Notes: Thank you to all you beautiful people who are still reading along. As always I love to read your comments and reviews, but the fact than anyone has kept up this long is pretty incredible. Thank youuuuu! Tw: childbirth. I tried not to get gory or too detailed. More suggestions than anything, but please keep yourself safe!

The ride back to Ithilien was marked mostly by Ella speaking little, and Éomer being unable to draw any extra words from her. He did not to know to make her feel better, nor did he know how fond she had been of her betrothed. Had he been bold enough to ask her, he might have recognized the guilt on her face when she spoke of him, for she had liked Prince Darian and found him to be inoffensive in any way but she had not loved him, nor given him her heart and now he was gone and she thought perhaps her distance had been to blame. Perhaps, had she been better at writing to him, if she had spoken more kindly, or written more he might have fought harder to live.

For his part, Éomer felt he should have better protected the man, indeed he was Ella's betrothed and perhaps he had not guarded him closely enough. Perhaps he resented the man his ability to marry the girl, which he himself did not have. Perhaps he should have dived to block the spear, or arrow, or sword that had slain the Prince... but there was only so much one man could do, and the Prince had known the cost of battle.

In truth, as he relayed to Ella, it was not a blade that had felled Prince Darian, but landing on his head after the blow knocked him from his horse, "He felt no pain, princess." She had nodded, she was sitting in front of him on the saddle so he could not see her expression bu he doubted it comforted her much.

Granger trailed behind and kept their pace slow, and the princess slept in his arms a great deal as he rode. She carried exhaustion on her like a dark perfume, but Éomer didn't mind. It was comforting to hold her, and she was a still sleeper, it was easier than simply not speaking for days. Their second night, they considered stopping at an inn but decided instead to find a spot in the woods. Ella didn't say as much, but they both knew that upon their arrival at the Castle the next day there would be a great deal of fuss and talking and the princess did not look like she could manage it. She did not cry, indeed she seemed to be in a state of numbness, but that discomfited him more than sobs ever would.

After settling for the night they both were quiet but awake, staring up at the sky, where stars could be seen in between the branches of their tree cover. Éomer felt himself starting to drift when he heard Ella quietly murmur: "I suppose I must seem very silly to you."

"Why would you think that?" He turned in his bedroll to look for her, but could only see her hands laid over her belly as she stared up at the sky.

"You've lost so very much, and I've escaped almost everything unscathed. Now I mourn for a man who would have been my husband, but who existed to me as such for only a little while."

"Should I think you silly for having a tender heart?"

"I wouldn't blame you. I wish I were strong." She shifted to look at him, and he saw then that she was close to tears. "I wish things did not hurt so very much. I would be better for it."

"I don't think so, princess."

"Tell me, King Éomer, the brave, the just, and the strong. What use would a King have for-"

"Stop Ella."

"What use- what practical use is there for a tender heart? There's no position in government or otherwise that calls for one, and therefore, if we are being logical, it is a useless trait."

"Really, Ella?"

"Indulge me."

"You feel things-"

"We all feel things, Éomer."

"Stop interrupting me. You asked, let me answer."

"Go on then."

"It's your head, Ella. Not everyone works the way you do. It's like your heart and your head are one, you hold the world... the whole world inside of you, you leave it room to grow. That's something."

"It's something, yes. Useful: No."

"You gave me hope, El."

"In a bottle, or did I package it up tidy for you?"

"If you're just asking me to waste my breath-"

"I'm not-"

"Then stop interrupting."

"I won't anymore, I swear."

He waited a moment to speak and true to her word, she didn't try to interrupt him again. She listened quietly.

"The Battle of Pelennor Fields... I thought we were ended. We had won and yet it felt like the world was over. For me, it felt done."

"But you did not crumble. You did not make a run for it." Her voice sounded loud in the quiet forest, and he saw that she did not look tired anymore, but was sitting up and was looking at him with dark eyes. He pulled himself to sitting as well, and sighed, running his hands down his face. She has slept all day while he rode, but he had not. If they had to have this conversation, he would have preferred it in the morning.

"Is that what you were doing? Running away?"

"No. I was running to. I was trying to get to Éowyn and her baby. I needed a little bit of hope more than I'd ever needed anything."

"Then it is not so different then, is it? You gave me hope when I needed it, but no one did that for-."

"You would have been there eventually."

"You seem very reasonable now, but reason left you then."

She stopped again. There was something lovely about watching her stop and think. So many of the conversations he had of late involved people speaking at each other and very little listening. And he knew it did not fix what she had done, but she knew it too, and she did not seem happy about the pain she had caused, which seemed worth something at the least.

"I'll make sure to note it forever then. It's worth making sure, to avoid the same mistakes."

"Forever?"

"It does not seem so long a time. I think I could manage it." Her smile was tentative, but he laughed anyway. He had missed the Ella who joked freely and openly. This Ella had added weight to her every word and Éomer thought, when had the princess become so weighed down?

"If you must know your use, Ella, let me tell you. If I did not care for you, if I knew you only by reputation, I would be frightened of all the numbers and names you know and hold, of the knowledge you command. That is your use, but it is not your worth. It is not your value."

She sat silently, the flames dappled her cheeks with shadows and light and her expression was almost impossible to read. After a few moments, she tilted her head slightly and said nothing, Éomer found himself frustrated with her silence, if only because he was tired while she obviously was not. After a fair amount of time, Ella's gaze shifted to their fading fire and he turned away from her, and began to lie down.

"Thank you..." Her voice was low and he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to respond, but she had taken her sweet time to speak while he had waited, so he pretended he did not hear. "I needed your words, my King."

When he awoke the next morning, he saw that Ella had packed up their things neatly and had breakfast waiting for him. It did not look like she had slept very much, if at all, but her hair was pulled back and tidy and still damp from whatever river she had found, and her face was scrubbed clean. She had changed from her riding clothes into another pair that looked, if not good, then at least better. She did not seem to realize that he was up, and he could hear that she was humming under her breath. He took it for a good sign, until he realized that is was a mourning song. Still, it was sweet and quiet and a moment he wanted to remember, so he just watched her. After a few moments more, he rose and stretched out his sore body.

"Sleep well?"

He shook his head and she smiled. Whatever she had made for breakfast didn't look too bad, and when she brought him a bowl it smelled cinnamon-y and good, with apples strewn inside. He accepted the bowl and sat back down to eat it. To his surprise, she sat beside him and seemed calm, she lay her head on his shoulder.

"No, I didn't think so. If we ever choose a place with more rocks to sleep upon, we might be better off just sleeping on the horses."

"Did you sleep at all?" He asked gently.

"No. Not really."

"We'll be at Ithilien in two hours time if we hurry, by noon if we do not." She understood that he was giving her a choice, but there wasn't one, really. She would have to face everyone. Including the possibility of a small baby, who would first know her as the sort who shirked responsibility. She hoped that babies were as short on memory as they were said to be. She couldn't manage the list of those who needed an apology getting too much longer.

"I think we should hurry. I've kept enough people worried."

They still took a small moment there together. Éomer finished eating and Ella sat by him. He thought to himself, and the thought no longer seemed so very shocking, that this was what it would be like to be married to Ella. They would have breakfast and she would try to talk though the morning fog but she would not be good at it. She would sit by him, her head on his shoulder, or her hand on his while she waited for him to finish. He thought, perhaps, if this was the worst that Ella had to offer him, it could not be so very bad to be married to her. Yes, she was impulsive, and sometimes darkly sad. He saw now that she carried the weight of her role and responsibilities heavily and that she was not nearly so flighty as once he had thought. Indeed, she was serious and strong when it was needed, but at a price. She did not understand balance. Her husband would have to know her moods and help her manage them. Her husband would have to love her. He would have to keep her weighted down when she wished to fly too high, and hold her up in his arms, when she began to sink. It was something worth knowing, if you were going to marry a girl like Ella. Though, he saw Éowyn and Faramir, and King Aragorn and Queen Arwen, and even Prince Imrahil who still loved so dearly his wife, and 'not so very bad' still did not seem like the basis for a marriage.

Who had Ella's mother been? The longer he knew the girl, the less like her father she seemed, though she tried endlessly to mirror him. By all accounts, it was her mother who Ella took after. She was rarely spoken of, and Éomer knew that her loss still pained Prince Imrahil deeply. Would he find the roots of who the princess was inside who her mother had been? He reached for Ella's hand as she stood to leave and looked into her face, trying to see something there that might answer his questions.

Ella, true to regular form, laughed and shook off his hand, "Don't be silly. I've packed up the horses. You should clean, because I cooked. Maybe wash your face? I think we can be ready to go in a few minutes."

Like most of the things she said, it happened with a few extra minutes in either direction. Granger still lagged behind them, but was doing a passable job of keeping up, and before too long, they could see Ithilien in the distance. The crowds got thicker the closer they got to the castle, but it wasn't always awful being a Princess and a King and making their way inside the gates took time, but they had an escort now which made things much, much quicker.

Faramir barely spoke to his cousin once they were inside, other than to say "The labour pains started early yesterday." Éomer could not tell if Faramir was simply livid at Ella, or too worried to bother with general pleasantries, but from Ella's generally chastened demeanour, he imagined that it was a good combination of both.

Once they all were close enough to hear Éowyn's moans, however, it didn't seem to matter who felt what about anything anyone had done, because if there was a single person all three cared about at that moment, it was Éowyn. The rest would have to wait. Ella didn't change her clothes, and she dropped her bag outside the door with a plume of dust. Without another word to either of them, she was inside and by Éowyn's side.

Ella had once thought that Éowyn would be more beautiful that anyone, even if wrapped in a horse blanket with nothing else on, but she had perhaps not accounted for more than twenty hours of labour. Éowyn had fought a Nazgul and won, but her first child was being cruel to her, and it did not help that the woman she had wanted by her side had taken her own journey at the worst possible moment. "You're late." She all but growled at Ella, taking her hand in a squeeze which almost made the princess cry out.

"I took the scenic route. The Steward's road is so lovely this time of year. Mud. People. Mud. Trees. Mud-"

"I'll murder you if you make me laugh, Ella, I swear to Béma, I would find my sword and swing at your head. How could you?"

"I don't think this is the time to listen to the whole story, Éowyn, seeing as your child would like to brought into the world whether you'd like it to, or not, but I'd like to assure you that once you hear it all, it's a much less... frustrating account of myself... and the choices I make... than it currently seems."

Éowyn tightened her grip on Ella with a low moan that made the princess worry for her. The midwives who attended the Lady exchanged looks that Ella did not like. "Tell me the story, Ella." Éowyn all but whispered, and Ella saw that her forehead was covered in sweat, but the lady was starting to shut her eyes.

"Damn you, Éowyn. Wake up." Ella feel her stomach contract and she pulled her grip from Éowyn's hand as it loosened on her own. "The story starts like this:-" Ella came to stand where the midwives stood, and saw what it was that made them so nervous. The baby was the wrong way round. "Wipe that look off your face. Now. We've work to do. Bring me hot water and white spirits." For what felt like the millionth time, Ella thanked Ioreth for her tutelage.

Éowyn was only half awake and Ella tried to tell her the story, but it was still better than she had hoped, since 'not awake' would have been disastrous and Ella doubted that Éowyn really wanted to hear the minutiae of eating berries and chewing on bark for three days while trying to get her way to Ithilien.

Because labour had begun, Ella could not try to turn the baby into the correct position. Sometimes, one could tell before the birth and Ioreth had been good at massaging the belly until the child took the hint and turned their way around. It was too late to do that for Éowyn, but perhaps if they could help ease the child through... While she waited, Ella began to massage around the child. She could feel the little one trying to move and she silently cursed the stubborn house of Éol for always having to go their own way. Éowyn was reaching down and trying to push Ella's hands away, but the princess wouldn't let her. "You're going to have to let me be the strong one, this once, My Lady. Save your energy for when I make you push." It worried her more and more that Éowyn was starting to fade, but she hoped the woman was just tired and would wake when she was required to do her bit. "Damn you, Éowyn. Stay awake."

"Don't damn me," Éowyn murmured, "I'm the one pushing the baby out. Praise me. I am a miracle."

At that point, Éowyn's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and everything started to move both very quickly and very slowly. For the first time since she had ridden from Dol Amroth, Ella was overwhelmed with the idea that she might lose someone, and she froze. Éowyn was to her like a sister, almost like a mother, and she could not imagine a world where she lived and Éowyn did not. This was the woman who had pulled her from her grief, also too, literally pulled her from battle and saved her life. This was the woman who Ella considered above all others and who Ella loved above anyone but her own family, and perhaps more. And damn her, she was going to live.

The baby, perhaps noting that it had far outstayed it's welcome, made a push for freedom, and Ella forced one of the midwives to hold smelling salts to Éowyn's nose until the woman woke up again, gasping and pushing harder than she had since Ella had gotten there. It was not pleasant, Ella noted, giving life to another. She noted it in the way that one notices that the cold hurts when it is cold enough, or that heat feels like a knife when it is hot enough. She noted it in the detached way one notes things when they are entirely outside of one's control. She had not ever seen Ioreth pull a baby out of the womb so much as catch them, but she had her hands firmly on the wailing child as it came out, choking on its own anger and shock, and she wiped at the little boy like one in a dream, and cleaned the little thing, before wrapping it up snugly and helping Éowyn hold it as it calmed against it's mother.

Faramir and Éomer came soon after, faces pleased and open, like a child had magically fallen from the sky and landed in Éowyn's trembling arms. Ella though, in that same dreamlike state that they should have been required to be there the whole time in the future because it had been awful and it wasn't nice to leave her to bear the burden of it alone. If she had been just a bit clearer, she would have liked them to be there in case Éowyn had died... it had not been fair to leave her with that chance and to make her witness it alone. Just like that, Ella began to cry and soon it turned into sobs, and Éomer escorted her from the room and into the hallway because she was disrupting the moment and simply couldn't make herself stop. He didn't understand why she was crying. It didn't seem like the happy crying she did at times, and this was a joyous occasion so he couldn't imagine that she was crying from sadness, but it did not matter because she was crying, and so he pulled her into his arms, and they both sat on the floor, and he held her until she quieted.