Summary: Songfic to Black Sun by Death Cab for Cutie watch?v=eTbVIfqeDq0 . Arwen and Eowyn find something to fight for. Rated K+ By Savannah

March 8-10, 3019

Arwen rode beside Aragorn in silence as Gimli told his stories. She stared, looking forward at nothing. Aragorn watched as a stray tear fell from her eye. He reached out and touched her arm, their horses riding so close that their hips brushed together. "Arwen," Aragorn breathed. Slowly, Arwen turned to look at him. Aragorn looked into her deep blue eyes but he didn't see her in them. "Arwen," Aragorn said again, touching her cheek. "Come back."

She stared at him. "To where?" she whispered.

"To me," he said.

Arwen looked ahead again, another tear rolling down her cheek. "What for, Aragorn?" she said, her eyes flickering back to him.

"For them," he said. "For the twins." Arwen closed her eyes as tears flowed down her face freely. "He will live on in them. You will not find him here, but if you look you will find him in them."

Arwen's body shook with a sob. Aragorn reached for the reins of her horse and pulled it to a stop beside his own. He swung down from his saddle then reached up to Arwen, pulling her to him. She fell into his arms as sobs consumed her, making her whole body shake. Aragorn lowered her to the ground, holding her to his chest, her tears soaking into his clothes. Aragorn closed his eyes, resting his chin on her head, tears of his own slipping from his closed eyes. "I love you, Arwen; they love you, you can't give up on that."

..::..

Eowyn sat at the edge of her cot, her arms wrapped around herself. She watched the afternoon sun play through the sparse leaves, casting patterns on the cloth of her tent. She lay back, watching Aragorn ride away from her over and over in her mind. She took a shaking breath, turning her head as the flap of her tent opened. "Eowyn," she heard her brother's voice but saw Aragorn walking towards her. She blinked, the warm light seeping through the white cloth glowed off his skin, and his dark hair brushed his shoulders, messed by the blowing wind. He smiled and his grey eyes shone at her with such love in them.

Eomer sat on the edge of the cot, looking down at his baby sister and felt himself choke. He had not seen her filled with such grief since she had been trapped in Meduseld; their parents dead, their uncle possessed, helpless to the hands of that snake Grima. She looked up at him, her eyes not really seeing him, their blue depths filled with unshed tears. "Eowyn," Eomer breathed, his hand stroking her cheek then running over her hair.

She blinked, the tears running down her temples. "I have no one," she whispered, her voice broken by sobs.

Eomer's hands slipped under her back, lifting her into his arms, holding her to him as she sobbed into his neck. "You have me, Eowyn. You will always have me," he said into her hair.

Eowyn held onto him fiercely, her body wracked with sobs. "I can't go on like this, I am broken, Eomer."

Eomer held her tight, willing the strength in his body to go into her. When he felt as if her small body would break in his arms he let go, holding her at arm's length. "We have been broken before, Eowyn." He stared at her tear stained face. "But we cannot stop and let the pieces of ourselves rot. We must continue on, we must fight." Eowyn looked deep into his eyes, her jaw set firm, then down to the sword sheathed at his side. "Do not give in to despair," he said. Eowyn's eyes didn't waver. "I must go, we ride tonight for Minas Tirith. I will send men with you back to Edoras.

Eowyn nodded, but Eomer could see that her mind had slipped to some other place. He looked at her sadly and saw his mother in her, saw the same lost look he had seen as a small boy before his mother had slipped into madness, despair, and death. He held Eowyn to his chest one last time, tears slipping down his own cheeks. "You will be safe, I promise you that, if nothing else you will be safe." Then he stood, unable to look at her, and left the tent.

Eowyn watched him go, her heart numb and her mind empty save one thing. She looked down at where her sword rested, she picked it up and pulled the shining metal out from its bindings. She ran her finger along its edge, watching the blood pool and drip down the blade. She felt a hunger. She set her jaw, bloodlust rising up until it consumed her. "Set me free," she whispered.

..::..

Arwen watched as Aragorn's great shoulders stooped and his body crashed to the ground. She had seen the tears in his eyes, watched them fall down his cheeks. She let her hand come to rest on his shoulder, trying to comfort him but her heart felt cold and brittle. Then she felt something brush past her like a cold wind on her back, making the hairs on her neck stand on edge. Then, like a flood, the dead rushed past her out of the mountain. Arwen gasped, her hair being picked up and blown around her. She felt hope well up inside of her. "They will fight," she whispered.

Aragorn stood beside her, watching as the dead men sailed past and through them. Arwen felt his fingers brush her then his hand wrapped around hers, holding tightly. "They will fight," he repeated, looking at her, the tears still fresh on his cheeks.

Arwen looked at his steel grey eyes and saw courage in them. Her head turned, watching the last of the men go. "And now so must we," she said, turning back to Aragorn. Arwen closed her eyes and breathed in deep, feeling power rush through her veins. She opened her eyes again and saw the king of Gondor standing beside her and the power in his blood. She looked up overhead, the wind blew her dark hair around her; black clouds were rolling over the already grey sky, covering any of the light left. She set her jaw and clasped Aragorn's hand. The two of them stood at the top of the hill, the mountain behind them and the dead in front.