Title: Strength of Steel

Rating: PG-13 (at the moment)

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Chapter: 7 /?

Length: 3600 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: Important! There is a side story to this chapter called Bathed in Sunlight. It has an important backstory part which though it is covered in this chapter, is especially delved into in the oneshot. Reviews nice but not necessary. Will be up soon

Eowyn bowed her head in acknowledgement, glad for the respite it gave her from eyes that seemed to see all without flinching. Elrond was tall, taller even than Aragorn who was the tallest man she knew, straight as a sword, clad in dark blue in the manner of the elves. Not so much as a circlet rested upon his head, yet in appearance he was more majestic than any king. His hands were long and spare, and a curious ring gleamed on one hand. "I thank you for the welcome," she said haltingly in elvish, "and beg your leave to stay."

A smile of joy lit his face that in repose was almost grim and melancholy. "You speak our language very well," he complimented her, "and as to my leave to stay, you have that and welcome. Rivendell is a house of peace and plenty." He gestured for her to walk slowly along with him, and they talked quietly of much. Afterwards Eowyn could not have said of what they conversed only that it had refreshed her, and filled her with joyful spirit. The words seemed to have lifted a burden from her back, and now she could stand straight as she had not done in too long. She had no idea how much time had passed, and at the end of it as they stood on a bridge and surveyed the river he turned to her, and raised her chin with one cool hand. "Be at rest while you are here. Your spirit is strong and great, and your body a worthy vessel, yet to lay down troubles and cares is also necessary." He smiled quietly. "Tonight we feast in your honour." Eowyn sensed Arwen take her arm, and followed unquestioningly the other woman's lead.

Arwen was silent, and Eowyn filled with thought. They paced slowly, until they encountered Legolas who was looking as thoughtful as Eowyn felt. He greeted them with a smile, but made no move to talk. Finally Arwen spoke. "Time has gone by fast." Eowyn nodded. It was now almost dark, and she was hungrier than she had been in a while. As though sensing this, Arwen squeezed her arm. "We should dress." As Eowyn turned to enter her room, Arwen leaned against the doorjamb. "Wear the robe," she said quietly, and Eowyn nodded in aquiescence.

Inside her room, she laid out the robe upon the bed, and taking the towels from the small linen closet, she entered the bathing room adjoining, washing quickly with the scented warm water, and donning the elven robe she had been given. It clung gently to her, the fabric comforting and scented still with the delicate perfume that characterized Arwen. It was like a comforting embrace. It was the work of a moment to brush out her long hair, and with a moment's hesitation she let it lie free flowing over her shoulders. The symbolism was obvious, but she chose to ignore it. She let her face remain free of cosmetics and wore only her wedding ring, and the only necklace she had brought. There was a gentle knock on the door and on opening it, she was not surprised to find Arwen as stunning as ever in the simple robe. Her hair was covered with a shining net, and this too was her only ornament.

On entering the hall, Eowyn was too shy to raise her head, or she would have noted the many wondering glances, and quick asides that followed her entrance. She sat quickly down next to Arwen, and Legolas sat on her other side. The food was delicious- it could hardly be anything else, and she ate with a will, before suddenly blushing at the thought of what pigs humans must be seen as; Arwen usually ate with the appetite of a bird. Yet half the elves she could see, appeared to be eating just as enthusiastically, and the other half were waving forks in the air, as they discussed some point. Still, she slowed her eating and savoured the rich flavours in between talking to Legolas, who was telling her some finer points of the last campaign. She was listening intently, interrupting occasinally with asides, usually to do with clarification, or strategy opinions, when she noticed he had suddenly fallen silent. Blood had drained from his face, and his eyes were more like the sea than she had ever seen them before. Quickly she turned and followed the path of his gaze, no-one seeming to have noticed his preoccupation. An elf had entered the hall. He was tall- at least as tall as Elrond, and from this distance, her slightly short sighted eyes could only distinguish blond hair in a warrior's tail. It seemed for a moment as though Legolas had stopped breathing, then as though there had been no pause, he turned and continued the conversation. The stranger came to the head of the table, but his back was to Eowyn, and he spoke only lowly and briefly to Elrond, nodding his head to Arwen. Then his head turned and she caught a flash of eyes too bright to be mortal, and a face that time seemed to have carved. She felt stripped of all defenses, then the elf nodded to both her and Legolas and left. Eowyn turned to Legolas, too shaken to be polite, and demanded. "What is his name?"

Legolas seemed not to hear her at first, then he said slowly as though the words cost him much. "That was Lord Glorfindel." He volunteered no information, yet the name rang a bell with Eowyn. Scrabbling through her memory, she found what was missing. He is an elven lord. He is great, and terrible, even amongst a race different from men. A remnant from another age. Words she remembered Arwen saying to her once. She had said that Lord Glorfindel would like to meet Eowyn, and yet having seen his face, she doubted whether such a being had even observed her. She could not work out, why Legolas seemed so abstracted, and resolved to ask Arwen as soon as she could. In the meantime though, she sought to carry on the conversation lightly, and he seemed to appreciate her efforts, for at the end of the meal, he squeezed her shoulder gratefully. As the dishes were cleared, music was struck up in the corner, and there were several games of skill being conducted by the fire. Eowyn lingered, undecided as to which she should go to, or whether like the old figure in the corner, she should snooze. Arwen solved her difficulty for her, by telling her of someone she'd like her to meet.

Eowyn nodded, and followed Arwen to the sleeping figure. He was small, far smaller than an elf, and very fragile in appearance, though far more like to Merry than any other person she had seen, and after a pause she realised he was a halfling. He stirred quietly, and Arwen sat next to him. "Master Bilbo," she said teasingly, and he awoke with a start.

"Arwen?" he said wonderingly, and then gave a little cackle of glee. "How are you my dear?" he asked her, though he seemed drowsy still, Arwen smiled and replied, and Bilbo smiled again. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you," he said happily. "Marriage suits you." His eyes were no longer sharp yet turning he saw Eowyn. "And who is this?" he asked.

"Eowyn, Princess of the Mark, and wife of Faramir the Steward of Gondor," Arwen recited. Bilbo bowed his head to her.

"A lineage to be proud of," he said penetratingly, and his old eyes stared at her, holding more knowledge than was evident from the first glance at this somewhat simple personage. They talked quietly for a few minutes more, until it was obvious that Bilbo was flagging, and they quietly made their leave, to a more deserted corner of the great hall, where Eowyn finally got to ask what she had being dying to, since dinner.

"Arwen. Why did Legolas seem to dislike Lord Glorfindel so much?"

Arwen shot her a surprised look, then on seeing Eowyn's face an amused smile. "Dislike? He doesn't dislike him at all."

Eowyn opened her mouth to disagree, thinking back to the dinner. "I'm sure he does," she said stubbornly. "I've never seen him react so badly to anyone."

Arwen sighed. "Eowyn," she said softly. "It is not my story to tell, and few here could. But let me assure you they do not dislike each other." They walked out of the main hall, and into the moonlit gardens which were bathed with silver light, causing bleak shadows, and bright expanses. The rivulet to their left was moonwashed to shining brilliance as it tumbled over rocks. Their arms were linked as felt entirely natural and right, and they walked on in silence, the delicate light, sharpening the bones in Eowyn's face, already brought to prominence by her weight loss. Arwen looking on, thought quietly that Eowyn was not quite of the world she claimed by her birth to be. They promenaded on, drinking in the beauty of the scene, until their harmony was interrupted by raised voices.

"I cannot." The man who uttered these words was clearly distinguished as Legolas, but there was more desperation than either of them had ever heard before, a kind of fear that had never tainted his voice even in the most dread of battles. Instinctively both Arwen and Eowyn quailed before its desperate quality.

The other voice was calmer, filled with an inexorability and strength. "Why do you deny this?"

"Because I cannot accept."

On hearing the voices both Eowyn and Arwen had turned to walk swiftly away. Yet before they had got any great distance, they heard footsteps behind them. Legolas was striding as though away from his doom, his eyes filled with terror which seemed to be directed inwards. He seemed not even to have seen them, and in his face raged a great torment, a fight that seemed to have no end. Eowyn moved closer to Arwen as though for comfort from the look in his face, and they watched as he disappeared into the building. Eowyn turned to Arwen. "Please tell me," she asked simply. It was from no urge for gossip, merely an instinctual need to understand the others pain.

"I wish I could," she said softly. "But truely I do not know all of it."

They proceeded in a more sombre mood, back to the building. Though the night was young, the day had been long, and they were both exhausted, soon parting with only an embrace to their respective chambers. Eowyn wondered privately whether Arwen would dream again that night. Perhaps here in the home of her ancestors, sleep would come easily and dreamlessly to her. She doubted whether she could sleep yet, though her body was tired, and her mind full of all that had occured. Chief in her mind was the torment she had seen written upon the face of her travelling companion. It struck all too many memories that she would have preferred to remain buried. Her face had maybe once looked like that, and she suspected that the elf suffered even subtler pain than she had endured. She sighed quietly, though it seemed loud in the silence of her chamber, and moved closer to the window, slipping out and huddling near the fountain. The silvery sound of the water was soothing, and she felt her eyes drifting closed, despite her wish to remain awake.

She did not know how long she slept for, but she was woken by the gentle pressure of a hand upon her shoulder. She sprang instantly awake- the curse of a soldier, ready always for battle. So, she had seen her uncle awaken even on his worst days when he would not rise from his bed, and threw bones like a petulant child. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She would not think about that. Those times were gone, and would never return. Then she looked up, into grey eyes that were neither as stony as she had seen them, nor as full of warmth. Legolas saw she was awake, and gave her a taut smile. "My lady you should not sleep in such a place. The fountain will damp you, and the morning dew settle upon your head." Now that Eowyn was awake, she could see that it was at least an hour before dawn- the sky was still velvety blue, but there was a hint of lightening on the horizon. She gratefully accepted the hand offered, and stood feeling her bones click.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, feeling strangely foolish, and was rewarded by a genuine smile. She walked silently by his side for a moment, accepting where he wandered, until they came to a small turret. She looked at him surprised, and he interpreted the glance easily.

"We watch the stars from here," he explained. "Rivendell's lights are dimmed at night, but even so this small height brings us closer to the objects of our veneration." He did not say more, merely began climbing, obviously expecting her to follow him, she did, carefully and quietly, until they both stood at the top, able to see most of Rivendell from their lofty vantage point. Once again the beauty of it caught in her throat, and tears almost welled up in her eyes, as she felt the strong rush of belonging, as she had never belonged elsewhere. She sat on the small stone outcropping, and waited for Legolas to begin, knowing instinctively that this was what he had brought her here for. "Eowyn." he began quietly. "Arwen asked me to tell you of myself and Glorfindel," he sighed uncharacteristically. His eyes searched her face intently. "I scarcely think she knows what she asks. Perhaps her humanity blinds her as to the parallels. But you Eowyn are a daughter of the world, and perhaps you can make good use of this."

Eowyn nodded. "I shall try," she whispered.

Legolas regarded her steadily. "I told you once a story about a young elf who was in love with another, and considered his love shameful and wrong. I doubt you took from it, the moral I meant you to have, but nonethless you mayhaps concluded that I was the protagonist. It is indeed so, and now I must tell you everything. Not the full story- that would cover your lifespan and more, but the simple bones. I loved; and still do Glorfindel." There was dead silence, as Eowyn sought to assimilate this information.

Same sex relations were not entirely unknown to her. They were rarely practiced in Rohan, but men sometimes turned to them in days of war when the bonds of companionship and loyalty changed to something deeper. It was not forbidden as such; no-one cared enough really, though there was teasing of the parties concerned, and there were many who thought it was less than manly. She herself had been propositioned once as Dernhelm, but had of course politely refused and the point had not been pressed. She had never been surprised at the idea, somehow the idea of men preferring men had seemed appropriate to her, despising as she did her own gender. She sought to voice this. "But why was it so forbidden?"

Legolas bent his head. "I was young, young enough to be prideful and foolish," he said softly. "But not so young that I was blind to the implications. I'm sure you understand that elves bind themselves eternally to one another? That another love is not possible. I was deathly afraid, afraid that I did not know my own feelings, and afraid of tying Glorfindel in a bond to someone whom he could not possibly love. He is ancient and wise, how could he have loved a stripling like myself? He approached me with an offer of love, and I fled."

Eowyn shook her head. "I do not understand. I understand you refusing him the first time, but why continue?"

There was no reply for a moment. "I am not good enough for him. It has been centuries since his first declaration, and with each moment I love him more. But it cannot be, I refuse to let it be. Until I have proved myself worthy of what he offers me, I cannot offer him such a pitiful and paltry thing as my love." There was no self hatred in his face, merely self knowledge.

Eowyn threw up her hands frustrated. "Why?" she cried. "Why waste the time you have on such things? He must love you so deeply, to wait for so long, do you not think he loves you for yourself? You are one of the bravest people I have ever met, and one of the strongest, do you think he does not see that more clearly than anyone? You value pride more than love, independence more than adoration, and I understand. How could I not? But to have what you have and to deny it... are you afraid of such emotion and love?"

"If I am, then we have more in common than even we thought," he said quietly. "Eowyn do you not understand why I tell you this? Tell you of love for one greater than myself, and the impossibility and yet truth of such a happenstance. Use your mind, use the brain you've never bothered with before Arwen laid open a whole new world in front of you. Look around you and see the truth."

Eowyn looked at him shocked beyond belief. Her arms huddled around herself. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no, no," desperately she said it, not knowing who she was trying to convince. "I don't love her, I can't. Oh," and the word was full of grief and pain, the pain of understanding your own tangled thoughts and feelings. "Please," she begged unseeingly, not noticing that she had sunk to the ground in a huddle.

Legolas knelt beside her. "Now do you understand?" he said, and his eyes were filled with a limitless gentle compassion. "Do you understand the pain of loving one, who you admire above all others, and knowing that you cannot have them. You because she is the wife of the king, and you are the wife of the steward, I because he is so far more than I?"

Raising her head, Eowyn looked at him hopelessly, and there was such misery in her eyes that it seemed as though the world was crumbling. She did not need to answer.

Hope you enjoyed that! Reviews are very welcome. Also a shout out to those of you who have faved and alerted this story. It would be good manners if you'd drop a line :). Thanks again very much to: NajaMoonshadow, bigguy204, emily