Recoveries

"What is wrong with her?" Eomer asked, glancing over Selanae's still form. They sat in a chamber in Minas Tirith, with Aragorn by her side as well. They'd only just arrived earlier in the day, but Selanae had not regained consciousness. The healer king shook his head.

"It reminds me of the black breath," he said. "You say she was affected when Sauron fell?"

Eomer nodded. "Almost at the same time." He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. He hadn't rested since they returned, though his body more than needed it. A healer saw him after the battle, but Eomer ignored the call for sleep.

Aragorn frowned as his eyes glanced over Selanae's body. She no long wore her dark, bullying attire, but hints of the black shades remained on her face, by her eyes and lips.

"You haven't told me what happened," Aragorn said. "When we first saw you, she held you captive and threatened to kill you." He paused, flickering a glance at her again. "Not to mention she looked like death."

Eomer almost smiled, until his mind flashed over with the memories. How brutal she had been. Cruel, unfeeling. Delighting in his torment. He had to remind himself it was an act. Wasn't it? There were moments he was sure she was truly in Sauron's grasp, and that Middle Earth was doomed.

He felt Aragorn's probing gaze on him, and cleared his throat.

"I don't know why she went along with it," he said. His eyes glazed over as he saw her standing over him right after he'd been shot with the arrow. Not realizing it, Eomer gently rolled his shoulder.

"She was their leader, under Sauron. It was an act, of course," Eomer hurriedly added in her defense. "But there were times I wasn't sure." He shook his head. "She pretended to be on their side, and they feared her."

"Why would they fear her?" Aragorn voiced aloud. Eomer shook his head, unsure of it himself. He had a suspicion, but he couldn't bring himself to think of it.

Suddenly a new voice joined them. "They had plenty of reason to, when she was with them before." Eomer and Aragorn turned to see Gandalf, whose eyes were soft as he saw the confusion over their features. He shifted his gaze to Selanae, and smiled.

"What do you mean?" Aragorn asked. Gandalf stared at the king.

"There is much that you don't know," he said. "And I think only Selanae should share it, if she chooses to. Eomer knows a hint of what I speak of." Eomer looked away, even as his memory replayed the torture she gave him.

He felt Aragorn's eyes on him, but he couldn't say another word.

"While we're on that subject," Gandalf continued, his tone suddenly lighter, "Eomer, I believe you have enough injury to drive every healer scolding after you."

Eomer gave a short nod and stood. With a reluctant look at Selanae, he sighed.

"One of us will stay with her," Aragorn said softly. Eomer looked to him gratefully.

"Thank you."

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His body ached unbearably now. He ignored it before, the whole journey back to Minas Tirith, but now his shoulder screamed at him and the cut in his side burned as if splitting apart.

"Eomer!"

He looked ahead sharply, surprised but delighted as he saw his sister. She grinned and ran towards him.

She glowed! He'd never seen her so happy, so alive! His jaw dropped.

"Eowyn," he said barely above a whisper. She was well, he'd known, but to see her so recovered, not just in body but in spirit! It eased his heart.

She almost ran over him, and hugged him tightly. Eomer smiled, and tried to hold back a groan.

Immediately she released him.

"What? What is it?" Her eyes searched over him. "You're hurt!"

Eomer shook his head. "I'm all right. I just—"

"—need to get this armor off and get some rest, brother," she said with some command. She took him by the arm and pulled him to his room. "You should have taken off that armor as soon as you got back!"

Eomer closed his eyes briefly. The last thing he wanted now was Eowyn's badgering. He stood still as she started to unlatch his armor, and toss it to the side. He grimaced as she removed some pieces which covered his wounds.

Her eyes widened as she saw dried blood all over his clothing. Beneath his shirt were bandages, holding him together. Purple and yellowing bruises only showed more evidence of his injury and made Eowyn curse.

"Those damn orcs," she muttered. "I hope the ones who did this to you are dead." Eomer felt a pang in his chest. Hesitantly, he sought the right words to calm his sister.

"Evil is defeated, Eowyn."

She nodded with another smile, and went to his door. Eomer raised an eyebrow as she stopped a servant and asked for a bath to be drawn. She turned back to him.

"You need a bath desperately, Eomer," she said with a teasing grin. "And after that, we will talk. I have much to tell you."

She tossed him a bottle of scented oil, seemingly from nowhere, and in a flurry of movement, left him.

Eomer blinked.

"So much for resting."

Eowyn returned as he was just finishing getting dressed. His fingers worked to straighten his shirt, and then he reached for his armor.

"Eomer, don't even think about it," she said, again with that badgering tone. "Relax. The war is over."

He froze at that. It hadn't really gotten to him that the war was over. His people were safe. Eowyn was alive, as was he and his friends. And Selanae . . .

He swallowed and nodded to Eowyn, hoping she wouldn't press him about his reaction.

"You are tired, brother," she said softly. She gently grasped him by the wrist and led him to the bed. "Rest. I'll tell you about Faramir later."

Eomer gave in, and fell back on the bed. He nodded at her words, and closed his eyes.

After he heard his door shut, his eyes shot open and he hastily sat up.

"Faramir!"

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He screamed out again, the sound of agony filling that cold, stone room. Blood dripped from his wounds, which became more and more creative and prolific. She smiled at the sight, and behind her she heard the approving laughter of the Mouth.

And yet inside, her mind screamed at her to stop. But she couldn't. She was too good at this. She drew her sword. With a quick slash, she cut him again over his stomach. Again, and a cut appeared over his knee. Again, and his shoulder spouted more blood.

And then, suddenly, something held her back. Her name sounded in her ears, her name like death.

"Selanae."

Eomer again was before her, writhing at the torture he endured. Blood dripped off the tip of Selanae's sword. She followed a drop, sliding down the steel and falling to the black stone.

Selanae gasped as her eyes flew open. Light flooded her vision, and she quickly raised her arms to shield her eyes. Something pulled her arms back, forcing them down.

"Selanae!"

She froze. Who is here? She ventured to open her eyes again, squinting through the shafts of light. Where is here? The room was no longer black or dark, but still stone. She lay on a bed, and through a window she could hear children laughing. Her eyes finally adjusted, and she saw Aragorn at her side.

He smiled softly at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. Rich clothing covered him, a burgundy tunic, and even a crown over his head. Selanae frowned. His hair was smooth, as if it'd been brushed.

"What's happened?" she asked. He let out a chuckle.

"The war is over. The Ring is destroyed." Light shone in his eyes as he smiled again. "Sauron is defeated."

She felt a stab of pain in her head at the name, but winced it away. However, Aragorn noticed it.

"You've been unconscious since he fell," he said. "I think it's because of some connection between you and Sauron." Again that pain stabbed, but not as hard this time.

Selanae cleared her throat. "Well, I was in his tower for awhile." It was said in a nonchalant manner, but dread filled her heart. Aragorn said nothing for a few moments.

"Eomer has not told me yet what happened, other than you pretended to be on Sauron's side," he started. "Do you want to speak of it?"

"No," she quickly said. Aragorn's eyes fell from her. "I . . . I'm . . . ." She shook her head, and felt relieved when he nodded.

"Get some rest," he said, standing. Selanae glanced at her arms, then the rest of her. She was still dirty from battle, the black attire gone but she felt the darkness still.

"Could you call for a bath?" she asked. "I need one." He chuckled again.

"Of course."

The bath was heavenly, the cleanest she'd felt since . . . well, since being captured and torturing Eomer. Getting the black shades off her skin was quite the task, but she succeeded.

The gash over her thigh stung as she bathed, but the wound was on the mend. As she quickly dressed in a gown, the wound throbbed a bit, but did not open.

She stopped in front of a mirror.

It wasn't the same person staring back. She looked like the old Selanae, the one that didn't have evil in her. But the darkness was still there, in her mind, in her memories. How she hated that knowledge.

What knowledge? You don't even remember everything. True, but she knew enough to know that the Mouth wasn't lying. For some reason or another, she aligned herself years ago with Sauron. She served him, killed for him. She couldn't remember who or why, but she felt the blood on her hands. And for some reason, she'd run away, escaped.

Selanae gulped, and turned from the mirror. With a heavy sigh, she emerged to her room.

Gandalf sat there, his grandfatherly smile greeting her.

"You look better, child," he said. "We were worried about you." Selanae nodded, though she glanced away. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Is something bothering you?"

She flashed a glare at him. He knew, probably more than she did, and yet he feigned innocence. It was irksome. She suddenly wiped away the expression on her face and adopted a faint, indifferent smile.

"How is Eomer?" Her voice almost quivered, despite her resolve. But if Gandalf noticed it, he for once didn't give her grief over it.

"He is fine, resting in his room as we speak," he said. "He was quite concerned. He wouldn't leave your side."

Selanae nodded, her eyes downcast again. She whirled around, turning her back on Gandalf. "Good," she said, again with her façade in place.

"How do you feel now, knowing your past?"

She tensed, her body overcome with the iciest feeling. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"You knew," she said plainly, though inside she wanted to take his staff and beat him with it. The wizard merely nodded. "So you lied before, when you said you'd told me about the whole prophecy."

Again he nodded.

"How do you think I feel?" she asked, getting to his original question. "I've learned I have a black past, siding with the greatest enemy in history." She took a step towards him, her voice rising. "I have blood on my hands, not just from then, but from torturing a certain king of Rohan! I've learned I'm not just a skilled fighter, but a blood-thirsty monster that even the Nazgul feared!" She took another step and yanked Gandalf's staff from his hand. His eyes widened in alarm, and Selanae just hurled the thing out the window.

"Selanae," he said, standing. She shook her head.

"Why did I even have to come back?" Her eyes flashed with anger, though her heart rent with deepest sorrow. "I had the chance to start over, to forget. I was happy. And then you tell me a half-truth about some sham of a prophecy and then toss me into hell!"

"Sham?" Gandalf repeated. "What makes you think the prophecy wasn't true?" Selanae rolled her eyes.

"My being in Mordor did nothing. I tortured, threatened life, and acted with the blackest of hearts," she said, jabbing a finger in his chest. "And for what? Ultimately, the Ring was destroyed by the hobbits. That is how Sauron was defeated." Selanae made herself stop. She stood straight, her fists clenched, and her eyes closed. Slowly, she opened them and stared straight at Gandalf. "Why, when all it brought was pain?"

He just smiled back, giving her a look that betrayed he knew something. As he remained quiet, Selanae grew more frustrated.

"Fine," she seethed. She rushed past him and out of the room. Selanae moved quickly down the hall, not caring who she passed or might have offended with her manner. She had no idea where she was, though Gondor was her best bet. Even so, she didn't know where she was headed. To make matters worse, as she moved, her limbs started to weaken. They felt limp and she had to brace herself against a wall so she didn't faint.

"Selanae," she heard, and then felt someone holding her up. "You haven't eaten in days. Come with me."

It was Aragorn, she knew.

"Is she all right?" she heard someone ask. She recognized the voice, a feminine one with a stubborn edge. Eowyn

"You shouldn't be walking around yet, Selanae," Aragorn said, pulling her along. Part of her wanted to resist, to push herself away and to disappear from those who knew her. But her body would not comply.

Aragorn and Eowyn dragged her back to her room.

"I'll fetch you some food," Eowyn said, a little too graciously for what Selanae expected.

Selanae shut her eyes, leaning back against the pillows she was placed on. She could feel Aragorn's presence in the room, his eyes pressing her.

"What?" she said, a bit testily considering her weakness. His responding smile was almost audible.

"I was just thinking of Gandalf. He's chasing his staff right now," he said. He chuckled at the thought before lapsing into silence.

Outside the room, servants bustled and workers patched up the city. The noise was almost soothing; at least, it distracted Selanae a bit. But not enough. She finally opened her eyes and stared at Aragorn. How she hated his soft eyes, his all-knowing, prying looks. But for all that, she knew he wasn't like others. He would understand.

"Did you know there was more to the prophecy than Gandalf said?" she asked. There was no dancing around. She couldn't play the games anymore. And Aragorn nodded.

"Though, he didn't tell me till yesterday."

A pitiful defense, but Selanae was too weak to bite Aragorn's head off. She closed her eyes again as pain seized her chest.

"Your past is long over, Selanae," she heard him say. "Don't torture yourself over it. Because of it, you brought us to succeed over Sauron."
Again, that blasted name sent a jabbing pain in her head.

"I don't see how," she whispered. "All I did was . . ." Eomer's face, contorted with her torture, flashed in her mind.

"All you did was save us all. You think because the hobbits dropped the ring in Mt. Doom that you didn't play a role?" Aragorn chided. She just shook her head, still unwilling to open her eyes. But he chuckled. "I wasn't sure what happened, but Gandalf seemed to know. He said you would shield the hobbits from discovery."

Her eyes shot open, seeing nothing though as her memory replayed. The orcs, fighting . . . two smaller ones—too small. And then her decision to ignore them for greater prey.

"If they had been found, all would have been lost. At that point, not even you could stop the Ring from finding Sauron's hand."

He let her think on that, and the words kept replaying in her mind, even as she saw Eomer. Finally she refocused, turning to look at Aragorn.

"It just seems like so little, for so great a price," she said softly. Her voice grated slightly, hoarse from tiredness and stress. Again, the Gondorian king's eyes softened.

"You don't just mean you learning about your past," he observed. Selanae shook her head.

"No, although there's much I still don't know or understand about that," she said. "But I . . . Eomer . . ."

She shook her head and shut her eyes again. With a deep breath, she found the courage to look back at Aragorn.

"Does he know the truth?" she asked.

Aragorn shook his head, and that pang in her chest hit again.

"But I don't think it would change anything," he said.

"You don't know what I did to him."

He nodded in agreement, and stood.

"You're right," he said. "But he knows what you did, and yet he has been by your side as long as he physically could muster. I've only seen him do that for one other lady—Eowyn."

She didn't know what he was getting at there, but supposed it meant there'd be no ill will between them. He was half-way out the door when he turned back.

"Selanae," he started. "You've tried to prove you don't care about anything. To you, feelings are weakness, though that is a wrong thought. And yet, you've spent more time worrying about Eomer than yourself since you've awoken."

His eyes bore into hers.

"Perhaps you should consider the reason."

He left, leaving her stunned as he shut the door. She blinked several times, and finally shut her eyes, unwilling to think or analyze his words or any other plaguing thoughts.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed that! I'm revising my next chapter, so bear with me. Hopefully by the weekend (or sometime during it), I'll have it up. Please review!