From her position on the ground, next to the wall of the ravine, Lisswyn observed the argument taking place in front of her. The moon had disappeared behind some clouds, and the torches the men carried threw barely enough light to make out some shapes. But she could hear what was being said, even if she couldn't understand some of the Dunlendings.
But what she had been able to make out explained a great deal.
Hunlaf was in league with the Dunlendings, was, in fact, part Dunlending himself. Although generally the wild men simply burned villages and killed the inhabitants when attacking the Riddermark, they occasionally carried off the women. She'd never wondered what became of the children born of such violence, but it seemed that Hunlaf and most of his men fell into that category.
Apparently, Hunlaf despised the Dunlendings nearly as much as he did the Eorlingas. But he was still willing to cooperate with them if it meant the end of the Mark.
To her growing horror, it became clear that it wasn't only Dunlendings he was willing to work with – through them, Hunlaf had also been working with the orcs, coordinating the attacks at the caves and at Edoras. Furious at the thought of Maegwen and the village of her childhood, she struggled with her bonds, desperately wishing for a chance to avenge those she'd loved, even if it meant her death. But the bonds remained tight, and she slumped to the ground again, defeated.
But the King was on his way, was not far behind them. She comforted herself with the fact that justice for all those killed by Hunlaf or his minions was coming.
Indeed, that was the source of the argument. The Dunlendings weren't comfortable with the current plan to ambush the King, and neither were some of Hunlaf's men, who were still nervous over the disappearance of the two spies. While it was clear that they all wanted the King dead, they were uneasy about attacking him in the dark, when they weren't sure of how many men he had with him. And the distrust between Hunlaf's men and the Dunlendings complicated things further.
As they argued, it became clear that the original plan had been to attack Edoras, before the gates were rehung and while King Elessar and his men were away from the city. That explained why Hunlaf had been so intent on discovering the exact number of men who'd left and where they'd gone.
"They're coming!" One of Hunlaf's men, positioned out on the narrow path, came through the entrance to the ravine at a run, interrupting the debate.
"That settles the matter," Hunlaf said. "It is too late to choose another option. Get in position." With that, he stalked over, grabbed Lisswyn and hauled her up. "Your king is will shortly be setting out to the halls of his fathers," he whispered to her gleefully.
Turning, he put Lisswyn in front of him, facing the entrance to the ravine, his knife at her throat.
Her heart pounding, she tried not to move, not to twitch, not even to swallow. The knife was sharp, and he'd already proven a willingness to use it.
She tried to distract herself by focusing on the entrance to the ravine. The King was out there somewhere, engaged in battle. Any moment now, he'd come through that opening, and this nightmare would begin to be over. She refused to contemplate any other scenario than that Hunlaf would die. His hatred might give him strength, but he would still be no match for the King in battle. He'd spent too many years running a kitchen.
A new thought occurred to her as she studied the entrance to the ravine. It was too narrow for more than one man to pass through it at once. Who would she see first? The King? Or a member of his guard? She couldn't imagine any of them allowing him to go first in such a situation, but nor could she imagine the King cooperating with one of his guards going ahead of him.
"Let her go, Hunlaf."
The words were so softly spoken that for a moment, she thought she was dreaming. Then Hunlaf reacted, spinning around, jerking her with him.
The King and some of his men were standing behind them, to the left of their position, but Lisswyn was unable to enjoy that fact – she could feel Hunlaf's tension, his agitation at being surprised, and her throat stung where the knife had nicked her as he'd spun her around. She'd really rather not be beheaded right in front of the King.
"How did you get here?" Hunlaf demanded.
The King flicked a glance at Lisswyn before focusing on Hunlaf. "I played in these hills as a boy. They hold no secrets for me." With a jerk of his head, he motioned above and behind him.
The clouds had parted again, and in the moonlight she could see that what had looked like merely a rough outcropping in the rock was actually a tunnel, the pile of rocks below it serving as a stair down to the floor of the ravine.
"You are still outnumbered," Hunlaf said, clearly frustrated.
It was true, and Lisswyn felt dread creep in as for the first time, the thought occurred to her that the King and his men could suffer injury, or even death, trying to rescue her. Some – perhaps most – of his men were obviously engaged in battle with the Dunlendings in the outer area of the ravine, but even with the men Hunlaf had sent with the horses and the missing spies, the men who remained with him, plus some of the wild men, seemed to outnumber the number of men standing with the King.
Fear slid through her at the thought, but was then banished as she glanced again at the tunnel the King had come through. He'd known he was outnumbered before he'd revealed himself.
The King's eyes raked over Hunlaf's men before turning back to them. "Numbers don't always determine the outcome of battle, Hunlaf. My men fought with courage before the Black Gates."
At that, there were angry mutterings from Hunlaf's men, who hadn't missed the insult in the words. Still locked in the same position against Hunlaf, Lisswyn heard, rather than saw, their movement toward the King and his men.
"Be still," Hunlaf ordered.
The movement stopped, but the complaints, ignored by both Hunlaf and the King, continued.
"If your courage is so great, why hide behind a woman, when it is me you want?"
"Oh, you're wrong, there, Eomer," Hunlaf responded, his casual use of the King's name a deliberate insult. "I want her very much." At that, he ran his free hand over Lisswyn's breasts in a familiar manner, squeezed them, then roughly stroked down her body.
Lisswyn closed her eyes as waves of humiliation at being touched in such a way before the King and his men rolled over her.
"Hunlaf." The King's voice was soft, but even with her eyes closed in shame, she heard the danger in it. "Let her go."
Again, the memory of Eowyn telling her that the King thought her strong crossed her mind. She still didn't completely understand what he meant by that, but she very much wanted to live up to it, to his view of her. She forced her eyes back open, and saw him watching her, both fear and temper evident in his gaze.
The more distracted he was by worry for her, the harder it would be for him to focus on Hunlaf. Understanding that, she raised her chin a notch and stiffened her shoulders. Smoothing the fear off her face, she looked steadily and calmly at the King.
He looked away from her, back to Hunlaf. "Let her go," he repeated.
Hunlaf chuckled. "What will you do if I don't? If you start toward me, the knife at her throat might slip. No, I'm afraid you're not the one giving orders here."
"If you harm her, your death will be as painful as I can make it."
"Yes, yes, of course. What a tedious threat – as if you wouldn't try to kill me in a painful manner if I did let her go," Hunlaf responded. "Essentially, we're at a standoff. You can't approach me without risking her, and are outnumbered in the bargain. I'd rather not stay in this position all night, because I have other positions I plan to be in," he laughed, his hand once more roaming. "I could let her go," he continued thoughtfully, "and fight you, me against you, your men against mine, but that wouldn't be a fair fight since you believe your men to be superior to mine."
"Hunlaf—"
"I know," Hunlaf interrupted him. "We'll just have to even the odds and provide some amusement for me and my men at the same time."
"What are you talking about?" There was a wealth of anger and frustration in the King's tone.
"Order your men to put down their weapons." There was no response, and Hunlaf moved the knife slightly, sliced into the top of her arm with it. Another shallow cut that that Lisswyn barely registered, to go with the others he'd given her. A warning cut. "Do it now."
With the knife away from her throat for a moment, spoke. "No. You mustn't." They must not increase their vulnerability.
"Shut up." Hunlaf brought the knife to her face. "The next cut disfigures her. Give the order."
"Do it." The king's voice was tight.
Lisswyn stifled a noise of frustration and despair as she watched the men with the King lower their weapons to the ground.
At a jerk of Hunlaf's head, some of his men moved forward, started collecting the weapons.
"I've done as you asked. Let her go."
"Not quite enough. There's one more thing."
A growl from the King was the only response.
"Beg me."
"What?"
"You heard me. Put down your sword, kneel in the dirt and beg me to let her go."
Despite the knife, Lisswyn began to struggle. No. He must not. She couldn't bear it.
"Lisswyn." The King's voice was quiet. Firm.
She looked at him, tears welling despite her resolution to show no weakness. "Don't," she whispered.
He gazed at her steadily for a long moment before following his men and lowering his sword to the ground, the hilt facing away from him. Then, without any hesitation whatsoever, he knelt, looked up at Hunlaf. "I'm doing as you ask. I'm begging you. Let her go. Please."
The look in his eyes made her throat ache, and she was nearly strangling on tears she refused to let fall. How could he do such a thing?
Hunlaf didn't respond, and she gradually became aware of the tension in his body, the absolute quiet in the ravine.
And understood why.
Hunlaf had plainly thought to humble the King by his demand. But even kneeling there, pleading for her life, the King's essential strength and courage were evident to everyone in the ravine.
"Hunlaf." Although he still knelt, the King's voice was now tight, full of warning.
"Give me Rohan, and I'll let her go."
Dumbstruck, Lisswyn could only stare at the King, wonder how he would respond to the new demand. He was already exhibiting more patience than she would have expected of him. Watching him, she saw sorrow and despair come into his eyes as they met hers. "That I cannot do," he said wearily.
"Well, well," Hunlaf responded, then addressed Lisswyn. "It looks like there are limits to his affection for you, after all."
The pain in the King's eyes spoke for him, and again, she wanted to weep at what she saw there. Instead, she cleared her throat, and said, "The Riddermark is not his to give away."
"Oh?" Hunlaf sneered. "Has someone else been made King?"
He'd addressed the question to both of them, so Lisswyn responded. "He rules over us because we long ago swore an oath of allegiance and fealty to Eorl. Anyone who thinks to rule in his stead would have to be worthy of that same loyalty."
"You misunderstand the Eorlingas people," The King added in a quiet voice. "That loyalty is not mine to trade away, even to save the life of someone else."
Hunlaf snorted. "Peasants. They will do what they're told."
The King shook his head. "You're wrong. Eorlingas are strong and proud. They will never serve a liar, will never let themselves be ruled by you. You will face a war you cannot win."
"Liar?" Hunlaf appeared to force a false confusion into his voice. "Ah. You call me that because I increased my demands. But I hadn't promised to let her go, you see. And as to a war…" she felt him shrug. "If you and your sister are dead, and Edoras destroyed, I won't need to fight a war. Your 'strong and proud' people will do that for me, as the clans fight amongst themselves. All I will have to do is take what I want. What is my due."
As he was speaking, Lisswyn glanced around the ravine. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the three of them, with Hunlaf's men apparently more interested in what he was saying than in guarding the King's men. Did they assume the King's guard to be of no threat to them without their weapons? Fools.
Tension was rising, as everyone realized the current circumstances could not last long. There were several possibilities as to what could happen next. Hunlaf could order one of his men to kill the King while they watched. A terrifying thought, but not a likely one. Hunlaf would gain more in status before his men if he were the one to kill the King. But that mean he'd have to release Lisswyn.
She looked back at the King, saw his gaze was focused on the knife at her throat. That made sense, as his best chance when Hunlaf moved to attack would be to gain control of the knife. But he knew nothing of the second blade she'd seen Hunlaf slip into his boot earlier. The thought made her frown. How to warn him?
"Your due?" The King flicked his eyes from the knife back up, apparently wanting Hunlaf to continue talking even while he continued to consider his options.
"Your precious Eorlingas blood runs in my veins, too, for all the good it ever did me." He spat the words out.
"Perhaps that had as much to do with your actions as with my people," the King replied mildly, his gaze still flicking from Hunlaf to the knife, to the others in the ravine.
Lisswyn stared hard at him, and after a moment was rewarded when his eyes met hers. Deliberately, she shifted her legs as if growing tired of her position. Hunlaf didn't react, so she carefully brought her right foot up, did her best to motion to his boot with it, all without moving her upper body.
Two things happened. Understanding showed in the King's eyes, and Hunlaf tightened his grasp on her. "Stop twitching."
"So what happens next, Hunlaf?" The King sounded vaguely bored. "Shall we stay this way all night?"
Hunlaf shifted again, and based on the increasing rigidity in his body, she knew the King's taunt had had its desired effect. Guessing what was about to happen, she murmured, "Sire." Desperately hoped it would be enough.
The King looked at her, and she saw awareness come into his gaze when she flicked her eyes toward Hunlaf in an attempt to warn him of what she suspected.
With a roar, Hunlaf suddenly tossed her aside, launched himself at the King. Lisswyn staggered, tried to stay on her feet, but she was off balance due to her arms being bound and the way he'd shoved her, and she stumbled. Twisting her body as she fell to keep her weight off her arms, she succeeded, but felt the air explode from her body as she landed.
Dazed, she struggled to find a position in which she could see through the shadows. What was happening?
Eomer hadn't known exactly what Lisswyn was trying to tell him, but the urgency in her voice had served its purpose, had warned him to renew his vigilance, to expect Hunlaf to take action of some sort.
Kneeling, his sword facing away from him, he was at a disadvantage when Hunlaf lunged at him – as the other man had obviously intended. The only thing left to do, then, was to turn the disadvantage into an advantage. He hit the ground, rolled away, kicking the sword as he did so.
He'd carried Guthwine for many years, knew exactly how much it weighed, how the weight was distributed. Knew that a kick aimed at a particular point would spin the hilt back to him rather than sending the blade flying across the floor of the ravine.
But in his rage, Hunlaf was quicker than he'd anticipated, was on him before Eomer could reach for the sword. He deflected Hunlaf's knife, narrowly missed feeling its sting across his face. Frustrated that he couldn't get to his blade, he rolled again, swung out with his feet, had the satisfaction of seeing Hunlaf trip over them and fall.
Too late, he realized the danger as Hunlaf fell towards him, the knife still in his hand. Eomer tried to duck, to roll again, but still felt the knife scrape across his armor, the force of Hunlaf's fall giving the weapon enough force that it succeeded in penetrating his mail, nicking his shoulder as it slid off his armor.
It wasn't a deep cut – the mail saw to that – but it stung, and annoyed him, as did Hunlaf's crow of laughter.
His eyes never leaving the other man, he jumped to his feet, watched as Hunlaf scrambled to his, the knife still held in front of him. Eomer needed Guthwine, but didn't dare look away from Hunlaf long enough to see where it was.
The other man moved forward, then back, taunting him with the blade.
"It's hard to be a warrior without a weapon, isn't it? Mine may not have a fancy name, but it's sharp," he mocked. "Just check the way it's sliced into your woman. And even better, my weapon is still in my hand."
He darted forward, made a stab at Eomer's unprotected neck. Eomer deflected it, grabbed for the knife.
And missed, much to Hunlaf's amusement. "Not much of a fighter without that sword of yours, are you, horseman?"
Eomer refused to be baited, kept his eyes on the other man.
The sounds around him told him that Hunlaf's attack had signaled his men to attack the Eorlingas, and battle was now raging throughout the ravine. To his relief, it sounded as if at least some of his men had managed to regain their weapons.
Hunlaf leaped forward again, and this time, Eomer succeeded in grabbing the other man's wrist. Hunlaf was no warrior, but he was both quicker and stronger than Eomer would have given him credit for, and it took all of Eomer's own strength to force his arm down. To twist his wrist until, with a howl of pain, Hunlaf released the knife.
With his eyes still fixed on Hunlaf, Eomer weighed the knife in his hand. Pondered his options now that he had a weapon. Thanks to Lisswyn, he was nearly certain that the other man had a second weapon tucked in his right boot. It might not be so, of course – it was possible that that movement on her part had meant nothing more than that her leg was stiff and she wanted to stretch it. But it had seemed too deliberate to be anything other than a warning.
It was enough of one that he continued standing back, watching Hunlaf and waiting for him to take the next move rather than moving forward and pressing an attack. Best to wait and see.
His gaze never leaving Eomer, Hunlaf bent over, reached down. When he stood, his eyes were glittering with hatred, a malicious smile was on his face, and in his hand was the expected knife. "Unlike you, I'm not so easily disarmed."
Eomer spoke for the first time. "I'm no longer weaponless."
"I will soon correct that."
"Arrogance is a weakness, Hunlaf." The other man's eyes and body position shouted loudly what his next move would be, allowing Eomer to easily duck out of the way as Hunlaf once more tried to get close enough to stab him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eomer saw one of Hunlaf's men suddenly turn toward them, as if realizing that Hunlaf could use some help. Eomer doubted that it was out of loyalty so much as a desire to be the man who killed the Mark's king.
Unfortunately, it was possible he might succeed. Unlike Hunlaf, the other man had a sword, which, in conjunction with Hunlaf and his knife, changed the odds somewhat.
Grimly, Eomer tightened, then deliberately loosened his grip. He had to defeat them, and quickly. Hopefully, once Hunlaf was dead, the rest of his men would panic and be easier to defeat.
With little warning, the man charged, sword at the ready. Eomer ducked and spun away while noting that Hunlaf, proud though he was, apparently had no problems at all accepting help in killing his enemies. Even as Hunlaf turned again on Eomer, he was calling out encouragement to the other man.
Surprised that Hunlaf was willing to give up being the one to kill him, Eomer jumped back again, out of the way of the sword. Attempting to keep an eye on Hunlaf, he tried to assess the swordsman's skills. Could he get the sword away from him?
He didn't have to. So suddenly it took even Eomer a moment to grasp it, his opponent suddenly gave a shocked cry and fell, an arrow in his neck.
Eomer immediately turned his whole focus back to Hunlaf. He thought of trying to grab the dead man's sword, but didn't dare look away long enough to do so.
"Difficult to fight with arrows in such a small space, Eomer. I admire your men for making the attempt. Of course, I notice that you don't seem to be carrying a bow."
Eomer didn't correct the other man's assumption. "We all have our preferred weapons."
"But you're still without yours."
Around them, Eomer noted the changing tone of the battle, knew other men were falling to arrows from Gondor. Hunlaf didn't seem aware of that fact. Or was it that he didn't care?
Hunlaf, who'd been further from him due to the other man's attack, suddenly charged him again, and Eomer got the opportunity that he'd been waiting for as the other man lifted his arm to aim the knife, fully exposed himself.
A barest moment later, before he could carry through his attack, Hunlaf looked down, shocked, as the knife Eomer had just been holding buried itself in his chest.
He stumbled, fell to his knees even as Eomer grabbed the other knife from him, knocked him over on his back.
"Horsemen have as much skill with aiming a spear as with a sword, Hunlaf. Too bad you didn't learn more of our ways while hiding in the kitchens."
He yanked the knife out, saw confusion come into the other man's stunned and pain-filled glaze. He thought of Lisswyn, the blood he'd seen on her, the way Hunlaf had handled her. Then thought of Tille, and Lufe. And shoved the knife back into his midsection.
Hunlaf gave a sharp, choked cry of pain, and thrashed around, apparently trying to reach for the knife. Eomer knocked his hand away, and leaned forward. "Speaking of the kitchens, Hunlaf – you'll be pleased to know that Tille is running them better than you ever managed. This is for her, and for all the others." And dragged the knife up, twisting it.
Ignoring Hunlaf's scream of agony, he yanked it out once more, and this time, tossed it across the ravine.
Standing, he looked down at the writhing form at his feet. "Perhaps if you're fortunate, one of the other men will take pity on you and finish you. I think of how you murdered a kitchen maid – and your own child – and find I have none to spare."
Glancing around, he confirmed what his instincts had told him – the battle was over, ended by the timely arrival of Faramir and his archers, shooting from the lip of the ravine.
Spying Guthwine lying nearby, he moved to pick up the sword as he located Faramir in the midst of the men. Satisfied that the Prince was directing both groups of men in assisting the injured, he turned to Lisswyn.
She was lying face down, and for a moment he feared that Hunlaf had seriously injured her when he tossed her aside. Then, even as he crossed over to her, he saw her shift and turn her head, plainly trying to see what was going on.
He knelt beside her, reached for her, only to have her flinch from him. He halted, sickness spreading through him. What had Hunlaf done to her?
She twisted further, managed to look up at him. "My arms."
Relieved that the flinch was really due to him, he brought his sword up, moved to cut the bonds. "I'll be careful." The rope was tied tightly – much more so than necessary – and it was harder than he'd expected it to be to sever the ropes without cutting her. He suppressed his fury. Hunlaf was dead.
Finally, the bonds were cut, and he moved to help her sit up, only to stop when she gave a sharp cry of pain.
She pulled her knees up, pressed her face against them, her arms apparently useless at her sides. Pain radiated off her.
"Lisswyn?"
Her face still down, she said tightly, "My arms have been numb for hours."
Grimly, he reached forward, began to rub briskly. Tried to ignore the sharp intake of breath and her efforts to pull away from him. "I know. It makes it hurt worse, but it will only be a moment."
When he felt her relax, he stopped rubbing, but left his hands on her arms, needing to touch her. "Better?"
She nodded, slowly pulled her arms in toward her, in a protective gesture. She was once again curled into herself, her head resting on her knees.
Eomer glanced up. He had to get her away from here. Looking toward the main exit out of the ravine, he saw Thedhelm and motioned the other man over. "What's the status on the path through the canyon?"
"Secured and cleared. One of Prince Faramir's men is building a fire in the clearing."
Grateful, Eomer nodded. There was a point midway through the canyon where it widened and a small waterfall trickled down, even during dry periods. It would be a good place to regroup and check the wounds of the men who'd been injured before they set out for the return trip to Edoras.
"Men have also gone to find Hunlaf's horses and the men who are keeping them, as well as to the head of the trail to bring the horses of the men who are injured." His eyes flicked down to Lisswyn, and when he looked back up, they were full of compassion. "They are also bringing Firefoot."
"Good." It would still be easier for most of the men to travel back down the path on foot, but the injured riders would obviously do better mounted, as would Lisswyn.
His hand resting on her shoulder, he discovered that she was shivering, and for the first time realized she was wearing only a lightweight dress. The late autumn day had been unusually warm when she'd set out from Edoras, but that was no longer true.
Bending, he scooped her up into his arms, ignoring the noise of distress or pain she made. Moving quickly, and ignoring the sting in his own arm that Hunlaf had given him, he headed out of the ravine, Thedhelm behind him.
When he arrived at the clearing, he was relieved to see that Faramir's man had not built just one fire, but several, and one was in an out of the way corner. That was where he headed, grateful he could offer Lisswyn at least a pretense of privacy.
Somewhat reluctantly – it was good to have her in his arms – he settled her on the ground between the fire and the wall of the canyon. Even in front of the fire, she was shivering, and he regretted not having anything to cover her with. His cloak was back where the trail had split, as it would have been a liability in battle.
"Thedhelm...send someone down the trail to where I left my cloak, and bring it back for me, as quickly as possible."
Thedhelm nodded and hurried away, and Eomer sat down behind Lisswyn, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her to him, hoping his body heat would help the fire in warming her.
Relief made him dizzy when she relaxed, leaned back against him. For a long moment, they were both silent.
"How did you know to come after me?" she finally asked. Her normal tone when she asked the question relieved him. Maybe she was all right.
"Andric."
She turned in his arms, looked up at him, a puzzled expression on her face. "I sent him back to Edoras."
"Did you really think he'd go, when he saw you'd been weeping?"
As soon as the question left his mouth, he regretted it. There was a flash of pain in her eyes, then they went flat. Empty. She turned her head, looked back toward the fire, and very carefully shifted her body away from him.
His question had reminded of her of why she'd left Edoras in the first place, and whatever it was, it still had the power to hurt her, even given what had happened with Hunlaf. Worse, her pulling away from him confirmed what he had feared on some level, that he was the source of her tears.
Frustrated because he could think of nothing he'd done, his words were sharper than he'd intended when he asked, "Why were you crying?"
She didn't answer him for a long time, and his impatience grew. How could he fix it if she wouldn't tell him what was wrong?
Finally, though, she turned back to him, and his heart ached at the despair in her eyes. "You are to wed the Princess of Dol Amroth. The women are all saying so."
Dumbstruck, he simply stared at her. Then anger replaced the shock, and he had to stand, to pace away from her. Why? How? How could people discuss something that didn't exist? Why couldn't they have just waited? Aware that he was making no sense, even to himself, he turned the anger back to his own actions. Why hadn't he foreseen such a thing? He knew people could create gossip out of nothing, why hadn't he anticipated this? In trying to protect Lothiriel, he'd left Lisswyn vulnerable, even knowing how gossip-prone people were. He should have told her how he felt, why he was delaying.
A new thought occurred to him. He hadn't been able to finish his conversation with Imrahil. Was the gossip an indication that the Prince had truly believed, for whatever reason, that a betrothal was imminent? Perhaps he'd spoken of it to Lothiriel or one of her brothers, and the servants had heard?
It no longer mattered. It might be weak and dishonorable of him, but during the long hours of tracking Hunlaf, of fearing that he would find Lisswyn dead, he'd realized that no matter what the repercussions were for his relationship with Imrahil and Dol Amroth, he would not marry Lothiriel. Could not do so. And while he hoped that the Prince would yet see that in refusing to do so, Eomer was thinking also of the Princess, the result would be the same. He would not marry her.
"I'm sorry." At Lisswyn's quiet words, he turned, confused, and stared at her. Her expression was once more empty. Neutral. She was trying to hide her hurt from him, and that only increased the ache in his own heart.
Then her words penetrated. Sorry for what?
"It was foolish of me to react so. It is not as if…" her words faltered, and she blushed, looked away before beginning again. "It was foolish of me to have left Edoras as I did, though I believed it would be safe so close to the city. I'm sorry for the trouble it caused."
He stared at her, confused. Did she truly not know of his feelings for her? She was now looking away, into the fire, her position once more a defensive one, her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around herself.
Crossing to her, he sat down next to her, facing her. She was still staring into the fire as if it were something truly fascinating. Not a good sign. "Lisswyn…" this was not how he'd wanted to do this. In his mind, he'd always imagined being somewhere quiet and completely private, not with soldiers nearby. Somewhere romantic, not a battle camp.
"Please look at me," he said.
She did, somewhat reluctantly, her face once more expressionless.
He reached out, gently pulled one of her hands away from her body. Her wrist was rubbed raw by the rope, and anger surged again at what she'd been through. Hunlaf had been the instrument, but it had been his fault. If he'd only told her how he felt earlier…
"Sire," she tugged on her hand until she realized he wasn't going to let her go. Giving up, she finally let it lay passively in his. "Please…we do not need to talk about it."
He looked up at her, saw she was afraid he was going to discuss his betrothal to Lothiriel. Still, he hesitated, an uncharacteristic nervousness plucking at him. In his mind, it had always been so simple to tell her how he felt. But the words weren't coming now when he needed them the most.
She was once more staring into the fire, and he saw that she was fighting tears.
Say something, man. Don't leave her like this.
"I have met the Princess of Dol Amroth," he finally began, and knew when she once more tugged on her hand that she was misunderstanding what he was going to say. He gripped her hand harder, and continued. "She is a lovely and gracious woman who would honor any man she wed." One of the tears fell, and he cursed himself. What was he thinking, starting the conversation with praise of another woman?
He reached over, turned her to face him, gripped her chin in his fingers. "And I have met another woman. She is brave and beautiful…and has held my heart in her hands since the day she went into a hopeless battle merely to give her friends a better chance of survival." He stopped, at a loss. She was staring at him, as if she couldn't quite take it in, but her fingers trembled and it gave him courage. "I love you," he said quietly. "And I need you."
Another tear fell, and before he could wipe it away, she pulled away from his hold on her chin to do so herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, bowed her head, and his heart sank. Was it possible he'd misjudged her feelings? That she didn't love him? He was about to release her hand, to let her go, when she looked up at him again. Her expression was serious, but there was something else there, too.
"I am not of noble birth."
It took a moment to digest the words, and when he did, relief rolled through him. He understood her concern, but at least she wasn't rejecting him out of hand.
"Most of our people value nobility of character more than anything else. The people of Edoras admire and respect you. And Eowyn already considers you a sister." He paused, struggled for the right words, remembered Aragorn's warning that Lisswyn might love him but not the idea of being queen. "It is not an easy thing I ask of you," he said. "And all I have to offer you in exchange is myself."
Her eyes softened, but to his surprise, her lips twitched with amusement. Before he could demand to know what was so funny, she said, "You haven't actually asked me anything yet."
He stared at her for a long moment, then laughed, her eyes telling him what he needed to know despite her humor.
Reaching forward, he gathered to him, buried his face in her hair until their laughter faded. Then he pulled back a little, tilted her chin up. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "I am king, will fulfill that role to the best of my ability because it is my duty. But I believe I will do it better, and find more joy in the doing, if you are by my side, as my queen. Will you?"
Her fingers came up, lightly touched his cheek, her eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall. She said nothing for a long moment, simply studied him, but then finally, she took a deep breath and smiled hesitantly. "I can not imagine what manner of queen I will be," she murmured. "But I will love the King of the Mark with all my heart."
Relief and joy poured through him as he tried to find a response. Before he could do so, she slipped her hand around the back of his neck, pulled his head down and lightly kissed him. Then leaned her head against his shoulder and gave a weak laugh. "I must be completely mad."
He hugged her. "Then we will be mad together." Serious once more, he pulled away, looked at her. "I know it won't always be easy, but we will make it work," he said firmly. "And what I said about the people of Edoras is true. The riders have been telling me how the people refer to you, to your willingness to do whatever needs to be done, to help anyone who needs it. To your courage." He smiled, touched her face with his fingers. "And that will only be truer after word of what occurred tonight spreads."
"What do you mean?"
"You looked very …queenly standing there, explaining the loyalty of our people to the house of Eorl while his knife was at your neck. It would have been reasonable for you to be stuttering with terror, but you appeared as calm as could be." His fingers slid down, lightly traced the shallow cut on her throat.
She shook her head. "That wasn't courage. It was your presence there."
Fierce emotion threatened to break free at her words, but he held it back, leaned down to rest his head against hers. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Still, all that the men saw was your quiet courage, and that's what they'll report back to others."
She blushed and looked away. "Let's just hope they keep feeling that way," she muttered.
He laughed again at her tone, unable to help himself. When had he felt this happy?
A new thought occurred to him. "Lisswyn," he said quietly. At her look, he smiled, traced her lips with his finger. "I have never heard you say my name."
She looked startled for a moment, then gave him another impish smile. "Yes, sire?"
He growled at her, and she laughed. Then the laughter faded, was replaced by a look of tenderness. "Eomer."
In response, he leaned down, and aware of the bruises on her face, kissed her gently but thoroughly.
A/N: The next chapter, as promised. It's very long, but these two scenes needed to be together, I think. I hope everyone enjoyed the resolutions, and that the chapter was worth waiting for (and worth all the screaming into pillows and closets). And in case you're wondering, yes, there are still a few more chapters to go, as there are several loose ends yet to be dealt with. :)
A/N 2: This is an updated version of the chapter, with two changes from what I posted earlier this afternoon. :)