Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate and New Line Cinema.
Author's Note: This ties in with my Why a Child… stories; may be a little confusing if you have not read at least one of them.
Recognition
"Let me fetch a healer. Your wound is beyond my skill," Lady Eowyn says, rising to her feet from crouching before Lord Aragorn, who sits against one of the fortress walls, his face twisted with pain.
"It is not necessary. It is not as bad as it appears. I can –," he tries to object.
"You cannot tend your wound yourself," Eowyn says firmly.
"I do not ask for your concern, my Lady."
Eowyn draws back slightly, stung by Aragorn's words. But her hurt and anger vanishes as she glimpses regret in his eyes before they close and his head leans against the stone. He continues gasping painfully. For a moment she simply stares at his countenance, feeling she has seen him with a similar expression before… Her eyes widen, and suddenly it all comes together, the answers to the puzzle she has pondered over these few days…this man. She brings her hand to her heart, stunned speechless for a moment.
"You did not refuse it before," she claims passionately, tears welling up in her eyes. She kneels before him again and places one of her hands over his. "Twice you have not yielded to death. I will not allow it to steal you away now…Thorongil!"
Aragorn's eyes fly open and he meets her fiery gaze. Amidst the pain swimming in his grey eyes, she distinguishes astonishment and growing relief and joy. A smile slowly comes over Eowyn's face.
Now she at last understands why he has understood her so, why at times he seemed to gaze at her with a sadness she could not comprehend. Why there is such a strong connection between them. Why she felt she knew him from somewhere. And now she knows.
Aragorn sighs. "Little Eowyn," he murmurs softly.
That familiar name causes memories long forgotten to come to Eowyn's mind, and her face lights with amazement. She is incapable of moving or speaking as Aragorn holds her gaze and brushes her cheek gently with his fingers. Neither is aware of the distance between them slowly lessening.
The spell is broken when Aragorn drops his hand to hold his side and he hisses sharply. Eowyn scolds herself for her forgetfulness and quickly rises.
"I shall call a healer!"
She is startled at Aragorn's swiftness, as in an instant he is grasping her hand, restraining her before she has taken a step.
"No!" he says, an edge of panic in his voice. "Do not leave!"
Eowyn's heart races as she beholds his gaze. She attempts to keep her face composed and not betray her emotions.
"You need help." She pauses, and cannot hide her blush as she understands his words. "I will return with a healer," she assures him.
He does not loosen his grip on her hand. He tilts his head and looks at her quizzically. "You will return and stay?" he asks.
"Yes. I promise," Eowyn replies.
Slowly Aragorn releases her. She smiles at him before hurrying, aware of his eyes tracking her. And her heart leaps in hope.
THE END
