A/N: Another chapter, as promised. Thanks again for the reviews. You're very encouraging. :)


"You've checked all the caves? There's no chance he's not in one of the back rooms?" the King asked.

"No." Lisswyn rubbed her eyes, took a deep breath. Beat back the panic. "I just checked. We've had someone watching the orcs constantly, and he also would never have simply abandoned that duty without telling me."

"If the orcs had discovered him, they would already have found us as well."

He was trying to reassure her, and nodding, she turned, stared in the direction of the outer cave. Giving into fear would accomplish nothing. Eoden would still be missing. "He must have gone to spy on the orcs," she finally said, and heard despair in her voice. "He asked before and I told him no one should go, told him what you said about not leaving the caves. But he is a boy, and feels invincible. He also feels responsible for his mother and brother."

Hearing a noise, she looked over, saw the King trying to get to his feet. He'd braced himself with his good arm and rolled from a sitting position onto his knees, but his left arm flopped around and threw off his balance. In his weakened state, he couldn't seem to counter it, and he fell back onto the bedding, his expression furious.

Putting aside her worry over Eoden for the moment, she started toward him only to pause when she heard him swear under his breath. Mortification joined the frustration on his face when he realized she'd heard him.

Torn between scolding him for attempting to get up without assistance and in simply reassuring him, she settled for that latter. He might be a patient, but he was still the King. "Getting up off the floor is always more difficult than simply standing up, particularly when you're recovering from a fever. Once you're up a bit and regaining your strength, it will be easier even if your arm doesn't cooperate." Reaching down, she grasped his good arm behind the elbow. "Try again."

His scowl told her he was still embarrassed, but he braced himself against her and allowed her to help him stand. He wobbled, and she slipped her arm around his waist to steady him, tried not to think about how it felt to touch him in such a manner. His back was strong, his skin warm and firm to the touch. After a moment, he took a cautious step, then another, until he reached the wall. He leaned against it with a sigh.

"You'll get stronger."

He nodded, looked down, and as if for the first time, seemed to notice his bare chest, something Lisswyn, with her arm around him, was quite conscious of. "I suppose my garments have been destroyed?"

"Yes…it was necessary to remove them in order to care for your wound." He seemed steadier, so she stepped away for a moment. "But Maegwen brought you this." She held out a soft, well-worn shirt that had been next to his bed. "It may be too tight, but we have nothing else that would be a better fit." She shook the shirt out. "It was her husband's," she added softly.

He did not reply for a long moment. "She managed to keep it when none of you have many belongings." He took the shirt, held it silently. "My debt continues to deepen."

He looked down at his useless left arm, then looked at the shirt. Lisswyn saw a flush start up his face as he looked down at his useless arm, then looked at the shirt, and she wondered how to spare him additional embarrassment.

In a manner as casual as possible, she took the garment from him. Slipped the left arm over his hand, brought it carefully up his arm. "How likely is it that the orcs will hear Eoden?" She gently eased the shoulder of the shirt over his bandaged wound. Tried to distract them both from the intimacy of what she was doing. "He knows the path well and can be very quiet, but I don't know how far down it he will go." She slipped the opening over his head, but concentrated on the shirt itself rather than his eyes. Knowing he could slip his good arm into the shirt himself, she then looked away from him, toward the front of the cave. She heard the soft slide of the material, knew he was dressed. She turned back to him again, allowed her anxiety for Eoden to show.

He finished pulling the shirt down, looked at her. "That will depend on how quiet he is. How close he gets. And how many arguments there are among them this evening."

He glanced down at the shirt, then back at her. Met her eyes. "Thank you."

She knew it not the shirt itself he was thanking her for, and simply nodded before turning once more to thoughts of Eoden. "Will they kill him right away, do you think?" her voice trembled again, and she swallowed. How long should she wait before waking Maegwen to tell her her son was gone?

"They may not hear him," the King said quietly. Without her being aware of it, he'd moved closer to her. He'd still been bracing himself against the wall with his good hand, but now lifted it, rested it on her shoulder. "Let's not assume the worst, at least not until dawn is closer at hand and he still hasn't returned." He motioned toward the front of the cave. "In the meantime, someone still needs to keep his watch."

She took a deep breath, found his quiet words reassuring. Although Eoden shouldn't have left, the fact that he had done so didn't automatically mean he'd be caught. And they might learn something useful.

Together, they started toward the outer cave. The King was moving slowly, but as they progressed, his movements became steadier. He would probably tire easily, but was clearly making great progress. If only his arm would show signs of the same kind of healing.

They heard a noise of someone entering the caves, and the King stepped forward and in front of her, and Lisswyn looked at him in confusion as he blocked her view. Then she realized he was placing himself between her and whoever was coming.

She saw him relax before he stepped aside, allowing her to see Eoden. The boy had obviously been hurrying, and dropped to his knees, breathing hard, when he saw them.

The King's voice was quiet, but harsh. "What were you thinking? Do you want to be responsible for—"

Eoden's face was white, his eyes glassy with shock. Lisswyn raised her hand, cut the King off in mid-sentence. "Sire, please." She caught his startled, annoyed look out of the corner of her eye, but fixed her attention on the boy in front of her, still gasping for breath. She knelt next to him.

"Eoden? What is it?"

He looked at her, didn't speak, and she grabbed his hands, squeezed. Sensed the King come up beside them. "Eoden!"

The boy took another shuddering breath, glanced at the King. He was obviously trying to pull himself together. "They are looking for you, my Lord. They are convinced you must be in the area." He glanced around the cave. "They mentioned the caves, then an argument broke out. I believe they will eventually search here. At the moment, they do not think you could have made it up here by yourself."

Despite his attempt at calm, Lisswyn's stomach tightened as she looked at the boy she'd known since birth. It was not fear she saw in his eyes, but shock and grief. "What else, Eoden? What else did you hear?"

He looked back at her, didn't answer right away, appearing to struggle to get the words out, and when he finally spoke, his voice was flat and no longer that of a boy. "They burned what was left of the village this morning. The rest of the villagers...they slaughtered them all." He looked up at Eomer. "They believed the villagers were hiding you. Knew where you were." He closed his eyes, rubbed a trembling hand over his face. "They did not give them easy deaths."

A long moment of silence passed. Eoden stood, wavered in exhaustion and grief. "I need some water." He turned, walked toward the back of the cave. Lisswyn struggled to her own feet, moved to follow him. A boy. He's still just a boy, and shouldn't be alone, was her only coherent thought. But she didn't begin to know what to do for him.

"No." The King touched her back, his voice soft. "Let me go."

She looked up at him, saw the weight of guilt he carried. Nodded. "There is a small cave off to the side of the room we use as a kitchen. He goes there to be alone."

He nodded, hesitated as if he wanted to say something else. Lisswyn shook her head, motioned to the front of the cave. "I will keep watch."

Eomer moved unsteadily through the caves, looking for the one Lisswyn had referred to. These people had so little. And now, new grief awaited them when they woke. Grief, and death if Eoden was right about the orcs searching the caves. Guilt that they were suffering because of him and anger at his inability to help them rushed through him. Perhaps he should simply give himself over to the orcs. But if they knew he had been hiding here, they would search the caves anyway, just out of vindictiveness.

He found the kitchen, and noted the few food stores, then turned to the smaller cave to its side. Smaller indeed. There was barely room for the two of them to sit. He slipped in, eased down, grateful to be off his feet again. Wondered if he would ever be able to get back up.

It was dark but for the small fire burning in the next room, but in the shadows he could see Eoden sitting, his knees drawn up to his chest, his head resting on them. He did not look up when Eomer sat down next to him.

Eomer said nothing. Waited.

The boy's voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "I have..." he paused, swallowed. Corrected himself. "…I had a friend. He was like a brother to me." He looked up, and Eomer could see his eyes in the darkness, dry but full of anguish. "He would have died trying to protect his mother. His father died in the spring." He swallowed hard again, and Eomer saw a tear slide down his face, a tear he tried to surreptitiously wipe away.

"Tears are not a weakness, Eoden." Eomer's voice was soft.

The boy struggled. "They are useless." He looked up, wiped away another one. "You would not weep."

Remembering the Pelennor fields, Eomer said, "That is not so." He paused, burdened by the boy's admiration of him. Wondered that Eoden didn't seem to be understanding that these latest losses were because of him. Forcing his mind back to the boy sitting next to him, he tried to figure out what he could say, what could possibly make a difference. "Our tears are what make us different from the orcs, Eoden. They are proof that we care. That we know the value of a lost life. That we love. An acknowledgement that someone lived and died, and mattered."

The tears were falling faster. Eomer raised his arm, grateful the boy was sitting on his right side, where that was an option. He rested it on the narrow, bony shoulders, and waited.

Eoden's face crumpled with grief, and he turned into the comfort offered, buried his face in his king's shoulder, and wept.

Lisswyn stood in the shadows, stared out into the darkness. She could hear the orcs. Occasional screams, brief fights. Every once in a while, she would see the tell tale movement of torches as a smaller group moved away. In a detached fashion, she waited for the moment she would see some of those torches starting up the narrow path to the caves. Wondered if she should even bother waking up the others if she saw them coming. Perhaps it was best not to have too much time to fear.

The village was gone. There hadn't been much left of it, of course, but a few homes. A few people. The idea had still been there, though: "people live here. A community exists here." And now, there was nothing. Just a memory. And when she and the others in the caves were dead, as they surely would be before long, there would not even be that. No sign that a group of Eorlingas had once called that patch of ground home. Had lived and died, borne children and buried the elderly. No would know. Would remember.

She heard a step behind her, but did not turn. Felt the King's hand settle on her shoulder. Wondered that she felt nothing in response. It seemed like she should feel something. Gratitude for his concern, perhaps. But nothing was there.

"How is Eoden?" Her voice sounded flat, distant, even to her own ears.

"He sleeps."

Lisswyn nodded. He dropped his hand from her shoulder, down her back. Let it rest at her waist. Absently, she wondered if it was because he thought she needed the touch.

"How are you?" His voice was quiet.

She did not reply for a long time. "One of the women you have not yet met is Brecka. She is several years younger than I am." She paused, tried to find the words. It was surprisingly hard to concentrate, and she spared a moment to ponder why that was so. "After the fires last spring, her older brother's wife and children moved in with her and the rest of the family. There was not enough room, so Brecka came here, to the caves." She finally turned, looked up at him. "In the morning, I will have to tell her of their deaths. One of them was her twin sister. They both wanted to come. They'd never been separated before. But her mother convinced them it was foolish for both to come when they had room in the cottage for one of them."

Taking a deep breath, she spoke aloud what was haunting her. "They tortured them to death." She looked up at him, waited for the confirmation. Saw it in his guilt-stricken eyes. He looked years older than he had this morning.

He said nothing, however, but simply pulled her to him. It confused her. She was fine. Wasn't she?

Her face brushed against the soft shirt, felt the muscles underneath. His hand came up, rubbed her back. And something loosened inside her. A wild, terrifying grief that she tried to shove back down, and couldn't. And then the tears came. Ever aware of the dangers of noise, she pressed herself hard against him, stifled the sound. Registered that he was holding her as tightly as he could manage with only one arm, and had his cheek pressed against the top of her head.

She wept for all the recent losses -- her parents, her home, the men who had died in battle, the village, and her fading hope of a future.

And was unaware that the man holding her wept as well.

Lisswyn cried for a long time, wracking sobs wrenched from deep inside her. Eomer held her, pressed her face into his chest. He remembered Brynwyn's comment that her sister had not cried when their father died, nor when the wildmen burned their home. He thought that was coming out now, as well as the new grief for the loss of the rest of the villagers.

Initially, when he had pulled her to him, it had been out of a desire to offer her the one thing, the only thing, he could – comfort, much as he had offered the boy. He had not expected to find comfort for himself, had been surprised at how easy it was to bury his face in her hair and let the tears fall.

They were as much of rage as grief and guilt. He was bound to protect his people, and yet the remainder of a village had been wiped out because of him. And unless he could think of something quickly, the women and children in the caves were going to die as well.

Again, he considered slipping down the hill and offering himself to the orcs. It went against the grain, but would it not be worth it if it saved the lives of the innocents in the caves? But the orcs would know that someone had cared for him. He thought of what Eoden had told them about the village, and how the orcs had tortured the inhabitants, even once it must have been clear they knew nothing. No, his earlier assessment had been correct. His surrender would not save the women and children. The orcs would kill them anyway.

Lisswyn's tears had finally stopped, but she continued to lean against him. He found he didn't mind, and continued gently rubbing her back. Wondered if she wasn't half asleep.

Then she stirred and pulled away, wiping her face with the heel of her hand, looked up at him. They were in the shadows, a few feet away from the cave entrance, but there was enough reflected moonlight for him to see her features, dim though they were.

Her voice was very soft when she spoke, if still thick from the tears. "Sire, I'm sor—"

He touched a finger to her lips, halted her apology. Stared down at her in the darkness. Knew from the expression on her face when she registered the tracks of his own tears.

She looked at him for a long moment, then reached up and gently touched his cheek before turning away, as if regretting the action. She glanced around the cave before pointing to a spot near the wall. Still mostly in shadows, it gave them a partial view of the path down the cliff without exposing them. They moved over, settled quietly against the wall.

For a while, they were quiet, both listening for any change in the sounds from the orc camp. Then Lisswyn sat up, looked at the entrance. Silently, she crawled over to the edge, looked down the path, then up.

Up? Eomer frowned, waited. She seemed to be pondering something.

Finally, she slipped back, motioned him further away from the opening where there was less chance of their voices carrying. He joined her a few feet back. There was excitement in her eyes.

"My lord," her voice was soft, but animated. "I did not mention this earlier because I did not see how it could help. There is a path that goes up, to the top of the cliffs – the one I took to find the healing herbs. I believe some of us could hide up there." Noting his speculative look, she continued, a little more soberly. "It is not an escape, Sire. The only way down is the path where I fell, and your horse could not navigate it. I'm also not sure all of the women and children could do so. But it might be possible for you and some of the others to hide up there when the orcs come."

It dawned on him what she was saying, and he went mute with shock and outrage, nearly missing her next words.

"We could not all go because it would be obvious someone had been in the caves recently, and they would only follow us." She was watching him closely. "But if a few of us remained here, they would have no way of knowing how many of us there had been. Or if we were all still here."

He tried to calm himself, did not quite succeed. Congratulated himself that his response was at least quiet. "Let me be clear on this." He was forcing the words through clenched teeth. "You are suggesting that I leave a few of you down here, to be tortured to death, while I cower and hide in safety?"

Struggling to his feet, he turned, stalked away. He could not always control his temper, but he did know when to put distance between himself and the unlucky person who was about to become his target. He considered slamming his fist into the cave wall, but knew he dare not. He was facing battle with only one good arm. He could not afford to injure his other hand as well. But the desire to strike out at the fates that had placed him in this position was fierce.

Eomer looked back at her, half expecting to see tears or trembling. She was pale, but had gotten to her feet as well and was now standing quietly where he had left her.

He reached her in three long strides. "I do not know what I have done to earn the opinion you seem to have of me, but I am not the coward you take me for." He spit the words out, then turned back toward the cave entrance.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm, and he turned, glared at her. Wondered if she really had any idea how livid he was, how hard he was struggling to keep his anger in check.

"My lord, I do not think you a coward." Her voice was soft, but he caught the tremble in it. "In fact," he watched as a blush caught her cheeks, "you are the bravest man I know."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. "And yet you suggest I hide while others die in my place?" He sneered the words, his anger and insult renewed.

She looked at him steadily. Sadly. "Sire, I do not mean to insult you. But we can not be without a strong king. It is not just the man I think to protect, but our sovereign." She looked away, as if gathering strength. "If I die, only a few women, and Brynwyn," she swallowed hard, looked back at him, "will grieve – if they do indeed live. If you die, the entire Riddermark will suffer."

His rage drained away. She was wrong about only the women and Brynwyn grieving for her if she died. But she was making a valid point, even if it was not one he was willing to consider. "Lisswyn, if I did what you suggest, I would not be the strong king the Mark needs." His voice was tight, tired. "And I would not be able to live with myself."

"But you would be alive." He looked at her, startled by how close to begging she sounded.

"No." His voice flat, he turned again, walked to the front of the cave. He was trapped. No matter what he did, more of his people were going to die. And his impotence in the face of that enraged him.

He paced back to her. There was a single tear on her cheek, and it baffled him. Was she weeping for him? For the Riddermark? For Brynwyn? For herself? He gently brushed it aside with his thumb.

"You have a point about some of the women and children possibly being able to escape. But I will not be hiding with them." She opened her mouth to speak, he pressed a finger against her lips to silence her. "If I do not survive, Elessar of Gondor will reassign the Prince of Ithilien to Edoras so my sister can rule. Rohan will be safe. But if not, not even for the Riddermark could I so abandon my honor as to hide while you died in my place."

She closed her eyes, bowed her head, nodded. He gently tipped her head back up. "And even if I did agree to such a plan, the orcs would torture you as they did the villagers." Just the thought of which turned his stomach. "They would learn where I was hiding."

Lisswyn jerked away from him, plainly offended. "I would not give away your hiding place!"

"Do not be so certain about that on which you have not been tested," he murmured, then added, "Lisswyn, I do not doubt your courage. How could I given what you have just offered?" He turned her toward him. "But I will not allow you to suffer in that way." He frowned. "My hope is that once they have me, they will not bother torturing the rest of you."

He stared down at her for a long moment, desperately tried to think of another way, another plan. Could not. Bile rose up in his throat at the realization that the best he could hope to give her was an easy death instead of torture. "We will send as many of the women and children as we can to hide on top of the cliffs. Those who volunteer to do so can stay and fight" and die, his mind added, "to give the others a chance."

He sighed. "It is the best we can do. Perhaps some will live, and that is better than all dying.