Chapter Fifty-Two

~ Estel~
Éomer had been right about some things, I had had to concede. For example, trying to follow in his footsteps was indeed hard to do for me. We rested little and rode more; we ate quickly and went without for long periods of time. And the worst thing was that his gender did give him advantages over mine in this lifestyle. I knew all of this and more – but I was still determined not to give in.

Besides, I secretly was wondering if he was deliberately trying to make me give in so I wouldn't bother him about this again.

So I didn't give up.

The second night saw me cracking just a bit, though. We had gotten no sleep the day before; Éomer had insisted we ride straight through the night. I understood his reasoning – we only had one more day – but I was still tired.

Well, exhausted was more like it.

Even worse, Éomer seemed perfectly fine. His gaze was clear and alert, and his movements were smooth and free of hesitations. He was awake and perfectly fine without that sleep.

I was not so fortunate.

We were resting now, waiting to see if any more recruits came. If not, come just before dawn we were to ride off to join up with the rest of the army that could be mustered. The Men were sitting around their own campfire, talking and joking as most people did before war – trying to pretend everything was fine and dandy. I didn't sit with them. Sometimes bawdy jokes were also passed around, and I had no intention of being part of that.

"You look exhausted."

I looked up and accepted a cup from Éomer. "Thanks."

"It wasn't an insult," he said, sitting down besides me.

I took a sip; the liquid, whatever it was, was slightly cloying in its sweetness, but it was a welcome relief after days of riding without rest. "I was saying thanks for this, not being sarcastic," I told him.

His face eased somewhat. "Oh." He heaved a sigh. "We didn't get as many as I'd hoped, unfortunately, and I doubt more will come in the time remaining."

I was silent.

He looked at me. "You aren't going to say anything?" he asked, surprise clear in his tone.

I took another sip. "Éomer, how many we have is how many we will have. That won't change by any comment I make. I learned that a long time ago."

"You learned well," he remarked. "But not, apparently, well enough to know that war is not the province of women."

I lowered my cup and glanced at him. He was deliberately not looking at me, so he knew exactly what he was saying and the effect it would have on me. "And what makes you say that?" I said, endeavoring to keep my voice calm and light.

He touched my shoulder. "You're not suited for this. I can see it in your grimaces whenever you sit in the saddle."

"What are you saying, Éomer?" I repeated.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, sighing. He looked like he was on the verge of giving me a lecture. Finally, he said, "Look, Estel – this isn't the kind of life for you. Maybe you should accept that."

At that I was hard pressed not to glare at him. "Éomer," I said slowly, "maybe it's time for you accept that I am not a normal person. I like to challenge myself."

"I can, but . . . this is the world of men, Estel. You shouldn't cross that line."

My temper flared then. "What do you want of me, then? To act like a normal house girl and tend to the kitchens?"

"I don't want anything, Estel – I just wanted to – " He broke off and took a deep breath. "Look, it's late and we are both annoyed. I think it's time we called it a night and went to bed."

I handed him back the cup coldly. "Good night, Lord Éomer."

Back in my tent, I fumed and paced. No one – no one – had ever done that to me. Well, those who had enslaved me but they had done so by crushing my will, not lecturing me on it. Even my sister, who sometimes disapproved of my more tomboyish ways, didn't go that far. No one ever had. And the reason why? Everyone knew me well enough to know that by doing so, they were signaling to me that they didn't accept me and wished to change me.

The problem?

I changed of my own will. No one else's.

Perhaps, one day, I would become as my sister had and decide to be more lady-like and daintier and more practical. Perhaps. It was a big jump.

But if you tried to get me there, I would resist with everything I had in me.

It wasn't very practical of me, but I had endured a long time of people trying to crush my spirit and change me. I needed this time to be free, to stretch my wings and fly, to do what I wanted to do. And so far, everyone had accepted that – even the Elves, who generally didn't understand such things.

I sat down. But then again, he doesn't know me very well.

The thought shocked me – but it was true. Éomer actually did not know me very well. We had spent perhaps under a month together. Even Legolas, who by all means was a complete stranger, knew me longer than that.

Perhaps, I concluded reluctantly, I should give him another chance. We are both irritated and tired. No doubt that has affected our moods and our irritability.

But before I could even consider trying to find him, the tent flap – which I had forgotten to seal – shifted open and Éomer entered.

"Estel?"

I stood. "Yes?"

He shifted uneasily from foot to foot, looking for all the world like a nervous young boy. "Estel, I . . . I'm sorry for the harsh words. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I . . . I let my temper get the better of me." He gave me a half smile. "For all my words, I'm not really used to pulling all nighters either."

Inwardly, I was stunned. Éomer had always seemed too . . . proud, too self-assured to apologize like this. Shows how little I know him, I realized.

"I'm sorry too," I confessed. "I let my temper get the better of me."

He blew out half a breath. "Truce?"

I took his extended hand with a grin. "Definitely. We should argue when we've both gotten some sleep, I think."

He laughed. "No thank you! I won't argue with you like that until we've had lots of sleep."

"Even better."

Carefully and almost shyly, Éomer took another step forward. I mirrored his action, curious as to what he wanted to talk about. He had already proven that he could surprise me and do things I had never expected him to do.

And he definitely stunned me.

Because he reached up and rested his fingers against my cheek in a surprising gentle move.

It wasn't the gentleness that surprised me; it was the action itself. Éomer had never really been one to really initiate contact between us. True, he had hugged me once, but that didn't really count. Hugging to comfort someone who was tired and drained was different from actually touching someone's cheek to express affection.

It was then that I realized just how much Éomer had really fallen for me.

By the time I got over that, I realized quite suddenly that Éomer and I were very, very, very close together.

He was going to kiss me.

Without thinking, I pushed hard against his chest. His hands instinctively tightened over where they were gripping my shoulders, but he stopped, surprised by my resistance.

"No, Éomer." To my surprise, my voice was surprisingly calm.

He hesitated. "Why not? It's clear how I feel for you – and I know you feel about the same. So why not?"

I struggled to put my own hesitation into words. It just felt wrong, but how do you say that without offending everyone? "I don't know. . . Can we wait? We still barely know each other. I don't want this to not mean anything – to either of us. I want to mean it if I marry you, Éomer. I don't want it to be an empty marriage. Do you?"

Silence fell between us for a long moment as he turned over my words in his head.

Finally, Éomer shook his head. "No. You're right. I'm sorry." He smiled another crooked grin. "And here I feared it was because of the Elf. . ."

I frowned. "Legolas?"

He nodded, releasing me and putting more space in between us – something I appreciated.

"What about him?" I asked, bewildered.

"Well . . . you seem . . . awfully close to him," he said hesitantly. "It made me wonder if . . . if, well, you liked him."

"If I didn't like him, would I be friends with him?"

"You know what I mean. I thought you . . . you had feelings for him. Feelings beyond friendship."

I stared, stunned. And then I started laughing. "Éomer . . . if that is what is driving you to take things so quickly, then slow down," I said between laughs. "Legolas is just a friend, nothing more. I can never be anything more than friends with him, and I don't wish to be anything more than friends with him."

"Yet you are so close."

"Which generally happens when you've been through a few battles together," I commented. "And he taught me a lot of the skills I know – like archery. I learned a lot from him. We're more like teacher and student than anything else."

"Oh." Relief filtered through his gaze, and he seemed to relax.

"Oh indeed," I mimicked, although it was merely to tease and not to accuse. Others had made the same mistake before.

Swiftly, he hugged me briefly – but long enough for me to understand just how much he liked me. When he drew back, his normal, cheerful smile was back on his face. "I guess when this is all over, I'll have to court you properly," he said. "Dates and all that. And I suppose I'll have to trouble your mother and brother to ask their approval."

"I doubt they'd say no, if that helps."

He laughed. "Good night, Estel."

When he was gone, I lay on the pallet and rested my head on the pillow, thinking. Why did he think I wanted to be more than friends with Legolas? Why do people keep thinking that? Can't men and women be friends without people thinking they want to marry?

As I thought about that, though, memories of my last encounter with Legolas arose. I flushed. I had let my temper get the best of me there too. . .

I'll have to apologize to him, I thought reluctantly. It was out of line for me to do so. And he really only was thinking about my safety. . . He had the right to do that – he swore to Aragorn he would protect me to the best of his ability. . . I'll have to apologize.

With that thought resolved, I shut my eyes. Tomorrow would be the day where everything was resolved.