Lisswyn was still sitting with Hilde when the kings came in, followed by the boys and Brynwyn.

King Elessar came over and knelt beside her. "How is your head?"

Conscious of Eomer-King standing in the door, she shrugged. "Manageable." Not for all the horses in the Riddermark would she admit to anything more with him there.

The King of Gondor seemed to understand, did not press her on it. "Any dizziness?"

"Some, but it has settled."

He nodded. "Good. After the service, you will rest again."

She noted it was a command and could only feel grateful.

Guards were now in the room, wearing the colors of both the Riddermark and Gondor. She braced herself for the shame of having one of them assist her, but instead had to endure a worse embarrassment when King Elessar himself picked her up. Did the man not yet completely grasp what it meant to be king? That he had no business hauling around an injured woman?

Apparently not. He carried her into the cave they had used as a kitchen, and she realized that Maegwen must be in the room off to the side. Eoden's room. Perhaps that was appropriate. She could see the pile of rocks, forced her mind away from it. She would not think about those stones, nor what they covered. Additional rocks were piled outside the opening, ready to seal it once the funeral was over.

The room was full of the other women and the children. Eomer-King stood near the door to the small room, with the boys on either side of him. Hilde and Brynwyn followed them in, and outside, she could see the guards.

King Elessar sat her down on a pile of furs, and she immediately began to struggle up, bracing herself on the wall. Oh, no. No. Absolutely not. You honored the dead by standing for them. She would not dishonor Maegwen by sitting through the service.

The room dipped and spun, but she made it to her feet, only to realize the King of Gondor was supporting her, a resigned look on his face. And then suddenly the boys were there, Eoden on her other side, Andric standing in front of her, with Brynwyn wiggling in to rest against her leg, between the boys. She couldn't fall now even if she went completely senseless again.

She closed her eyes against the dizziness, then opened them, looked toward the cave where Maegwen was laid. As her glance slid past the King, she realized he was watching her, but she focused her eyes on the pile of rocks, too afraid of what she might see in his eyes if she looked closely at them. He had not spoken to her since calling her on her selfishness.

His voice was quiet when he began to speak. "This day, we honor Maegwen, who chose to face evil that others might have a greater chance to live." He hesitated, appeared to be choosing his words carefully. "In light of the arrival of King Elessar and the riders, it is easy to doubt decisions that were made in the hours before the battle. But everyone who stayed made the same choice, with no hope of survival. To question those decisions now will not bring Maegwen back; it only focuses on the guilt we feel for not finding a way to save her, or that we survived when she did not, rather than on her and honoring the choice she made."

"If we could go back, if we faced the battle knowing only one would not survive it, would Maegwen have chosen any differently? Even if there had been the foresight to know that she would be the one who did not?"

He paused, looked around. "All of you knew her better than I did. Would you not say that she would have made the same choice, gladly, if she knew it would spare her sons? Her friends?"

Silence lingered for a moment. His voice was very soft when he continued, and Lisswyn had to strain to hear him. "We all know, can see, the courage that Maegwen displayed in choosing to stay and fight. Living without her takes a different kind of courage."

His eyes met Lisswyn's and she felt the words like a slap. It was not enough that he thought her selfish, but now he felt it necessary to call her a coward publicly? Who else had been guilty of not wanting to live in light of Maegwen's loss? She flinched before she could control it, and nearly missed his next words.

"It takes courage to live here, in these caves. To make your way here, to find ways of making it work. Just as it took courage to come up with a plan that required asking friends to die for other friends." At that, her head snapped up. He was watching her, a steady, warm look in his eyes. And not a trace of censure on his face. She was aware of others in the room turning to look at her, of Eoden's arm tightening around her. Color came into her cheeks.

"I believe it is your duty as Maegwen's sons and friends to seek to live your lives the way she would have wanted you to do. To work hard, to care for each other. To live honorable and noble lives with as much joy and contentment as you may find."

"And I believe it is my duty as your king to make sure that such sacrifices as the one she made become unnecessary."

He paused once more, then slowly added, "That is how we will best honor her memory."

He nodded at Brecka, and she softly began to sing the lament. Lisswyn swallowed hard, fought the tears. They would come, and perhaps she would even allow them to do so – there had been wisdom and healing in the King's charge to them. But for now, her first thought was the boys. In front of her, Andric's shoulders were shaking with sobs, and beside her, silent tears were leaking down Eoden's face.

Awkwardly, since her injured arm was tightly bound, she turned Andric around and he buried his face in her chest. Eoden wiped his tears, appeared to struggle before his own face crumpled, and he rested his head on her shoulder.

Lisswyn swallowed several times, determined to be strong for them. But it was hard to do when their grief was washing over her. A tear escaped, rolled down her cheek. She rested her cheek against Andric's head, sighed. And found comfort in their closeness, even while she fought hard to force her tears away.

Aware of movement on her left, she looked up and realized that Eomer-King was replacing King Elessar at her side, his arm around her, supporting her. It flustered her in ways the King of Gondor's nearness had not, and she ducked her face back into Andric's hair.

Eomer had spent most of the day planning for the trip back to Edoras. Aragorn had left with some of his men immediately after Maegwen's funeral, returning late in the afternoon. They had scouted the area for any sign of the orcs, and not having found any, the men were satisfied that at least the first day of the journey would be safe. Tomorrow, some of the riders would ride ahead in the same fashion, then return, while others would continue on to Edoras.

The women had packed their few belongings into the carts his men had acquired, and again he'd been reminded of how little they had. That would change when they got to Edoras. None of the women seemed to be aware of how indebted he was to them, but that did not change the fact that he felt he owed them better lives than they had managed in the caves, both as their king and as an injured man they had taken in and cared for.

He had checked on Lisswyn several times, but she had always been asleep, with either Hilde or the pregnant woman, Liffild, nearby. Aragorn had told him that the rest was good for her – that she needed to balance staying up for longer periods of time with getting a great deal of sleep. Her sleep had seemed peaceful, and he had to be content with that. But she was still very pale.

He was coming down the path from looking in on her when he encountered Aragorn.

"Is she still sleeping?"

Eomer didn't bother wondering at the other man's assumption that he'd been checking on Lisswyn. "Yes."

"She will be fine, Eomer. There's no sign of infection, her vision is improving…she's just still weak from the blood loss. But she will recover."

He nodded, but looked back up toward the cave with a troubled expression on his face. "It is not her physical injuries that concern me."

"Although she has yet to fully release her grief, I believe what we're seeing now is healthy. When awake, she's been taking a greater interest in the boys, in her sister." Compassion entered his voice. "Grief does not always end in death, Eomer."

Eomer turned back to him. "She seems so fragile. So vulnerable."

"And so she is. Physical injuries can make it more difficult to survive losses like that of her friend." His expression turned thoughtful. "And has it occurred to you that perhaps much of the vulnerability you see has to do with you?"

Eomer gave him a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

Aragorn hesitated before speaking. "She has feelings for you. I would not presume to guess at their depth nor nature, but you are first and foremost her king. That …complicates things. Even if she senses that you return those feelings, she does not know what they might mean for the future, if anything. She is not free to relate to you only as a man, not when you are also her king. The uncertainty makes her more vulnerable, to you, to what you say, to how you relate to her."

She was not alone in respect to feeling vulnerable, though Eomer didn't point that out. "I will not hurt her."

"You will not intend to," Aragorn corrected gently.

He wondered if Aragorn was referring to his own situation with Eowyn, but it was completely different. Unlike Aragorn, he had feelings for Lisswyn, even if he was not yet completely sure what to do about them. Then he remembered her response that morning when he'd made the initial comment about courage during the service for Maegwen. He'd caught the flinch she could not hide, and been startled by it. It had taken him a moment to realize she somehow thought he was calling her a coward – he, who thought she was one of the most courageous women he knew.

He nodded slowly, started to make another comment, when he heard someone on the path behind him. Looking up, he saw Brynwyn making her way down. She reached them and very solemnly bowed. She did not always remember the courtesy, something he had personally found rather refreshing – but which he'd heard Hilde lecturing the little girl about earlier in the day. He exchanged a secret, amused look with Aragorn at the little girl's somewhat awkward attempt before reaching out and gently touching her shoulder.

"What is it, Brynwyn?"

She looked up. "Hilde says the evening meal is nearly ready, and wonders if you will join us or eat with your men?"

Aragorn smiled at her, then turned to Eomer. "I will check with our men, will do a final check that all is ready for our departure. I will leave you to the pleasure of dining with the women." He nodded respectfully to Brynwyn, who beamed in pleasure at the adult action, then turned and headed back toward the camp.

Eomer turned, followed the little girl back up the path.

The cart lurched as it went over a sharp rock, and Lisswyn winced at being rattled awake again. Perhaps walking to Edoras would, in fact, have been easier than this. Mid-day was drawing near, and she already felt she had been in the cart for days instead of only a few hours. The ground was rocky, and although she knew the rider who was guiding the horse was trying to avoid the worst patches, a certain amount of jolts was apparently unavoidable.

She had tried to sleep, but it seemed every time she was close to doing so, the cart would lurch again, and she'd finally given up. But that left only her own thoughts with which to occupy herself, and that was a problem, too. She tried to think of Edoras and the life they would make there, but that was difficult to do when she knew so little of what it was like to dwell in the city.

She still wasn't ready to face thoughts about Maegwen.

Occasionally a rider would ride by, close enough for her to see him. But it was never the rider she was most interested in catching a glimpse of. And those were dangerous thoughts, as well. The King had eaten with them the night before, but had not singled her out in any way. It was probably for the best, since obviously they wouldn't continue talking the way they had once they reached Edoras. But she missed him, missed conversing with him.

It had been good watching him with the other women, though. They were gradually overcoming their hesitancy with him, which he seemed to appreciate. And all of them had enjoyed his reaction to Liffild's announcement of what she intended to name her child: Maegwen if it was girl-child, Eomer-Oslaf, after the King and her dead husband, if it was a boy. The King had turned a quite entertaining color of red before gravely thanking her.

The cart jerked over a particularly rough patch of rocks, and she winced. Perhaps after they stopped, she could convince Brynwyn to ride with her. She had suggested it that morning, only to have Hilde and King Elessar say no, she needed to sleep.

As if sleep was possible.

They made camp late in the afternoon. Despite the slow pace, they'd made good time that day, and neither Eomer nor Aragorn felt it necessary to rush the trip. The women and children had done well, alternating between riding in the carts and occasionally walking along beside them in order to stretch their legs.

But Lisswyn had looked particularly pale and it was as much for her as for any other reason that they had stopped when they did. Aragorn had been troubled by her appearance, had speculated that perhaps she wasn't getting any rest at all in the cart.

Eomer had told him that every time he'd checked on her she'd seemed to be asleep. He had not volunteered the degree to which he'd been a bit disappointed by that.

It was now fully dark, the evening meal had been eaten, and the camp was settling down for the night.

The women were sleeping in two large tents, the ones carried by their men for him and Aragorn. He suspected that some of the riders were scandalized by their kings sleeping on the ground next to the fire, but he and Aragorn were rather enjoying it. It was a nice night, if a trifle cool, and he had missed this, had missed sleeping in the open.

He could almost imagine that he was still just Third Marshal.

The boys were with them, had been thrilled when he suggested they join him and Aragorn at their fire, and had listened, wide-eyed, to the discussions between the kings and their captains. There still had been no sign of the orcs. What neither he nor Aragorn had spelled out in front of the boys was that that was both bad and good. Good, because there would be no threat to hinder their arrival at Edoras, and bad, because they knew there were more orcs out there. They just didn't know where they had gone.

With a sigh, he stretched out in front of the fire, prepared to get some sleep.

Lisswyn woke, stiff. She'd been asleep for hours, ever since they made camp and the tent had been pitched.

But she'd dreamed of Maegwen. She sat up, tried to shake herself out of the nightmare. How many times would she have to watch her friend die? She swallowed against the knot in her throat, and knew this time she wasn't going to be able to push it away. The dream had been too real, too close.

A little moonlight came through the door of the tent, enough for her to see the women and children asleep around her. She swallowed hard again, desperate not to wake them. They'd been traveling hard all day, and deserved some sleep.

Tears starting to slide down her cheeks, she pushed herself up. Earlier, she'd walked on her own a bit, surrounded by a crowd acting as if she had done something spectacular.

Wobbling, and annoyed that she could still be so weak and unsteady, she made her way out of the tent, then turned to the right. Despite her exhaustion, she had noted earlier that they were camped next to a small stream bordered by a few trees. She wouldn't go far, just to the stream. But far enough not to bother anyone with her tears.

By the time she reached the trees, sobs were breaking through. She stumbled a few more feet, then dropped down on the large rocks at the water's edge. And mourned.

Eomer was just drifting off to sleep when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Sire?"

He rolled over, reminded himself that his men wouldn't wake him unless it was necessary. "Thedhelm?" He blinked, tried to clear his mind. "What is it?"

"Forgive me for waking you, Sire, but I thought you would want to know."

"Know what?" He forced patience into his tone.

"The young woman – the one who was injured – has left the tent. It looked like she was in some distress."

Eomer sat up, fully awake. Nodded. "When?"

"Just now. She headed into the trees, toward the creek."

He was on his feet, glanced over as he saw Aragorn sitting up. "I'll go." Aragorn nodded, and Eomer moved quickly in the direction the younger man had indicated.

He heard her before he saw her, and slowed as he approached. She was curled up on a rock, sobbing, her face resting on her knees. Here, then, were finally her tears. It saddened him that she had felt it so necessary to weep alone.

And she was obviously cold. Didn't she have enough problems, without catching a chill? He took off his cloak, stepped up behind her. So deep was her grief, she seemed aware of neither him nor the cold. He bent down, wrapped her in the cloak. She started at that, but before she could really react, he sat down on the boulder, pulled her into his lap, tightened his arms around her.

"Sire…" She tried to speak, then simply gave up, buried her face in his chest, and wept.

She cried for a long time. With his cheek on her hair, he rocked her while rubbing her back through the cloak.

Eventually, she quieted, let out a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I dreamed about her." Her voice was thick, as if the tears could still return. "I saw her die, over and over again."

"Perhaps your mind knew you needed to cry."

"I did not want to."

"I know."

"I was afraid if I started, I'd never stop." Her voice was soft.

He had no reply for that, and for a few moments they continued to sit there, Lisswyn snuggled against him, his head resting against hers.

Then she began to speak, her voice soft and sad. "She lived next to us when I was a girl. She was younger than my mother, became a friend to us both." Another long pause, as she seemed to collect her thoughts. "My mother had difficulty in childbirth. There were several babes born who did not live. Then my mother herself died when Brynwyn was born. My father was heartbroken. I was just…lost." Her voice had turned to a whisper. "I had to take care of Brynwyn, was already of an age to have been a mother myself. But I missed my mother. Maegwen helped me. Helped us all."

"Then my father died last winter, and again, Maegwen was there. She helped me say no to my uncle about the marriage, helped me be strong. To believe I could continue caring for Brynwyn just as I had before."

"And then the wildmen came, and the fires. And after my uncle made us leave his home, I remembered the caves, that some of our people had sheltered there once before, and decided to move there. I wasn't sure it would work, and my uncle told me that when I failed, to come back, and he would still take me, would let us come back." A shudder moved through her, and Eomer tightened his grip on her, as much for himself as for her. "But Maegwen told me she and the boys would come with me. They were living with a cousin of hers, and there was not enough room for them, either. She thought we could make it work."

"I was worried when the other women decided to come, too. I was afraid I'd let them down. They kept looking to me to figure things out, and I mostly managed to do so." The tears were coming again. "But no one ever understood that it was as much Maegwen as me, that she was always there for me, helping me figure things out. Helping all of us."

"Helping me stand up one more time." She was whispering again, her voice thick. "When my parents died, when we lost the cottage, she was always there."

And now she's not. She didn't speak the words out loud, didn't need to. He heard them anyway.

She gave a shuddering sigh. "I know I have to be strong. I know the boys need me, and Brynwyn. The other women. But..." Her head dropped back against his chest, and there was a weariness to the way she did it that made his heart ache.

He pressed a long kiss onto the top of her head. So much now made sense about her response to Maegwen's death. She had lost a surrogate mother, a sister, a friend – all at one time.

"Lisswyn?"

"Sire?" the word was weak.

"You are not alone this time, either."

She went very still, then slowly nodded, but did not speak. And several long moments later, he realized she'd fallen asleep.

She was so much stronger than she realized, but had just lost one of the major supports of her life. He could only hope that he could find a way to fill at least a little of that gaping hole.

A/N: Istarriel and Phia -- does that work in the 'good cry/hug/Eomer as a pillow' department? ;)

Thanks again for the reviews! I'm glad so many of you are reading and enjoying this. It makes my day.