall, "I do not know if he will survive these wounds."
Éomer's eyes were grim as he glanced back into the room where Théodred lay. "He is strong, Éowyn, and young yet."
"But I do not think that there is enough strength left in him," Éowyn replied, "He may not live past the night."
Indeed, Théodred did not wake until night had fallen, and he found it nearly as dark as his dreams, though the soft light of candles held the darkest shadows at bay. Éowyn was kneeling by his bed, her head lowered in sleep. Théodred whispered her name softly, and she raised her head, the initial confusion in her eyes replaced by relief.
A smile crossed her face. "Théodred, you are awake!"
"Well, I do not talk when I am asleep," he replied, trying to lighten the mood, all the while feeling the darkness creeping back, starting to slowly flood his body.
"I – we did not know if you would live."
He smiled sadly, weakly it seemed to her. "I do not know if I will. Shadows have found me, Éowyn, pierced me in the guise of a Warg's claws and they spread, burning through me."
"Don't talk like that," she cried. "You speak as if you have already given up hope."
"Hope for my health, aye, I have given up," he said, "But hope remains for Rohan. Éomer will become king after my father, and our people will stay strong."
Sad, slow tears were clouding her eyes and streaking her cheeks. "Théodred…"
"Éowyn, return to your own rooms," he told her gently. "Death is not something you should see."
"I can withstand the sight of death!" she replied proudly, affronted despite herself.
"Shieldmaiden, this is no glorious death on the battlefield! There is no chaos to keep your attention from the blood and screams. This will be a quiet, slow death, painful to the last moment. Please, Éowyn, go." The silent pleading in his eyes halted her objection and she nodded before quietly rising and going to the doorway.
"May the end come easily, Théodred," she whispered, and then she was gone.
AN: I'm predicting two more chapters. In fact, the next one is already written.