Linelei shivered as she looked up at the sky; smoke still unrolled from the houses, charred and crippled to no more than smoldering cinders. They were far away from that now, in a pasture fenced with fragrant wood, where horses watched curiously as their owners ran to and fro, frantically trying to calm their neighboors. The Rohir that had lost their homes had come to these obscure farms that flame and terror had not touched. Looking over her shoulder, Linelei looked at her friend--she moved so easily, so naturally amongst these people. It put a warm feeling in her chest to see Narcirya engaged in something that suited her; tending to the child she had rescued from the village she almost looked like part of Rohan. Only her pale skin and pointed ears gave her away.

The young girl was no longer crying, her hair braided back from her face by keen Elven hands and decorated with yellow flowers. Narcirya had been singing to the child for an hour now, ignoring the rasp that was creeping into her voice. The smoke had nearly choked the youngster and taken her life, but Narcirya's conscience had forced her into the house without thinking and there, against her will, she had seen Eomer. She had felt her heart shatter within her breast at the sight of him, beautiful and frightened as he beheld her through the flames. Narcirya had seen the doubt in his eyes, felt his apprehension--he wouldn't believe what he had seen. Faramir and Eowyn could counsel him away from those feelings, convince him that he was merely tired or sick from the smoke.

"Why did you come here?" the young girl asked suddenly. Narcirya looked down at her, her silver eyes shining in the light of the stars. She touched the girl's cheek gently, "I came to speak with your king." Fighting back sadness, she forced a cheerful tone of voice. The Rohir was not satisfied with that, "And you can see him, as easy as that?"

"I have traveled a long way, Ethera, and our people aided his riders when they passed through our home," Narcirya explained. Ethera's brow furrowed, her round face tipped up at the Elf. She paused a moment before saying, "Mama says that he is a bad king, that he is filled with grief for his uncle and will let us all starve."

Narcirya blanched, forgetting the frank mannerisms of children. "I think your mama is mistaken," she replied softly, "It is not easy, being a king, and it is not easy to fix the problems that plague a kingdom. He is trying, Ethera, but he alone cannot fix the drout or make the crops grow..."

Ethera nodded and yawned, lifting her small arms above her head. Narcirya laughed, the sound gentle and tinkling as it mixed with the breeze. "Here now, rest, you have had an eventful evening," she scooted further down the bench and Ethera pulled her legs up, lying down and placing her head in the Elf's lap. Narcirya began to sing again, quietly as to not disrupt her. Soon the little Rohir was fast asleep, breathing evenly. Linelei came to stand by Narcirya and watched her friend chant and play with the girl's hair. Their blonde heads were slightly bowed, for anguish sat upon the Mark that night. Ethera's older sister appeared from the back door of the cottage and joined them near the bench.

"Five have died in the fires, our uncle included," she reported.

"May the Valar bless them on their journey home," Narcirya said seriously as she stopped singing. Linelei looked at the teenage girl and felt how deep the girl's sadness ran, how hopeless her energy seemed. "We shall sing a lament for their loss," Linelei ensured, taking the girl's hand and squeezing it.

"Thank you," Alena said, "If not for your help, Ethera might have been the sixth."

"But she is not, and for that you should be joyful," Narcirya told her evenly, "there are others with even greater losses and for them you must be strong."

Eowyn, still lovely despite the ash on her face and gown, appeared in the door, watching Narcirya speak with Alena and cradle Ethera. She dared not interrupt their exchange, and looked on with great fascination as Narcirya gently lifted the young Rohir and replaced her on the bench before walking with Linelei to the edge of the pasture. Beyond the fence was a gorge that dipped down into a tiny rivulet before sloping back up into another field. It was a natural border and provided a beautiful view. Eowyn felt her breath catch as the Elves stood before the gorge, their moonlit hair streaming out behind them, their starry gowns dancing with the wind. The Shieldmaiden stepped out of the cottage and came to stand next to Alena, placing a firm hand on the girl's shoulder for support. Alena tried to smile but instead followed Eowyn's gaze to the two strangers in the field.

No amount of strength could have saved them from the heart-rending sound that filled the air. The Elves had their hands at their sides, their faces lifted to the heavens, their mouthes wide open as they poured out their song. The duet was a series of swirling, climbing arias in keys that the Rohir had never heard. The pastures lining the gorge filled with men and women as they left their houses to hear the melody more clearly. The Elven ladies were shining as their skin absorbed the starlight that had finally cut through the smoke. How two women could project with such clear, eloquent sound was unknown to them. Their harmonies stung the Rohir and made the hairs on their necks rise and their spines shiver. Narcirya sang for those that had died, but more emotion came from that one glimpse of Eomer, from the light in his eyes.

"What are they saying?" Alena asked Eowyn in a whisper, only now noticing the tears that were streaming down her face.

"I know not," Eowyn replied, she too was crying noiselessly, "and yet I do--there can only be one meaning in such a song."



Faramir was at his wit's end, Eomer would not listen to a word he said. Instead, the King flew about his room in a wild rage, throwing chairs and lanterns and anything else within his reach. His snarling, growling screams could be heard down in the courtyards of Meduseld and Faramir quickly ran to the window and slammed the boards shut. Turning, he found Eomer slumping into a chair, staring ahead with glazed eyes.

"My lord, where are your senses!?" Faramir stomped over to him, clamping a rough hand on the King's shoulder to keep him from exploding again. Eomer hardly managed to blink, continuing to gaze ahead at the empty hearth.

"I saw her, Faramir, she was there."

"Impossible," Faramir replied, but he suddenly felt very nervous.

"Nay, it is true, I saw her, in the flames--it was her face."

Faramir could hardly contain his sigh of relief, "It was your mind, Eomer, only your mind. A man's heart can be cruel, and project images he does not wish to see." Eomer shrugged out of his grasp crossly, "Do not insult me. Before I left my chambers, I heard her voice, and then I saw her face--these are ill omens, Faramir, if I am a sane man."

Faramir moved to face him, forcing Eomer to look him in the eye, "It is the poison of a lover's kiss, Eomer, nothing more. Perhaps the child's scream produced a feeling similar to one you have felt for the Elf, or you were choked with smoke, there are a thousand reasons why you might have seen her." His plan would not work if Eomer was expecting her, he needed the element of surprise.

"Why do you say these things? Do you think I am deceiving myself?" Eomer was not angry, merely confused, terribly confused.

"I think it is time you forgot her, Eomer, I know that sounds unreasonable, but perhaps this was a sign. You have seen her in the flames, now let her die, let her memory live in your heart and only her memory. This useless hope you cling to is destroying your reason, your ability to rule," Faramir saw the wary look in his friend's eyes. "Allow her to die, let your remembrance of her be a happy one and acknowledge the promise you made to her: never to see her again," this was a stretch, but he needed Eomer completely with him for the next few days. If Eomer's mind was somewhere else, restoring his effectiveness as a ruler would be impossible.

Eomer sat very still for a moment, his eyes still fixed ahead as he pondered what his friend had said. He felt utterly defeated, knowing that his grief over Narcirya had led to the death of five of his people. Not directly, but in any case she was keeping him from doing his job, from protecting his people and leading them forward. Eowyn was right, he was ignoring his duty and covering his tracks with tradition--the King was only infallible until he stopped believing it.

"You are right," he said slowly, "no more innocent people can die for my sadness. It is against my wishes and hers." Faramir saw him visibly wince as he pronounced these last words. He could see his friend's heart breaking, and it killed him to watch, only the knowledge that he would yet be with Narcirya kept him from stopping Eomer. "I am a changed man," Eomer continued softly, allowing the tears to come, they rolled down his cheek as he looked at Faramir pleadingly, "Hold me to this, Faramir, hold me to my duties as King. She is dead to me and where I failed with her I shall not fail with my people."