(Well, next chapter. It isn't much, but I wanted to throw something up to just let you guys know I was going to continue it- and I think, maybe, I'll make it AU and see where Lyris and Eomer head. I've got some ideas mulling around... yes, it might be fun to continue. :D Incidentally, there was a thread recently on on writers- if anyone is a Subeta user, by all means, drop me a line at SilverTrio. Anyways... I was going to continue this bit a tad farther, but I rather liked the thought of ending it where I did, and I need to get running to my 2 and a half hour English class.)

Drifting. Black night. The sound of wolves in the distance- the horses whinnying in the darkness. Nervous; I've never done this before. "Here, down on your knees, girl," Father commands, and I obey, kneeling beside him. Alyfeld lying on her side, great wide brown eyes like saucers, her belly heaving. "Keep her calm, Lyris. The foal will be your responsibility- you will raise, train, and bond with it. A rider is only as good as his mount…"

Redylfeld's screams. I heard her go down- the Nazgul. Her frightened shriek seconds before darkness. I hadn't thought upon waking- too much, what with Hama discovering and Eomer taking command. I'd asked Eomer what happened to her. "After the battle," was all he'd said, avoiding my eyes. I'd felt the cold fear pierce my spine, but I'd ignored it for the moment; we were moving out and I had Eomer to be strong for…

The sound of someone weeping. "Don't leave me…" Wetness on my cheek. "Please."

A spasm of pain; I thrash. "My lord, you cannot be here." A sense of loss. I thrash again. I cannot move. My neck feels as thought it's snapped. I can't move, I can't move, I can't- Somewhere in the apex of my vision, a bright light sparks and expands. I hear voices, ethereal. I cannot sit in the halls of heroes; everyone knows a woman cannot… I cannot fool them… I refuse…

"Lyris!" Someone yelling. …Eomer? I'm coming, don't worry, they know I cannot sit here, I know-

"Let me in! How is she! Lyris! Can you hear me- Lyris!"

"My Lord, please! The poison still runs in her veins, she may not-"

"If you were worried about me waking, it's a little late."

I fully come into consciousness as the last syllable slips through my lips, alerted to the throbbing in my head and the refusal of my limbs to move. Another spasm of pain shoots up my spine, but I force it down, grimacing. Cool air fills my lungs, and I know somehow that the worst is finally over. My muscles tense, but they relax, and I exhale. I attempt to flex them, praying my paralysis is only an imagined thing. I try and raise my arm.

It is not; my arm refuses to move.

The bitter taste of defeat washes through my mouth, but I swallow it, reminding myself I am lucky to have lived, and that for right now, I should be grateful. I force my eyes open as the sound of an anxious marshal rushes to my bedside, kneeling, and I glance to Eomer, managing a smile. Oh, the healing power of his presence- suddenly my immobility does not matter anymore; it is only Eomer I am concerned about. His eyes are wide and his expression is confused- my mind brings up the memory of a young marshal being thrown from his horse, and the hours of mirth I enjoyed afterwards. "It's all right," I whisper with a smile, trying to reassure him. "It's all right, I'm okay."

"The hell you are." Eomer's voice is scared, shaking, and I feel him pick up my hand and cover my knuckles in kisses. "Valar, Lyris- I thought you were dead, I thought I'd lost you, and…" He breaks off, resting his head against my abdomen. "Valar, Lyris, I order you to never, ever frighten me like that again, do you hear me!"

A weak chuckle escapes my lips. "As my King commands." He raises his head, scowling slightly, and all I can do is smile back.

"I'm never going to get used to that," he murmurs, shaking his head and rising to sit next to me on the edge of my sickbed. "Illuvatar, Lyris." He shakes his head, and I offer a grin.

"Oh come, now," I say softly, looking up to him. "Did you think I was honestly going to go anywhere you weren't?" He looks to me with those deep brown eyes, eyes that I can see getting misty. "Besides," I reassure him with a smile, "someone is going to have to keep an eye on you, and I would hate to make someone else shoulder that great burden."

"It is a trial, no doubt."

Both Eomer's and my eyes dart to the doorway, meeting intense blue eyes, and eyebrows I am accustomed to seeing raised. Men are often given to nights of camaraderie when traveling together, and in my time posing as one, I am proud to be able to claim I spent more than a few hours discussing the finer points of life with he who is now leader of Gondor. I scowl slightly. "Have you no respect for a personal moment, Ranger?"

"Calm, good Rider." The corners of Aragorn's mouth twitch in good humor. "I come as a healer to his patient, no more, I swear."

"Indeed. Well, at least I see you've bathed," I manage to croak out in good nature, earning a faint smile for my efforts. "Is my paralysis, then, an aftereffect of your state of cleanliness?"

"She's feeling better," Eomer notes dryly.

"No, my friend, I am afraid my bathing habits have not affected your health, though it is indeed your paralysis that's brought me here." Aragorn walks over, gravely lifting a hand and turning it over to examine the flesh. Eomer and I both are staring at him with breath stuck in our throats, knowing full well his talents in the field of healing, especially after Lady Eowyn's encounter with the Witchking- I begin to wonder if he knows something I do not. Could he, perhaps- no. I quash the hope. "You were poisoned with a particular sort of Morgul concoction," he says, gently setting my hand down. "You are lucky to have survived."

"You almost didn't," Eomer adds, fixing me with a look as if it is my fault that I'm in the situation I am. "You've been out for quite some time- I was starting to think you would never awaken."

"I'm starting to wonder if I should have." Unbidden, the bitter taste rises in my mouth again. "If I cannot move-"

"It will pass, Lyris." Hearing someone aside from Eomer call me by my given name causes me to blink, and I feel a warmth inside, a relief that he is not going to allow my sex to come between the camaraderie shared between us all in wartime. I wonder if perhaps he hadn't guessed all along; indeed, I would not be surprised. Aragornis rather observant, after all… And, perhaps, something of a miracle worker.

I force myself to swallow, asking the question I am almost afraid to utter. "Does that mean-"

"Possibly. Your muscles have locked themselves, is all." Aragorn looks at me thoughtfully, ignoring Eomer's fidgeting. "In fact…"

I watch as he lifts up my arm and bends it, earning a gasp from me as my joint seems to break in half. He works it back and forth, repeating his action with the other one, with the same pain. Then it is time for my legs, and he gestures for Eomer to lift me off of the bed. I feel slightly like a rag doll as Eomer pulls me forward, and I sigh in resignation. My knees and elbows throb, but I steel myself, preferring the pain to helplessness.

Eomer catches the sigh and murmurs. "You know, if you would have stayed behind like I had ordered you, you wouldn't be in the position you are, now, would you?"

"And if you weren't so bloody infuriating about your ordering, I might have listened," I retort. I open my mouth to say something else, but there is a sharp jab to my lower back and I gasp at the brief pain shooting up my spine.

"If you weren't so bloody hardheaded, I wouldn't have had to be so bloody infuriating, now would I?"

"If you weren't so bloody thick, I wouldn't be so bloody hardheaded." I wince and bite down as there's another crack directly above the last.

"If you hadn't been so bloody free with your spear when we were younger, I might not have turned out quite so bloody thick."

"Well, if you would have been a bit more competent, I wouldn't have had to have been- do you MIND?"

Another crack earns another sharp intake. "No, by all means," Aragorn murmurs innocently, "continue your debate. Do not allow me to stop you."

Eomer and I both let out a sigh, slightly sheepish. I feel two thumbs on the back of my neck and eight fingers on my shoulder. I start to say something, and then something explodes where my neck and back connect, and I involuntary cry out as the warmth spreads down my spine and through my limbs. I shake slightly as I draw in a breath, readjusting myself and trying to shake it off. "Try to move now," Aragorn instructs.

I take a breath. "Are you sure that…" I stop my own voice, gaping at my own digits, which are toying with the bedsheet as they are wont to do when I am anxious or worried. They stop, one finger raising and tapping on my leg. It stops. All five curl. "Great-"

The covers fly off as I run to the wardrobe, and both men quickly hide their eyes, despite the fact that I am fully covered by my bedsheet as I dig for my clothes. "Eomer! My gear- where in the nine hells are my clothes?"

"Perhaps try the closet?" Aragorn suggests, sighing as he stares at the ceiling. I rip open the closet door, eager to pull on my-

…Dress?

"You have got to be kidding me," I say aloud.