Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

This tale was written out of a challenge to myself. I wanted to write a four chapter post-rotk adventure story with one of my favourite characters featured in each chapter. The result of this method is perhaps a more sparse tale with less introspection and more action/adventure. I hope you enjoy the first chapter, would love to hear what you think and whether you plan to continue reading :)

Eowyn, Faramir and Legolas journey to Rhun in a desperate rescue mission to save the King of Rohan.

Eomer's chest shuddered beneath her blood-stained hands and Eowyn held him closer. Over her brother's laboured breathing she listened, but only the rustling of leaves and far off thunder reached her desperate ears.

"Eomer," she whispered, her own voice unfamiliar to her in its grief and terror, "Eomer, do not leave me here alone."

Fear for what might have become of Faramir and Legolas wracked what remained of her thoughts, and she nearly called out, wishing only for a sign they yet lived.

"It is not far now." Eowyn rose in her saddle as she rode, hair streaming and eyes bright. The lofty citadel of Edoras rose proudly ahead as she topped the rise.

She turned in the saddle to where Faramir and Legolas rode some way behind alongside their guard. Beregond had remained in Ithilien due to his banishment from Minas Tirith, through which they had passed, but a small contingent of the white company had ridden forth.

She raised her hand, gesturing to Meduseld and the home of her ancestors, and saw Faramir raise an arm and a smile in response.

She wondered at the Elf accompanying them on this visit, but did not resent his presence. She was still new to her home and her marriage and had not yet come to know Legolas as her husband had. Legolas and Faramir had spent much time together in the establishment of the new colony while Eowyn had eagerly helped those making new homes in Ithilien, many having lost their previous homes in the war. In accompanying them to Edoras she hoped she might come to know him better.

She turned, smiling back at them again. "I would ride the harder for this last mile!" Her gallop outstripped the others in their party, and the thunder of hooves drummed great joy into her heart. She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation.

Eowyn rode along the high stone and wood wall as she waited for the others to arrive, examining the repairs completed since the war, and the new spiked ramparts.

Returning to the gate, feeling flushed and exhilarated by the ride, she allowed Faramir to lift her down. He had removed his riding gloves and his hands were warm on her waist.

She breathed deeply of the familiar Rohan air, regaining her breath, and enjoyed the lingering touch at her waist.

"Someone is coming to greet us," Legolas said, squinting into the shadows cast by the warm sun.

Eowyn looked too, and recognised Heithin, keeper of the records since Eomer had taken up his Kingship.

The portly man was out of breath, his cheeks red and an expression of concern on his face. "We saw you from the city," he said, still breathing hard.

"Good Heithin," she grasped his hands within her own, "tell me, how fares Edoras since I departed? How fares my brother?"

"Do not say he is ill?" The happiness of a moment before fled quickly, slipping into concern.

"Not ill, my lady. I met you here at the gates as I would not have idle ears overhear what I have to tell you.

"They claimed they wished to create new ties of friendship after long years of war. They came, so they said, out of the West, where they had traveled. They would visit Gondor too on their way back to their own country."

"I feared as much," Heithin said, and sweat beaded on his brow. "They showed us no ill will while they stayed, and indeed spent many nights in the company of the city folk, entertaining with tales and songs.

The Lord King Eomer... he began to spend more and more time in the company of one of their ladies."

There was talk of a diplomatic visit, a party from Rohan traveling to the East. That is why, when the King was found to be missing this very morning, I hesitated to call out the riders.

"Could it be that he simply went to farewell the envoy?" Legolas suggested, the worry on Heithin's face showing that it wasn't a very likely possibility.

"Perhaps we can gain some clue from his chambers," Faramir suggested, "Have they been searched?"

"Not yet, his disappearance only just being discovered, I did not wish to alert the city until we were sure."

"And he left no note or sign?" Eowyn asked as they climbed the stairs to the hall.

When Heithin turned the key and pushed open the door of Eomer's room an undisturbed chamber met their eyes. There were bright green wall hangings and comfortable chairs; all seemed in order.

Eowyn stepped into the room after the other three, and the only thing that seemed to her out of the ordinary was the stuffiness of the chamber, as though it had not been aired for some time.

"This is strange," she said, "There are many clothes missing." She pointed out the gaps where garments would ordinarily have hung. "What kidnapper would take the time to prepare clothes for the ride?"

"This too seems odd." Faramir showed them several documents where the ink trailed off into a long scrawl mid sentence, as though Eomer had lost his chain of thought. "I do not like this." He looked to Eowyn, "We should check the stables to see what has been taken."

Heithin left them, and Eowyn sank down onto the bed. "This is not the homecoming I looked for."

"I wonder if they knew of our coming," Legolas said, "to have departed the night before we arrived."

Eowyn heard something rustle at her side, and rummaged beneath her, pulling out a crushed piece of parchment that had been hidden under the cushions.

"I do not doubt it," Eowyn said, standing quickly and looking out the window. "What kind of witch is this foreign lady to entrance my brother so?"

"A lady does not need to be a witch to gain such power over a man," Legolas said, then at Eowyn's flashing eyes, continued, "There is something unnatural, however, in this, and I fear for your brother's safety."

"To leave no note or message..." Faramir continued, "he was clearly not of his own mind." She felt Faramir take her arm and turned from the window. "What should we do? What do we risk by alerting the city to his departure? What danger are we placing Eomer in if we take riders and guards and follow in their tracks?"

"We can tell no-one," Eowyn whispered, and Faramir and Legolas did not contradict her.

Heithin offered to accompany them, but it took little to convince him the dangers of the situation. If the trail led towards Rhûn, their journey could last weeks, even months.

As it was they must needs wait until nightfall to depart, for they could not risk even the White Company knowing of the departure.

In the darkness of the night, Eowyn pulled the hood of her cloak more tightly about her face and readied their horses, fretting at the delay.

As she did so she overheard Faramir's words to Heithin. "If you have not received word in one month, send this to Gondor. Ensure it is handed to none other than the King." He looked grim, and Eowyn did not need to wonder why. She had never traveled to the East, but memories of the conflict of the war of the ring convinced her that even should they be welcomed by some, many would not welcome people of Gondor or Rohan.

She had only finished making ready their steeds when Faramir spoke close by, his beard brushing her cheek. "Gather your own belongings and we'll be ready to depart."

She looked to him and saw at once his gray face and tired eyes. She had paid little heed to those around her as they prepared, intent on packing what they would require to survive should they be forced to follow the Easterlings into the heart of their own land. Now she allowed her gratitude that she was not alone in this volatile mission to show, and brushed her hand over his worried brow.

He relaxed under her touch, and grasped her tightly to him for the briefest moment. "We will find him".

They steadied their sights and departed Edoras. It was hoped that their departure would not be remarked upon. As they rode she spared no thought for the company of Ithilien they had left behind and what they might think when they awoke to find their lords and lady gone. There had been no time to invent a story to explain their return, and she could only hope Heithin would think of something in their absence.

Despite her desire to see more of the world, riding into unknown lands brought Eowyn no joy. Any pause in their pursuit burned her like a slow fire, and she could barely take food while they yet began the long journey.

Sheltering under a light canopy of leaves as heavy rain drenched through to her undergarments, Eowyn barely recalled the hope with which she had set out from Emyn Arnen.

It had been over a week since leaving Edoras, and as they had feared the trail still led north-east. Crossing the Endwade and skirting the most ravaged areas of the Wold, their quarry was drawing them steadily towards Rhûn

During the long days, she wondered whether they had been foolish to set off alone and not alert a stronger force to Eomer's disappearance,. It was only when she reminded herself of the letter they had found, of how Eomer must have been compelled in some way to follow the Easterlings back to their own land, she knew they had been wise to have caution.

"You are kind to come with us, Legolas," Eowyn said, not for the first time, watching the Elf carefully peeling a fruit with deft fingers.

"Rain is of no concern to me," Legolas said, and indeed he seemed to barely feel the cold that had reached her very bones.

"Legolas is always perfectly turned out," Faramir put in, his small smile only a little jealous. He wiped a streak of mud from his own cheek to demonstrate the point.

"You should have known me in younger days," Legolas said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Eowyn tried to imagine the Elf as a child, but could not quite conjure the image.

"Do tell me, Legolas, how it was to live in Mirkwood as a child? We are on its borders now, after all, and I know so very little outside my own homeland."

As she waited for him to reply, the rain eased a little, and the flames of the fire grew stronger. She tugged at the sleeves of her cloak, curling her fingers further into its warmth.

"Look up to the night sky, to the stars," he said at last, "then see how the sparks from the fire reach upwards, and the colour of the firelight on the trees."

Eowyn followed the bright red sparks up into the sky, until her vision blurred and she saw a haze of distant stars and firelight. The trees around them were lit with a burnt light, and she saw Legolas and Faramir in the firelight too as though somehow changed; Legolas' sharp jaw and keen eyes softened and Faramir's usually gentle eyes reflecting the flames. She no longer felt the cold.

"That was Mirkwood," Legolas said softly, his voice not disturbing her vision, "but always behind the dancing lights and laughter lay a distant menace. See the shadow cast by the flames, behind every tree, beneath every bow, shadows..."

Eowyn could not help but shift her eyes behind the Elf, opening them wider to see further into the deep darkness out of their small circle of light. The smallest noises drew her ears and she tensed, feeling foolish that so suddenly she should become aware of these things, and that fear should rise so stiflingly inside her until she almost spoke it aloud.

"Ah, the words of Elves, my friend..." Faramir's steady voice broke into the world her mind had made for itself.

Legolas dropped from the tree in which he had been crouching with the silence of a cat.

Eowyn pressed her hand over her mouth to stop herself crying out in surprise. "Legolas," she hissed after she had recovered herself, "how long have you been hidden?"

There were tears on her cheeks, and he could see from the tautness of her movements that she was on the very edge of panic.

"Only a moment," he said quickly, putting his hands down over hers and feeling them tremble. He gently pried them away and bent to examine Eomer's shaking body.

"He has no wound," she said, seeing Legolas frown at the blood on her hands. "The blood is from my own small hurts. I fear Eomer's ailment is the poison."

Legolas frowned, noting the young man's tightly shut eyes and clenched jaw. "Perhaps this fever is no bad thing, the poison may be working its way out..."

"I had thought so too," she admitted, "but did not allow myself to believe it. Even so, what can we do?"

"I can support him." Legolas spoke with conviction, but Eomer's build was far heavier than his own, and he doubted his ability to move the man very far. "From the canopy I saw the edge of the forest, it is not so very far. Perhaps we can find help."

He threaded his arm beneath Eomer's left shoulder and Eowyn did the same on the right. With great exertion they were able to lift the half-unconscious man upright, and with Eowyn whispering urgent encouragement they set their steps towards the forest border.

They had come to the Brown Lands without sight or sign of anything but the horse-trail they followed. Legolas was wearied by the barren landscape and longed for trees and wildlife.

They had spoken little that morning, Eowyn visibly drained by concern for her brother, and Faramir anxious beneath a calm exterior.

Legolas rode last in line, the shimmering horizon and shifting white-fletched arrows in Faramir's quiver ahead of him reminding him disconcertingly of gulls over a quiet sea.

There were no birds here, and no quarry for their bows. He had seen doubt beginning to creep into his friend's eyes the further they travelled, and increasingly noticed the Steward's eyes lingering on his wife as she rode ahead.

Legolas was not surprised by the concern, and only wondered that no words had been spoken previously about Eowyn's fitness for the journey. With little or no experience of travel it had been a somewhat rash decision for them to set off alone, but he would not have been the one to face her quick temper in suggesting otherwise. There was much valour, too, in her care for her brother. He was ready to admit to himself that their eagerness to depart alone in this endeavour was born out of fear for their friend's safety, but no more sensible plan had come to him since.

It was nearing mid-morning when the hazy red blur ahead formed into shifting sands. He frowned at the sight. It was already some time since they had come across water and their supplies were not what they would have wished.

Their horses' hooves slipped as they left the marshy lands, accustoming themselves to the new terrain. Legolas and Faramir shared a look, the warmth of the sun suddenly unfriendly on their backs and necks.

They paused to rest mid afternoon, sitting in the shadow of their horses, for no other shade was to be found.

Legolas looked with concern to his companions. Eowyn had thrown a scarf over her head to keep off the worst of the sun, but her cheeks were flushed.

"I cannot abide heat," she said for the fourth time that day, pulling at the skirts which clung to her legs.

"Let us make no plans of moving here then," Faramir murmured, eyes closed, and hand questing for his waterskin instead of resting on his sword hilt.

"Oh for the cool rivers of Ithilien!" Eowyn sighed, smiling at some memory. "Have you ever swum bare under the moon, Legolas?"

"Take care, my lady", Legloas cautioned, amused, "we do not have water to waste on your husband's incredulity."

Eowyn had lain back on the hot sand, eyes closed too now, and a small smile at her lips.

"Come friends," Legolas said suddenly, rousing them. He could see that his companions were slipping into a drowsy stupor.

"Come, lady, before I resort to telling the tale of Estel and I finding two woodelves in the Entwash – that would make your husband start."

Faramir glared at them both. "I will say nothing," he said, "and keep my dignity."

He sprang to his feet and made to catch hold of her but she sidestepped him easily, "or your clothes!"

Legolas reached up and secured his belongings to his mare. "You chose your own path, my friend, with eyes open."

"Hmm." Faramir swung himself up into the saddle, patting the side of the horse's head fondly. "Had I known earlier of the Rohirrim's sense of humour I may have thought twice." The words were in jest, but all three were reminded of Eomer and the thought was sobering.

Eowyn was truly suffering by the next afternoon, her fair skin quickly reddening in the harsh sun.

The night had been another endurance, the heat giving way to the extreme chill of the night. They had huddled together, horses whining.

"We cannot go on much further," Legolas heard Faramir say quietly as they rode side by side. "Even now I do not know that we can endure the return journey."

A bright spark on the horizon caught Legolas' eyes and he lifted a hand to shade his eyes.

As the companions moved slowly on, Legolas also saw trees in the far distance, and make out the shapes to be those of men. They were on foot, but many times outnumbered their small party.

Eowyn was on edge, Legolas did not need to look closely to see it. She made herself relax at the words, but her lips were still tightly pressed together.

Legolas had encountered the Easterling people before, but only on the battlefield. He quickly took them in now, dark skin, hair and eyes, their clothing wrapped and light fabric, loose enough to brave the desert heat. Every man carried a weapon.

A cry went up as they were sighed, and Legolas saw the party spread defensively as they approached.

"Hail and well met," Legolas said when they drew close enough to converse, and the three of them bowed in greeting. They had dismounted and sheathed their weapons in a show of peace.

"Strangers are not welcome here." The man at the head of the Easterling band stepped forwards, curved blade un-sheathed. He was broad-shouldered and dark of hair and eyes. A wheal crossed the side of his set jaw.

"We seek a lost lord, Eomer, King of Rohan. We have come from far to find him." Legolas took care not to imply in word or look that these men knew anything of the disappearance.

"We do not see many Westerners in these lands. I would advise you to return to your country." The man shifted and Legolas tensed, unsure whether the words threatened repercussions should they not heed the advice. The man's clothes did not seem to be battle garb, merely loose-fitting wrapped garments, suitable for braving the desert heat.

"Come Jhov, let us welcome these travelers." Another man emerged from the group and placed his arm upon the arm of the first, forcing him to lower his blade. This second man's soft voice was accented, but less so, and there was something aristocratic in his bearing.

He moved to grip Legolas' forearm in greeting, embroidered silk garments moving softly in the wind as he stepped forwards. The touch of the man's hand was cold and firm upon his own.

Legolas felt the men's eyes on him, but did not sense their stares were unfriendly, merely curious.

"I am Legolas of nearby Mirkwood," he said, "and with me rides Féle and Terra, faithful attendants to Rohan's royal family. Our concern for our King drew us here, but as you see we were not prepared." He gestured to the near-empty water skins, hoping to convey in these terms that they posed no threat.

"I am Ritan," the tall man said in reply, seemingly amused at their lack of supplies. He turned his head to say said something to the men in his own language, long dark hair gleaming in the sun. Legolas caught Jhov's darkening look behind the man's back.

"The safety of this estate is my charge, Ritan," Jhov said as the Ritan turned back to them. "Would you trust these three of whom we know nothing? I say we make them a gift of sufficient supplies and send them back on their way."

"Do not fear," Ritan said quickly as he saw the three companions sharing looks. "Your lost King is found, and I shall not send you back into the friendless wilds. Follow and you will be fed, watered, and reunited."

"Thank you," Eowyn said, her voice showing her relief at finding kindness where they had expected hostility.

Jhov's eyes darkened further, but he said nothing, sheathing his weapon and turning to lead the way. Legolas determined to keep a sharp eye on the man.

Legolas sensed Faramir tense beside him as Eowyn allowed Ritan to take her arm, but without further question they followed the group of men towards the distant trees.

Legolas staggered again under Eomer's weight as they came to the edge of the forest. Eowyn halted too, panting.

"Where?" Eowyn could not yet see, but followed as he drew them over the small creek.

Legolas paused with a hand on the stone well as they reached the front door, and took all Eomer's weight as Eowyn pounded violently upon the door. It was flung open, and a young lady with dark eyes peered out at them. Suspicion flittered across her features, but changed quickly as she saw past Eowyn to where Legolas supported her brother.

"Come... come," she said quickly, pulling the door wide for them and searching the landscape behind them.

"We thank you." Eowyn thanked the lady many times as they maneuvered Eomer through the narrow hall into a small dark room with two beds. Eomer groaned loudly as Legolas set him down.

"Mitra," the lady said, and her accent was far thicker than any they had yet encountered.

"I am Terra," Eowyn returned, remembering, even in her fear, the name they had chosen for her, "and this is Legolas... and Eomer. We think he has been poisoned."

Mitra frowned. "Poison..." she repeated and Legolas saw her grasp of their language was not strong.

Eowyn sank down on the bed, a cloud of dust stirring around her, just as Eomer seemed to stir. His eyes flew open and seemed not to see his sister, but some other horror.

"Demon," he hissed, and Eowyn recoiled. "Give me my sword and I shall show the meaning of deception."

Legolas looked into the glass and hesitated. He did not ordinarily wear anything other than his own practical attire, but it seemed ungracious to refuse the hospitality offered.

Sighing, he pulled the elaborately stitched waistcoat over the other strangely wrapped and tied garments, which had taken some time to puzzle out.

He would that they had been taken directly to see Eomer, but instead a servant girl had led them up a staircase to the very top of the house and into these chambers.

From a distance Legolas had believed it to be a house, but as they had drawn nearer, a small palace would have been a better description. The grandeur of it astounded him; carpeted hallways and elaborate stonework lined the rooms and corridors, and the main staircase banners curled upward until they twisted into the carved heads of wolves on the upper balcony.

Eowyn and Faramir had appeared as shocked as himself, none of them having anticipated so much luxury in this barren landscape. He himself had expected some den of rogue bandits, in which Eomer was being held against his will; the eager hospitality was disconcerting.

A soft knock on the door put him on edge, and he reached for his knife, slipping it into his boot before casting a last glance at his bow.

His friend looked as uncomfortable as he himself felt, having matching garments to the Elf, but in blue instead of green.

"This is an odd rescue mission," the Steward said, and Legolas caught the glint of steel as the other man concealed his own blade amid layers of cloth.

Eowyn appeared behind her husband, and the scarlet dress that had been laid out for her took even Legolas' breath. Eowyn was tugging at a gold waist tie, frowning. She held her own long blade at her side.

"Eowyn," Faramir said, after taking in her appearance, "my love, whatever your skill in disguise you shall not succeed in concealing that blade."

Eowyn frowned further at their amused expressions. "I know it, but I did wish… never mind..."

She slipped the blade into the bedroom and carefully shut the door. "Come then. I will use my bare hands if I must – or perhaps I may purloin a knife from the dinner table!"

At the base of the stairs Jhov met them. He still wore his dusty clothes from their first meeting, and the derision in the man's eyes made Legolas feel uncomfortably overdressed.

"It is time for me to return to my own home. Enjoy your meal, and I caution you, do not overindulge in drink. The wine is strong and the risk of foolish words stronger still."

This last was said beneath his breath, and Legolas watched the man as he turned and left by the front door.

Legolas did not know whether it had been threat or warning, but he would stay all the more alert for it.

"Welcome guests from far lands." A melodious voice, slightly accented echoed through from the further chamber.

Legolas led the way into the sparkling dining hall. Candles of all shapes and sizes spread across the tables and sideboard. A glittering chandelier drooped from the ceiling, shining as though made from mithril. Soft light filled the chamber and Legolas saw Eowyn search the room quickly for Eomer.

There were only two figures at the large table. Apart from their dark hair and eyes, there was a similarity about them that made Legolas suspect they were related.

"The lady Kaleri," the young man said, indicating to his female companion. "My sister."

"Where is King Eomer?" Eowyn asked at the first opportunity. Despite her delicate dress Legolas wondered they did not quail under her gaze.

The lady Kaleri, who wore soft wrapped silken garments, more revealing than those that would be seemly in Gondor, approached the three and took Eowyn's hands in her own. She was older than Eowyn by some years, and by comparison seemed graceful and languid where Eowyn was impulsive.

There was a reassuring calm about her person, and a strong perfume that reminded Legolas of something familiar.

"Worry not, your King is safe and well. He will join us shortly, and you will see with your own eyes."

The lady took Faramir and Legolas' hands in turn, Eowyn's eyes darkening as she did so, and they told her their names.

"Legolas." She ran the name over her tongue, her bright red lips seeming to enjoy the sound. Legolas shifted slightly, finding something personal in her look that made him uncomfortable.

Ritan made no move to greet them further, lounging in his chair at the table, and waved a hand for them to join him.

"Come sister, do not make these poor travelers wait longer for the nourishment they have so long missed."

They took their seats at the table, Eowyn by the side of the lady and Legolas and Faramir opposite. The food was heavily spiced, as was the wine. After their long journey any food was welcome, but the feast was particularly delicious, and although because of the spices Legolas drank more wine than he ordinarily would have, he felt content.

Eowyn barely touched her food or drink, and seemed intent on waiting until Eomer appeared.

"You do not say," the Lady Kaleri said after the first course was done, "why you have travelled all this way, into such dangerous conditions. I do hope it is not to carry any ill news."

"Eomer is our lord and our friend," Faramir said, continuing to choose his words carefully, "and when he left without word..."

"Without word?" The lady looked incredulity to her brother. "Ah I see there has been some mistake. The lord Eomer left word that he would be paying us a short visit. We never dreamed it would cause trouble."

The long trailing diamonds at Kaleri's ears shone in the candle light as she laughed.

Legolas felt himself reassured, perhaps this was no more than a mis-understanding. This lord and lady appeared amused by the trouble they had caused. Perhaps there was only vain thoughtlessness and not maliciousness in their actions.

Eowyn still appeared unsatisfied, and dropped her spoon to the table to break the tinkling laughter.

At the same moment a noise from the hall caught their ears and all five looked up.

Framed in the doorway lit by candles was Eomer. Eowyn was immediately on her feet, only Faramir's quick hold on her skirt preventing her from running to her brother to see for herself he was well.

Eomer stepped further into the chamber, his long hair outlined by the shifting candlelight.

"Ah, here is the one you have come far to seek!" Kaleri rose and drew Eomer further into the room.

"Well met," Eomer said flatly. The lack of recognition in his tone Legolas wondered whether some danger was truly threatening them.

"Did you hear, Eomer? The message of your journey did not reach your subjects," Ritan said, a twist to his mouth.

Eomer's face was still in shadow, and his lack of reaction was unnerving. Out of the corner of his eye he could feel Eowyn yearning to be sure, but with the disguises they had assumed it would make more sense for Legolas to first greet their king.

"My King," he bowed deeply, feeling his companions do likewise. "Forgive your loyal subjects for coming all this way on a futile errand."

Legolas and his companions are indeed loyal to come all this way," the lady said.

"Legolas, aye," Eomer moved to clasp the Elf's arm in greeting, and at last Legolas could see Eomer's face. He was slightly reassured. The horselord looked as he ever did, broad-shouldered, hearty, even more so, Legolas thought, than usual. The vest worn by the rider over loose pants revealed muscled upper arms, which shone in the candlelight. Legolas thought the lady Kaleri too had her eyes on their friend.

"I am, my friends, though hungry!" Eomer seated himself and quickly reached for what remained of the dish closest to him

Eowyn, for whom he had not spared a glance, glumly took her own seat, but did not touch the dessert they were shortly served.

"This lady," Eomer said after he had consumed half a glass of the spiced wine and waving his spoon in Kaleri's direction, "is the finest lady in all this land."

Ritan was watching his sister with eyes lit up by the candles, smirking at Eomer's declaration. "She is one of the only ladies."

Legolas distinctly saw the lady's hand reach to Eomer beneath the table as she glared at her brother.

"More wine, my lady?" Faramir said quickly, forcing the lady to reach and take the bottle he offered.

Eomer's eyes seemed slightly glazed, and Legolas wished himself well out of the hall.

Eowyn rose to her feet, apparently feeling the same. "Forgive me my lords, my lady. I am much fatigued by our journey and must retire."

Faramir and Legolas rose also, half hoping Eomer would accompany them to their rooms and explain himself, but the King of Rohan was contentedly gazing at the lady and did not even notice them leaving.

Thanks to all those who kindly left feedback for Eowyn's chapter ^_^ It was a very encouraging start. Hope you enjoy the rest.

When he heard footsteps they came from behind. Foregoing the attempt to free himself, Faramir let himself hang free, giving his burning stomach muscles a brief respite. He grasped the single remaining arrow that had not spilled from his quiver as the infernal rope trap had closed about his ankle and held it in his teeth, then extracted his bow. If he could make this one shot count it may give Eowyn and Legolas a chance of escape. Flee, Eowyn, flee!

Pounding returned to his head now that he was upside-down, and blackness quickly creeping into his vision.

The approaching voice stirred the now familiar nausea inside him and he struggled to keep hold of his bow. He must shoot soon, else they detect the weapon and take him down first.

Twisting up and to the side one final time, he swung his bow towards the voice and fired. His stomach muscles quickly gave way, and with an exhalation he let the bow fall to the forest floor and grappled for his knife - lodged securely in his boot.

Footsteps and cries sounded as he attempted to wrestle the blade from its place, but as it slid free, a gloved hand wrapped about his own wrist and forced it back, his arm twisting so that he could no longer keep his grip on the weapon.

He cursed that the cowards had come at him from behind. With his free arm he struck out and heard a stifled grunt of pain in response, but white hot pain swiftly paid him in return as a blade sank into the flesh at his side.

Faramir had not been surprised to find his chamber door locked from the outside; Eomer’s apathetic manner at dinner had been enough to inspire suspicion. An uneasy feeling, giving way to nausea had settled deep in his stomach - and after a failed attempt at lock-picking, and several hours of purusing the mildewed tomes lining the walls, he welcomed the soft tapping upon his chamber door.

Shadowing his face with the hood of his cloak, he softly snuffed out the candle and levered his blade from its resting place. The door slid open and he breathed more easily as he recognised Eowyn's slim fingers at the opening. Legolas was behind her and both their faces seemed gray as they stepped into his chamber.

Eowyn gave him a half smile, then held up a hair pin. “One advantage of the tiresome fashions of Gondor...” Her face suddenly sobered. “I waited but he has not come, something is amiss and I will wait no longer.”

Legolas’ bright eyes scanned the room behind them, flickering over the dusty tomes in piles across the tables. “Have you learned anything of use?”

Faramir turned and shifted several Easterling texts and maps; the dusty smell had a comforting normality to it. He retrieved a small tome inlaid with a gold insignia of a serpent that had seemed familiar to him upon first viewing. From what he could determine, while not understanding enough of the language to be sure, the book contained a record of Rhûn's ruling family through the last age, with histories and family trees recorded meticulously.

“The name 'Kaleri' is mentioned on the second to last page,” he said, passing the tome to the Elf. Eowyn drew in close to see the diagrams scrawled text.

After running his sharp eyes over the diagrams, Legolas shook his head, shutting the book with a soft snap. “Let us hope our hosts do not belong to a sovereign family - lest our rescue provoke further enmity between our peoples.”

Faramir nodded. “Our best course would be to leave this place at once.” He glanced at Eowyn, and by her set mouth knew she would do nothing less than search for Eomer. “If we are to flee in the night, we must be prepared - gather supplies for the return journey, and find where they have stabled our horses.”

They had passed many locked doors, a small library and a study, staying just long enough for Faramir to note the same heraldry from the note in Eomer's chambers in Rohan.

A large wooden door now confronted them. What if it should be the room of the lord or lady?

“It is worth the risk,” Eowyn said quietly, taking a breath and leaning on the door gently so that it swung inward.

No cry echoed from the chamber. Faramir felt Eowyn start beside him as a figure was revealed standing looking out of the window opposite. He =stilled his own beating heart and gripped his sword the harder.

Eomer stood standing shirtless and eerily still in the moonlight. He could surely hear them breathing now, but made no move to face the door.

Eowyn resisted Faramir’s cautious hand and moved into the room as though she herself was enchanted.

“Eomer,” she whispered, peering around Eomer's broad shoulders to see his face.

The hand that shot out to grasp her throat was faster than sight. Eowyn’s feet lost their hold on the floor as her brother’s inhuman strength raised her up. His other hand easily prised the sword from her grasp.

“Eomer!” Faramir cried, his sword arm wavering in sudden fear and indecision. “Eomer, what madness holds you?”

A shadow passed over Eomer's face at the words. Even as Eowyn grew more distressed, struggling for air and tearing with her nails at Eomer's fingers, Eomer paled and his grasp loosened, allowing Eowyn’s feet to touch the ground once more.

Faramir moved a step closer into the moonlight, feeling his own newly-found happiness slipping out from under him. His customary resolution was failing him, not knowing what unnatural strength was in the King’s hands.

He spoke softly despite his own distress, hoping to draw the other man out of whatever sorcery held him. “Eomer, it is Eowyn. Do you not recognise your own sister?”

“Sister?” The new voice slid out of the darkness to their right, and swinging his blade to face it Faramir saw the lady Kaleri slipping slowly from the bed where she must have been watching the scene play out. Dark curls tumbled over her pale moonlit shoulders. Her dress was sheer, hiding nothing, and even in the horror of the moment Faramir found it difficult to meet her gaze.

The lady’s smile was strange as she approached, seeming unmoved by the sword point now inches from her heart. “Princess of Ithilien. Forgive me my lady but you do not play the part of a servant convincingly.”

The lady, all graciousness at dinner, now showed only callous amusement. Faramir felt her gaze return to him and saw hunger there. They had been right to conceal their identities, but foolhardy to raise no further force of arms.

She reached out with slender fingers to shift Faramir's blade aside but he took a half-step backwards and steadied his sword arm. She laughed.

“Let the girl go, my love. We shall speak a little before you take their lives.” Kaleri did not take her eyes from Faramir as Eomer released his sister. She stumbled aside gasping, but quickly retrieved her own sword, raising it.

“War and weapons. The men of the West have always hid behind their steel - the women too it seems.”

Eowyn freed, Faramir felt his heart return to normal, control returning, “The war was not won with weapons, and the West did not choose to take up arms.”

“You may not have chosen it, but embraced it nevertheless when it came. You wish to know why we have taken Rohan's King? Because Rohan murdered ours.” Each word left her lips as a curse. “My betrothed was next in line to the throne. My children would have been Kings and Queens.”

She flung the next words at Eowyn. "Your barbarians rode down our men like pigs to slaughter. Shunned, we now stagnate on the borders of this land while peasants take to the throne. Why should I not take what was promised?”

“What reparation can be sought for a deed so long passed?” Eowyn breathed. Bruising was already beginning to show on her pale throat.“Cursed witch! What have you done to Eomer?”

“Your brother is immoderately fond of his ale. When he began to feel the affects in Rohan he told no one. A king who cannot take his liqueur is no king.”

The beginnings of fear began to stir in Faramir's mind as he recalled the ale they had consumed at dinner. A creeping sensation stirred in his stomach and the nausea returned, stronger than before.

Decided, he lowered his sword. What use were blades against a friend and brother? Hands raised, he took a cautious step nearer, with the same care he might approach a skittish horse.

"You are not yourself, friend. What is this woman to you that you should forsake the grasslands of Rohan for this barren place?"

A quiet followed, in which Faramir heart only the beat of his own heart, and the laboured breaths of Eowyn beside him.

"This is my land now," Eomer spoke at last, “and these my people". His voice resonated with the same restrained rage as his limbs, lips drawn back and teeth bared.

"You see my work is strong upon him,” Kaleri raised her arm. “It is time, my King. Time for your family to die.”

The shriek of metal broke the silence of night as Eomer seized the long, curved, knife in his belt and drew it forth. Candlelight glinted on the blade and from languor to strength and passion unbridled, the horseman lashed out.

The knife sliced the air as Faramir and Eowyn fell back. Faramir’s feet faltered under him at the sudden assault, and he briefly rued discarding his own sword. Eomer’s unrelenting attack forced further regret from his thoughts, and he had only the presence of mind to thrust his own bracer beneath the man’s descending knife-hand before the other man’s weight crashed into him.

Both men slammed into the chamber wall, and for a moment Faramir could not breath as the air was forced out of him. He felt like a rag-doll beneath the muscular power of the other, and knew the fear of Rohan’s enemies in facing Eomer in combat. He briefly met the man’s enraged gaze, sweat dampened hair and the other man’s breath strong in his nostrils, but saw no sign of recognition, and no likeness to the man of hearty laughter and unwavering truth that he had come to know.

Wrapping long fingers around Eomer’s bare wrist, he was able to inexorably turn the blade further to the side, but with almost impatient ease the man’s boot rammed into the back of his leg and sent him to his knees. A blow to the chest followed and his fingers lost their grip as Eomer pulled away.

Gasping and head spinning, he heard the clash of steel, and realised too late that he had been drawn aside so that Eomer might disarm his sister. His blood ran cold.

Eowyn’s breathing hitched in her throat and her sword arm was reluctant as she parried oncoming blows. “Eomer! Eomer my brother!”

Eomer’s fist finally caught her across the side of the face as she lifted her guard to avoid slicing into his bare chest. She cried out as she was thrown from her feet with the force of his blow and her sword hit the ground, skidding away.

“Eowyn, no!” Faramir’s ribs protested as he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled. At the corner of his vision he caught Kaleri looking on with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Changing course, he veered towards her, and saw her eyes widen in surprise.

He seized her about the neck, arm wrapped tightly and dragging her backwards until her feet lost their footing. She did not struggle against him and with the limpness of a corpse seemed to drag at his strength. He shook stray hair from his eyes and drew a breath, tightening his grip.

Eomer had turned, wiping the blood from his knuckles, and now stared him down - jaw clenched and eyes enraged.

Faramir’s chest protested at the lady’s weight, making him breathless, but he held her tight against him as she seemed to tremble in his arms. He realised that she was laughing, silent amusement shaking her form.

“Well played,” she whispered, “for you are no match for his strength. But he is loyal to no other now and will no nothing to harm me. Impressive, is it not?”

The gleam of Eomer’s knife met his eyes as the other man raised it to throat level, arm outstretched. He had grasped Eowyn’s wrist in the other and dragged her forwards.

Resisting Eomer’s hold, Eowyn pulled back, spitting her words toward Kaleri. “But you are not with child, are you? No matter how much you compel him you have not yet brought him to that.”

Anger and bile rose up within Faramir at the thought. “Undo the witchery you have placed upon him. Free us, and we shall be gone from your house and lands. We shall take no retribution.”

“You speak of witchery,” the Horselord growled in a voice Faramir had only ever heard in battle, “What madness did you lay upon me to give my sister to you - coward - last a ruined house - son of despots and madmen. What is my sister now but a slave of your people? And you her keeper.”

The words stung. Their marriage was new in the making, and Faramir not such a man as to believe happiness was so easily assured. Eomer’s unbalanced state of mind did little to curb their bitterness.

“You know not what you say, brother -,” Eowyn gasped. She suddenly slacked her resistance, allowing Eomer to draw her close so that she looked up into his face. She pressed imploring palms to his cheeks and drew his head down to look into her eyes.

Faramir could not hear his wife’s soft words, but he felt Kaleri tense in his arms, and saw the outstretched knife arm waver.

As the great warrior dropped to his knees, Eowyn still cradling him to her, the knife slipped from his hand.

Recognition lit strong and fierce as the man’s familiar hands grasped his sister’s wrists. Horror followed, and eyes that darted around the chamber alighting on the woman in Faramir’s hold.

“Eowyn!” he gasped, voice hoarse. “Flee Eowyn! I am not of my own mind - these hands yet seek your blood - .”

Eowyn did not move, and Faramir saw her shift to support him further. He saw Eomer’s hands clench, a tremor taking them. It could not be so.

With all the strength he could muster he threw the lady bodily from him, and reached for Eowyn’s arm. Kaleri’s shriek of anger tore through his concentration,

Eowyn protested as he drew her back away from her cowering brother, and only relented at the sight of the pain and fear on Eomer’s face warping into ferocity and violence. Kaleri’s scream had wakened the house, and noises could now be heard on the stairs - the guard could only be moments away.

He heard Eowyn give a choked sob of frustration as they flung the chamber door shut behind them.

They ran. The hounds behind growled and whined as they were held back, knowing the hunt was coming. Darkness blinded them as they passed from the sands into the treeline.

He drew her on, taking a sharp turning over a fallen trunk he hoped might slow them up.

“Only madness,” he breathed, and wished she might save her breath for their escape. Their faces were clear in his mind, brother and sister, eyes lit with the fire of the hunt, and shining knives and weapons poised.

A flash of gold alerted him too late to another presence and his boots skidded in the dry leaves.
“You must take better care of your things, Milady.”

Legolas, with a serenity Faramir envied, lowered himself from the tree above and produced a sword.

Eowyn’s wild eyes looked the Elf over but took the weapon quickly. “How..?”
Legolas then produced a knife and bow and held them out to Faramir. “Your own fine ones could not yet be rescued.”

“I watched as you left the house,” the Elf explained. “It seems our hospitality has been compromised.”

“He is under their control, Legolas, we could do nothing to shake it. I do not know -”

“They will be here soon, and only delay because they take pleasure in the hunt. We should separate.”

Faramir hesitated, unwilling to lose Legolas’ staunch presence so soon. “Which way lies our best hope?”

“Through the trees,” Legolas said with confidence. “There is a river where we might hide our scent, and from the canopy I sighted houses. Mayhaps someone might lend us aid.”

Ritan's voice from close by drew Faramir back from deep, crowding shadows. A short breath of cold night air, and the chill burn of the knife returned, and the hot blood rush to the head. Low growls of hounds somewhere behind brought forth visions of tearing teeth and claws.

Kaleri filled his line of sight. Torch-lit hunting garments - boots - long jewel-handled knife. “Besides, it was only a scratch.”

The rope-snare had pulled him from the ground, and in swaying slightly - sickeningly - he was almost level with her face. Her dark-rimmed eyes were alight with some ecstatic pleasure.

The soft touch on his cheek that followed had him flinching back, his stomach churning once more with the strange poison that seemed to be connected to the lady's nearness. Warm blood was dripping slowly down the side of his face now and falling to the leaves and scattered arrows beneath.

“I shall pay this wound back ten times over.” Ritan twisted the blade slightly and Faramir gasped, eyes closing. “Yet I do not see why it has been worth the trouble.”

“What hunter has not considered using bait? How else to capture the doe but with her stag?”

Faramir gritted his teeth, turning his head to avoid her touch. “Eowyn will not return.” The words came with difficulty, each movement of his chest now a sharp pain. “She will ensure Eomer escapes.”

More footsteps approached and the noise of something being dragged over leaves and branches. Perhaps his arrow had done more damage than Ritan's small wound.

Suddenly he felt his ankle freed and fell heavily. He retched as the world righted itself, mortified to be so weakened as they stood above watching.

He became aware of another body beside him, a young man with his own white-fletched arrow through the throat. He turned his head away, wishing his arrow had found its mark elsewhere.

He could see the red gash across the side of Ritan's neck now, and his own blood staining the man's hand. With a groan he realised the man's knife was still in his side.

Note: Thanks to those who have enjoyed the tale so far. The story was originally going to be only four chapters, but now there will be an epilogue also. Feedback and comments welcome.

Chapter 4 - Éomer

“Demon! Give me my sword and I shall show you the meaning of deception.”

Red rage gave way to confusion, and the world tilted like the prow of a ship, tipping Eomer into consciousnesses. A soft noise sounded nearby as he relaxed his clenched fingers, releasing the wrist he had trapped within.

With consciousness came sight, and the shapes around him formed into figures and faces - familiar faces...

"Eowyn!" In the strangeness of the scene he reached out for his dear sister. Unease blossoming into horror, he felt Eowyn pull sharply back from his grasping hands, fear in her blue eyes.

He could just make out the tall figure of an Elf standing behind Eowyn... Legolas? The Elf placed a hand on Eowyn's arm and the motion seemed to ignite something within him, sweat suddenly beading on his brow. He pushed the grey blankets from atop him, aware of the perspiration soaking into his clothes and the sheets about his legs, and was sick over the side of the bed.

Cool hands soothed him, holding his hair back from his face, as he gradually grew steady enough to speak.

"Dearest sister..." He kept his eyes pressed shut lest any sight provoke the sickness to return. "If this be real and I laid low with some fever or plague, ease my mind and tell me all."

"Do you remember nothing, brother?" Eowyn's voice returned, and he could hear tears behind the words.

Legolas' calming tones followed. "We have pursued you almost as far East as Rhun, my friend."

The mention of Rhun sent Eomer's mind into a whirl of memory in which he had no way of determining truth. Riding through the desert at night - sandstorms - spiced wine - and a pair of dark eyes... His stomach writhed and he swallowed to clear the acrid taste from his throat.

"And you, Eowyn," he said quickly, "how came you so far - and who else is here with us?"

"Just Legolas and I, my brother," she said soothingly.

Again he thought he heard grief behind her words.

"But rest awhile, and we will speak more when you are more yourself."

He wished to know more, wanting to understand how he had come here and why Eowyn flinched away from his touch, but his head was heavy...

Eomer felt his way along the dark hallway. The cold air chill through his thin shirt - now damp with perspiration. He did not know how long he had slept. He felt ungainly and unsteady on his feet, and needed to bend his broad shoulders to make his way through the cramped hallway.

As the hall opened out into a small kitchen, he made out two blond figures bent over a map and a young lady lifting a kettle off a primitive stove. Darkness showed beyond the room’s small windows. At his step Legolas turned and Eowyn's face lit up. Eomer did not miss the twitch of the Elf’s fingers to his knife hilt, but he said nothing of it for now.

A noise to their left had Legolas reaching for his knife in earnest, and Eomer glancing groggily around him for any makeshift weapon to hand.

The front door swung silently open and a man entered, hesitating as the four occupants of the room were revealed to him. Legolas did not lower his knife.

The man’s sleek dark hair was pulled into a tie at the base of his neck. His shrewd expression drew forth a barrage of memories for Eomer. H he saw the brother and sister who had drawn him from Edoras clearly now. While they plied him with wine and food he remembered this man, Jhov, standing by with face masked as Eomer had gradually been drawn into their trap.

One lunge and Eomer seized the poker from the fire - another and the red tip hovered inches away from the man's throat.

"Do not harm my husband!"

Surprise crossed Eowyn and Legolas’ faces as Mitra cried out. Clearly the lady who had offered them shelter knew more of their language than she had yet revealed.

She stepped up to the man in the doorway, effectively shielding her husband’s body with her own as she looked up into his face. "Jhov we cannot hide this any longer, these are good people!"

The man placed weary hands on her shoulders, his face grey. "It has been a long trial, Mitri, but it is almost over. The guard has come."

Relief lightened the woman's face, and she seemed to grow taller and younger in their eyes. “You must forgive us," she said, still with a distinctive accent but now speaking their own language with ease. "We have been secret so long, I did not know whether to reveal our identities."

Eomer lowered the poker, but did not completely let down his guard. Looking into Jhov’s face brought forth dizzying recollections, and he closed his eyes against them, swaying. A touch at his side brought him softly back to reality, and he placed his own arm about Eowyn’s strong shoulders - listening.

"Mitri and I have been stationed here firstly to gain information, then to bring in forces if it was proved necessary," Jhov said. “After the death of her betrothed, the lady Kaleri fled the capitol and took up residence here with her brother - their family’s estate. There have since been rumours - disappearances - but no clear proof of wrongdoing or sedition -”

Legolas cut in, and Eomer detected anger beneath his usually lighthearted words. “It is piteous that the lady lost her betrothed and royal prospects, but her mind has turned. This madness cannot continue.”

“You are right to feel this way,” Mitra said. “She has caused you much suffering.” The Easterling lady, no longer brusk in her treatment of them, was watching the Elf with interest - as though she had not encountered his kind before.

Legolas replied with a meaningful glance at Eomer and anger still present in his tone, “Not I, but we would wish to know more of the poison with which the lady influences her retinue.”

Eomer looked away from the Elf, and felt Eowyn’s hold on him tighten. His chest felt like it was shrinking inwards in shame at the memories of the last days. Waring with recollections of soft caresses and passion was the sting of his cut knuckles where his own fist had struck his sister. He glanced down at her ever-determined face and saw the reminder of his violence in her split lip.

Sensing the tension in the room, Jhov drew gently away from his wife to close the shutters. “It is an insidious potion,” he said. “Half her guard remain under its influence. It causes great sickness to give it up once one has succumbed to its power.”

Eomer felt his stomach churn again at the mention of the substance. He closed his eyes once more, willing his body to remain under his own control.

“How can a substance have such influence?” Eowyn asked.

Jhov shook his head. “We know not - only that its consumption can subsume the will of another. But the militia have now come.” He looked to his wife. “We have done our part Mirri, it will end tonight.”

Eomer felt his sister shift, as though to speak.

"I do not know what strength we have for this task," Legolas said. "But count us among your number. We have as much reason to see these lands under steady rule as yourselves, and one of our own may well have been taken alive."

Eomer’s eyes flew open and he looked down to Eowyn. "Eowyn, why did you not speak..?" Fear washed over his limbs in a cold sweat. That she should lose her new found happiness because of him!

"Peace, brother," Eowyn said quietly. He could see that she was at the end of her strength, and worry for one loved one after another was wearing her down.

More memories assaulted Eomer’s senses: in his fingers a long, curved, knife - the press of Faramir’s body against his own as he pinned the other to the wall - words spat in rage and fear at the man who had brought light back to his sister’s world. He groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut in self-reproach.

"Your husband is alive," Jhov said somberly, and Eomer felt Eowyn turn away to hide her face. "But I do not know how any kind of rescue is to be achieved.”

Eomer took a deep steadying breath, drawing himself painfully out of past recollections. "I will kill them." Stepping forward to add his support, he tipped over a wine goblet as he stumbled.

Mitra quickly scooped up the goblet from between Eomer’s scrabbling fingers. “Do not worry yourself. The goblet held no wine, only water.”

Eowyn narrowed her eyes at the empty goblet and looked to Jhov. “I have an idea.”

They approached the palace from the south, inching along beside the two foot-high walls that spiraled from the entrance. Guards lounged at the palace boundary, confident in their numbers.

Peering over their limited shelter, Eomer could make out movement on the outcropping balcony. It was only by Eowyn's soft gasp that Eomer made sense of the distant sight. With a jolt that shook his resolve, he made out the silhouette of a gibbet.

They must hurry! He reached for Legolas in the darkness, and sensed Eowyn, Jhov and his men fall back into the shadows behind them. They had the advantage of numbers, but far more to lose. With hesitant fingers he took the bow and knife Legolas held out and strapped them to his own back and belt. Legolas then took the slenderest of daggers and slid it into his right boot. They could only hope that the first disclosure of weapons would disguise this last.

Eomer sighed before taking the Elf's arms and binding them before him, using a knot that looked sturdy but could be slipped.

He gritted his teeth at the foolishness of the plan, doubt making his fingers fumble on the rope.

"She has no power over you now, my friend." Legolas said quietly, and Eomer met his gaze reluctantly, feeling the ghost of sickness in his empty stomach.

He glanced up at the balcony. "She has power over us all until Faramir is returned safely."

"True enough," Legolas returned grimly, “but do not yet lose hope. We have the strength in numbers."

"Where is Eowyn? I cannot make her out in this accursed darkness."

The Elf gestured to their right but his own sight could not pierce the starless night.

"I hurt her," Eomer breathed as they waited for Jhov's signal. He rested his head in his hands, letting his hair fall forwards to briefly hide his face. "How shall she ever trust me?"

"You were not of your own mind. Do not forget that we too drank the poison. One dose was enough to feel her taint of madness and understand its potency."

Eomer could not make out the Elf's expression, but he heard the distaste beneath the words, and somehow they eased his mind a little.

"Besides," the Elf continued, "if we return from this mess I'd wager all will be forgot. If you return her husband safely she'll grant you half her prized mares before laying a finger of blame.”

"I hope you speak truly," he sighed, pushing his hair back and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Legolas cocked his head towards the faintest gleam of light to their right and he knew the militia were in position. "Are you sure about this?"

"Lead on."

Eomer schooled his features as he took the first steps up to the balcony. The night air was chill against his bare arms, but fear and anticipation kept his blood warm. The guards had let them pass - some blank faced as though bewitched and others sneering as he dragged Legolas towards the stairs by his wrists. He could feel the muscles in the Elf’s forearms tense in his hold as they passed this first hurdle.

His fingers shook as he held tightly to the stair rail. This was not warfare as he knew it! He despised deception, hated even the carefully crafted words bandied about in his own court. Even in this desperate quest he balked at hiding behind a lie.

Reaching the top of the stairs, his disgust gave way to anger. As he took in the scene, familiar grey eyes had already found his own and were seeking desperately for recognition. He tried to look away, the sight of his friend and brother roped to what he had first thought to be a hanging post threatening to undo his resolve.

As Faramir's gaze took in Legolas' bound hands and searched behind them for any sign of his sister, Eomer steeled himself against any reaction. He could see the Steward’s usually calm and controlled demeanor splintering as the other man's hands flexed suddenly in their bindings as though to reach out to him.

"Eomer..." Faramir’s voice cracked with disuse.

With growing apprehension Eomer took in the blood seeping through his brother-in-law's thin shirt at his side, and how his arms strained above him to be free, and knew not how he would return the man in one piece to his sister.

"Be still, my friend," Eomer heard Legolas speak softly, and at the intensity of the Elf's words Faramir seemed to take pause, allowing his arms to take his weight once more, watching.

"You have brought me a gift -"

Eomer's eyes snapped up at the sound - the lady had been watching them all along.

"- yet I wonder how this can be so."

The haze of her influence over him had faded, but even now she took his breath. Her dark gown glittered with bright stars and her strange smile, which he could clearly remember first seeing in Edoras now, was just for him.

"Have you not been very ill, my love?"

She approached him, holding out a hand to cup his chin, and turned his head so that she might see his face in the torchlight shining from the house. Her dark curls fell over his shoulders as she pressed herself closer. He saw the gleam of madness in her eyes now where before he had only seen passion. The hand on his cheek was cold, and as he nodded he smelt the familiar scent of her, his empty stomach reacting to her nearness.

Her fingers suddenly dug into his jaw and she allowed her nails to cut slowly into his skin.

As she examined his face he willed himself to breath steadily and show only confusion at her treatment. Another moment, and the tight grip eased. He was able to focus on her face again and could detect pride in the twist of her lips. She drew him forwards and pressed her mouth to his. It was the sorer trial, for unlike the pain the touch of her lips dredged up feelings of nausea and revolution that were far more difficult to ignore.

She stepped back at last, and Eomer breathed deeply through his nose, feeling Legolas and Faramir's eyes on his back. The scent of her still lingered, making his head swim.

Kaleri called out something into the house, and shortly after a servant girl emerged. The young girl's eyes took in Legolas kneeling behind Eomer, and then widened as she saw Faramir.

"Mistress?" Her voice trembled and Eomer pitied the girl, trapped here with her mad lord and lady.

"Bring ‘wine’ for our guests Darra, and fetch my brother. He must see what my King has brought me."

The girl fled back indoors.

"Now tell me the truth,” she said with a ring in her tone, turning her attention back to him. “Where is your sister? We must offer her the same hospitality as we have offered your other friends." He saw something creeping in her eyes, then, that he had not yet seen, even though he had known it was there. Madness lurking beneath a thin veil.

Eomer hesitated and pressed his hand to his stomach, feigning illness to delay the question.

"I know it hurts, my love,” she said, softening again. “We shall soon have you feeling yourself again. Darra!"

The girl appeared, trembling, her large eyes avoiding his. She handed the glass to Kaleri, and with a fearful glance at Eomer, fled quickly.

Ritan stepped out like a shadow behind her, briefly blocking the torchlight with his entrance. Eomer was relieved to see that the man was not dressed for combat, wearing only knee-length hunting boots, and a long loose fitting tunic.

As Ritan took in the party on the balcony with a half smile, Eomer was drawn quickly back into memories of their first meeting. The sounds and smells of Meduseld came back to him - drinks poured and offered by this dark-haired guest with smiling eyes - the sickness that came upon him that night - and the stirring doubt that he himself lacked the stomach for mead.

He breathed in the cold night air to clear his head, gritting his teeth to reign in a desire to strike this man where he stood. He cursed his own temper, and that of all of them he must be the one to play this role in their deception.

"I underestimated you, sister," Ritan said as he lifted a torch from its bracket on the wall and brought it towards Eomer’s face. “Your birds are flying back to the nest.” Eomer avoided looking at the bright flame, staring straight ahead as the man looked him over.

Kaleri took the wine from the girl and pressed it into Eomer's hands. Eomer stared down at the cursed liquid, bewildered as to how to react. Jhov and his friends had not expected this, or at least not so soon! A long moment passed.

"Do not drink it," Legolas said under his breath and Eomer steeled himself as Ritan stepped past him and took up the rope binding Legolas' arms. The sound of a scuffle followed as the man lifted the Elf by his arms and drove his knee into the other's chest. Shaken, Eomer heard the Elf spit.

Kaleri did not react, and watched Eomer closely as he raised the glass to his lips. Expecting the spicy tang of wine, he hesitated as simple water met his lips. He wondered if the servant girl had indeed understood the depth of her mistress’ insanity and had tried to help them. He swallowed visibly.

Kaleri raised her hands to his face once more, this time turning him towards the others and the dark grounds below. “Now, my love. It is time to tell us where your sister is hiding.”

Eomer swallowed again, fearful of her reactions. “I know not,” he began falteringly, unsure how he had sounded while bewitched. “I -”

The lady’s hand cracked across his face with such force that his vision dimmed. Staggering in shock, he reined in his impulse to grasp her wrists and force her into stillness. Her face had changed so quickly! Serene control to wild anger with so little prompting - like a frightened animal lashing out.

Faramir's voice, quiet but compelling, broke into his thoughts and allowed him a moment to recover his composure. "You may hold no love for the West, Ritan, but you must see now that your sister has fallen into madness."

Kaleri's eyes blazed at the words, and it was as much as Eomer could do to stop himself from catching her in his arms as she passed. Only a muffled gasp passed Faramir’s lips as the lady’s full body weight drove him back. Eomer flinched, seeing her elbow driven into the man’s injured side. “Lies!” she spat in his face.

Eomer heard his own breath roar in his ears, anger now pumping through him. He could not keep at this game any longer!

Despite Ritan's hold, Legolas continued his companion’s case with the same calm logic that Eomer could not muster within himself. "This must end here, Ritan. Do you think it is kindness to your sister to encourage her?"

"You speak to me of kindness? Who are we to show mercy?” He let go his grasp roughly, looking up at Kaleri in anger. “Did you not think to secure the Elf, sister? And how do you know this one remains under your influence?" He now eyed the weapons slung across Eomer's back. "We should string them up with the other, or just slay them where they stand. The woman will not return."

"I have come." The clear voice rang out from the grounds below. A sudden flame flared revealing Eowyn, sword in one hand, torch in the other, standing alone looking up at them.

Eomer took a breath of desperate relief. Eowyn’s appearance heralded the success of Jhov’s ambush. While lord and lady remained distracted on the balcony, perhaps even now Jhov’s men had breached the palace entrance and were making their way up the stairs within.

"Fetch her, brother, and our future shall once more be assured." Kaleri smiled with renewed confidence, and placed a hand upon Eomer’s bare arm.

Eomer silently gritted his teeth. Jhov’s former position as captain of the guard and their lady’s obvious disturbance of mind should give them the obvious advantage, but events could go either way from here.

The slight frown on Ritan’s forehead deepened as Kaleri made the request, and Eomer noted a shift of his eyes to Faramir and Legolas. Perhaps the seed of doubt had been planted well enough to give them another small advantage?

Eomer saw a gleam of lust in the man's eyes before Ritan spoke. "I shall bring her, but you must let me keep her." Eomer knew then that any hope of redemption or help from him was gone.

Eomer could not help his hand giving an involuntary twitch as Ritan waved for the two guards to accompany him down the stairs. The lady did not see it, and watched Eomer’s face, an eerie calm having returned to her bearing. "Shall I have you kill her for me?"

Eomer shuddered - what might have happened here had he not regained his senses?

He needed only wait until the man had gone far enough away, but the moments lasted hours. He unconsciously glanced to the side to ensure Legolas was ready, and at the shifting of his eyes knew that he had made a deadly mistake.

The lady's dagger, drawn with unnatural speed, sliced across his chest. He felt it cut through his skin only like the sting of a gnat, and it was the lady's weight upon him - dark hair falling into his eyes and her free hand tearing at his face - that had him reeling back in fear. He grappled for her wrists; her mad fury at his betrayal overwhelming his strength and determination to restrain the hand that held the knife.

Then after long moments the weight was suddenly lifted away and he could see again. Swallowing the words rising in his throat, he made out Faramir kneeling across the lady's back. Kaleri’s white knuckles still grasped the knife in the hand pinioned behind her...

"Eomer -" Faramir's strained voice broke him out of his stupor and Eomer rushed to twist the blade out of the lady’s clutching fingers. He placed his hands alongside Faramir's and the other man gasped and fell back.

As he secured the lady’s arms, Eomer could see out of the corner of his eyes that the Steward’s face had drained of colour and that he pressed both hands to the red stain at his side.

Faramir shook his head mockingly, wiping more blood from his cheek. "I do not know who engineered this rescue - but remind me to take them aside and teach them some common sense."

"The plan was Eowyn’s, and what you choose to teach my sister behind closed doors is none of my concern," Eomer grunted, and heard the other exhale an amused breath.

The sound of feet on the stairs drew their eyes, and for a moment Eomer feared that something had gone amiss below. Two blond heads ascended the stairs, standing out from their Easterling companions in the torchlight. Legolas carried an unconscious figure, and Eowyn followed. Her long blade gleamed with dark blood.

Kaleri shrieked as she saw it, and despite all he had endured Eomer momentarily pitied the lady for the fall of her sibling.

"He is not dead," Legolas said quickly, “however waste but a few moments and he may well be."

She stilled at once and allowed them to tie her, defeated for the moment.

Johv appeared, his cheek bleeding. “I may have another scar to match the first,” he said wryly, but looked satisfied with the night’s work.

As Ritan’s body and Kaleri were brought into the upper level of the house by Jhov’s guards, Legolas grasped Jhov’s shoulder. “There was a servant child,” he said, “by the name of Darra. We owe her a great debt of thanks. Please ensure she is safe.”

After setting her sword to rest, Eowyn also moved towards them. Eomer thought she moved awkwardly, wearily. Her eyes taking in the rope ends strewn across the balcony from where Legolas had freed himself and Faramir. She sank to her knees beside them, reaching forward to touch her husband’s face and press her forehead against his. No words were exchanged, but Eomer felt her palpable relief at finding them safe.

Her met her gaze, and with a great swell of affection received his sister’s now unflinching embrace. The knife slash on his chest burned with the contact, but he ignored it, so happy was he to be redeemed in her eyes.

“...You are most welcome.” Legolas grasped Jhov’s hand in a final farewell.

Afternoon sun cast the companions and their saddled horses in amber light. Their supplies, more extensive by far than for their original journey, were packed - and the journey awaited.

Mitra held onto the Elf’s hand a fraction longer than her husband, looking up hesitantly. “May I?” she asked, and Legolas bent his head indulgently to allow her to touch the golden strands of his hair. She blushed.

“I think she has taken a shine to you,” Eomer muttered as they mounted and turned towards the west.

Eowyn watched the exchange with quiet amusement. After so many days of exertion and fear, she felt at peace. While they lingered in the palace grounds the desert heat was not oppressive. She did not yet think of the harsh journey ahead - only that she need not need to make it alone.

As Legolas passed her, straight-backed and looking to the horizon, she recalled the day they had set out from Emyn Arnen. She had hoped to know more of the Elf with whom they were building their new lives. As they had fought together to save Eomer’s life in the forest, she had looked to him for strength - and now relying on his calm presence had become a second nature. She hoped that in return they could offer him companionship and family in Emyn Arnen.

“Shall we race?” Eomer brushed her arm playfully as he passed, seemingly back to his old self.

“You know it would be futile contest,” she returned easily, joyous that their familiar sibling rivalry was restored. As he snorted and urged his horse forwards she caught a glimpse of the deep scratches Kaleri’s fingernails had cut across brother’s face. It would be some time before he was truly his old self. She would not quickly forget Eomer’s self-loathing as they has drawn him slowly from the lady’s influence.

“He will recover in time.” Faramir’s quiet words echoed her own thoughts as he drew up beside her.

She nodded. “It was the deception that cut deepest.” Her thoughts swung to Kaleri and Ritan, and her brief equanimity faded. She rested her hand on her horse’s steady neck as a calming influence. “I have little pity for the scheming wr - ” she bit off her insult, not wishing to reawaken memories of her husband’s suffering.

She glanced sideways and he returned a half-smile. His stilted breathing revealed that horseback was going to be an uncomfortable method of travel - but it was that or lengthen their stay. Faramir’s own words to Heithin at their departure from Rohan had set a time limit on their return, and should they not return within a month, their disappearance would cause more than a minor diplomatic incident.

Eowyn realised she had been staring. Faramir had indulged his wife’s as yet inexpert healing skills, and allowed her to patch him up. “For a time I thought I had lost both brother and husband in one day - I am not taking any chances.”

His eyes softened and he pulled aside his shirt to reveal clean bandages. “Fear not, - your gentle hands have both healed and avenged. Though this is not the wedding journey I would have wished for you.”

Eowyn thought back over the last hours, contrasting their trials with a typical wedding expedition.

She clenched her fist, feeling again the satisfying weight of her avenging blade as she had challenged Ritan on the stairs. His condescending expression had boiled her blood, but she had waited for him to take the first step - languidly drawing his curved sword and circling her. His palpable shock as she swept his first stroke easily aside was momentarily satisfying, but the skirmish was swift and she had not have long to enjoy the sensation. Jhov and a second ally stepped easily into the fray from their concealed positions, and made it a simple task for her to strike the blow that drove the man to the ground. His blade was cast aside and his hands pressed to a deep puncture to his chest.

The violent act itself brought her no joy, but her heart raced at the recollection and the knowledge that she had been instrumental in keeping her family whole. During this ‘wedding’ journey, she had witnessed first-hand her husband’s self-sacrifice to keep her and her family safe - and what other woman would have the opportunity to prove her own mettle in such a way? She had chafed at being confined behind the white city’s walls at the end of the war - and knew there would undoubtedly be trials ahead - but also perceived that this journey had forged a strong beginning to her marriage, and a bond between her closest kin.

She did not voice her racing thoughts, but from Faramir’s half-smile she suspected he understood.

“Perhaps,” she ventured, “we could go somewhere with a little less sand next year?”

I hope you have enjoyed the conclusion of this little adventure. It has been great to spend a little time with each of these characters, and to pull together a short, self contained adventure. Thanks to those who left comments on the various sites - very encouraging - and I was happy to hear that you enjoyed reading about this particular group of characters interacting, as it's perhaps a less common combination. Happy future reading!

East of the Moon by IceAngel