Noise faded into silence and torchlight into moonlight. The shadows were so sharp and defined they look as though they might draw blood. He felt calmness steal over him and he breathed the fresh air, pulling back his long hair from his face so that the cool air might ease the heat of stress.
His spirit lifted a little, climbing into the vicinity of his ankles when he came around a corner to the well and upon a sight so extraordinary he thought he must be dreaming.
His sister, always a formidable woman and one for whom he had much admiration, was standing straight and defiant. Her large eyes were wide and accusing as they looked down the length of arm and sword into a face very calm and still with the slightest touch of sadness in the slant of its eyelids. The sight of this creature made again his heart turn a somersault in his chest. The vision of the moonlight sewing silver into his fair hair and eyelashes and they way it polished his skin almost convinced Eomer that he was, in fact, dreaming. But then the elf's eye flicked to him and the moment broke with the movement.
"Sister!" cried Eomer, hurrying forward. Eowyn turned slightly but the blade remained poised. "What goes on? What's the meaning of this?"
"My lord, what has occurred is not an act to be taken lightly, even at the best of times," Eowyn's eyes flashed. "Division is fatal and these times above all others we cannot tolerate those who put us in danger. I have no care as to who he is. He only became my concern when he laid his hands upon you."
Eomer was touched and should really have expected nothing less of his sister. But he could find no words to explain. He looked to Legolas whose expression did not change.
"Lady, I meant no harm to your brother," his voice was cool and flowing. "It grieves me deeply that I may have pained either of you in any way and all I can do is beg for your forgiveness and ask you to accept my promise that no such thing will ever occur again."
Eomer tried desperately to dredge something out of the elf's eyes that indicated that he still felt anything of what they has experience on top of the Hornburg. Eomer still fancied he could taste the wondrous sensation on his lips and it bit deep that maybe it was all for naught. Elves were treacherous, it was said. They know so little of emotion that they cannot help but bruise those who try to break against their rocky façade.
"Give me not stone soaked in honey, elf," Eowyn growled. "You think you are beyond the bite of this blade?"
"Peace, Eowyn," Eomer laid a hand on her arm and gently eased it away from Legolas who did not move but his eyes suddenly seemed to dive into despair. "We are not divided peoples," Eomer breathed, recalling revelations from the tower and still hoping there was honesty behind them. "We must stand united."
"I don't stand with those who seek to harm those with whom they are united," Eowyn said. "Eomer, what was there? Why so accepting?"
Eomer sighed and laid a hand on his sister's shoulder. "You must trust my words, dearest sister. I promise you faithfully that no malice has e'er fallen between we two."
Even if she did not trust his words, she trusted the sincerity in his eyes. She sighed, defeated. "I do not understand, brother, but I trust your judgment," she threw a slightly warmer look at the elvish prince. "Fey folk I will never figure, but I trust my brother's word. However, I will ask no forgiveness. I will stand with my family and my kind, with no discrimination of those who oppose us."
"Eowyn!" Eomer chided.
Legolas bowed. "I admire your spirit lady. In all my years on this Middle Earth I can say with all honesty I have never met another like you."
Eowyn spent a second analysing whether this was a compliment or an insult. But when she allowed herself a deeper look into his face she realise he would never dream of insulting her. She nodded a farewell and left.
They were alone.
Silence can be a vast thing. Eomer believed that every single noise in the world had been quelled at that moment. Whether this bode good or ill he could not be sure.
"Your sister is valiant and true, rider of the mark," Legolas finally spoke. "She is a credit to your people."
"She is indeed," Eomer answered, simply to fill the silence. "A treasure I feel unworthy of possessing."
Legolas looked up, eyes sharp. "So fearful for one so brave, yet again, Eomer."
Eomer bit his lip. He was once more totally immersed in this new, glorious experience of witnessing the elf's passionate switches of mood. For so long he had believed them stony; this torrid of emotion he had been perceiving in the elf was a glorious shattering of such preconceptions. It was not unlike happening upon a gilded and jewelled box only to find that it contained the greatest treasure in the world.
He could not help himself. This time his fear was boundless, but his temptation stronger. Legolas did not move, but the shift in his eyes was clearly evident. Once again, Eomer felt his surroundings and his history and his future melt away to live exposed this one moment and this one feeling. He watched his fingers reach out as though they weren't his. Such a face. He had to touch it, if only to reassure himself once again that it was real. His grazed fingertips ran smoothly across the elven prince's silky cheek and gently took a grip of his jaw. He tipped Legolas's face upward and took another step closer.
"Don't speak now, Legolas," he whispered. "Your voice is too much. I fear my heart would not let me pursue you further if it realised that this is not a dream."
Legolas trembled slightly and there was a sadness mulling his oceanic eyes. "I don't want to be a dream, Eomer," he almost sobbed, the whisper so close it was only a breath above silence.
TBC
His spirit lifted a little, climbing into the vicinity of his ankles when he came around a corner to the well and upon a sight so extraordinary he thought he must be dreaming.
His sister, always a formidable woman and one for whom he had much admiration, was standing straight and defiant. Her large eyes were wide and accusing as they looked down the length of arm and sword into a face very calm and still with the slightest touch of sadness in the slant of its eyelids. The sight of this creature made again his heart turn a somersault in his chest. The vision of the moonlight sewing silver into his fair hair and eyelashes and they way it polished his skin almost convinced Eomer that he was, in fact, dreaming. But then the elf's eye flicked to him and the moment broke with the movement.
"Sister!" cried Eomer, hurrying forward. Eowyn turned slightly but the blade remained poised. "What goes on? What's the meaning of this?"
"My lord, what has occurred is not an act to be taken lightly, even at the best of times," Eowyn's eyes flashed. "Division is fatal and these times above all others we cannot tolerate those who put us in danger. I have no care as to who he is. He only became my concern when he laid his hands upon you."
Eomer was touched and should really have expected nothing less of his sister. But he could find no words to explain. He looked to Legolas whose expression did not change.
"Lady, I meant no harm to your brother," his voice was cool and flowing. "It grieves me deeply that I may have pained either of you in any way and all I can do is beg for your forgiveness and ask you to accept my promise that no such thing will ever occur again."
Eomer tried desperately to dredge something out of the elf's eyes that indicated that he still felt anything of what they has experience on top of the Hornburg. Eomer still fancied he could taste the wondrous sensation on his lips and it bit deep that maybe it was all for naught. Elves were treacherous, it was said. They know so little of emotion that they cannot help but bruise those who try to break against their rocky façade.
"Give me not stone soaked in honey, elf," Eowyn growled. "You think you are beyond the bite of this blade?"
"Peace, Eowyn," Eomer laid a hand on her arm and gently eased it away from Legolas who did not move but his eyes suddenly seemed to dive into despair. "We are not divided peoples," Eomer breathed, recalling revelations from the tower and still hoping there was honesty behind them. "We must stand united."
"I don't stand with those who seek to harm those with whom they are united," Eowyn said. "Eomer, what was there? Why so accepting?"
Eomer sighed and laid a hand on his sister's shoulder. "You must trust my words, dearest sister. I promise you faithfully that no malice has e'er fallen between we two."
Even if she did not trust his words, she trusted the sincerity in his eyes. She sighed, defeated. "I do not understand, brother, but I trust your judgment," she threw a slightly warmer look at the elvish prince. "Fey folk I will never figure, but I trust my brother's word. However, I will ask no forgiveness. I will stand with my family and my kind, with no discrimination of those who oppose us."
"Eowyn!" Eomer chided.
Legolas bowed. "I admire your spirit lady. In all my years on this Middle Earth I can say with all honesty I have never met another like you."
Eowyn spent a second analysing whether this was a compliment or an insult. But when she allowed herself a deeper look into his face she realise he would never dream of insulting her. She nodded a farewell and left.
They were alone.
Silence can be a vast thing. Eomer believed that every single noise in the world had been quelled at that moment. Whether this bode good or ill he could not be sure.
"Your sister is valiant and true, rider of the mark," Legolas finally spoke. "She is a credit to your people."
"She is indeed," Eomer answered, simply to fill the silence. "A treasure I feel unworthy of possessing."
Legolas looked up, eyes sharp. "So fearful for one so brave, yet again, Eomer."
Eomer bit his lip. He was once more totally immersed in this new, glorious experience of witnessing the elf's passionate switches of mood. For so long he had believed them stony; this torrid of emotion he had been perceiving in the elf was a glorious shattering of such preconceptions. It was not unlike happening upon a gilded and jewelled box only to find that it contained the greatest treasure in the world.
He could not help himself. This time his fear was boundless, but his temptation stronger. Legolas did not move, but the shift in his eyes was clearly evident. Once again, Eomer felt his surroundings and his history and his future melt away to live exposed this one moment and this one feeling. He watched his fingers reach out as though they weren't his. Such a face. He had to touch it, if only to reassure himself once again that it was real. His grazed fingertips ran smoothly across the elven prince's silky cheek and gently took a grip of his jaw. He tipped Legolas's face upward and took another step closer.
"Don't speak now, Legolas," he whispered. "Your voice is too much. I fear my heart would not let me pursue you further if it realised that this is not a dream."
Legolas trembled slightly and there was a sadness mulling his oceanic eyes. "I don't want to be a dream, Eomer," he almost sobbed, the whisper so close it was only a breath above silence.
TBC