Epilogue: Miracle
Ithílwyn had never imagined that she could ever be annoyed with her husband for being attentive to her needs, but after the eighteenth question in the last hour her patience snapped. "I am well. Stop asking if I am hungry," she huffed. He opened his mouth to protest but she lifted her hand to stop him.
"No," she reiterated, "I am absolutely certain I am not hungry and if I were, I am more than able to fetch some food or ring for a maid servant." Who would have thought that he would be more worried about the baby then her. "You worry too much," she mused, no longer annoyed at him. She patted the empty space beside her on that chaise and he sat down by her side and Ithílwyn kissed him on the cheek.
"I cannot lose you," he confessed, staring at her as he swallowed uncomfortably, eyes moistening with emotion.
She smiled sadly, patting his hand. "It is not the same as before, you know that. You are with me, and I am well fed and healthy. Most days I am filled with joy, so you need not pester me so fervently. A little bit is fine, it is nice to have all your needs attended to by a devoted husband like yourself. Besides, it is easier the second time, so do not worry Éomer," she said softly, but he could not shake the image of her that Yule night, blood pooling about her lifeless body. Still, she was staring up at him with those beautiful eyes, and he forced himself to nod.
"Good," she said and struggled to rise from the chaise. "Will you accompany me? I would like to stretch my legs before the evening meal." He nodded and took her hand as they walked in the gardens at twilight, talking about the events of the day as the sun set. She was often away, walking around villages but he had forbidden any more strenuous activity despite her protests since it was nearly time for the baby to come. So his wife took to walking around Meduseld, continuing to putter around in her glass house, though she began to grow increasingly exhausted as her belly grew. He was also spending more and more time accompanying his wife, claiming that she needed his assistance. She insisted fiercely on her independence, but was appreciative of his presence especially when she accidentally dropped something, or when putting on stockings.
That night, as he heard her breathing deeply while she slept, he cradled her rounded middle with both hands reverently, mesmerised by the movement within. It never ceased to amaze him, and though he found her pregnant frame ravishing, he could not help the excitement bubbling within him to meet their child. At first he thought he had wanted a child for his wife. After all those years of suffering, of believing herself barren, childless for the remainder of her days, she deserved s nothing less than this baby. However he soon realised how eager he was to be a father, and he wondered that his devotion to her and her great love for him had transformed him from a stubborn man once adamant in his reluctance to marry or bear children to a man whose greatest joy and contentment lay watching his wife sleep, their unborn child stirring with life within her. Aldric would be laughing at him at the sheer irony, wherever he was. "I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. Then he kissed the summit of her stomach and settled in beside Ithíl, snoring lightly. And then, as was his custom for the past six months, he prayed fervently for the gods to keep both his wife and child safe.
A week later, King Aragorn and Queen Arwen arrived at Meduseld at his request. They had healed his wife, and Ithílwyn suspected that they had been responsible for curing her barren womb. As much as he was excited to be a father, and to hold the child in his arms, he was terrified that he would lose Ithíl. Childbirth was dangerous for a woman, she had nearly died once though the circumstances had been different. Ithíl appeared healthy, and strong but even he, with his limited knowledge of midwifery, knew that birthing a child was wrought with unexpected dangers.
Ainsware had made the journey to Meduseld, accompanied by Rhonwen and Aldred, her son. Éomer had been threatened by his friend's widow when she asked to speak with him in private. She was furious at his mistreatment of Ithílwyn, and chastised him despite their difference in status. Ithíl had not confided in her regarding the loss of their son, but Rhonwen relayed memories of her crying over Aldred when he was born and weeping in the night when she thought Rhonwen had fallen fast asleep.
After the confrontation, Rhonwen was civil, but kept her distance from him. However, she allowed him to meet Aldred, and did not protest when he asked to take Aldred riding. "I never told you, but I am glad he married you," he said. "He loved you," he added and she smiled sadly, her eyes tearing up. It had been six years since his friend had passed to the halls of his fathers, but it appeared that time had not lessened the pain of losing a spouse. He remembered the day Aldric told him that he was to be married, and the wager at their wedding to test his virility. Despite her initial confrontation, Rhonwen was pleased that he could meet Aldred's acquaintance, and they bonded over their memories of Aldric.
"It is as if I was a boy and looking at him again," he remarked later to Ithíl, who was brushing her hair. "He has the same cheeky grin, that glint in his eye that Aldric had when concocting some devious scheme. We stole some tarts from the kitchen today, and it was all planned by him. He has his mother's red hair, but his eyes are exactly like his father, and so are his antics."
"It is all his mother complains about," Ithílwyn laughed. "Rhonwen tells many tales of her suffering at the hands of her son, although I imagine she is secretly pleased about it as it reminds her of Aldric. I miss him, Éomer and it is nice to know that part of him lives in his son. It is such a shame that he passed before Aldred was born." Éomer stood stiffly, his back turned toward her as he looked out the window. She watched as his shoulders slumped, and his head lowered, his hands covering his face as he wept.
"Oh Éomer," she sighed, walking to his side. She wiped his tears away and embraced him, rubbing his broad back as he cried on her shoulder. "It is not your fault," she said quietly, knowing he still blamed himself for the death of his friend. He sniffled and cleared his throat, releasing himself from her embrace and sitting down on the bed.
"I know," he said, exhaling loudly, looking down at his hands.
"You honour him by making sure Rhonwen and Aldred's livelihoods are provided for. Rhonwen does not mean ill by rejecting your provision, she is living happily with Aldric's family, and they are not destitute. Aldred was very enamoured of the foal you gifted, and I am certain Aldric will deem it a worthy gift, he was very vain after all.
Éomer smiled, feeling Ithíl's hand slip into his. She gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled warmly at him. "I hope Aldred and our child will be friends just as you and Aldric were close friends. He would have liked that." Ithílwyn's comment evoked a pleasant promise for the future, and he marvelled at how she knew exactly what to say.
"Yes," he agreed, nuzzling her fondly, "I would like that very much indeed."
After the meal, Ithílwyn retired to be early, claiming she was tired, insisting that he entertain their guests in her absence. Queen Arwen accompanied Ithílwyn, and mugs of ale were brought out as he and King Aragorn conversed. Gimli the dwarf had brought a great supply of mithril and precious gems to rebuild the Great Gate at Minas Tirith. Éomer remarked that he would marvel indeed, for the craftsmanship of the dwarves was well known. Both men spoke well into the night concerning affairs in the south, reminiscing about their life during the Great War. Éomer patted his belly, proclaiming his indolence while Aragorn contrasted the fine meals he ate compared to the foraged fare that sustained him as a ranger.
Their conversation was interrupted by a flurry of activity in the hall. He watched the maidservants head towards the queen's chambers and sped off in the same direction, Aragorn following closely behind him. He barged into the room, shocking the women attending to his wife. His sister tried to persuade him to leave, reminding him that the birthing of children was a woman's domain, and he should remain outside so the women could work. He hissed at Éowyn, to her surprise, stating that she could not deny him his right to remain with his wife during her hour of need. "You know I have to stay with her, Éowyn. You were there the last time, so you understand that I cannot leave her." He did not know whether it was the desperate look in his eyes or the terrified tone in his voice that managed to dissuade his sister from barring his entrance but he was allowed to be at her side. She called his name weakly, grunting as she bore down, her face red with exertion as she endured a contraction.
"You should not be here," she panted.
"I am not leaving you to face this alone" he insisted. She smiled feebly and he squeezed her hand. "Were you in labour at the evening meal?" he questioned, after another contraction had passed not long after, wondering how long he had been conversing with Aragorn. Despite her pain, she nodded and laughed.
"I was hungry," she explained, "and you know I cannot possibly refuse smoked duck nor could I have resisted Mathilde's famous peach tarts. And there were buttery potatoes, you love that."
"If you think that I love buttery potatoes more than you, silly woman, then you were sorely mistaken." She reached up to smooth his brow, smiling lovingly at him. "It is much easier this time," she confessed, and for a moment he believed her, but then she screamed and squeezed his arm so tightly he nearly cried out in pain along with her. It was a cruel torment, watching the woman he loved succumb again and again to a vicious, unrelenting pain for his sake.
"Not long now, Queen Mildred," the midwife said. Éomer thought he might retch when Ithíl began crying, struggling to endure the agony. He wiped her brow, and supported her when she lost strength in her legs, enduring her vicelike grip as she strained against another contraction. But with each scream, he could feel her body growing weaker and he prayed desperately for the safety of both mother and child.
Dawn filtered through the window as the cry of an infant pierced through the room, silencing everyone. He spied the baby in the midwife's arms and beside him, Ithíl lifted her head, eager to see her baby. "You have a healthy son, my lord and lady," Mathilde announced joyfully, tears falling down her face. She was not the only one overcome with emotion, he was crying and so was Ithíl. He kissed her deeply, bursting with joy. She sighed, relieved to hear that her baby was hale. Mathilde laid the newborn son into her arms and he supported her as she tried to nurse him. The baby's cries ceased as he latched onto his mother's nipple and he watched Ithíl gaze lovingly at their son. She turned to him and cast such a wide, joyous smile that took all the breath from his chest. He stroked the soft hair on his son's head, completely enamoured at the tiny infant.
"He is so precious," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, admiring the miracle in her arms. He kissed the droplets at her eyes, observing her out of fear that she might be too exhausted, but the midwife was calm, and it did not seem as if they had any cause for concern. He cradled his son when Ithíl's arms grew weary, but she could not tear her gaze from her son. "I am fine," she said, noticing him looking over her cautiously.
"Come, Éomer," Éowyn urged him away from Ithíl's side. He resisted, reluctant to leave his wife. "You have a son now, Éomer. Look after him while I rest," she said softly, yawning. Though he kept glancing back to her, ensconced comfortably amidst soft pillows to reassure himself of her welfare, his sister managed to push him out the door. Then, he turned to the squirming babe in his arms and smiled for a very, very long time.
King Aragorn came toward him and clasped him on the shoulder, offering his felicitations to the new father. The elven queen smiled warmly beside her husband, extending her happiness that the birth went well, and that Queen Mildred was safe and resting. He thanked them both profusely, knowing that he would have lost Ithíl without their aid. Truly, he was a blessed man to be in the company of gracious friends, their kindness and benevolence resulting in this wondrous gift.
He watched as his son suckled hungrily, his wife resting against his chest, sleepy but content. You will be late, she reminded him tiredly. I know but I cannot seen too stop staring at him. he confessed, stroking the soft, plump cheek thoughtfully. "Soon he will be weaned, and will grow too big to hold."
"It will be sometime yet Éomer," she replied and laughed.
"Children grow so quickly," he mused, "I remember when Eadwine was no longer than my forearm and now he is nearly a year old, and taking his first steps."
"Now you are making me sad," she whined, nudging him in the ribs. They watched their son in comfortable silence until he fell asleep at his mother's breast.
"Béma, he is adorable," Éomer whispered in awe, watching his son doze with his small mouth open. Ithílwyn laughed quietly and patted the baby's back until he belched, then placed Eadwine in a cot. Éomer held her from behind as they gazed lovingly at their sleeping infant.
"Perhaps we should make another baby," Ithíl suggested quietly, a wicked gleam in her eyes. His eyes grew large and then he nodded profusely.
"Yes, yes, yes," he repeated, and Ithílwyn stifled her laughter at his fervour. She called for the wet nurse to watch Eadwine, barely able to finish her sentence as Éomer pulled her by the hand, eager to get them both in their chambers, remove her clothing and take her in his arms.
Ithílwyn watched as Eadwine waddled in the snow, bundled snugly under warm layers. He chased Éomer, laughing joyfully as his father ran in the same spot ahead. They had not come here last year since Eadwine was too young, but he was about to turn two in the summer. Ithílwyn walked behind them, watching her son carefully. They reached the tree and Éomer picked Eadwine up as they stood under the tree. Ithílwyn spread out a sheet of waxed cloth and placed it on the ground while Éomer took out some toys for Eadwine to play with. He watched as she stroked the bole of the tree, a tear falling down her cheek.
"Our family is reunited," she said softly, her voice breaking. He held her close as she grieved. Eadwine toddled over and pulled on his mother's skirts, visibly worried at her distressed state. "Mama cry," he pointed out, and his mother fiddled with the sleeves of his coat, wiping her tears hastily.
"Mama is sad," she replied softly, peppering her son with affectionate kisses.
"No sad," her son protested, waving his hands. Éomer chuckled, but noticed a fresh wave of tears falling down Ithílwyn's cheeks. He took Eadwine from her as she wept at his shoulder.
He swallowed nervously. "Eadwine, do you see this tree?" His son nodded, glancing at his mother. "You have a brother, but he is not with us. He is resting under this tree, and Mama is sad because she misses your brother. Papa misses him too, for he is in another world." His son seemed to accept his explanation, being too young to contemplate the complexities of life and death. Beside him, Ithílwyn kissed Eadwine and apologised for making him worry, telling him to play with his toys. Éomer set him down and he toddled off to play happily, both of his parents watching him wistfully.
"Ithílwyn," he called softly, wrapping his arm around her waist.
"Somehow I thought it would be easier after Eadwine was born, but-" she paused and swallowed, "I cannot help but think of how big he would be now, and if he would be like Eadwine, or completely different, and it would not even matter because I would have loved him either way but," her lower lip trembled, "but I will never know him," she finished softly, leaning against her husband. Éomer pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing her back to console her.
"I may be with child, Éomer," she said softly. He stared at her with wide eyes, unsure whether to respond joyfully or solemnly. "It has been two months since I bled," Ithílwyn added softly, staring at the tree.
"He will always be part of our family, just as much as any of the children you bear. And Eadwine may be too young to know about his brother, but he will someday, along with his sister," he said, patting Ithílwyn's middle. She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "You sound very confident," she teased.
"I was wrong about our eldest, and we were so afraid to hope that when Eadwine was born, I was more worried for you and for the baby's health."
"Secretly I hoped for a son, you need an heir after all, but if it was a girl, I do not think I would have been any less joyful," she said, looking over at Eadwine lovingly.
"Mama," her son called, and ran towards her. She caught him and kissed him on the nose. Eadwine soon fell asleep in his mother's arms, exhausted after chasing his dad in the snow. His parents lingered while he slept, not waking even when Éomer took him from Ithílwyn's tired arms.
Ithílwyn grew increasingly tired as her pregnancy progressed, much like when she was carrying Eadwine and she was often found asleep in the solar. Eadwine was well-behaved and perceptive of his mother, often whispering to his father as soon as he noticed her sleeping. While his son looked like him, it was clear he had inherited his mother's temperament.
"Where is Eadwine?" Ithílwyn asked, rubbing her eyes as she stretched.
"He is with my sister, playing with Morwen." Éowyn's daughter was born last winter, and though she appeared to resemble her father, she was fierce and held her ground whenever Eadwine grew too mischievous.
"I am glad Éowyn is here," she confessed as he lifted her legs, placing them on his lap as he sat down beside her. His hand rested on her belly, feeling the baby moving within. "It was she who convinced me to return to Meduseld for you sake. At Ithilien, she spoke of you constantly and relayed how miserable you were. Then when they brought you to the cave, she insisted that you would perish without me, stirring up so much guilt I did as she advised and returned."
"Here I thought you remained because you loved me," he drawled, teasing her.
"I left because I loved you, silly man," she replied, "but I was mistaken and Éowyn was right after all."
"My sister would love to hear your admission of her brilliance," he said.
Ithílwyn laughed. "She already knows, I told her so when I was sure Eadwine would stay. I am very grateful for Éowyn, she was the only person who advised me to remain, convinced me that you love me. If I had not listened to her," she paused, "my life would not be blessed with you and Eadwine-"
"And baby," he added, patting her rounded belly affectionately.
"And baby," she echoed, her face beaming beatifically. "If we have a daughter, I would very much like to name her in honour of your sister," she said.
"Éowyn would like that very much," he replied, and though he had intended to name his daughter after Ithíl, he knew they had ample time to produce more children.
He was by her side once more when she woke him at dawn several days later. In a calm tone of voice, she told him the baby was coming. Hastily, he put on his clothes and rushed to alert the midwife, but she had already done so. Éomer was about to shout at her when her face contorted into a pained expression, grunting as she held on to the bedpost.
"Ithíl?" he called worriedly.
"This baby is impatient," she commented nonchalantly once the wave passed, taking off her clothes. She rummaged around and took out another dress, changing out of her nightgown. "I like this nightgown, and I will not have it stained with blood and other things," she said when he protested her lack of urgency. They entered the queen's chambers as maidservants bustled about with buckets of warm water.
"There is no time for a bath!" he exclaimed, panicking all the more when she began to braid her hair.
"Nonsense," she replied, undressing again once her hair was up in a simple braid and sinking into the tub. "You forget that I was a midwife and a capable healer. I have laboured twice already, and I know what my body needs. You have to trust me, Éomer." He kept silent and waited beside her, holding her hand when she was in pain. A maidservant brought in food but Ithílwyn was busy labouring to eat. Then when the water began to cool, she rose and Éomer dried her body with a towel before she put her dress on.
Hours later, Ithílwyn lay against her husband, covered in sweat from the summer heat and from exhaustion. Éowyn placed the newborn on his mother's chest. Éomer undid the ties at the front of her dress and she guided the infant to nurse. She watched with wonder as the newborn latched quickly, silencing his loud cries.
"I do not know if we can name the baby Éowyn," Ithílwyn whispered to her husband mirthfully, staring down at the tiny infant in her arms.
"It would be unfair to him," he replied, smiling. His wife pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
"What are you two lovers whispering about?" Éowyn called good-naturedly, reminding Éomer that Ithílwyn needed her rest.
"Dear sister," he spoke, amused at how easily Éowyn grew suspicious of him whenever he was remotely polite to her. She narrowed her eyes at him as he approached. "We were thinking of naming the baby after you if it were a girl. However, Ithílwyn is a stubborn woman, as you know," glancing behind at his wife, shrugging innocently, "and she insists that you deserve to have a child named in your honour."
"Oh," was all Éowyn said, "but perhaps you could wait for a daughter," refusing out of consideration for her nephew.
"Ah yes, but then I began wondering if I could survive raising a daughter like you," he teased. Ithílwyn burst out laughing from the bed and clamped her mouth when both siblings turned to stare at her. while Éomer was amused, his sister was not.
She rolled his eyes at him, "I am confused, are you complimenting me or being insulting?"
"Only the highest of compliments, dear Éowyn. If you consent, we would like to name our secondborn Eadhelm, after the courageous Dernhelm, who proved her worth on the battlefield and defended her king from the foulest of creatures with great valour. It is an honour to be your brother, and a greater honour to share your name with my son." Éowyn wiped her eyes, and her brother held her close, kissing her cheek affectionately.
"I knew you would be pleased," Ithílwyn said, as Éowyn came to embrace her.
"You have my gratitude, I could never have thought Éomer being so sentimental, and I am glad you listened to me," she replied smugly. Ithílwyn laughed and yawned tiredly, smiling happily as she watched Éowyn teasing Éomer as if they were children again. Éomer put his finger in the infants palm and winced when the grip tightened around his finger with unexpected strength. He laughed heartily, and Éowyn stared up at him. He showed her his red finger, and gazed at his son lovingly. "He is indeed well named," he said approvingly as his son stared up at Éowyn and gurgled happily.
Sometimes he caught that faraway look in her eyes, the sadness lingering behind like a violent thunderstorm. He grew afraid that she might be drawn back to her dark dreams, and he would lose her. She was his greatest treasure, and as they had two young sons who needed her as much as he did. Her days were mostly happy, she was often laughing and running about with Eadwine and Eadhelm, who were devoted to her. But there were days where she asked for Mathilde to take the boys with her for the day and though she bid him attend to his duties, he stubbornly remained by her side. The melancholy never left, returning at will to plague her.
Though it was not a common occurrence, she was often filled with guilt for wasting his time but he had grown wiser in his ruling of the kingdom, and delegating royal affairs among the capable council lords had allowed him some freedom to tend to her. It was heartbreaking to behold tangible evidence of her sorrow, sometimes she would shake as she sobbed in his arms, unable to bear the intensity of the emotions coursing within her. He understood now that he had seen and heard the depth of suffering why she had wanted to take her life.
She did her utmost to ensure her sons never saw her distress during those periods of anguish, and it did not take long for her to emerge from the shadows. He praised her strength of spirit, but she perceived herself weak and claimed that it was his presence that rescued her. This was far from the truth, Éomer often felt hopeless and helpless when Ithílwyn succumbed to melancholy, all he could do was hold her and remind her that he loved her. It proved sufficient for her, but often wished that he could be of greater help, to banish those dark thoughts away and deepen her conviction that she deserved all the love he could give her, and more. Though she never mentioned it, he knew part of her distress owed to the freedom she had sacrificed in remaining at Meduseld to be his queen.
"Why did you stay?" he asked out of sheer curiosity one morning. She stared at him, putting her fork down. "I would not have forced you to be queen if it was a burden too great to bear."
She pressed her lips together. "I considered it," she admitted shyly, "but you were still weak, and I did not know if you would fall ill if I had left. It was risky to leave you so abruptly, and by the time i could allow myself to hope for a child, it proved too late. Would you forgive me if I robbed you of your child?"
"If it made you happy, yes," he said, his heart aching painfully all the same.
"As much as my childhood was happy with my adopted mother, I often wondered what it would be like to have been loved by both parents. It would be selfish to leave and deprive my child of knowing you. Éomer, you are a good father and I do not regret choosing this path."
"Do you not miss your home?"
"It was for a little while, but it was my intention to live amongst others. Maybe if Eadwine had not been born, I might have left, and now that I know how much you love both of our children, I would not have regretted leaving so that you could have children of your own."
"I love them because they are your sons, though I had hoped they would take after you," he joked, though Ithílwyn could see he was hurt by what she had said.
"You said you would have let me leave Meduseld with Eadwine if it made me happy, and I would do the same for you, because I love you Éomer."
"I know, it pains me all the same to think I might not have ever known the joy I share with you now, nor have met Eadhelm or Eadwine."
"I still think you would have found happiness without me, a different kind perhaps."
"Without my beautiful Ithíl? Never," he said, surprised to see her face fall.
"I am not beautiful," she said softly.
"You are," he insisted, but she pulled away from him.
"Why do you love me?" she asked suddenly.
He stared at her, lost for words. "For everything that you are, your strength and compassion, the tenacity of your affection for me despite my many transgressions against you. With you I am but a man, Éomer Éomundsson and when we are together, I feel as if my soul is free and my heart is soaring." Despite his best efforts, Ithíl looked down at her hands and nodded meekly, his passionate words falling on deaf ears.
Her eyes flew open and her lungs burned as she inhaled air. Looking down, she saw a scaly tail below her waist, thrashing violently. Ithílwyn screamed as the tail begin to tear in the middle, falling to the ground as she writhed, excruciating pain pulsating through her chest and below her waist. She heard the soft clinking sound of scales falling off. They shone in the dark, glittering and gleaming. Where she once had a tail lay two legs, the raw flesh exposed to the elements, blood slowly dripping down her legs.
Desperately she shouted and screamed for anyone to help, but she was lost in the dark, no lights in the night sky to bring her comfort. Utterly alone, forlorn and forsaken she cried, each gulp of air searing the inside of her chest. Tears stained her fac as she and hair, and in the numb solitude, she waited for the despair of darkness to consume her. The silence so deafening that it formed a cacophony of despair and sorrow that shattered her heart and she became stricken, weakened by the profound loneliness, unable to withstand the sinister tendrils of shadow reaching to claim her and she lay helplessly, swallowing her last breaths as she waited for the peace of death. The pain and the torment was too great to bear, perhaps she may find relief in death.
"Are you hurt?"
She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at Éomer, his golden head glowing faintly. He stared at her, transfixed. "Oh so beautiful," he whispered to himself, but she was lost to the sinister whispering of the shadows, calling to her, reaching to consume her. He opened a chest, and took out a sealed jar, wrapped in cloth and offered it to her with trembling hands.
"What is this?" she asked, realising that this was something precious to him.
"My treasure," he replied and broke the seal before she could protest. Out of the jar, he scooped a salve and rubbed it on her sore, bleeding legs. He did not seem the least repulsed at the gruesome sight. Almost miraculously, the pain subsided where he had applied the salve and she found it easier to breathe. She sighed with relief, but then he groaned and she saw that the jar was empty. Half of one leg was still raw, and oozing a foul, yellow liquid. Despair filled her heart, and she wept again.
Éomer, who was not exactly Éomer, just as she was not exactly the mermaid, comforted her in his arms, pulling her up to stand. The raw part of her leg flamed and she buckled under the weight of her body. He caught her and supported her. taking the cloth, he tore it in half. With one piece, he bandaged the exposed flesh, to her surprise, he bound her leg with his at the knee with the other half of the cloth.
"Now you should be able to walk," he said, smiling at her.
"Why?" she asked breathlessly, staring up at him, perplexed by his sacrifice.
"You saved me," he whispered, his eyes gazing into hers. "I would have drowned, but you lifted me and carried me to shore," he said, caressing her cheek tenderly.
From the corner of her eye, she spied a lake and wondered how she could have missed it in the dark. "Oh so beautiful," he whispered reverently.
Her heart swelled as he kissed her softly, his lips lightly brushing against hers. A tinkling sound chimed faintly as a million glittering scales floated off the ground. Upward they drifted, but the mermaid and the man observed not, lost in each other.
"I love you," he confessed, his eyes glistening.
"I love you," she burst, her body flooded with a wonderful wawrmth that caused her pain to dull.
Then he kissed her, and she returned his affections with equal measure. And then they walked, and she smiled at how easily they fell into the same rhythm. Bright lights turned their attention to sky, gleaming scales shining down in the obsidian expanse.
"Oh so beautiful," she murmured, awed at the sight. He squeezed her hand, smiling with pride at the miracle she had done, brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. She rested her head on his broad shoulder, her heart soaring to know she was not alone anymore.
Éomer called out to her gently and she woke, staring at his concerned face.
"You were crying, my love," he said quietly, wiping her tears away. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked. sitting up was difficult now that she was in her eighth month of pregnancy, and Éomer pulled her into a sitting position on the chaise. His brow was creased with worry, and she pressed her palm over it, hoping to smooth them away.
"No, it was not a bad dream," she said, smiling at him. "I was a mermaid, and you were there, oh so beautiful. It is still difficult to comprehend, beyond man's reasoning, but I know that you love me, even the parts of me that are broken and wretched you consider wondrous," she said, choking with emotion. Her husband was beginning to cry as well. "Some days, when the dark threatens to consume me, I forget this wonderful truth. You must remind me, lest I fail to remember."
He nodded austerely. "Always," he vowed, kissing the back of her hand. "I love you," he breathed, brushing his knuckles against the side of her face.
"I shall remember that," she replied and smiled, leaning in to kiss him. He rested one hand on the summit of her belly, as if swearing an oath.
"Tomorrow I shall remind you once more, Ithíl." She nodded, "and the day after," again she nodded. "And every day after that."
"I do not think my memory is in such a poor state," she pointed out, nudging him playfully. "Oh Éomer," she sighed as his warmth engulfed her, "I do not think my heart can contain any more joy," she confessed. A tear rolled down his cheek as he drew a ragged breath. "That is all I longed for," he remarked, relieved and overjoyed.
They held each other close, joy healing the hurts endured. "Maybe not all the days, but most days," she said softly, being reasonable.
"Never," he stubbornly declared, and he kept the vow he made for the rest of their their days.
-fin-
A/N: Ithil's nightmare/ dream sequence is inspired by the 'Breezy' episode in Adventure Time season 6. You can find the song 'Love in the Darkness' that served as the inspiration on YouTube.
I worked out some stuff in this chapter, and it was very cathartic to write. It definitely is not the best work I could have put out, but at least it's finshed. It took about ten years in total to write both fics, and it has been a pleasure knowing you readers, and if in some way you have derived enjoyment by the hot garbage I have written, that gives me joy too.
Wishing everyone all the best in life and in love. xoxo RiaRT
