A/N: I know I'm repeating myself a bit in this next chapter.

I don't remember if I updated anything other than my Elvish in this chapter. I may have. I kept adding parts to the entire story, correcting things, all the time I was writing it.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned these characters, I'm so bloody proud of them, but I don't so, they're Tolkien's, I'll have to survive.

Chapter 19: Return To Me

Aragorn sat silent beside her, staring into her face every now and then, hoping with all his heart that she would open her eyes to look at him again. He knew how it had come to this.

It was not Gríma that had led her to this situation. Gríma had been the cause of some of the evil that had overcome her, with that of the Witch-King, but Aragorn knew what had led her to the Pelennor Fields, to her doom.

It had been him, Aragorn, who had caused her to leave Edoras and go to battle.

She had been furious with him after their confrontation. He had told her to remain behind but she had protested, refusing to let him ride off to his death. She had wept on the day he had left. He had seen her distress, felt her agony, but he had ignored them.

And now, here she lay, not moving, not breathing, cold as ice. He did not believe that she had really loved him and refused to believe that he loved her. Try as he might he could not deny that he cared deeply for her, more than anyone before.

He now saw that she, too, had loved him and that it was such that when he left her, she had wanted to fight and prove herself, or die trying, as she had nothing left to live for. It was clear to him that she loved him and her feelings for him would not sway. And the proof of that now lay before him.

"Lastach nin, Éowyn?" (Can you hear me, Éowyn?) he whispered close to her. "Aníron ethelo na nin, Éowyn. Na estel, ú-gwanno han." (Please, return to me, Éowyn. There is still hope, do not turn from it)

He bent over the bed, his face hovering over hers. He lingered for a moment, pressing his mouth against her soft lips. It was surreal to him, his heart fluttered, but in the same way so wonderful. He stepped away from her now, watching for any sign of movement.

But Éowyn remained as still as ever. Aragorn was concerned. She should have woken by now. The scent of athelas was fading fast away and soon there would be need of more. He sought out one of the healers and asked that more athelas be brought to him and then returned immediately to Éowyn's side. She had not moved and lay pale in the sunlight.

He remembered Éomer's words. What she had been through only a year before he had arrived at Edoras? Éomer had said that she had dealt with it but still it had taken its toll on her. And now, he could not bear to think about the possibility of her here forever, struggling to battle her demons alone, inside her. He had told Éomer that she would wake, and she should wake, but now even he was unsure. How terrible had her ordeal been? Éomer could not answer this question, only Éowyn could, but she could not speak of it now.

He noticed that Imrahil had appeared in the doorway of her room. He was holding the remnants of a sword, now covered with blood and dirt.

"I found this where Éowyn fell. I believe it was her sword and I thought it only just to return it to her, at least as a memory of her battle," he said, looking from Aragorn to Éowyn, where his eyes rested.

He walked over to the table and laid the fragments of her sword down, then proceeded to Éowyn's side. He stared into her deathly white face and remembered the first time he had seen her. Though she lay still, beauty had radiated around her. He had never imagined a shieldmaiden to look as she did. He always considered that they had skill with a sword but no or very little beauty. Éowyn was an exception to this assumption; he had never seen her fight but the fact remained that she had defeated the Witch-King where others had failed.

He looked now at Aragorn, who sat silently beside her body. He knew Aragorn from when they were younger. He had travelled to Dol Amroth several times before, where they had met.

Now, to see his friend and the future King of Gondor almost fall apart at the sight of Lady Éowyn in this condition was too much. He had never seen Aragorn in such a state before. He thought it best to leave him and walked from the room, looking back briefly at Aragorn and Éowyn as he went.

Aragorn was grateful for this gesture. He needed time with his thoughts. Éowyn was slipping away and he had no way to bring her back to them. The healer had left the athelas on a table by the doorway, in seeing that Aragorn did not wish to be disturbed.

Aragorn stood now and walked over to the herbs and began to crush them in his hands, casting them into the water. The smell drifted through the room again; he looked over to Éowyn but there was no sign that she would wake. He spoke to her once more in an attempt to gain a response.

"Éowyn. Éowyn, you must fight this darkness. You must return to us."

He took her hands, clasping both in his own. He felt a slight warmth in them but still she did not wake. He held them for hours, as day slipped into night, he did not move from her side.

            He felt a hand shaking him lightly. Opening his eyes slowly, Aragorn observed the face of Gandalf looking down at him. It was morning, a bright sun shone through the window, light streamed into the room.

"You have been asleep for some time, Aragorn," said Gandalf, smiled kindly. "I have never seen you in need of sleep so much before."

"Has she woken yet?" asked Aragorn, hurriedly, looking over at Éowyn. He took her hand again.

"No, not yet," the wizard replied. "But she shows signs of life due to your work."

Aragorn stood up and seized a handful of athelas, pressing it and placing it into the fresh bowl of water that lay on the table.

            Éomer had entered the room now and was at his sister's side. The smells of the athelas wafted around the room. Aragorn noticed Éowyn's hand twitch slightly but said nothing, though a glimmer of hope had sparked up inside of him. He did not want to disappoint Éomer if she hadn't. He knelt on the floor by her bed and held her hand once more, calling out to her.

"Éowyn, Lady of Rohan, awake! The shadow wavers but you must banish it from your mind."

He turned to Éomer, who was staring gravely at his sister, and spoke to him.

"Take her hand, you must bring her back."

Éomer took her hand shakily but gripped it tightly.

"Éowyn, Éowyn," he called, tears falling from his eyes. "The shadow has lingered over you for too long." He looked into her face.

Éowyn's eyes flickered, still closed, and her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths.