Eowyn knew she could not put off being lectured for her rash actions forever, but at least with her brother, she could lessen the weight of the coming chastisement by proving that none of it had been in vain- returning men to the Eorlingas who had long been thought to be dead did a lot to help her position. She could tell by the look on his face though, that Aragorn would not be so easily placated.
They had reached the same conclusion about Faramir, deciding it was most likely that he had escaped captivity and was somewhere behind the border, alone, if he was lucky. Aragorn wasn't telling her everything though, and attempting to dig only earned her a frigid glare that silenced her further queries.
"Beyond the matter of my missing steward," Aragorn said guardedly, surely changing the subject to prevent any other uncomfortable questions from her. He pressed his palms down on the outer rim of the barrel they were using as a table. "What else have you been up to in the intervening weeks since your departure? Try to tell me all you can; the more information you give us, the better we will be prepared for the coming battle."
"Battle?" she asked, sitting a little straighter and pushing other thoughts out of her head; whatever information followed would be terribly important.
"We have taken one of their greatest cities," the king pointed out. "I cannot imagine they will let us just have it without a fight." He made a hand motion indicating she should begin her recount. "Now, tell us how you have come to be here."
She shrugged. "I suppose at first I wandered- almost aimless. I was just trying to find Faramir, and I had no idea what direction he might have fled in to hide. I tried south at first and I was almost caught at the border. I slew a messenger who had been about to signal for aid." Her jaw clenched. She still wasn't sure slaying him had been the right call, but she also wasn't sure she had any choice. "After that I began harrying slavers, guard patrols, and military couriers. Their water and food sustained me, and I soon had a number of freedmen riding with me."
Aragorn and Eomer exchanged a look.
"You may have opened the path for us to march unseen across these sands," her brother said, patting her on the back.
She glanced toward Aragorn, half hoping to find his ire dimmed toward her in light of her aid, but his gray eyes were still as cold as sword steel, and she winced.
"If I put a map in front of you," the Gondorian king began thoughtfully. None of the cold edge she saw on his face had reached his voice, and somehow the absence was worse than any scolding. "Would you be able to mark the places you encountered each?"
"I believe so," she said tentatively.
"Hold out your hand, then," he ordered.
She could not quite keep the tremor out of her fingers- half of her expected a strike like she might have received as a younger child for climbing trees in her court finery, but he only grasped her hand to turn it over, and gently at that, and with his other placed into her grasp a set of map markers. She gazed at the tokens, not quite comprehending their significance.
Aragorn got to his feet. "If you would both wait here, I will return shortly," he said, letting himself out of the tent, which was made of a thick, tan canvas.
Eomer nodded his assent and leaned against the barrel they were using as a table, a stormy look overtaking his features as they were left alone.
Eowyn watched the heavy door to the tent to avoid having to make eye contact with her brother.
"You came all this way alone, without orders, to fight for the life of a single Gondorian," the horse lord said in a low tone. "Do you still claim he's just a friend?"
She looked down at her hands, the silk scarf clutched between them and nervously smoothed her thumbs over the folds and gathers of the fabric. "Yes," she said slowly. She could no longer deny that the strange, fluttering feeling in her chest was a romantic hope to be close to the noble Lord Faramir. "But he won't see me."
Eomer sputtered for a moment at her response.
She could not bring herself to look at her brother.
"He won't see you? What in the world are you talking about?" he demanded.
"He would be better suited to a Gondorian woman, not a wild thing from the hills. He's elegant and refined- almost elven," she said, folding her arms together over her front. "Not like me. I want him to be happy."
"And you don't think he could be happy with a lady of Rohan?" Eomer demanded, his voice rising. "Is your respect for our house so low?"
"No, Eomer," she snapped, scrubbing her hands over her face, only to immediately regret aggravating the mild sunburn over her cheeks. "I know well that we are lordly and glorious- I slew the Witch King himself. My value is not a question to me," she said a little more confidently than she felt. "Merely his tastes."
Her brother had opened his mouth to respond, but the tent flap swept open and Aragorn stepped inside once more, cutting off any further discussion of the state of her heart, which was sore enough without Eomer poking at its new injuries.
The king of Gondor wasted no time in spreading a map over the top of a barrel. It was undetailed, as most maps of Harad tended to be. He next produced a quill and began to scratch new markings upon the parchments- hills, rocky outcroppings, oases, and other landmarks that had not been included.
Eowyn watched in amazement as it seemed the country came to life under his touch.
Aragorn pulled back at last and made a face. "It may be good that Elrond is not here," he mumbled, wincing at his handiwork. "This is not the most graceful map I have ever penned."
"Better than either of us are able," Eomer grumbled.
Eowyn squinted down on it, studying the landmarks. Had the map been as empty as it had been at the start, she would not have been so confident to quickly place down the tokens representing squadrons, slavers, messengers, and scouts.
The king of Gondor nodded at the setup as if it was what he had expected. "You confused them," he said at last. He muttered under his breath in what she supposed must have been Elvish, fingers twitching slightly in a motion that might have been a tap against the table top had there been any more force behind the movement. "Here first," he said, tapping a marker. "Then here…"
"And then here," she said, pointing to the site of her third raid.
"These movements would have convinced them a force was gathering further to the northeast. Well done."
"My thanks," she said hurriedly. She wasn't about to admit it had been an accident on her part. Eowyn had merely intended to veil her own safe haven than to lead the Haradrim elsewhere.
He laughed. "I am thanking you, my lady, for allowing us safe passage through the desert."
"As the One willed, I suspect," she said softly.
"Indeed. It will take time for messengers to pass from the capital to their standing force, which is likely in the north, here," he tapped the parchment. "And they will likely try to use their secret ways through this canyon. When their attempts to communicate fail, they will send increasing numbers until someone slips through our net- we will delay them as long as we are able, but it will come eventually." He traced a path across the dunes with his fingers. "It is my hope that a peace can be brokered first and further bloodshed prevented." He turned his steely gray eyes on her with a grim look of determination. "Think how many lives may be saved, for both the men of Harad, and for Gondor, how many children will grow up knowing the tender love of both mother and father, sisters who keep their brothers, mothers who keep their sons."
She had heard Faramir say similar things in the rare moments she could convince him to speak his inner thoughts, and the reminder of the mutual sorrows of war just made her chest tighten with a terrible ache. It felt as though she stood at the edge of a cliff, and only the knowledge that Faramir might yet live had prevented her from casting her heart into the frigid waters to deaden her compassion for the people who took him from her.
That was not a comfortable awareness.
He stands between me and the pit that once entered offers neither solace nor return.
"How many of the men you brought with you can speak the local dialect?" Aragorn asked suddenly, pulling her out of the tangle of her thoughts.
"I am unsure," she said immediately, stumbling over her response. "They are all fluent in Haradric, but I don't know about the dialects."
"All?" Aragorn asked, lifting his eyes from the map for a long moment. "How long…" he muttered, shaking his head. "That may be fortunate for us," he said, the momentary show of pain swallowed up by a cold practicality. "Have them enter the city. They will speak with anyone willing to see them. We must enforce fair treatment of women especially. If we win their favor, their husbands and sons will be more willing to consider a lasting peace."
"I will do this," she agreed, turning toward the door to the tent, but she halted suddenly. "One of the men, Erkenreth, may not be the best choice for this," she warned.
Aragorn mouthed the name to himself, eyebrows lowering. "That is a Rohirric name," he realized, inclining his head. "I understand."
She curtsied once and let herself out of the tent.
"What more can be done to search for Lord Faramir?" she heard Eomer ask.
Her footsteps faltered and she paused to listen to the response. She almost missed what Aragorn said because he spoke so softly.
"There is very little to be done until peace is secured," said the king of Gondor after a long pause. "I dare not send riders into the desert to die of exposure or be enslaved and killed by the wandering tribes. He could be anywhere, and may even have returned to Minas Tirith by now. Nothing can be done."
She grit her teeth and kept walking, internally berating herself for feeling so hurt by the response. She knew what the duty of a king had to be for the sake of his people, and she had known before he had spoken what the answer would have to be. Stupid girl, she told herself for holding on to any hope that Aragorn might have acted recklessly to spare her worry. Stupid, stupid.
It was a stupid thought and she was a stupid girl for thinking it.
She kicked a rock, sending it flying over the camp to bounce off the blue canvas of a nearby tent where it fell and clanked against the helmet of a passing soldier, who looked skyward in confusion.
She picked up her pace.
Erkenreth was, predictably, opposed to the entire idea and argued against his involvement even before Eowyn was quite able to tell him he was not qualified for the position on account of his unruly behavior, which almost caused a scuffle among the Rohirrim of her cobbled together company, because those among them who were slightly less feral could tell she hadn't finished speaking.
At last, quiet settled over the men and they faced her again, though Erkenreth had his arms crossed.
"I see no point to winning over the hearts of a people who enslave women," he muttered mutinously.
"You will not be coming along," she said flatly. "You have neither the temperament nor the self control to be trustworthy on an assignment of this kind."
He looked for a moment like he wanted to say something, but bowed instead, cutting short the smiles and laughter that had started at his expense. "Very well, my lady," he said, brows knitting in a thoughtful way that was uncharacteristic of his usual demeanor.
The other men sobered, exchanging puzzled looks, all of them unsure what had changed; it seemed they had expected him to be a part of the joke.
"Come along, then," she ordered them, motioning the remainder of her troop to follow her back.
She was barely paying attention as Aragorn parceled them out to the different districts of the city, and before she knew it, she found herself once again alone with her brother and the king of Gondor, who was looking at her with a cold expression, his lips pursed.
"Your brother wants me to send you home," Aragorn said at last, and Eomer's shoulders relaxed.
Eowyn's heart dropped, managing to turn over on its way down, disturbing a set of butterflies that tried to escape by her throat.
"Finally," her brother muttered, shooting a glare in her direction.
"But," Aragorn continued, and her heart lifted just enough to turn her stomach. "I believe, having just wrested a stronghold from the hands of our enemies, that it may be unwise to send any riders back across the desert, escorted or not."
Eomer glared at the other king. "You couldn't have brought this up when I asked?"
"I hadn't given it the thought required," Aragorn admitted, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "It is often better not to speak before considering the content of the words given. I simply do not believe Eowyn would be safer crossing the desert than sheltering with us."
Eomer shifted his glare back to his sister. "You should not have come," he said in something between a mutter and a growl. "There's nothing to be done about it now."
"Would you go even if I did send you? You have already defied one king, and I know better than to think I am your liege," Aragorn mused, lifting an eyebrow at her.
Somehow the words stung and she winced as if she had been slapped; she almost wished he had actually struck her, at least she could have made sense of that. "I am caught between two loyalties," she whispered, realizing with a growing horror that she was no longer standing upon the simple authority of the command of Rohan.
"What?" Eomer asked, stepping closer.
Aragorn's eyes widened for the barest second but the look vanished from his face with a subtle incline of his jaw; he would let her keep her dignity and make no remark without her leave.
"Nothing," she said hurriedly, shaking her head. "How can I be of service?" she asked, directing the question to Eomer, who shook his head with mounting irritation.
"Just- go make sure the men have water," he snapped, turning away.
She let herself out before he could look back, head spinning.
It should have been simple; Eomer was her king, not Aragorn, and yet the command she desired and respected most was from Gondor.
There was sand in her boot, and it was rubbing her skin raw.