Chapter 7

A most subdued funeral for the fallen March Warden of Lothlorien took place in Gondor shortly after, where only the closest to him were present. The Lady and Lord of Lothlorien had specially made the journey to Gondor to pay their last respects to a faithful friend and loyal servant – one who had baffled them time and time again, yet was loyal to the end. Éomer watched his sister sink back into the self-inflicted shell, the stupor that she seemed to dwell in Haldir's absence. It was her private world that only she could see. As Lady Galadriel said the final eulogy for the March WardenÉowyn bowed her head and shut her eyes tight. Her nightmares of the fatal night replayed themselves in her mind, repeatedly, in sepia and colour, mocking her, coldly taunting her, determined to drive her to breaking point. She looked up defiantly, staring at the sea of faces before her. Aragorn and Arwen. Galadriel and Celeborn. Didn't she deserve to have her own happy ending as well? As her own world closed in on her again and enclosed her in a tiny room where light seldom shone in, she was only too happy to ignore them all. Say all they would, but nothing could, or would, bring back the past.

Faramir bowed before the coffin respectfully. He had not known the elf well, apart from the customary small talk, but he felt morally obliged to be present. After all, it concerned all of them – and Éowyn had taken this final blow exceptionally hard. He felt a twinge of sympathy going out to Éomer – it was going to take a lot of time before his sister would open up again. Her expression was guarded, yet as she mourned deeply, she had her defences up and steadfastedly refused to meet anyone's eyes. The usual consolations passed between the guests and herself, but she barely acknowledged any of them, her gaze fixated on the tombstone and the closed marble coffin. Faramir leaned close to Éowyn, trying to ease her emotions and to get her to escape from her own private closed walls. Essentially, she had placed herself into an imaginary coffin in her mind and sealed it up, refusing to let anyone near her again. As Éomer consoled and soothed her, she leaned against her brother's solid frame and cried softly. Hysterics were barely her style; moreover, she was surprised that she still had the energy to cry on. Éomer exchanged a quick glance with Faramir, and Faramir looked away hastily. Perhaps he ought to wait till the time was right. It might seem insensitive, not to mention inappropriate, to console the wife of the fallen in such close proximity, especially so soon after the incident. He bent on one knee, placed the customary offerings on the grave, and retreated silently into the castle.

Galadriel bowed her head silently. She gazed at Éowyn and Éomer in turn, and Éomer took the hint and stood up.

"I'll see you laterÉowyn," he said as he left.

"My childÉowyn," she began softly.

"You knew, milady. You knew, and yet you let him die like that. Have you no mercy? You are an elf. You live to be thousands of years old, and yet you subject Haldir to this…" she burbled through her tears.

"Fate is a delicate thing," she replied, "and by removing him from his fate, a more dangerous life will await him," she said.

"And so I'm made to return to Rohan, alone, and to care for this child alone with no form of motivation, nothing to view each passing day as a joy, with nobody or nothing to live for?" she cried as her voice was wracked with uncertainty and fear.

"ListenÉowyn. Your life must go on. You must not perish yet. Your time has not yet come to be," Galadriel said patiently. However, she felt the similar emptiness in her. She would have a hard time explaining his death to his brothers. Furthermore, for the first time, she felt truly at a loss of what to say to the Lady of Rohan.

Éomer sat in the room silently. Haldir had been a rather close confidante towards the end of his days, and they had several deep conversations, and eventually formed some sort of friendship. His passing was a loss to him, as a brother-in-law, and most importantly, he knew that the Prince of Ithilien was using this opportunity to manipulate his way into the heart of his sister. He was not particularly averse to the Prince, but he did feel that all due respect to Éowyn's feelings had to be given. He shook his head tersely and realized that everything Éowyn had bound her life to was gone and crashed onto her like a terrible avalanche. She was buried too deep under the snow to dig herself out again, and the vision was much too blurred. She would have lots of trouble picking herself out of the snow, and to tread on firm ground again.

"Aragorn, I'm worried about my sister," Éomer began.

"She's been cooped up alone for a week. This cannot possibly be good," Aragorn replied.

"With the child and all, yes?" Éomer said.

Aragorn sighed. "Sometimes, I wonder if all this has been for the best. Even though I do love Arwen with all my heart, I do wonder if perhaps, I had paid Éowyn more attention, and that if Arwen had decided to leave for Valinor, the most sensible course of action would be to marry your sister? And with that, perhaps Haldir would never have even met Éowyn, and Haldir would be back in Lothlorien where he belongs, and Arwen would also be happy with her people, an Éowyn wouldn't have to go through this trauma…but it's just a lot of 'ifs' and frankly, nothing more…just scenarios played out that never can be real," Aragorn mused. "And Éomer…you currently stand the best chance of getting her to open up again. It's all up to you, her brother, to save her from the depths of darkness."

A gentle knock at her door surprised Éowyn. Usually, they were followed by a worried cry of her name, or an uncertain, "Are you alright?" They didn't understand that she had to be alone. She needed the peace, quiet and the solace. She needed to get her thoughts in order and even though she knew that she would never fully accept Haldir's death, and put it behind her, she knew that she would have to face the masses once again. Perhaps she ought to start by, well, actually looking the people in the eye, chin up and face-to-face. Rubbing her blotchy face, she opened the door to find the Prince of Ithilien, Faramir, standing outside her door hesitantly. She had been half-expecting her brother. Or at least even Aragorn, who was, all things considered, still an old friend.

"It's you," she said much more harshly than she meant to. A mildly hurt expression clouded over his face, but the sympathetic look soon returned.

"I just wanted to say that…if there's anything that you may possibly require aid in, I'll be more than willing to help," he said. He cringed to himself. Did he really think that she needed his help? With her brother and the King of Gondor as her pillars of strength, he barely even entered the picture, he told himself regretfully. Yet, he had truly wanted to let her know

Éowyn's eyes flickered up and down before replying, "Hmm," she was absolutely tired of the people around her promising that things would get better, that life would pick up and that they would help…

"Listen, Prince Faramir, it is not an empty promise I need now. Nor is it any pledges of help or any pity from a faint heart," she said acidly.

"My lady Éowyn, I come not to give you any empty promises, but to tell you also that you have haunted my dreams since the very day we met, and also that despite everything, I do love you,"

A/N: Trust me, the story doesn't end yet. And it gets weirder and weirder. But in any case, thanks for reviewing (: