A/N: Thank you for your patience while I was out of town. Another chapter should be along this weekend.

Lisswyn watched the King leave, and tried to form coherent thoughts about what had just happened. But her mind simply kept circling back to one thought: he had kissed her. Thoroughly. She brought her fingers up and touched her lips, where she could still feel the imprint of his mouth, could still taste him. Laid her hand on her heart, could feel it pounding.

What did it mean? It must mean something…mustn't it?

Remembering how she'd pressed against him while strapping his arm, her face heated with shame. Was it possible he had kissed her because he thought she'd deliberately teased him?

No. He had told her she'd done nothing wrong in that respect. Of course, he didn't know how much she'd enjoyed it, but he hadn't been upset with her for it.

She turned at a noise and saw Maegwen hesitating in the opening to the next cave, a knowing expression on her face, her eyes concerned.

Despite her embarrassment, Lisswyn didn't pretend to misunderstand. There was no point in acting as if her oldest friend didn't know her well enough to see what was no doubt apparent on her face. Still, she had to clear her throat before she could speak. "It didn't mean anything," she answered her own question. He was the king, she a village woman. There was really nothing it could mean.

Maegwen walked slowly over to her, appeared to measure her words carefully. "You may have been too distracted by the death of your father and the loss of the cottage to remember it, but after Theodred's death last spring, there was much discussion among the villagers about the character of the new heir to the throne." Her voice was quiet. "He does not have a reputation of being casual with women, Lisswyn."

As the implication of the words set in, Lisswyn felt her heart twist in her chest, and struggled to take a deep breath as confusion and a wondering hope of things she could not quite articulate, even to herself, chased through her mind.

Maegwen's expression had turned to one of compassion and pity, and comprehension crushed the sense of wonder. "It doesn't matter what it means, or could have meant," Lisswyn said flatly. "We're still going to die."

There was a long pause before Maegwen spoke. "Death comes, regardless," she finally said quietly. "But love endures, its value unchanged by lives cut short."

Lisswyn looked up and saw her friend's eyes were now distant, focused on things only she could see, and knew she referred to her husband and the sons who'd been lost. Then Maegwen turned back to her, gave a half-smile. "Nor is the value of new and uncertain relationships, or even of old friendships, undone by death," she added gently.

Lisswyn swallowed and forced back the tears that wanted to come as Maegwen turned, walked back toward the main cave.

The orcs were still coming. But if she had to die, she would do so with the memory of his kiss in the forefront of her mind. Maegwen was right. No matter what happened, there had been tenderness and care in his kiss, and she would not let the orcs steal the pleasure of it even as they stole her life.

She walked through the caves, forced her thoughts away from the kiss to their preparations to defend themselves against the orcs...if you could call a stockpile of wood to use as burning firebrands a defense.

The others were in the large cave near the entrance. Brecka was keeping watch, while Maegwen and Andric watched the King work with Eoden on sword moves.

She blushed when the King looked up at her as she walked in, then realized embarrassment was a waste of energy. His gaze was completely neutral as it touched on her for only a moment before returning to Eoden.

Ah. In one way, it truly didn't matter what the kiss had meant to him, or why he had done it. It was in the past, and he was now wholly focused on the upcoming battle. Instead of feeling hurt, she found the knowledge comforting, his detachment somehow reassuring. Although she cherished the memory and knowledge of the kiss, she didn't want to feel further unsettled as they prepared to face the orcs.

She walked up front to keep watch with Brecka and noted with relief that dawn had come while she'd been in the back caves. It wouldn't make much difference, really, but she'd rather face the orcs in daylight. She looked down at the camp, saw no new movement.

The morning passed slowly. Behind her, the King continued to work with Eoden and the sword, and as she listened, it was hard not to be impressed by his patience. He would have made a good father, and the thought that he wouldn't have the opportunity caused her heart to ache.

Brecka made a noise, and Lisswyn glanced at her sharply before following the other girl's glance downward. Her heart stuttered, then resumed with a deeper pounding she could hear in her ears. She reached out, grabbed Brecka's arm, pulled her back from the edge. Their eyes met, exchanged wordless messages of fear.

Then Lisswyn turned, moved quickly to the others. Regretted that she had to clear her throat before she could get the words out. "They're coming." Regretted even more that her voice trembled. If her life was to end, she desperately wanted for it to be with courage.

The King looked at her, and for a just a moment, she saw the eyes of the man who'd kissed her. Then his face went grim, his mouth set. He nodded.

Motioning her and Brecka back to the main area, he said, "Lisswyn, you and Eoden will be here, with the hunting knife and the sword." His next glance was for Maegwen and Brecka. "You two will be behind them, with firebrands." Lastly, he turned to Andric. "And you will also have a firebrand, but your primary duty is to keep your mother and Brecka supplied with live brands."

The nearest fire pit was in the next cave, and as Lisswyn exchanged looks with Maegwen, she knew they both understood that the King was making a last ditch effort to protect the youngest of them in the only way he could, while still giving the boy something to do. They would need to be supplied with fresh brands if the battle went on for any length of time, but it put Andric at the farthest distance from the battle.

The King was looking around, an impatient look on his face, and they all scuttled into the positions he pointed out to them. It was obvious he'd put some thought into their placements.

"Where will you be, Sire?" Eoden asked the question they were all wondering.

The King pulled his sword, moved up to the entrance, glanced down. He paced back to them, flexing his arm with the sword, as if testing it for stiffness. "I'll be at the cave entrance."

"But Lord, if it's you they want, shouldn't you be behind us?" Andric asked the question, and despite the seriousness of their situation, Lisswyn could not resist a wince, well able to imagine the King's response to such a suggestion.

He gave her a dry look to indicate he caught her reaction, but kept his tone even as he replied. "That is exactly why I'll be up front." He paced away from them again, glanced out, down the path, and then moved to the side of the entrance.

She heard Firefoot whinny from the small cave he was in, off to side, and caught the dark look Eomer threw the horse. The thought that apparently not even his beloved horse escaped his moods made her want to smile, and she shook her head. Why was it so hard to concentrate on the orcs? They'd be coming through the door any moment, and she was struggling not to smile?

And then she heard the foul voices outside, and had her answer. She was terrified out of her mind, and was apparently ready to latch on to anything other than what was about to come through the cave entrance.

Somehow, she'd been expecting them to burst into the cave screaming, but instead they rounded the path in to the entrance in what was nearly a casual manner, as if they weren't really expecting to find anyone in the caves. The first two through the door paused when they saw them, plainly startled. It was only for a second, but it was fatal, as the King killed them both with two quick swipes of his blade before they even noticed him at their side. They went down, still wearing the same startled expressions.

And then there was no more time for thought. The rest of the orcs had recovered from their shock and flew into the room shrieking. She tried to count them as she brought her knife up, but it was hopeless. Several of them stopped to engage the King in battle, but several others swarmed into the main room of the cave before she could even move in the direction of the King.

They all seemed to target Eoden simultaneously, perhaps because of his sword. Her fear turned to anger and she leaped in his direction, stabbed out with the hunting knife.

It was long, but not nearly long enough to act as a sword substitute. They could easily reach her with their longer blades while she had to dart closer to them to have even a hope of contact. But the knife was light, and she was comfortable with it. She would just have to be faster than the orcs. As she moved around them, she discovered that one thing that worked in her favor was her lack of armor. If she had none to protect her, she also had none slowing her down.

It was with grim satisfaction that she caught the one closest to her from the side and neatly sliced his neck open while he was busy trying to get to Eoden.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that the King had efficiently dispatched two more, while one of the others was now being distracted by Maegwen and Brecka. A firebrand wasn't much of a weapon in comparison to a sword, but once it had been rammed into an enemy's face, the biggest danger became dodging him as he screamed and thrashed around in agonized blindness.

As the King saved them the trouble and beheaded the blinded orc, she glanced back at Eoden. It was becoming hard to see in the dim and smoky cave, but he was fighting fiercely and she started forward to help him. She had not gone more than a few feet when she was intercepted from the side.

Frightened at being surprised and angry at the interruption, she spun around, brought up her knife, and sliced out with it…only to have her blow knocked aside by the King's sword.

She halted, and stared at him in horror. "Sire!"

He nodded toward Eoden, and she turned to watch the orc go down in a mostly headless heap at Eoden's feet. The boy gave a fierce grin, then looked at them. At the King.

"Good stroke." His voice was quiet, but it was clear Eoden had heard it and that it was all the praise he was looking for.

Lisswyn turned back to the King, aware she was trembling. "My lord—forgive me." She had nearly knifed him across the chest. Had not identified him quickly enough, had not been able to turn the blow.

The room was quiet, and the one part of her mind not frozen with horror noted that the orcs were all dead.

"For what?" Eomer looked around, and finding nothing suitable, shrugged and wiped his blade on his leggings before returning it to its scabbard. Then he looked back at her.

"I—I nearly knifed you!" She hated the fact that her voice sounded so weak. She transferred the knife to her left hand, rubbed her face with her right. What was wrong with her that she could not quit shaking? What was wrong with him that he didn't seem to care that she'd turned her knife on him?

He reached out, pulled her hand away from her face. "If I could not defend myself from someone armed only with a knife and in their first battle, I would have deserved it."

She looked at him, blinked in an effort to see him more clearly through the smoke. Felt herself color. "Oh."

"That is not an insult to your fighting." He looked around at the orcs at their feet. "You have done remarkably well. All of you have." After a moment, he added, "And I should not have startled you in that way. That was foolish of me."

Lisswyn looked over to where Eoden was talking animatedly to his mother. "Why did you? Why did you not want me to help him?" She winced as she heard the challenge in her voice, but the King ignored it.

"The orc was already injured and fighting poorly," he answered. "And Eoden will need the confidence of knowing he killed his first orc on his own."

She nodded slowly, understanding that he knew more than she did how to judge a fight, to judge the battle-readiness of the combatants. She also knew that he had been under no obligation to explain himself to her, but was asking for her trust.

She looked up at him, then down at her hand, which was still unsteady. "I'm still shaking. By the time I realized it was you, I could not seem to turn the knife."

"It is possible that some of your reaction is to the battle itself." He spoke the words gently while tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "As I said, I should not have startled you."

He turned to start over to the others, then glanced back at her. Improbably, a small smile tugged at his mouth. "Look at it this way – how many others will be able to say they once tried to attack me with a knife?"

Lisswyn shuddered. "It is not something I will be inclined to brag about," she muttered as he moved away, his look back at her indicating he'd still caught the words.

Then it dawned on her that they had both spoken as if they might yet have a future, and for the first time it occurred to her that they were all still alive. They'd survived.

Her moment of relief was short-lived.

"At least one of them escaped back down the path." The King's voice was quiet, and she realized it was with weariness. Wondering if she could at least get him to rest, she started toward him, more concerned about him than what he was saying. Then the meaning of his words penetrated. "More will be coming, probably a lot more, probably very quickly."

She stopped, looked around. They had all survived the first skirmish, but the real battle was yet to come.