Summary: Aragorn rides for Edoras and desperately tries to heal Eowyn. Rated T by Savannah (Aragorn and Eowyn)

Year 10

Eowyn eyes opened but she saw only blackness. She felt as if she were on a small boat, rocking back and forth in the waves. She imagined herself floating away from the shore and could almost see the blurry outlines of her family as she drifted away from them, towards the unknown. She wondered if the boat would eventually sink or tip over some precipice. Either way, she knew deep inside her that she would become one with the water, that it would carry her over to the next life.

Sweat beaded on Eowyn's forehead, heat burning through her. Her mouth was so dry she couldn't swallow. The sound of her own raspy breath was loud in her ears. She wished the cool water would find her, fill her mouth and lungs, quench the burning she felt through her chest. The darkness swam before her eyes, inviting her to join it, promising the cool velvet touch of the earth. But a voice carried over the wind, whispered to her, begged her to hold onto him, to hold onto life. She felt soft lips brush over her forehead, most comforting that the darkness every could be. Soft breath prayed into her hair. The voice she knew better than her own, the touch so familiar it felt like the sun or the kiss of the wind. She would follow that call like a solider to the battle horn. She had been created to hear his voice, to answer his call.

The world around her focused and Eowyn realized the darkness above her was the night sky; the rocking of the boat, the rhythm of the horse underneath her. She became aware of her body and with reality came pain as she remembered her wounds. She gasped for breath, air feeling more like sand. Aragorn's body beside her was hard and reassuring, a rock for her the tried to lift her head from his collar, but the simple movement made it spin, threatening to send her sideways.

Eowyn trained her focus to her body and found the flame burning at her chest. Her fingers moved so slowly, locating the blade buried deep in her chest. Her hand stung as she gripped its handle and she remembered the deep gashes in her palms. She wondered at the searing heat and remembered long ago when a blade she had been cut with was dipped in poison. How Strider had saved her then for the first time. She sucked in another breath of burning air. Aragorn held her even tighter to him as the horse jumped over some obstacle. She whimpered at the pain of the impact as its hooves hit the ground and kept going, its pace never faltering.

Eowyn found herself again on the beach, Arwen now standing ankle deep in the water, the current pulling on the hem of her gown. "Eowyn," she said softly, reaching out her hand. It was not a beckoning movement, but a warning.

Eowyn's hand gripped the hilt tightly then slowly and smoothly pulled the knife from her chest. Pain erupted and she screamed into the darkness as it came free. Pain flooded her senses as the knife dropped from her hand, clattering on the rocky ground then lost in the path of foaming horse. Blood rushed into her lungs, filling it as if she were drowning. She choked, sending the warm liquid up her throat.

Aragorn's hands were on her face, lifting her up to let the deep colored liquid pour out of her mouth, dripping over his chest into his lap. The horse slowed and he let go of the reins completely, breathing out her name then cursing under his breath. Eowyn's eyes drifted closed, the blood dripping down her chin. Aragorn felt his heart pound right out of his chest, its thumping the only thing he could hear. He watched the blood flow down her chest and his eyes darted around, finding the horse trailing them.

"Eldarion!" Aragorn yelled as his son caught up to them, his face white. "Ride ahead as fast your horse will carry you. Tell them everything that's happened, tell them to wake any healers and bring cloth and herbs."
Eldarion nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from his mother's face.

"Eldarion, go!" Aragorn yelled, his voice sounding strained and broken.

Eldarion kicked hard at the horse's sides and was off in the direction of the lights of the city, rising up just ahead of them.

Aragorn watched them for only a second, then looked down at Eowyn. Her eyes were blinking open and closed as if she were just waking from a deep sleep or trying not to fall into one. He slipped from the horse's back, lowering her to the ground. He tore into his Elven cloak, it came away easily, always knowing his need. Tears worked down his cheeks, over his nose and into his mouth, filling it with the taste of salt. He took in shaking breaths with every inhale, every exhale were prayers, his mouth mumbling the words as his mind was occupied with cutting away the trips of fabric, slashing the cloak. He prayed to the Valar, then to Arwen.

Looking down at Eowyn's body limp before him, held in a cradle of long grass. Aragorn began pouring out memories. He began wrapping the strips of dark cloth around her chest, lifting her slightly to pass them under her back. Her small body felt even light then normal, as if it were just a husk that had been hollowed out. Aragorn let out a groan at the thought, his throat raw. He looked up at the stars, opening their sleepy eyes one by one above him, as they always did, with no regard for the breaking of his heart. His groan turned into a cry, desperate and begging, unable to form words. He felt something touch his hand and looked down at Eowyn's fingers, snaking so slowly, but she held onto him firmly. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. Aragorn looked down int her blue yes, using the back of his free hand to wipe his face dry. He then ran it over her forehead, touching the silk of her hair.

"She's here," Eowyn said, and her voice sounded strong in Aragorn's ears.

Aragorn pictured Arwen standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder. Eowyn smiled, as if reading his thoughts. Aragorn fought the urge to look over his shoulder as her eyes focused above him. Instead, he leaned down, taking the last strip and tightening around her. Eowyn arched off her back off the ground, her lips pulled back to show her gritted teeth. As he tied the knot with a yank, she let out a sound that broke him pieces. It was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, as if she no longer had the strength to force out a scream. He reached blindly for his waterskin, unable to tear his eyes away from white face. He lifted her shoulders up, helping her sit, supporting her body with his own, he lifted the water to her mouth.

Aragorn looked down at the Elven fabric, expecting to see blood blooming over it, but no blood came through, the fabric somehow holding her together. Aragorn found himself laughing through tears, holding her closer to him. How many times had he labored over wounds, trying to stop the flow of blood? Never dreaming of slashing into the precious gift from a woman who has sailed to the Undying Lands. But now, in his hour of utmost need, when everything else had failed; now that magical cloth would be her saving.

Eowyn raised a shaking hand and tipped the skin back again, filling her mouth with the cool liquid. Aragorn smiled own at her, brushing a hand over her hair. "It's going to be alright," he said over again her hair, still laughing and sobbing. He felt joy and hope wash over him as he watched her lift her arms, strength returning to her body. He kissed the top of her head, his whole body trembling with emotion.

Eowyn swished the water in her mouth, clearing the taste of blood. She leaned away from Aragorn to spit it into the grass. At least the taste of death was gone, she thought, resting her head back on his shoulder, tucking it into the place it had always belonged. She could feel his body shaking, tense with powerful muscles that lay under his skin. In the same moment, she felt the energy draining away from her body, every breath more difficult than the last.

"Take me home," Eowyn said under her breath. Aragorn nodded, lifting her up, holding her as close as his impressive body climbed easily into the horse's back. But Eowyn's eyes were focused on something different. Arwen's form stood clearly in front of her, her dark hair blowing softly in the night breeze, her arms out. "Take me," Eowyn breathed, fighting to take in air as her eyes grew heavy. "Home," she finished as their horse rushed past Arwen.

..::..

Aragorn felt time slow, his heart hammering to the same beat as the horse's hooves underneath him galloping over the grassy fields. Aragorn's eyes trained on the sparkle of lights in front of him, Edoras within reach. He spurred his horse even faster until it felt as though its hooves were flying over the ground, not even touching the earth. He felt Eowyn's head shift slightly and he glanced down as it rolled off his chest, lolling backward, her neck bent and bouncing with the horse's gait. Aragorn felt his heart drop into his stomach and he let go of the reins, letting the horse run its own course. Using his now free hand, he pressed Eowyn's face back into his chest. He held her cheek in his palm, pressing her face into his chest, rolling his shoulders to hold her close. His fingers moved down ever so slowly, almost afraid to check, but they found the slow soft beat of her pulse. He held her tight as the horse climbed through the city's hills, up towards the Golden Hall.

"Daddy!" he heard Awena's voice scream to him as they reached the stone steps. Aragorn looked up from Eowyn's face for a second and saw Awena standing on the ledge, clutching Eldarion's side. Lothiriel was standing behind them, her hands on their shoulders, worry creasing her brows.

The horse took the last few steps in its stride and before it had even stopped moving, Aragorn was swinging down, hitting the stone. He held Eowyn with one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders.

Lothiriel gasped, seeing Eowyn's mutilated face, her head tipped back and her hair a waterfall tinged in red. Awena rushed forward, starting to cry again, reaching for Eowyn's hand where it hung limply behind Aragorn's back. But she shied away at the cuts on Eowyn's palms, her eyes growing wide, looking at the exposed bone in the hand that had soothed her so many times.

Without stopping or a word, Aragorn strode in the hall, help was within reach.

"Is she…" Eldarion couldn't finish the question as his eyes followed his father's back into the Hall.

Lothiriel glanced down at the children, Awena left standing, her hand empty, Eldarion beside her wondering if what his father carried was the corpse of his mother now. She couldn't answer him, she didn't know herself. Eowyn's body had been so limp, her face so white. "Come," Lothiriel said, leading them into the Golden Hall. "Your room is prepared!" She called after Aragorn, unable to catch up to his long strides.

Aragorn didn't turn, but headed into the hall that led there, disappearing into the dark hall.

Lothiriel paused, reaching out a hand to stop Eldarion as he followed. "I want to see her," Eldarion said, turning to look up at her.

Lothiriel didn't speak, just looked down into the boy's pleading eyes, the eyes of his mother and her own husband.

"I watched her fight and I saw as she was hurt," he said, the pleading boy slipping away, authority now in his voice. "I am going to my mother," Eldarion finished.

Lothiriel nodded and let her hand drop, following close behind. Awena walked, pressed in close to Lothiriel's side, crying for her mother incoherently.

..::..

When Aragorn saw their door at the end of the hall his heart stabbed in pain, his memory replaying only nights ago when they had laughed as he carried her over his shoulder like a misbehaving child. Now, the door stood open, fires burning in the room, lighting it almost to day. As his feet hit the soft carpets, he remembered how he had slipped, dropping her into the bed the night before. Now he longed so deeply to lay her down and crawl in beside her, let her run her fingers over his bare skin. But the bed was made, towels laid over the blankets, ready to welcome her broken body. Herbs and bandages lined the other side of the bed, where he had slept.

Slowly, as if the bed would break her into pieces, Aragorn laid her head onto the pillow. How many times in the throes of passion had he tossed her into it lovingly? The way she bounced with impact. Now, h is arms moved gently out from underneath her, as if she were the most delicate thing he had ever touched.

"Boil water," Aragorn said without looking up at the two women waiting on the other side of the room, his voice flat and emotionless. Now there was no time for his tears, now he had to work.

Behind him, Aragorn heard the door close; Lothiriel, Eldarion and Awena coming to stand behind him. Part of him wanted to turn away from Eowyn and hold his children tight, press their small bodies into his chest and wipe away their tears. But he would not leave Eowyn, he had sworn to her too many times to count that he would never leave her. So instead, he didn't look up at them, he couldn't bear to see their faces looking to him.

Aragorn took a sharp knife from the pile of tools in front of him and slipped it into the fabric at Eowyn's hips, carefully cutting open her dress. Then again under her breast, then down her middle, following the line of her hard abdomen, opening the fabric to reveal the many wounds covering her body. He heard Lothiriel make a choking sound at the sight behind him, but he did not stop working. Without the pressure of the bandages around her, blood began to leak out, dripping down her sides in red tracks.

"My Lord, the herbs your son requested," an old man said, handing him a bottle of athelas.

Aragorn's mouth twitched up as he took it, pride welling up inside him. Without hesitation he opened the lid, took out a dried clump and started to chew it in no time to mix a proper paste.

"We must get her away," the old healer said. "It is too easy to slip away like this." He crossed to the same side of the bed, a small vial in his hand. Aragorn nodded, lifting Eowyn up, sliding more pillows under her, propping her up so the soft feathers supported her head. The old healer rested his hand on her forehead gently, tipping her head back, his free hand opening her mouth just slightly to drip a dark liquor between her lips. He closed her mouth again and waited. Aragorn's hand stilled as he waited for her eyes to open. "Lady Eowyn," the healer said softly, as if he were calling his own child.

Aragorn glanced to him, not knowing his face, but of course every knew Eowyn's face. Everyone loved the princess of their country. The healer dripped another drop into her mouth and her touched her unhurt cheek.

Eowyn's eyes slid open and focused on the healer's face. He dipped his chin in respect, but she only breathed out Aragorn's name. He was there in a moment, the healer moving aside for him. Aragorn brushed his hands over her head, leaning to press his lips to her forehead. "I'm here," he said, leaning over her.

Eowyn smiled, lifting her hand to hold his wrist, his hands still on her face. "Almost home," she said, her eyes beginning to shut.

"No," Aragorn said calmly, reaching his hand out blindly. The healer placed the small bottle in his outstretched hand. "We are home," he said, dripping it into her mouth. "You're safe now, our children are safe. Now it is time to heal."

Eowyn said nothing, just looked deep into Aragorn's' eyes, as if memorizing the soft grey. Aragorn looked down at her body. Beside him, the healer began to pour a white liquid onto her cuts, dabbing them with a cloth when the blood began to foam. Eowyn moaned at the pain, her hand dropping from his wrist, sliding down to touch the source of the pain.

"They have to be cleaned," Aragorn said, threading his fingers through hers. He brought them up to his mouth, but Eowyn winced at the contact. Aragorn looked down and for the first time saw that her hands were covered in blood, not only from her other wounds, but also the deep gashes cut through her palms. He glanced over his shoulder to Eldarion, looking for an explanation, but the boy's eyes were trained on the ground, unable to look at the blood seeping out of his mother.

Aragorn turned back to Eowyn, taking the saturated cloth from her healer and dabbing it onto Eowyn's hand. He spat the chewed leaf in his hand and pressed it into the opening of the cut. He thought of how her hands had touched him from the very beginning, how they had lit his blood to flame. He took a thing strip of cloth and wrapped it sound her hand, then down to her wrist, tying it once. "Can you move your fingers?" he asked, holding her arm protectively.

Eowyn looked down and her fingers twitched once then slowly curled into a loose fist.

"Good." Aragorn smiled, laying her hand down and bandaging the other. He kissed her forehead again and began to start on her other wounds.

Eowyn let out a cry as he touched her skin, pain fuzzing out the edges of her vision. In the corner of the room, Awena pressed her face into Lothiriel's skirts at the sound. Now that the Elven fabric was gone, blood began to fill her lung again, her breath came in shallow rasping breaths. Eowyn closed her eyes, feeling as though she was drowning slowly in her own bed. Everything seemed to fall into place, her dreams of blood blooming over her, the beach, the images of her lungs filling with water.

Aragorn pressed the past he had made into the open wound, letting his fingers brush over the soft skin of the underside of her breast. He glanced up to Eowyn's face and saw her eyes beginning to close, listening to her labored breathing. Her shoulders lifted off the pillow as she choked on the blood in her throat. Aragorn flew to her, lifting her head off the pillow, slipping in behind her to let her head rest on his chest.

Pain exploded over Eowyn's broken ribs as she coughed blood, it dripped down over her chin. Again, blackness pulled down on her.

Lothiriel closed her eyes, she was no healer but she knew the blood dripping off her chin on the bare skin of her abdomen was no sign of her healing. She took Eldarion's hand squeezed tightly. His skin was covered in a cool sweat that beaded on his temples as if he had a fever. Lothiriel moved across the room and poured water form a jug that sat on Eowyn's dressing table. She pressed the cup into the boy's hands but he only stared down at the water.

Aragorn rubbed his hand over Eowyn's arm affectionately as her coughing fit ended. "Good," he said, letting her lean into him. "Cough it out."

The darkness covered Eoywn's eyes, she blinked but there was still only darkness, as if someone had extinguished every light in the room all at once. Her body begged for her to lay back down, to close her eyes and let go.

"My lord," the old healer said softly, drawing Aragorn's eyes up from Eowyn. "Give her some of this to ease the pain."

Aragorn took the cup, looking down at the milky white liquid and shook his head, swallowing hard. "No," he said firmly. "She has lost too much blood, this much will stop her heart."

Across the room, Eldarion's head shot up, hearing his father's words. He looked between his mother's face to the healer and then back up to his father.

"She is suffering," the old man said. "It's my job as a healer to take away that suffering."

"No, Aragorn growled. "Your job," he paused, taking in the old man before him and his Eowyn as she lay in his arms. "Your job, healer, is to heal her."

The old man nodded, laying a fresh cloth over the opening at her hip and pressing down against the flow of blood.

Eowyn gasped at the pressure, lifting shaking hand up to touch Aragorn's hand on her arm. "Aragorn," he said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Aragorn slipped out from behind her, lowering her back down onto the pillows. He took a clean cloth and ran it over her chin, managing to clean away the warm wet blood, but red still smeared over her pale skin.

"Aragorn," Eowyn said again, still his hands. "Give me the drink," she said, her voice sounding like a child's in his ears. The sound of it alone felt as if she had taken his heart and shredded it as easily as a piece of paper.

"Eowyn," Aragorn said, crouching over her, running the back of his fingers over her cheek. He had always been able to communicate so much just by breathing her name. The one word communicating his pleading and worry, his begging her to stay beside him.

Eowyn smiled and slowly reached for him. Aragorn caught her hand, pressing it to his cheek, his eyes drifted shut at her touch, letting tears slip out from under his lashes. "Please," Eowyn said, between shallow gasps. "I have lived more lives than a human should be gifted."

Aragorn shook his head. Eowyn was delirious from the blood loss, her words not making sense; but deep inside him, he knew what she was saying. "You're still so young," he said, his heart breaking. He wished now that he could replace her, that he was the one laying before her. That was the way it was always supposed to end. He had seen it many times, his hair white with age, Eowyn's smile the last thing he would see before he closed his eyes, slipping into the next world.

"How many times," Eowyn gasped, looking deep into his eyes, "have I been to the beach and back again," she said every word with effort, stopping for gasps of pain. Aragorn didn't wipe away his tears as she spoke, he only shook his head, refusing to hear her. "I wasn't finished," she said through tears of her own. "Our children," she stopped, letting her eye closed and gathering the last scraps of strength to help Aragorn release his hold on her. As soon as her eyes closed, she saw the beach as clearly as if she had just opened them again. As soon as her eyes closed, she saw the beach as clearly as if she had just opened them again. She stood in the cool water, close enough to the shore that Aragorn stood in the dry sand.

"Yes," Aragorn said. "Our children, think of them. You're their mother," he begged, sobs clawing up his throat.

Eowyn smiled and dragged her eyes open, still hearing the crashing waves in her mind. "They're not babies anymore," she said, smiling to herself. She remembered nursing them and holding their tiny bodies, watching them grow before her. "Now you teach them," she said.

Aragorn shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, Eowyn, no," he said over and over.

Lothiriel felt tears slide down her cheeks and she swallowed her own sobs. Her heart broke for Aragorn, she could feel the waves of emotion pouring over him and knew she would have been crushed under them already if she was in his place. She looked down at the children beside her. Awena was leaning into her, as if without Lothiriel's leg she would be on the ground, unable to stand. Eldarion stood, his back to her, his eyes trained on the scene in front of them. He seemed hollow, as If the child had left his own body and was somewhere else entirely.

"My lord," the healer said again, drawing everyone's eyes to him. Everyone except for Eowyn's, her blues eyes growing distant, looking up at the dark ceiling above her. "The bleeding cannot be quelled."

Aragorn broke at his words, his body seeming to fall to broken bits around him, leaving his soul bare to the room around him. "No," was all he could say, his voice more a cry than anything else. He fell off the side of the bed, not letting go of Eowyn's hand, clutching it so tightly he thought it might break all over again.

Around him, the room seemed to take a breath, then burst into motion. Lothiriel reached out and caught Eldarion as his knees buckled. The two maids turned and gathered new clothes. The healer took the cup from Eowyn's bedside table and lifted it to her lips. "May your travel through the water be filled with peace," he prayed over her. "As we are brought forth through the water of our mother's womb, so may we go through the water again and find our way to the afterlife." He touched her forehead with his weathered fingers, praying words long forgotten by most, then stepped back. "May you be blessed for all you have done," he whispered. "You have been a tool of the gods, and I pray now that they honor your service." He bowed deeply, then backed away from the bed.

..::..

Lothiriel gasped as she saw Eldarion start to fall before her. His knees giving out involuntarily. She heard a sob escape his lips for the first time as his hope was dashed. He reached an arm forward and slipped it under the boy's shoulder, pulling his back into his chest. "Awena, come," she said as Eldarion broke down into sobs that wracked his whole body. She led the children into her husband's childhood room, she brought Eldarion to the bed and help him lay down. He rolled to face away from her, sucking in air in gasps through his sobs.

"Elly," Awena said softly, climbing up beside him, rubbing his back with her small hand as her brother shook.

Lothiriel ducked back into the adjacent room, gathering clean cloths, water and healing salves.

"It's alright, Elly," Awena said, laying her cheek on his arms, her hand still stroking him affectionately.

"No, Awena," he choked out. "It's not alright. Our mother is going to die." Eldarion sobbed, still turned away from her. Awena shook her head. "DO you know what that means?" Eldarion cried. "That means they're going to put her into one of those mounds, seal it with stone and we're never go to see her again."

Awena stayed quiet, but la down next to her brother, sliding her arms under him and around his waist, tucking her face between his shoulder blades. "Elly," was all he said, his arm back on her forehead.

..::..

Lothiriel closed her eyes before the opened the door back into the room with the children, taking a breath. Eowyn had gone completely still, her face whiter than Lothiriel thought possible. Her breath sounded through the room, a low quiet sound, more of a rasp than a breath. She knew it would not be long before Eowyn was gone. When she opened the door, her heart sank once more when she saw the children laying beside each other, holding onto to each other. Eldarion had rolled to face the door, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block the images he had seen. Awena was pressed into his chest, held close, but it was her small child's hand that moved in loving motions over Eldarion's side.

Lothiriel set down her tools and went to the closet, bringing fresh clothes for the children. Awena's dress was damp from the waist down; Eldarion was splattered in Orc blood, his mother's blood soaked through the knees of his pants. She breathed a long exhale, sitting on the edge of the bed as she wondered what these once happy, carefree children had seen.

"May I help clean your cuts?" Lothiriel asked softly.

After a pause, Awena lifted her head and nodded, slipping from Eldarion's arms. Awena began to work at the laces of her dress, then slid off the bed, letting it fall away. She pulled the simple nightdress Lothiriel had brought over her head.

Lothiriel lifted her back up onto the mattress, cupping her shin in one hand. She used a warm cloth to clean the mud from Awena's cheeks, then gently the blood from her soft mouth. She handed the little girl another cloth dipped in warm water. "Clean you legs," she said gently. Awena nodded, slipping the cloth under her dress as Lothiriel went to retrieve a brush. Awena sat in silence as Lothiriel brushed out her dark hair until it almost floated around her.

"Eldarion," the woman said, softly touching his shoulder, but he flinched away from her.

"I want my mother," Eldarion said under his breath, longing for her soothing touch and knowing he would never feel it again.

Lothiriel felt a tear slide down her cheek, feeling the boy's loss.

Awena reached for the cloth from Lothiriels' hand and crawled over the bed to Eldarion, where he lay staring up at the ceiling. Gently, she took his hand and placed it in her lap, touching the wet skin to his skinned palms

Lothiriel smiled sadly at their bond and wondered if this was what Eomer and his sister had been like as children. Holding each other in this very room after their own mother's death. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to call to Eomer now, to bring him home before Eowyn was truly gone so he could say his goodbyes. She knew her death would break him in a way he could never recover from.

"Eldarion," Lothiriel said softly when Awena had finished cleaning his hands. "This salve will help take away the sting."

Eldarion only shook his head and climbed away form the bed, walking to the water basin without a word. He splashed cold water onto his face, letting it cool his hot tears. He turned away from them, changing into the clean clothing without a word.

Awena's eyes met Lothiriel's, her face painted with worry. Lothiriel opened her arms and the girl crawled into them, always more open and trusting that her reserved brother. "I want to tell Mommy I love her," Awena said softly.

Lothiriel nodded and moved to the door, opening it a crack and looking through, then motioned for the children to follow her back into the corner where they had stood before.

..::..

Aragorn rested his forehead on the edge of the bed, the room around him spinning out of his control. Behind him, a fire was built up, it's warm red light casting dark shadows around the room. The heat pouring off of it burnt his back and made his skin hot and clammy. He squeezed his eyes shut and listened to Eowyn's ragged breathing. His teeth ground together, his jaw muscles spasming under the pressure. He knew that the knife had hit her lung and it was collapsed inside of her chest. He had seen dark black bruises that covered her broken ribs, and he had watched what seemed like rivers of blood soaking through every layer of her clothing. Down in his core, deep in his bones, he knew that not even his Eowyn could heal form these wounds. Her body lay out in front of him, broken; her body that he loved so deeply, every inch of her skin, he could trace by heart. Her body that never failed to light him on fire, even after years he craved the feel of it, the taste of her skin, his desire for her never wavering. He felt sobs crawl from deep in his stomach, fighting to make it to his lips.

Tilting his head, Aragorn saw Eldarion huddled in the corner of the room, holding Awena close to him. His arms were snaked around her body, as if he could protect her from the terror of the room around them. He wished he could split himself into pieces, to go and hold his children close, and to stay and be close to Eowyn.

His eyes snapped back to Eowyn as she groaned. Aragorn watched the white cloth around her middle bloom a slow red. His fingers brushed over the white skin of her hard abdomen, now red and sticky with her blood. He stroked his hand over her gently, trying to comfort her the way he knew he touch did to him. He watched as the deep gashes in her silky skin slowly oozed dark crimson. Aragorn's stomach tuned, watching the blood slow, knowing her heart was failing, not strong enough to pump life through her.

"The poppy is beside the bed if she is still in pain," the healer said with a low bow, then he left the room.

Aragorn wanted to scream, wanted to lash all the wrath building inside him at the man who had stopped working to heal Eowyn, but he knew there was nothing left to do. Gandalf and the Elves had left this world and there was no one coming to rescue her. He himself had worked and prayer over her like he had done so many times before, but he had not answered his call.

Eowyn's hand moved from the bed, trembling to touch Aragorn's where it lay covering a bandage, gently pressing, trying to stop of the flow of her life blood draining out before his eyes. His lifted his face from her wounds and watched her eyes flicker open. He watched her fighting to focus on his face and he couldn't hold his sobs any longer. His arms wrapped around her fragile body and he buried his face into her chest, his forehead resting on her collarbone. He let his tears flow over her shoulder.

"Aragorn," she breathed, lifting her hand to his head.

Aragorn's heart felt like a candle in a rainstorm, the wind blowing him back and forth, and yet the flame of hope would not be extinguished. It can't end like this, he thought desperately to himself. His mind refusing to comprehend was his eyes saw before him. Eowyn's hand began to slip down, before it could fall to the bed Aragorn lifted his head and caught it, holding her cold fingers close to his chest. He looked down at her deep blue eyes and wiped the tears away from her temples. Her lips that were once so warm and pink had turned to an ashy white, lost in her pale skin.

"Let me see them," Eowyn whispered. "I want to look at them again, before…" She mumbled her words, trailing off.

Aragorn turned and called for his children. Awena lifted her head from Eldarion's chest and ran towards the bed. She hid her face in Eowyn's side, picking up handfuls of the blankets that lay on the bed, pressing them to her eyes, as if she could shield herself from the pain.

"Awena," Eowyn said, "my little Arwen." She touched the girl's soft dark ringlets where they brushed her fingers.

Awena lifted her tear-stained eyes, looking to her father, trying to comprehend as her world seemed to tip out from underneath her. Only a few hours ago she had played on the river, feeling the warmth of her mother's watchful eye on her back. Now those same eyes struggled to even stay open. Aragorn ran his hand over the back of Awena's head lovingly. The corners of Eowyn's mouth turned upwards ever so slightly, recognizing their bond. She knew Awena would be the salve to heal Aragorn's wounds.

Eldarion stood a few steps away from the bed, his eyes were bed but his back was straight and he wouldn't look at the bandages covering his mother's body. "Eldarion," Eowyn said softly, and the boy's blue eyes met their identical. He seemed to crumple and Aragorn moved to pull him close to him, his arm wrapped around his chest. "You have so much strength in you," Eowyn said, touching his cheek. "I love you both," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You have made me happier than I thought I could ever be." Eowyn smiled.

"I don't want you to go," Eldarion stammered, his eyes pleading. He pressed her hand to his cheek harder. "Momma," he said, feeling her hand go limp inside his.

Pain passed over Eowyn's face and a shiver went through her body. Aragorn moved around Eldarion to place his hand on her cheek; he saw the small cup beside the bed, filled with a milky white liquid.

Eldarion looked up at his father then kissed his mother's blood-stained fingers, placing her hand down onto her stomach. Aragorn watched the carefree boy walk away and knew deep in his heart that he would never be the same.

Lothiriel moved from where she had stood, her back against the wall and opened the door to the neighboring room. And walked Eldarion and Awena through, her hands on their backs. She glanced back over her shoulder, trying to communicate that she would look after them and comfort them as best eh could, but Aragorn's eyes didn't lift from Eowyn's, as if even a glance away would waste precious time.

Aragorn blinked, his tears landing on Eowyn's cheek. He could feel her pain radiating through her body and up into his. He took the cup and held it to her lips. "Drink more," he said, "it will ease your pain." Eowyn swallowed, her eyes drifting shut. Aragorn knew the milk would lessen her suffering, but it would also pull her down quicker, as if into sleep.

"Aragorn," Eowyn said. "I want to be in your arms."

Aragorn knelt beside her on the bed they had shared so many times. Slipping his arms behind her shoulders, he lifted her up close to him like a sleeping child. Her body so small beside his, she fit into him so perfectly, completing all the missing pieces within him.

Eowyn fought to open her eyes. "Strider," she whispered, her mind playing over the first time she saw his face in the long grass of her homeland. Darkness began to blur the edges of her vision and she could only see his face above hers. "My Aragorn, I have loved you more than life itself."

Aragorn lost himself in the deep blue ocean of her eyes, still in awe of her beauty. He studied the dark soft lashes and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Her long silky hair draped over his elbow; he lifted a hand to run his fingers to gently touch her forehead then ran them over the wheat-colored waterfall. He lifted her almost weightless body and pressed his lips to her forehead, then brushed their lips together, hoping to feel the sweet honey taste of her mouth. But her lips were cold and he was met with only the metallic taste of blood. He let out a shuddering breath, listening to her own uneven breathing, the last time they would share the same air.

Opening his eyes, Aragorn looked down at her, his eves traveling the length of her. How could so much of a person be contained in such a small fragile thing as a body? He wondered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. How could all of their memories, everything she had ever done be held in something so vulnerable, so easily killed? How could she leave when they were so knit together? He felt as if they were one person, what would be left of him without Eowyn? She was his strength, his purpose.

Aragorn felt her freehand move to touch the fabric of his shirt, even the touch of her fingers was comforting. Eowyn's lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. He touched their foreheads together, trying to find the words to tell her, but only sobs came out of his mouth. When he lifted his head again, her eyes drifted shut and he somehow knew that he would never seem them open again. He choked and pulled her into him even closer, laying her head on his chest, his back bending inward to cradle her cheek next to his heart. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her body to his. He tried to quiet his own crying, to hear her slow breathing as he rocked back and forth. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathing in her smell.

He took a shaking breath and felt Eowyn's body shudder in his arms. Aragorn looked down, slipping her head into his elbow so he could see her peaceful face. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, just like when she slept. Her face was expressionless, any traces of pain gone. He felt her hand slipping from his skin and watched it fall out of the circle of his arms. Aragorn felt his own heart stop and the oxygen drain out of his lungs, leaving him empty and hollow. He watched, waiting for her chest to rise again, for her eyes to open and meet his, but her body was empty, his Eowyn was gone.

"No, no, no," Aragorn whispered, touching Eowyn's cheek, rubbing his thumb over her skin. "Eowyn," he choked on the word. He pressed his hand to her chest, trying to find the constant beating of her heart, feeling the fading warmth of her skin on his palm. "Eowyn," he sobbed again and he pulled her in close to him like an infant. Her head was resting on his shoulder and her face pressed against his neck, their chests pressed to one another. He no longer needed to be gentle of her wound, he only wanted to be as close to her as he could, to hold onto the last bits of warmth in the still body, to crush her into him so their bodies would become one as their soul had been.

Aragorn's body gave out, grief washing over him and he fell forward, bending over her body, his forehead pressing into the mattress. He heard a man screaming as if his heart and organs were being ripped out of his torso, the voice raw, pure rage and brokenness. He had heard those sounds before, only when the poor soul had been tortured to the point of death. Then he realized the sounds were coming from his own mouth, muffled slightly by the thick blankets under him. He pulled himself up, leaning his head back as pain like he had never felt before washed over him. No physical pain could even compare to the feeling of Eowyn's soul detangling form his, leaving him empty. He opened his mouth and let the sound rip through him, screaming into the night so loud he was sure all of Edoras could hear him. The scream broke into sobs and he let his head fall, tears poured down his nose and his chin, falling onto Eowyn's skin, now whiter than it had ever been in life. He felt if he had been flayed, every inch of his skin peeling back to reveal a raw open wound. He wanted to run, to forget the pain and the loss, forget where he was and even who he was. Madness would be better than a world without Eowyn.