Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate. Iris and the plot are mine.
Author's Note: This takes place about a week after Why a Child Cries.
Why a Child Loves
Eowyn pushes away her half-eaten meal and attempts to leave her seat. Weary, Iris prevents the girl from escaping by catching her by the sleeve.
"My Lady, please finish your breakfast," she says.
"I've had enough," the child protests, trying to wiggle out of her nurse's grasp.
Iris frowns in concern. "Yes, you have not had much of an appetite for the last several days." The woman lays a hand against her charge's forehead. She presses her lips into a firm line. "My Lady, finish your food."
"But Thorongil –"
"Lord Thorongil shall be waiting. He has improved greatly the last few days," Iris says in a calm, comforting manner. "But it will trouble him greatly if you become ill because you have not eaten or slept properly on his account." She lifts one brow.
"I thought he was lonely at night," Eowyn explains innocently. "And I promise I shall not get sick," she adds.
Iris has to smile for a moment. "Please, my Lady, finish your breakfast, and then you can see how he is doing for a little while. I am certain he would desire you to eat your meal."
The girl sighs and silently resumes eating under the watchful eye of her nurse.
Some minutes later, Eowyn races through the passages of the Golden Hall; the way is now well known to her, as she has taken this journey many times in the past week. A little breathless, she draws up to the door of Thorongil's room. She raises her arm to knock when a voice calls to her.
"Lady Eowyn."
The girl turns to see one of the healers who has tended Thorongil coming towards her.
"Are you seeking the Lord Thorongil?"
"Yes," Eowyn replies, feeling a little puzzled.
"He is not in his room," the healer says. She goes on quickly as fear and alarm settles on the little one's pale face. "He is doing so well that he was permitted to visit the garden. He left only a few minutes ago. You may find him there, my Lady."
A brilliant smile lights the girl's face. "Thank you!" she exclaims happily and, with a skip, makes her way towards the garden, warmly greeting each person she passes with a "Good morning!"
The servants smile to themselves, thinking how wonderful it is to see the Lady Eowyn so cheerful instead of downcast.
Breathing in deeply the lovely perfumed scents of the garden, Thorongil sighs and his body relaxes. It is so good to be out of doors, to breathe in the fresh air and feel the warm sun on his face. He chuckles wearily. He discovered himself to be a tough patient. He was not used to being bedridden for so long. And his body is still recovering. What made his confinement bearable was little Eowyn's presence. She has visited him often and has been a great comfort and companion.
Slowly, he lowers himself onto a bench. Propping his walking stick against it, he opens up the book he has been reading. Absently he touches the bandage wrapped around his head.
"Thorongil!"
The man's expression of concentration instantly breaks into a pleasant smile as his eyes rise from his book to behold Eowyn skipping merrily towards him. Her hair bounces with each skip, and a bright smile is on her face.
"Good morning, little Eowyn," he greets her, closing his book and setting it down. Carefully, and with a little more concentration than before, he lifts her up to sit beside him. She is lighter than he recalls, and a light, thoughtful frown momentarily darkens his brow.
"Good morning," the child replies, lightly yawning suddenly.
"Are you well?" Thorongil asks, tucking some strands of hair behind her ear.
"Very well, thank you," she says.
"Did you sneak into my room again last night?" Thorongil guesses.
"Yes," Eowyn confesses, glancing up at him. "I feared you were lonely. I wanted to see you were well."
"How many times have you been up late at night?"
"Four times," she answers promptly.
Thorongil chuckles, his lips twitching. "It will not do if you, who have helped me recover, become the patient. Then I shall have to stay until you are well, be your nurse."
Eowyn giggles but then realizes what he said. "Will you be leaving soon?" She looks up at her friend, troubled.
"Once I am fully healed and discuss some things with your uncle, yes," he replies quietly.
"But…but what if you are not fully well when you leave and something happens on your way back? How do you know you will be all right?" Eowyn asks fearfully.
She had glimpsed Thorongil being brought into the Golden Hall, yet had not known at the time it was he who was so injured. The half-forgotten recollections cause the girl to shudder. She does not want anything to happen to him. He is her dearest friend.
Thorongil, aware of the dark, fearful cloud descending on the girl, gently moves her onto his lap. His throat tightens as she wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his tunic, her small frame shaking with silent tears. He realizes his ordeal has been a frightening experience to the child, seeing him so weak and helpless. And, no doubt, she had overheard how close his brush with death had been. Thorongil's heart goes out to Eowyn. Gently he rests his cheek against her hair and rocks her slowly. He hums softly under his breath.
When he feels Eowyn's shaking subside, he slowly pulls her back to look on her face. Her watery eyes blink up at him, and tearstains track down her cheeks. He wipes them dry.
"I promise you, little Eowyn, I shall not leave until I have the healers' approval." He sighs deeply. "We must have faith that my journey shall pass without incident."
Eowyn nods slowly, lowering her eyes.
"And we shall meet again," he goes on, "little Eowyn. I promise."
A small smile creeps over the child's face as she raises her head. "I am glad!" she says softly, sniffing. She hugs him again, happily this time. "I love you, Thorongil."
The man tightens his arms around the girl, his eyes becoming misty, "And I you, little Eowyn."
THE END