A/N: A fair few changes in this chapter. Elvish, for one, less crying Éowyn for another, I think.

Disclaimer: *Yawn* Updating chapters is hard enough without having to do witty disclaimers all the time.

* * *

Chapter 6: Gríma

Éowyn had not noticed Gríma. She felt too much pain to realise anything. Aragorn was gone and she would never see his shining face smile at her again. The smile that made her weak in the knees, the smile that she had seen so rarely. Never had she felt such grief before, not for anyone, not even her parents, not even Théodred. She fought back the tears. Even though there was no one there to see her, she refused to let any tears spill from her eyes. Éowyn felt cold all of a sudden, like some unseen evil had just entered the room.

Someone was there...

Someone unwanted…

Someone hated…

Gríma.

She felt his icy, clawed hand drain all warmth and hope from her as it touched her. She was trapped, like a cornered animal. It ran along her shoulder and traced its way down her spine and around the lining of the dress.

"Get out, Wormtongue!" she screamed, only managing a whispered response.

"Now, now, Éowyn," he scolded sardonically, "that is now way to speak to the king's most trusted advisor."

"Trusted," she retorted, "that you would have the audacity to think that you are even tolerated by anyone other that the king; and do so only for him is his fragile condition."

Gríma smirked proudly.

"Who made him so weak, Éowyn?" he asked. His face was so close to hers now. "Surely you have guessed by now."

Éowyn felt the rage building up inside her. She was ready to explode. How dare he?

She drew back and cuffed him in the face, knocking him back. She was infuriated.

Gríma composed himself and glared at her. It was obvious that he was, himself, also incredibly annoyed. Éowyn was paralysed with fear. She tried to run but her feet refused to move.

Gríma was in front of her again, in two strides, and before she could stop him, had struck her hard across her cheek. His hit was powerful, more so than hers. She was knocked back and fell to the ground. She lay there motionless, pretending that she was unconscious, praying all the while that he would leave her there.

But he didn't.

His hands had grabbed her again and were pulling her up. She was thrown onto her bed. Éowyn forced herself to open her eyes, just in time to see the hand rush towards her, delivering another savage blow.

She winced, but refused to cry out in pain. She wouldn't give him that pleasure. She wouldn't sacrifice the last of her hope. It was all she had left to fight him, to keep her sane, and she wasn't about to give in.

Gríma was bent over her now, ready to strike.

"Don't struggle, it's useless," he snarled, as she squirmed beneath him. "I promise, it won't hurt, and even if it does, no one will hear you scream."

He edged her bottle-green gown off her shoulders. It was torn across the front from his forcefulness.

In a last effort, she drew her knee upward to thump him hard in the groin.

He recoiled from her and dropped to his knees, groaning in pain. Éowyn wasted no time. Before he could realise, she had shot to the door, struggling madly to open the lock.

Gríma rose to his feet, making for the door as quickly as he could for all the pain he was in. Just as he reached an arm out to stop her, she had gone through the door. He followed her along the hallway. She would not escape him again.

Éowyn raced down passageway after passageway, searching for safety she would find in only one place. But Gríma was so close behind her. She darted behind a side column as she rounded a corner, hoping that Gríma wouldn't see her.

She listened for the passing footsteps and waited until they had faded. Checking herself quickly, she ran back the way she had come. When she reached an obscure side passage, she hurried down to the room at the end of it. Here was her salvation; but then she remembered, he would not be here.

She burst in though, as it would be a comfort and Gríma would not look here anyway. But when she entered, she was startled to see a familiar face there.

* * *

"L-Legolas," she stammered.

Legolas appeared confused but quickly led her inside. The room was comforting to Éowyn as she was seated but Legolas in a large chair by the fire.

"Man prestannen na le, híril nîn?" (What has happened to you, my lady?) demanded Legolas, looking concerned.

Éowyn stared at him, her eyes filling with tears, but she fought them back.

"I did not expect to find anyone here," she said, "I came here for comfort and secrecy."

Legolas looked at her somewhat tattered dress.

"I will be back shortly," he said, "I shall fetch some robes for you to change into," and with that he went through a side door, but returned with more than just robes.

Aragorn had returned with Legolas. Immediately, when he saw her, he rushed to her side, observing her gown, sitting torn and awkwardly on her shoulders.

Éowyn thought that it was only a dream, until he spoke.

"Who did this to you, Éowyn," he asked. Éowyn could see the fire burning in his normally beautiful blue-grey eyes, "who was it?"

Éowyn could feel the tears well in her eyes again. She lowered her head. She did not want him to see her cry.

Aragorn motioned for Legolas to leave them. He turned and walked through the other door.

Aragorn lifted Éowyn's head gently, wiping the tears from her face.

"Man prestannen?" (What happened?) he asked softly, "Pedo nin." (Tell me)

Éowyn couldn't hold it back any longer. She buried her head in his shirt and cried uncontrollably. Aragorn didn't know what to do, he simply held her, stroking her hair until she spoke very softly.

"It was Gríma," she said, "h-he hit me." She showed him the mark on her face. "H-he tried t-to-to…" She stopped and continued to cry.

Aragorn held her tighter and kissed her brow. He thought of Gríma. He wanted to murder Gríma for what he had done to Éowyn.

Éowyn still could believe that Aragorn was alive. Her heart was rejoicing at the fact that she was here with him again.

"I thought you were dead," she sobbed, " I couldn't find you after the battle."

Aragorn was taken aback but smiled and held her closer.

"Law, híril nîn," (No, my lady) he whispered in her ear. "Im sí." (I am here)

"I thought I had lost you forever," she whimpered.

Aragorn drew her head up to look at her.

"You will never loose me, Éowyn, know that," he assured her. He kissed her softly on the head. "Nathon anuir go le," (I will always be with you) he whispered.

Éowyn stood there in Aragorn's embrace. She felt safe, nothing could harm her while he was there holding her. All thoughts of Gríma had disappeared from mind for now. She could feel the warmth of his body against her. She could hear his heart beat in time with hers. His slow breathing and his soft Elvish whispers in her ear. She was at peace and relaxed.

She felt his arms release her. She looked into his face as if to ask 'why?'

"My lord, is something wrong?" she asked.

"It is late," he replied, "you need rest after your ordeal."

"Don't leave me, Aragorn," she said, she could feel the tears coming back.

"Never," he smiled, drawing her in again, "I would not leave you after what you have been through tonight. I would not abandon you."

He led her over to a bed that was positioned near the windowsill.

"Put on those fresh robes," motioning to the robes Legolas had brought in earlier, turning away and walking into the other room. He soon returned with a bowl of warm water, a handful of leaves and some rags, but somewhat hesitantly, unsure whether she was dressed or not.

She was and seated herself on the edge of the bed. Aragorn examined the bruises on her arms and face, and one gash on her forehead, which she had obtained in her fall. He began to wash it carefully, to avoid hurting her. He gathered some of the leaves and crushed them up in his hands to create a greenish paste. He proceeded to gently rub this into the bruises on her face and arms. Surprisingly, they felt much better and began to heal quite rapidly. He then placed the rest of the paste and leaves into the bowl of warm water.

"This is athelas, or kingsfoil," he said, "it has many healing powers, but they are unfamiliar to all but the Dúnedain, my kin."

Éowyn noticed that it had a particularly strong smell, but one that warmed her and lifted her spirits. Aragorn placed them on a small table set beside the bed.

"This should help you to sleep well tonight." He motioned for her to lie down.

He walked around to the other side of the bed and lay beside her, one arm around her waist in a protective manner, the other stroking her golden hair.

"Good night, Éowyn," he murmured and kissed her head.

Éowyn sighed and closed her eyes. Her sleep was undisturbed and pleasant, without the memories of Wormtongue. Her greatest comfort was not the athelas, it was the thought that Aragorn was lying next to her and would be there again when she woke in the morning.

She murmured something in her sleep, something she would not know of or remember, but something that Aragorn would never forget.

"Melon le, Aragorn." (I love you, Aragorn)

* * *

A/N: Say it with me people, aww. So cute! I love the Aragorn/Éowyn stuff in this chappie. And I say that I'm not the kind that likes fluff.