"She is suffering but no one knows that because she hides that someplace deep inside. Because the last thing she wants is pity." - JmStorm

Chapter 22

It all made sense now. Why I woke up in my world, unaware of how, in my "dreams", I didn't know who Eomer was. I was sent here to help them win. A story is told over and over again. That's what makes it a good story. A classic. Isn't it possible that somewhere out there, someone is retelling this story and now I have a part to play?

Faramir left not long after, explaining that he was following his father's orders to hold the city of Osgiliath from the Orc attacks that threatened to raze it every moment. I debated telling him of his injuries that were soon to happen. Of his father's impending madness. But I didn't. I simply told him to do his best to hold the city. For Denathor needed to die from his despair at seeing his only remaining son supposedly dead.

I had thoughts to think over while the rest of the day progressed without me. Eomer and I would never be together, for when the war was won, I would return home and he would meet Lothiriel, the princess of Dol Amroth. He would certainly love her more truly than he loved me. It was already written. I was just a visitor here. Someone to help foretell the upcoming battles. Why exactly, I couldn't really say. Faramir had left me with the Elven seer's journal and I poured through its contents. Unfortunately, the only thing was the small paragraph he had already read me. And while it said what I was supposed to do, it didn't say why I was supposed to do it.

But I did know one thing. I would see Eomer again before the end. And I would have to break his heart in the most gentle way possible. Clear the path for his future with Lothiriel.

Pippin visited me often, checking in to tell me of the day's ongoings. I didn't tell him of the prophecy. To me, it seemed the less people who knew the better. I encouraged him to light the warning beacons so Theoden would know to ride his Eorlingas to the Pelennor Fields. He told me of the battering ram, Grond, making its way across the fields to start its attempt at breaching Minas Tirith's walls. I encouraged him to stay by Denathor's side, for he would have to be the one to act when the stewart of the King's halls attempted to burn his own funeral pyre. Pippin would have to save Faramir's life.

And now, all I had to do was wait. Wait until my wounds healed enough for me to move freely and without pain. I requested to be moved to a room with a window that overlook Pelennor. As Gandalf's guest, it was granted as soon as I could walk and I watched the battle take place.

I could see, in the great distance, the lines and lines of Rohirric soldiers utop their horses, ready for battle. I could see Southrons making their way toward them utop Oliphaunts. Theoden rode up and down the lines, shouting to his Erolingas. I heard their battle cries as they reaged forward. I saw the Witch King of Angmar flying his Fell Beast above the scene, his mace swinging from his hand. But all that didn't matter. I could see Firefoot, his speckled fur standing out amongst the other steeds and Eomer's white plumed helmet bobbing through the mess, taking down Orcs left and right. When the Oliphants closed in, his bow was the first one out, shooting at the heads of the beasts. Slowly, the giant creatures fell. Eomer and Firefoot stayed alive.

The Witch King descended, his sights set on Theoden and Snowmane. I saw the king fall from his horse. I saw a small figure approach the Nazgul. The two stood off against one another, but only for a moment. Soon, the small figure's blade pierced the Witch King. With the slash of her sword, Eowyn killed whatever life remained inside the leader of the Ringwraiths.

"You shouldn't be watching this," a voice said from my room's door, pulling me away.

I smiled at Faramir. "I've read about it a dozen times. Seen it played out by actors more than that. There is little that could happen to surprise me."

"Unless something happens different than the story you know."

I nodded towards his bandaged arm and burnt calf. "I knew to have Pippin close to save you from that."

"Why not just tell me of my father's madness? Why continue with his pointless death?"

"Because it wasn't pointless. Faramir, Aragorn Son of Arathor will return after the face-off at the Gates of Morannon. You will be his stewart. Your father never would have supported him. He needs you, not Denathor, to take the throne."

He sat on the edge of my bed. "Pippin says you've changed. He can't quite relay to me how, but you are not the same person he met in the Riddermark."

I gave a small smile. "I know what I'm supposed to do now. I have a goal to achieve and send me back where I belong. I can stop worrying for my future in this world, because I know now that I don't have one here. And I'm okay with that, now that I know."

"Why not just relay the rest of the story you know to me, if I am done fighting in it?"

I shook my head. "I can't know if I didn't change the outcome of some things with my actions before the memory spell was broken. Things that involve you after the war is over. Things that involve a cousin of yours who's future I might have offset. I have some things to make up for." I looked out onto the field again as the battle ceased. "Do you see that man?" I pointed to Eomer, croadeling his sister's body. "He holds his sister who snuck into the flanks of Theoden's army. He will be King of Rohan in all but ceremony at this point. Theoden is dead and his niece is not far behind him. But she can be saved. Send healers out to fetch her from the fields. Bring her here to recover."

""What will you do?"

"I need to speak to Rohan's new king."

He all but burst into my room, falling to his knees beside me. I did my best to hold back tears. This wasn't going to be pleasant for either of us. "Eomer," I greeted.

"When Master Pippin told me of your attack, I wasted no time to be by your side."

"I'm fine, Eomer. There are other things going on here."

He nodded. "I spoke briefly to Lord Faramir. He speaks of an importance you must tell me."

"It can wait a moment," I said, delaying as long as possible. "How is Eowyn?"

"Unconscious. Aragorn attends her now, but he hopes for the best. But I fear I can spare no grief for her. Mallory, Theoden has died."

"I'm sorry, Eomer. I really am."

"I knew when Theodred died that I would have to take Rohan's throne eventually. I didn't think it would be this soon."

"Eomer, you're going to be an amazing king."

He shook his head. "I appreciate the confidence, but there is no way to be as certain as you sound."

There it was. My way to ease into the very difficult explanation I owed him. I took his hand. "I am certain Eomer. You will become the greatest King of Rohan. You will lead your people through a golden era into the Fourth Age of Middle-earth. Eomer Eadig they will call you. The Blessed. You will marry a beautiful princess named Lothiriel who will be the perfect queen your people have been missing since the death of your aunt. She will bear you at least one son, Elfwine, who will-"

"Mallory, stop!" he shouted, standing and pulling his hand from mine. I could feel it coming. The heartbreak. But I had to do this. "Why do you say these things?"

"Because I have to. You have to understand that these aren't things I simply predict. These are things I know. Faramir helped me, Eomer. When I woke up in Minas Tirith, he helped me understand why I was brought here. And how I can get back. I don't have a choice. When this war is won by the Free Peoples and Sauron falls for the final time, I'll be gone. I don't want that to happen and break your heart."

"So you slash at it instead before we plan to face Morannon's gates?"

"No, but you will not see me again. I had to let you know before you left. I owed you an explanation."

"You owe me so much more than explanation. You owe me your heart, Mallory, for I have given mine to you and I will not accept it returned."

"I can't. It wouldn't be fair."

"So you do not love me? You have taken comfort in my presence and my affection with false reciprocations?"

"I never said that."

"So you admit you love me?"

"Please don't twist my words like this, Eomer. I've tried to do this as gently as possible. Please don't make this harder for me."

"Harder for you? You are not the one who must face the shadows of Mordor with little hope and little more than a distraction. You are not the one who must not only wish for his sister's recovery, but for the gentle passing of his uncle. When this is over, you will return to that easy life you have described to me so many times. You will be gone with little more than a fleeting memory of your time. Here, I will bear burdens you will never know, burdens I had imagined mere minutes ago you would help me bear. And now all of that is over?"

"You don't need me to do this, Eomer. You never did. Please, don't let us part like this. I wished to part as friends."

"Return to your lands, Mallory Gilmore," he said, the bitterness in his voice seeping through like venom. "You are right about one thing. I do not need you."