Title: Strength of Steel

Rating: PG-13 (at the moment)

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Chapter: 6/?

Length: 5000 words (or thereabouts)

Pairings: Arwen+Eowyn (not until later,) implied Faramir+Eowyn, Aragorn+Arwen

Summary: Eowyn is determined that she may have lost a battle with Arwen, but she will win the war, and she musters her strength to face the woman who conquered Aragorn. But what she sees is not quite what she expected

A/N: Another filler chapter to some extent, mostly description shifting the action from Eowyn's household to Rivendell. Next chapter is full of action however, including a surprising revelation about Legolas

Thanks for reviews to: Bigguy204 especially. An epic review and one for which I am extremely grateful. Also thanks to Emily, kat75643, I live Life by My own Rules, aya-chi, Leanne17

Preparation for the visit had taken much time and very much effort on everyone's part. It had been decided that Arwen and Eowyn would pay a short visit to Gondor before they left. They travelled light, though the worry in Aragorn's face said clearly, that if he could have sent them in litters he would have done so, and it was only Arwen's gentle protests which stopped him from sending a detachment of soldiers with them. Legolas needed to pack not at all, his effects were already prepared for war and travelling in the fashion of the elves. Eowyn knelt in front of her travelling case and pondered its contents. With careful fingers she lifted the wedding present Arwen had given her up against herself. As Arwen had said, she had mostly received wedding gifts that meant nothing to either her or Faramir, gifts from tribute provinces eager to gain the good graces of such a powerful couple, and diplomatic peacemaking gifts. She closed her eyes and remembered her wedding day. Eomer himself after the custom of their people had given her to Faramir, and with hands more used to wielding a sword, than delicate lace, had placed her veil upon her head, and clumsily kissed her forehead. He'd been more nervous than she had, and she had seen pity, joy and inevitability in his eyes.

It was inevitable that this was her right, this was her duty, what was needed for the kingdom. This had always been expected of her, she had known that since she was a child. As the only eligible female of any rank within Theoden's bloodline, the fact that she must make a diplomatic marriage was necessary, though as Theoden's mental state had degraded this had seemed less and less likely. Boromir's name had been whispered as a match, but no envoy's had been sent, and she had not been invited for an opinion. She could not remember now what she had thought on hearing the possibility. Boromir had been a brave man, strong and true, a leader of men through fire and water, and he was well known in Rohan as a man of granite, and yet one of compassion. She might have been defiant. Or she might have been so desperate to escape she'd have accepted him.

She remembered Faramir on their wedding day, his smile, the way his eyes had lit up as he had seen her. With a visible flinch she opened eyes that she did not remember closing, and the lifting the cloth that had inspired the reminiscence she inhaled briefly the delicate scent that seemed to suffuse everything close to Arwen. It calmed and restored her, dulling remembered pain, as she carefully folded it and placed it next to the other clothing she was taking. Arwen had assured her that she should bring little but what was needed for travelling, as all would be provided.

Eowyn picked up the hidebound book of poetry and tucked it in with little hesitation, as well as cloth pads and a few little things, and then she raised her head to the door. Arwen was attired in one of the simple gowns that the seamstress had made for her, her glorious hair tucked into a plain linen headdress that did nothing to diminsh her delicate beauty. She smiled wordlessly at Eowyn and knelt beside her. "Our horses?" she asked. When she had come, she had ridden a beautiful dappled white mare, a lovely creature, which did not have the stamina however for such a long journey. Eowyn's own war horse was a little lamed, and Legolas naturally had his own steed. Eowyn stiffened momentarily- how could she have forgotten such an essential thing? Then she relaxed, remembering that Faramir had personally insisted on choosing their mounts. Chosen for strength rather than beauty, he had sacrificed his own sweet tempered bay mare for Arwen to ride, and Eowyn rode a war-trained gelding

When the horses had been harnessed and the burdens loaded, Eowyn realised with a whisper of excitement that they were truly going. She was dressed again in male clothes heedless of the wordless disapproval in Faramir's eyes. The rough wool and leather was harsh against her skin, which lately had been accustomed only to silk and linen, yet she rejoiced in the slight rub against her skin. Arwen was in her customary riding habit, with a great cloak of wool and fur clasped over her shoulders. Eowyn had forced the point on her male clothing, insisting that even if they came across harm, two seeming men and a woman would stand a better chance than a woman and a man. Her point had been carried, but at a cost. Aragorn had insisted two guards accompany them though he conceded that they would not remain in Rivendell. Even this could not spoil her festive mood however. She hesitated when the time came to say goodbye. Faramir kissed her once chastely, dryly on the lips, and then on her forehead. "Eowyn," he said, then hesitated, looking into her eyes searchingly. She jerked her eyes away not wanting to see what was written on his soul. He sighed quietly and ran his hand over her face. She kissed him once hesitantly, her mind detached. Objectively she noted the warmth, the gentleness with which he kissed her, and the utter lack of feeling within herself. It was not even pleasant, and she broke away.

"Farewell my lord," she said. She disdained the hand offered by the guardsman and mounted the horse easily herself. Arwen was looking wistfully at Aragorn with whom she already bade farewell to already. He was talking quietly to Legolas, with whom he exchanged a strong warrior's embrace, then patting Eowyn's horse, he looked at her meaningfully, and she was reminded of the words he had spoken to her when they had said their goodbyes. Words of strength and affection. Then he stood back. The gates were opened, and the horses trotted forth. She did not look back, and glancing to the side she noticed Arwen did not either. Only Legolas spared a glance behind, and a secret nod.

The journey seemed shorter than it was, due mainly to the fact that they travelled light and fast, and there was little conversation with each other or the guardsmen both of whom were known to Eowyn. Once Legolas held his hand up, and swiftly disappeared behind them. When he returned his sword was red, and his face was grim. They asked no questions and he volunteered no answers. At night they kindled a fire, and in low soft tones practiced elvish. Eowyn was quickly growing in competency and proficency her retentive mind, so little stretched now finding it easy to memorize new words. Gradually she found she could pick out the threads of conversations between Legolas and Arwen, and even shyly add comments. Legolas's impassive face showed no emotion, but Arwen was fulsome in her praise.

It had been so long since she had slept under the stars- they had decided a tent was too much trouble to bring, and she savoured every sight and sound of the life around them, realising gradually how much she had missed this, the feeling of being one with everything around her, the gentle breathing of the woman at her side, the faint sound of the owl hooting in the trees, and the soft whicker of the horses. At times like this, she could not rest not even in the soft warmth of the fire's embers, and the body-heat of Arwen's back against hers. Often she would rise quietly, and walk in the surrounding country. She took care not to disturb Legolas. She was aware that he was usually awake, or that even in his half-dreaming state could be easily awakened, but she also knew that if he wished for company that he would solicit it. One night, such an opportunity came. She was dabbling in a brook, rejoicing in the coolness of the water, when he came and sat beside her, a dark shadow in the night. "Are you well Lady Eowyn?" he asked formally, surprising her. By common consent they had agreed to given names on such a journey.

The common pleasantries sprang to her lips automatically, but she held them back in favour of a more truthful answer. "I am almost happier than at any other time of my life," she said softly.

There was no mockery in his voice, not that she had expected there to be. "I can well understand such a feeling," was the reply. "Such days and nights must often seem enchanted especially after such a long confinement. There is more beauty have we the eyes to see it, in one tree than in all the buildings of creation." With a wry chuckle he added, "if you except my friend Gimli from such opinions." He was silent for a moment. "Tell me," he said presently, "what could be better than such a journey?"

Eowyn smiled into the darkness. "If I answer, will you?" she asked. She sensed rather than saw his answering smile.

"I will."

Eowyn paused then to marshal her words. Then as though to give them greater weight she uttered them in elvish. Despite limiting her means of expression, it seemed to express herself more fully. "A cold morning," she said quietly after the pause, "with the wind whipping through your hair, and the sun shining down on you, and a fierce joy in your throat and your eyes, a friend by your side, a righteous enemy to fight in honour. The smell of leather, horses and ten thousand comrades in arms, a realisation that this is where you belong and should be. The weight of a sword in your hand, and the taste of fire in your mouth." She fell silent. This was more of herself than she had ever revealed to anyone but Arwen. She recognised it as the feeling she had felt upon the leaving of Aragorn and Faramir for battle, but try as she might she could remember no more glorious sensation. She wondered at herself and the feeling of closeness she shared to the aloof elf beside her.

There was an intake of breath, then Legolas spoke. "It is a worthy dream for such a maid, and a worthy reality," he said quietly. "Such a feeling is granted to few, and it creates a bond of kinship between those who recognise the sensation and who have the strength of steel to fulfil it." He settled himself more comfortably. "Mine is much the same," he said wryly, "I have spent most of my life in such a situation. A life that is longer beyond most mortal's comprehension. There is for me little better than such a fight, and the knowledge of such kinship with those who fight upon your side. Then to return home to feasting and merriment, and yet still to taste of the subtle taste of battle, and feel the blood rush in your veins. There is little to excel this. I have lived many many years, and yet it has never paled." He hesitated as though to say more. "And someone to share it with," he said softly.

Eowyn wished she dared ask with who he shared such a dream, but could not bring herself to destroy his reverie. The silence deepened and she pondered the cool depths of the river, before turning to her silent companion. "Have you known Aragorn long?" It was a question she had wondered often about.

Legolas looked up, startled out of his brief seclusion. "Since the year he was born," he replied with a certain

amount of humour. "There was more commerce in those years between my kingdom and that of Rivendell and I served as my father's diplomat and courier for many of those years." He laughed softly, "my burden on that particular trip contained amongst other things a rather beautiful rattle. My father Thranduil sees rather more than he cares tell, but it was surprised enough I was to find a babe amongst Elrond's new possessions."

Eowyn smiled herself. "Elrond then is Lord of Rivendell?" she enquired.

Legolas pondered for a brief moment. "Yes, you could call him that. He is an elf of great hidden power, and magnificence, the holder and keeper of many secrets, and of wisdom. There are elves of terrible power that still walk this earth, and who hold within themselves the lore and magics that belong to our race alone, and Elrond is one of them, and some say the greatest, though there are others equally as mighty. Yet he is a simple being in many ways, a worker of metal and beautiful things like many elves. I speak though from experience when I describe his might." His eyes were distant as he obviously remembered some long ago time. "What do you know of our race?" he asked.

Eowyn flushed slightly. "I am no great scholar," she apologised. "What I know is from Arwen alone." She felt ashamed once again of her ignorance, especially next to this -she could not help thinking of him as a man- who had done so much, and who knew so many things.

He dismissed it. "For the early part of my life, I too was no scholar," he said kindly. "I ask only from interest. It is rare to find a Man -or Woman," he added from courtesy, "who even knew of us except from legend before this war. There are a few, your husband indeed is one, something I respect him much for. And yet," he said thoughtfully, "I would hazard that you would understand more of us, than mayhaps he would." His eyes settled on her countenance. "Arwen is mortal now, yet her insight into people remains. She would not have chosen you for so close a companion if you were not capable of penetrating emotion and keen thought. I trust the Evenstar, and for my own part I feel kinship with you beyond what I had expected." He smiled a bit at her expression. "Forgive me," he apologised. "It is my way to speak bluntly of what is on my mind. Though I am accounted able to dissemble and be subtle, it is not my preferred way."

Eowyn waved the apology away, still reeling from such an acknowledgement of fellow feeling, beyond what she had expected from the stony elf. She recalled still his granite features as he warned her from dashing herself like a ship upon the rock of Aragorn's love for Arwen, and how many he had killed, and the feats he had performed of magnificence in battle. "Forgive me," she managed to blurt out at last. "I am not used to such a favour from a hero."

At that he laughed, the first time she had ever heard him laugh. It was surprisingly warm and deep. "My deeds are as naught against yours." He stood, and his head was crowned with the icy stars in the sky. She had peculiar feeling that this had happened before, and for a moment her vision blurred, and she seemed to see a being of great power in front of her. Then it vanished. "Goodnight Lady Eowyn," he said gently, and barely realising how tired she was, she mumbled a reply, then stumbled back to her blankets, pulling close to Arwen, relishing the other woman's warmth, and the arm that encircled her drowsily. She was asleep within seconds, and thus did not see the distant eyes of Legolas gaze upon them with a peculiar joy and sadness, nor feel him stoop and cover them more warmly against the night.

The journey swift as it was, ended at Rivendell's gates. There Arwen stopped, and anguish was in her face. Eowyn with subtlety of thought that she had not known she possesed, saw the expression, and stopped herself immediately. Legolas stopped also, and she turned to him instantly. "Prince Legolas would you be so kind as to ride ahead with the guards, and organise some lodging, and inform the good Lord that we will be with him directly." Legolas read the situation within an instant, and looked at her piercingly, but she gazed back flatly. A doubt that she was the right person to comfort Arwen never crossed her mind for a moment, but unbidden the reason came. I am a woman. What was more she was a human woman who had suffered anguish. Legolas nodded, and rode on.

Eowyn dismounted, and made her way to Arwen's side swiftly. Arwen sat there, not moving. Eowyn was relieved she was not sobbing, but it was almost worse. Two great tears stood like diamonds in the other woman's eyes. She allowed herself to be pulled down from her horse, and sagged unheedingly against Eowyn. "Oh Eowyn," she whispered. "I cannot bring myself to face his gaze and his grief. He hurt so much when mother went away, and for me to leave him with no liklihood of meeting again. It tears at my heart, till I can scarce breath from the pain. How can he forgive me? How can I face him as a mortal woman, the woman who once called him father."

There were tears in Eowyn's own eyes as she answered, fumbling for the words to take away the terrible grief she sensed. "He will love thee Arwen, be you mortal or not be sure of that. Call him father still, and know that the love he bears you will overcome all obstacles." When Arwen failed to move, she stroked the other woman carefully longing to comfort and reassure her. But looking up she saw a retinue approaching and had to resort to harsh words. "Arwen daughter of Elrond stand straight and let them see you unbowed and unashamed of the life you have chosen."

Arwen's spine stiffened. and in an effort of will that Eowyn had seldom seen she pulled herself together. Her face was utterly composed and calm, and she even found a faint smile. It even managed to convince her brothers who formed the main part of the escort. Elrohir and Elladan kissed her gently on the cheek, and saluted Eowyn with respectful words and look. She found some small store of chat, and conversed if not brilliantly then at least passably with whom she was fairly sure was Elrohir. She didn't know what she had expected to be treated as- a minor guest perhaps, but she was aware of the honour done to them by Elrond's sons being sent to guide them to this place. Rivendell itself surpassed all description. The grandest place Eowyn had ever seen was Gondor, but that paled into insignificance before the beauty she saw here. In size Rivendell was much the inferior naturally, but she had seldom seen such architecture, and even her untutored eye realised true craftsmanship. It was fluted pillars, and swooping archways, and soaring minarets, and things she could not even give a name to unless it was in the language of the soul. The stone was of unsurpassed beauty, a rich honey golden in places that caught the light of the sun, a grey colour in others. Eowyn felt she could have stared forever at the way trees had melded with the outer borders of stone, until they seemed entwined in total harmony. Leaping fish held her fascination in the fountain in the outer courtyard, and she felt as though she was in a dream, a dream she expected to wake from any moment now, crying with the beauty she had lost. Arwen touched her arm gently. "I need to see my father," she said quietly. "Will you be well if I leave you for a moment?" Her eyes searched Eowyn's face, and she was apparantly well pleased with the answer she found, for she smiled sadly and moved away.

Still as though in a dream, Eowyn sat down at the fountain's edge, and let her fingers trawl through the depths. She did not know how long she spent there, marvelling at the beauty around her. It could have been minutes or an hour. She had never felt the incredible sensation of peace that now came over her, of quietness and acceptance, that she did not even feel the need to fight against. After a while a hand hesitantly touched her. "Lady Eowyn may I show you to your room?"

Eowyn nodded, finally looking up. Before her stood a female elf, who though she would be tall for a mortal woman was small for an elf. She was still taller than Eowyn. Her hair was dark, braided on her neck and she wore a simple green robe. She radiated an unconscious serenity, visible in every pore of her heart shaped face, and in shaded blue eyes. Her smile was welcoming. Eowyn half bowed her head, unsure of the proper courtesy. "May I enquire your name?" she asked.

"Of course," was the swift reply. "Luvinariel." She stood there politely waiting for Eowyn to compose herself, then with a gesture of intrinsic grace she moved onwards, Eowyn falling into step beside her. Her voices was very low and soft, enough that Eowyn had to strain somewhat to catch her words, and she showed a little unfamilarity with the speech they used. She walked almost as though not touching the ground. Eowyn caught sight of few others as they walked the halls. Luvinariel did not speak much, perhaps sensing Eowyn's attempts to absorb the beauty around her. Eventually they came to the room that Eowyn would use during her stay, and after a few murmured suggestions Luvinariel withdrew. Eowyn gazed openmouthed at her room. It was not so different in size to her own, yet the walls were smooth and white, not rugged stone, and the windows were wide and spacious allowing light to flood the room. There was no glass in the windows, and yet the room was not cold, and the openess allowed plants to twine their tendrils around the sill. It was on the ground floor, and looking out there was the fountain she had so recently been admiring. She drew a shuddering breath of delight. It was simple- not even so elaborate as the room that had been provided for Arwen's use at Eowyn's keep, and yet there was a tranquility to it that she could not name or place. The bed was smooth, white and spacious stuffed with feathers, yielding to the light touch, yet firm to the pressing hand. A waterstand stood to one side, a carved jug on it. There was little ornamentation in the room, nothing that was not necessary and yet it all delighted the eye. She could have stayed there all day, yet recollection of her duty to the guardsman brought her back to herself, and with a final regretful look around her she exited the room.

The guardsmen too were hard put to restrain their admiration, and voiced as much. "I haven't seen such a pretty spot in my life," was Alanth's rough opinion. "A man could be happy here and never want for anything."

"It reminds me of my childhood home," remarked Hildirth, "only better." They had just finished grooming their horses, and were now seated in mute admiration on a bench near the river, relaxing as was their wont. Hildirth sporting a pipe as some few now did in imitation of the hobbits, a blush darkening the old guardsman's face as he pointed to it- a face that not even the crudest jest had coloured. "Tis why we are sitting here now. Twould be a shame to bring the smell and gloom. The prettiest girl I've ever seen said I could smoke indoors and welcome, but I didn't want to."

Eowyn laughed, in pure gladness and it seemed to her that her laughter rang true as it had not done in too long. "Refuse a pretty girl?" she teased. "I've never heard you do that before."

Again he blushed. "She was damn near the prettiest thing I've ever set eyes upon," he said softly. "But she seemed much older than I, for all she was as freshfaced as a maid of sixteen."

At that moment Luvinariel reappeared, and gestured to Eowyn. "Would you like to freshen up before meeting Lord Elrond?" she asked softly and genuinely. What from any other woman would have seemed like a snub, was concerned and sincere from her, and Eowyn nodded. Luvinariel turned to the two men, and bestowed a dazzling smile upon them. "We shall feast in honour of new arrivals this evening, and you are of course invited. If you wish I shall show you around myself." Eowyn laughed at the tonguestricken appearance that had suddenly came over the two men, and hurried to freshen herself, washing her hands and face in the clear spring water in her room, then throwing open the belongings that now sat in her room. Her hands lingered over the robe that Arwen had given her, but she decided to wear it when cleaner and more civilised, and instead retained the masculine-feminine clothing she often wore. With little hesitation she laid her sword to one side. This was a house of peace, she felt that strongly, though she retained her belt knife.

Then with slow steps she rejoined Luvinariel, who walked with her the short distance to Elrond's chamber. She had expected him behind a desk perhaps, yet he came striding to greet her, a tall, handsome elf seeming in the pride of life. Dark hair framed a face in which Arwen's ancestry was clearly marked, yet even stronger boned, and with a curious strength to the mouth. His eyes were as deep as his daughters and even more penetrating. The first words he spoke were deep and resonant. "Welcome Eowyn, Princess of the Mark."

More soon as I'm back in the swing now, and I promise action next chapter.