Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am extremely grateful that this chapter is done, so I can finally move on to what happens after the end of RotK. . . . . . . . Stay tuned to find out!
Chapter Sixty-Nine
~ Éomer ~
When I passed by the temporary stable for the horses, I was surprised to see Estel there. She was still, but her lips moved as she whispered whatever she was saying to the horse, whose head was bent towards her, its eyes closed in appreciation as Estel continued to comb her fingers through its mane.
I strode towards her, surprised. Should she be up after her collapse? She must have only recently recovered. . . Was it wise for her to be walking around?
"Estel," I began as I approached.
She jumped in surprise, and I blinked in surprise myself. I had never yet managed to surprise any of them, much less Estel. She must be really distracted. Or, I amended when I caught sight of her reddened eyes, really upset.
"Lord Éomer," she mumbled, her voice as raw as her eyes.
I had meant to ask her if she should be up and about; but then I changed my mind.
"Are you well, Estel?"
"Yes. Of course, else I would not be up."
"Hmm." I gestured to her eyes. "Your appearance would indicate otherwise," I said gently, giving her the opportunity to speak if she so wished. If not . . . If not, then I would not pry. If it truly caused her grief, she might not reveal it, after all.
She was silent for a long time.
Then, softly, she said, "It is hard . . . to be . . . the youngest. I find myself . . . separated from them sometimes. They do not believe me, and they do not understand me, for I stand in the middle path – neither Man nor Elf. I am neither immortal nor mortal, but something in between; it drives a wedge between me and them."
I blinked. Her words were . . . strange.
"Of course your brother accepts you," I said. "He is your brother."
A soft smile curved her lips. "Sometimes," she replied, "it is those who we love most who are most alien to us. . . As to acceptance – acceptance is not understanding, Éomer. You should know that. Especially in terms of your sister, Éowyn."
I blinked in surprise yet again. "What happened then?"
Her smile faltered. "I . . . They asked me," she said slowly, "what had happened when I collapsed. But they do not believe what I tell them."
"What did you tell them?"
Her gaze flickered once to me, as if she was gauging my reaction and whether or not to tell me.
I waited silently, but inside I felt frustration well up inside of me. If only Legolas hadn't been here . . . or if she had chosen me over him . . . then things would be different. I was sure that I could handle accepting whatever she told me. And then I could soothe that itch inside of me that told me I should go to her, and put my arms around her, and promise her that she wasn't going crazy, and kiss her until she forgot and all was well.
But I couldn't.
I could not break her trust like that.
Still . . .
But before I could contemplate actually touching her, she spoke.
"Before I fell unconscious," she began slowly, "I think – I know I saw a woman in the middle of the army. She spoke to me . . . and . . . well, then I fell unconscious. But Legolas and the others – even Eldarion – think it is just a product of my imagination and exhaustion. I know what I saw! And if it was a dream, then it has all the more . . . What? Are you laughing at me?"
I shook my head, still chuckling.
She glared at me.
"Oh, Estel . . . Is that it? Is that was has you so worked up?" I shook my head again, continuing to laugh. "That is . . . well, that is not hard to believe."
"It's not?"
Estel sounded so childishly innocent and hurt that I stopped laughing.
I stepped closer to her, forgetting my earlier promise not to touch her, and took her hands in mine. She didn't pull back, but hesitation shone in her eyes, usually so clear with emotion. But today they were muddied with hurt and confusion and rejection.
"Estel," I said quietly, "do not let yourself be put down by such a trivial thing as this. Have you forgotten who you are? And what you have done? You sensed your own father when your brother did not – and you barely remember him. You fought alongside me and the others, as equals, in battle, and then returned to tend to those who did not escape unscathed – as you did. You have done your share and more, Estel. So what if they do not believe you? If anything, they should accept things without question now, for you have proven your senses far greater than theirs."
The hurt died slowly from her face, and for a second I thought I caught the hint of the sparkle that normally reigned in her eyes.
She pulled away with a sigh then, leaning against the horse and wrapping her arms protectively around her body. "I don't know, Éomer. . . You have given me a lot to think over."
I nodded. It was understandable.
But I did not reach out again, as I had once yearned to.
I had just touched her now, and in that I had realized why Estel had rejected me. There had been sparks between us, yes; but even now I was forced to admit that they had been driven merely by attraction based on person, and not on personality. I had clung longer than her, blinded as she was not; but now I realized it.
Estel was not the one meant for me.
I still regretted that she had chosen an Elf over me, but perhaps for one like her, where Elven blood flowed as strongly as that of Men, it was right. She was correct, at least, that an Elf would understand that better than a Man would.
"Estel."
"Hmm?"
"I think I owe you a thank you."
Confused blue-grey eyes lifted to my own. "What?" she said, totally distracted, the confusion re-entering her eyes.
I fought a smile at this confusion, innocent but in a sweet way. "For rejecting me."
She stiffened. "Éomer, I . . . I am so sorry. I didn't – "
"It is fine, Estel. I . . . I think I know what happened. I know what you meant." I deliberately raised my gaze to hers, locking our eyes. "I know why you rejected me, and I wholeheartedly agree. You were right." I paused. The words were painful, but not as heartbreakingly so. Just a blow to my pride, and my past judgment. But what King could I be if I could not admit my own mistakes?
"We . . . are not . . . meant for each other. We will walk different paths."
Estel was silent for a very long time, but she did not blink, or look away, or stutter out more apologies.
Finally, she murmured, "Thank you for telling me. . . It was inexcusable, what I did, but . . . at least . . . it did not completely destroy our friendship."
My heart lightened, and I smiled at her. "Friends then?"
And she smiled back brilliantly, and hugged me briefly, and agreed, a lilting laugh in her voice, "Friends."
~ Legolas ~
I let out a frustrated sigh.
I had tried to follow Estel after she had stormed out of the tent, but, alas, she had been trained too well in the art of evasion. Even my senses were not enough to track her down when she truly wished to vanish and not be found.
More to the evidence that this relationship was equal in every way.
I may have been an Elf, and therefore stronger and swifter and immortal – but she had qualities of her own that, try as I might, I could not match.
"Legolas?"
I started, turning towards the voice.
"Éomer," I said, unable to disguise the surprise I felt. We had not spoken since . . . well, we hadn't ever spoken much anyways. I had stayed with Aragorn; he, with the King. Especially now, with the awkwardness of the both of us having feelings about the same girl, feelings that could not be avoided – and then the even more awkward of her having to choose between us . . . and having chosen me.
I wasn't ungrateful for her choice. I loved her – would have loved her even if she had chosen him.
But . . . still. It wasn't exactly at the top of my list of things to do, to speak to my rival in her heart. Even if his rivalry faded with each passing day.
And yet . . . And yet I saw no bitterness, no anger, no regret.
Nothing.
As if he had never loved her in the first place. Or had loved her as a sister, and graciously accepted the fact that he had lost her.
It made me almost suspicious. Men were not known for giving up so easily.
"You seek Estel?"
His tone made it a question; his expression made it a statement. His eyes were deliberate, but in a calm, resigned way . . . as if he hadn't just accepted Estel's choosing me; he now wholly supported it.
I answered anyways, even though I was unsure as to what he meant or where he was going with it. "Yes, I am." Risking a little more, I asked, "Do you know where she is?"
Éomer hesitated briefly before nodding. "Yes, I do."
Silence.
"Will you tell me?" I prompted.
He hesitated again. "Yes."
Silence.
I started losing my patience. Perhaps I had read him wrong. Perhaps he really did still see me as a rival in her heart.
"Where is she, Éomer?"
Something flitted across his expression – approval, satisfaction, understanding. . . none of them quite fit. But I felt sure that he was not angry; there was no glint in his eyes, no tension in his arms, nothing. What was going on?
"I will tell you, Legolas, but first, you must listen," he said abruptly.
"Is she hurt?" I demanded, my patience wearing to thin ice. If she was hurt . . . if he had hurt her . . . .
"Listen, and you will understand," he insisted, holding his ground even as I allowed my anger to flash across my face.
That impressed me.
"I am listening."
"She is not hurt – physically. But you did hurt her." Before I could interrupt, he held up a hand, and continued, "Please. Just listen. You know Estel as well as I do; she is too polite, sometimes, to express her true feelings to those she loves."
He hesitated, waiting for my agreement – which I gave. It was true.
"When you asked her what happened when she . . . fell unconscious," he began again, "she told you what she believed happened. You proceeded to ask her if she was well, and prescribe more rest. You told her that no one had seen a woman, and that you, therefore, were inclined to believe that she had dreamed it than it might have actually happened. That, Legolas, is where you made your fatal mistake.
"Don't you see, don't you understand just how much Estel needs love? She has been shorn of it for so long in her youth, and you sympathize with that and vow to protect her – yet you deny her the support she needs when she needs it most.
"And how hard it is to believe such a thing? Estel is neither Man nor Elf – you have said so yourself. She has seen things, she belongs to things, she is things that none of us can imagine. She's sensed things we would never sense even if it was right in front of us – remember the incident with her father? – and she hasn't been wrong about them either.
"You know her history even better than I, Legolas. But now I wonder . . . do you really know love, if you cannot give it to Estel when she needs it most?"
Éomer stopped then, and his look was one of gathering his control to him again.
"I have said more than I intended," he said quietly, simple words after the ringing treatment he had just given me. "But perhaps it is worth it, if you realize what you have done."
He turned to leave.
I caught his shoulder. "Wait."
He turned back, his eyes wary as he looked at me.
"I . . ." I swallowed. "Estel may be neither Man nor Elf . . . but I believe that she favors the side of Men, and I think you understand that side more than I ever will. And so I thank you, for reminding me of that." I softened my voice. "I think she would have been happy, had she chosen you."
"Perhaps," he replied, just as softly. "But not as happy as she will be with you."
"Once I learn."
"Yes, once you learn." He shook his head. "Now, go and find her. She's by the horses."
"Éomer – "
"Go! She's waited long enough."
"~I am in your debt, Éomer Éomundion,~" I murmured, bowing once before finally turning and leaving.
Sure enough, I found her right where he had said she was.
I went right up to her, and she turned as I approached, and she lowered her gaze, her expression shy as she avoided my eyes.
I cupped her chin. "Estel."
"~I . . . I am so, so sorry, Legolas,~" she blurted out suddenly. "~I should not have said that. . . I spoke badly, and I cry your pardon."
I frowned. "~I did not come to seek apologies,~" I said gently.
She flinched.
I knelt before her, feeling the truth in what Éomer had spoken. I had hurt her – a lot – by not believing her. And now I regretted it with everything I had in me, and more. She was the most important thing I had.
"~Estel. . . I do not know how to say this, but I think it is I who should cry your pardon. I treated you more abominably than any of your captors did, and for that I will never forgive myself. You . . . will always . . . deserve much more, Estel. Always. And I swear to you, I will never again falter in giving you as much as I can, a paltry sum though it may be.~"
Estel pulled my hands, forcing me to stand.
"~All I want from you, Legolas,~" she said softly, "~is your love.~"
I gazed into her eyes, seeing the sincerity there, the innocence, the love, the faith. She was so beautiful. . .
I touched her cheek. "~Then you deserve far better than me.~"
She laughed, and replied, "~You are the best I have, Legolas. And you are the best thing that ever happened to me; I know it.~"
Then she laughed again, and hugged me, and pressed her lips to mine, and I considered our argument resolved.