Eowyn struggled a little bit, but managed to sit up in her bed in the Houses of Healing. "What are you doing here?" she asked her visitor curiously.
"There will be a meeting in a short while to decide what our next step in the war should be," Legolas informed her as he sat down in the chair next to her bed. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before I went."
"If you only have a short time to visit with anyone then why aren't you visiting Merry?" she persisted. A stricken look crossed her face. "Did something happen to him in the middle of the night?!"
"He's fine," assured Legolas soothingly. "I just had a nice talk with him. Pippin is seeing to it that he's – how should I put this? – properly entertained at the moment."
Eowyn managed a weak smile. "So...you came to see me."
"I did," he said. "That is, if the slayer of the Witch King will receive me. Your deed has won you great renown, Eowyn. There are none among all the races of these lands that can claim such an honor."
"Honor?" she snorted in a self-deprecating manner. "What did I do, really? I promised Merry that I would protect him and instead he almost died trying to protect me. I tried to save my uncle and now he's lying dead in the citadel." Her voice broke off as she stifled a sob, determined not to give in to the tears now. "I wanted for myself only an honorable death in battle and now here I am."
"Why did you go into battle seeking death?" asked Legolas, although he could already guess the answer. He hoped his voice sounded calm and didn't betray his worry.
"I was trapped, Legolas!" Eowyn cried despairingly. "I love my land and my people as much or more than any soldier in our army. I'm of the house of Eorl and no less brave and valiant than my brother and yet I was never allowed to fight. Even at Helm's Deep I was ordered to cower in the caves while untrained little boys and feeble old men fought. And then when Aragorn..."
She stopped and gave him a quick, nervous look, as if she just remembered exactly whom she was speaking too, and then looked away with a flushed face.
"Eowyn," said Legolas gently. "Don't be embarrassed or ashamed of your feelings towards Aragorn. I told you once that I don't condemn you for them and that's still true."
She took a deep breath and looked at him again. "When Aragorn refused to let me go with your company on the Paths of the Dead I could endure it no longer," she continued. "He seemed to be the only person who thought I was capable of being more than just a housewife or a nursemaid. I thought that he was the only person who could free me from my life, but instead he basically told me to go back to Meduseld. I couldn't do it, Legolas; death seemed preferable to going back to that cage."
"And so Dernhelm came into being."
"Yes," she affirmed. "But none of that matters, for I am the sister of the king now. I'll be married off to some high-ranking Rohirrim noble who demonstrates the most loyalty, or possibly to the ruler of another kingdom to seal a treaty or alliance." She let out a sigh. "Maybe I should just accept that such a cage is inevitable."
"If such a cage is inevitable," said Legolas sharply, "then I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be in my father's throne room, listening to a bunch of troubadours prattle on about sunshine and blue seas. You did escape, Eowyn, in order to find a death of your own choosing. I think you lie here now because you were meant to escape and live."
She smiled wryly. "What a concept."
"Oh, excuse me my lord, my lady!" an elderly healing woman interrupted. "I don't mean to intrude but I'm to tell you, master elf, that the meeting is starting in a few minutes."
"Thank you," smiled Legolas. Something that Aragorn mentioned the previous night came into his mind. "May I inquire your name? You wouldn't happen to be Ioreth, would you?"
The woman looked absolutely shocked. "I am!" she cried. "How did you know my name."
He rose to his feet. "The ranger who was in here last night mentioned it to me," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it.
"Oh," she blushed, then lowered her voice. "You know him then? Do you know if he's the king? It was said that the hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and his healing skills were just remarkable."
"I cannot tell you the answer to that now," Legolas told her in a conspiring tone. "But I can tell you that he was most impressed by your knowledge of ancient lore and wisdom." He gave her a meaningful look.
Ioreth's eyes grew wide. "Thank you, good master elf!" she exclaimed in excitement. "My lady," she continued importantly, turning to Eowyn, "I will be back to check on you as soon as I'm finished with the Steward Faramir."
Eowyn shook her head after the healing woman left. "I didn't know elves could be that charming," she noted.
"Trust me, she deserves every bit of it."
"Wait, did she say 'Steward Faramir'?" she asked. Legolas nodded in affirmation. "The Lord Denethor is dead then? How did he die, and how is it that his son is in the Houses of Healing?"
"The Lord Faramir is here because of familial obligations," replied Legolas as he made his way to the door. "Well, that and trying to fit into the cage that others made for him."
With one last grim smile he left her pondering his parting words.
wimtbwimtbwimtbwimtbwimtb
"I apologize if I'm late," said Legolas as he entered the throne room of Minas Tirith. "I was visiting with Eowyn."
Eomer frowned at this. "Were you?" he asked stiffly. "Well, it may be proper among elves for a male to visit a female while she is unsupervised and confined to her bed, but it is not in the world of Men. I must ask you to refrain from such visits in the future, and to use her proper title when you refer to her."
"Is it then improper to call someone by name if she's given permission for you to do so?" Legolas retorted as he stepped next to Rohan's new king. "And is it improper for a friend to visit a bored and depressed friend during her confinement? I assure you that I'm no threat to her virtue, as my own is pledged to another."
The tension vanished from Eomer's face, replaced with exhaustion and concern. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I just can't shake the image of my baby sister lying as if dead on that battle field. Gandalf told me that Wormtongue's poisonous whispers were part of what drove her there. I just don't want another male to hurt her."
"I am no Wormtongue," Legolas informed him. "The world is full of males who are not Wormtongue either. Don't protect your sister from her own heart's desire or the only male who is hurting her will be you."
Eomer let out a shuddering breath. "I know," he sighed, wanting to steer their conversation to a less painful topic. "So, you are pledged to someone? Who is the lucky lady?"
Aragorn sidled up next to Legolas and kissed him full on the lips. "Watch who you call a lady," he said flatly to a stunned Eomer. Stealing another kiss, he went back to where Mithrandir was standing and the meeting commenced.
"I cannot see Frodo and Sam from afar," lamented Mithrandir. "All we have is a report from Faramir that they intended to go to the Morgul Vale and then to Cirith Ungol with Gollum as their guide."
Aragorn grimaced at the memory of traveling with that wretched little creature, of taking Gollum to Mirkwood and then watching as he tried to paw Legolas' leg. Still, better the little hobbits were with him than with a servant of the enemy. "If Sauron had the ring, we would know it," he said firmly.
"It's only a matter of time," replied Mithrandir.
"Until the day I see their bodies and the shadow of Sauron covers this land, I refuse to give up hope," announced Aragorn. "Instead of despairing, we need to find a way to give Frodo and Sam safe passage to Mount Doom."
"What are you proposing?" asked Legolas.
Aragorn took a deep breath. "We must gather all of our forces to make a last stand at the Black Gate."
"Madness!" Gimli sputtered out.
"Aragorn," said Eomer carefully, "we cannot win through strength of arms. We just don't have enough people for that to happen."
"No, we can't and we don't," agreed Aragorn. "But we can give Frodo a chance. We can draw the enemy's eye to us" – he turned to Legolas, who was smiling – "and away from everything else that moves."
"A diversion," nodded the elf.
"Yes," said Mithrandir slowly, thoughtfully. "It just may be the only course of action open to us."
"Small chance of victory, certainty of death," assessed Gimli. "What are we waiting for?"
"If this be our only chance I'll assemble as many Rohirrim as I can," promised Eomer. "But first I must visit my sister and let her know what's going on."
"You must raise the troops of Gondor, Mithrandir," said Aragorn as Eomer departed. "Faramir is still too ill to command and I can't claim any type of rule over the people unless – until – we are victorious."
"You're right, you're right," agreed Mithrandir, his eyes twinkling. "Come with me, master dwarf. I shall need some assistance now that Pippin is distracted with Merry's well being."
Gimli got to his feet. "Mind that you two behave yourselves," he warned Legolas and Aragorn as he left with the wizard.
Legolas stared after him in amused amazement. "He just needs the blonde hair, the pointy ears, and the 'Little Greenleaf'," he said, imitating King Thranduil perfectly, "and he'd be my father.
"Do you think this plan is hopeless?" blurted out Aragorn.
"Hopeless?" mused Legolas. "Perhaps not hopeless. Desperate, yes. I do think it's desperate, bold, reckless, and dangerous. But that doesn't mean it's not the right plan. You haven't led us astray yet, and you aren't starting to at this point."
"So much is at stake," murmured Aragorn. "There didn't seem to be much hope of success when the journey began, but now that we've had some victories I don't want them to be fruitless. I don't want everyone who died to have done so in vain."
"Yes," replied Legolas, tracing the Man's face with his fingertips. "We all risked everything when we dared to have hope, but it's worth it. We must stand firm and not waver now that the end, for good or ill, is in sight."
To be continued...
A/N: A few reviewers have asked me if I'm going to write a sequel to this. I'm most definitely not opposed to the idea (though it might take a little while in coming since I'm concentrating on a Troy fic at the moment); however whatever story there is in the sequel will most likely involve mpreg. Comments? Encouragements? Discouragements?
