1. Pale Spring 

It is early morning. Eowyn lies in her bed in the House of Healing, but she does not start when old Ioreth touches her shoulder. "My Lady? I do not wish to wake you, but-"

"I was not asleep," Eowyn says, keeping her face turned to the wall. Her arm aches in its linen sling, and she wishes only to be left alone. "What is it?"

"The halfling, Lady, the Periannath, he's in a dreadful temper," Ioreth says.

Eowyn pushes aside the blanket. "How so? Is he in pain?"

Ioreth helps her sit up. "He is not any great pain, as far as I can tell, though I'm sure his arm troubles him, but he refused the sleeping draught the Warden offered him, and quite sharp he was about it, too. And when poor Miriel tried to help him dress this morning, he hurled his breakfast at her! Now no one dares go in, for fear of what will fly out next." Ioreth was nearly wringing her hands. According to the Lord Aragorn's instructions, the Lady of Rohan was to keep to her bed, no matter her condition, for at least eight days yet, but she was at a loss as to what else to do. "Lady, you know him, will you not go in and find out what is amiss?"

"I will go," Eowyn says. She does not know what good she can do, but it is better than lying abed, listening to the moans of wounded men, and feeling grief and hopelessness creeping up around her, like a dark tide to drown in.

Ioreth takes her arm, and Eowyn leans heavily against her as they walk down the hall. Several maidservants are clustered outside the room, whispering together. Ioreth gives them a sharp look and they go quiet.

The door is open and Eowyn looks in. The room is ominously silent, but it is not the shambles she expected it to be. A tray with a capsized bowl lies near the door, and Merry is sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. He looks very small next to the man-sized cot, no bigger than a boy, and his curly head is bowed.

"Merry?" Eowyn says quietly. He makes no answer, but he lifts his head a little, and something like shame passes over his face before he looks away again. Eowyn turns to Ioreth. "Leave us alone together, for a little while."

Ioreth nods her head and turns to go, shooing the Maids down the hall as she leaves. Eowyn feels dizzy and tired, and she is glad to sink down on the floor next to Merry.

Eowyn sees that his shirt is only partially buttoned, and here and there dotted with porridge, how his right hand lies cupped and useless in his lap. Without a word, she reaches out to straighten his collar.

Merry pushes her hand away, and scowls. "I can feed and dress myself. I am not a child."

"No," Eowyn says gently. "But it is not a childish thing to need a little help. Hold the cloth taut with your left hand."

He does, and Eowyn, slowly and with effort, slips each wooden button through a buttonhole, then raises a sisterly hand to smooth away the wrinkles in the cloth. She does not know what to say after that, so they sit in silence.

"Pippin helped me before," Merry whispers, near tears, and there is that look of shame again. "I didn't mind it so much when he...I wish I had told him...I wish..."

"I know," Eowyn says, and she takes hold of his cool right hand, hoping to warm it. Eomer had sat long at her bedside in the hours before the muster, and they had talked not of the battle to come, or of how they felt, but of little things, of brighter days long ago. There were not enough words to say all that was in their hearts. Now she and Merry were truly brother and sister in their shared sorrow: Two wounded soldiers, left behind again to wait without hope, and the ones they loved were far away.

"Thank you, Lady," Merry says at last, meaning the shirt.

"My dear Merry," Eowyn says, and she is filled with a sudden affection for this small being who had come so far with her, and stood by her side under the Shadow when tall Men fled-and who would stand by her still, though all the world be covered in Shadow. "Have we not gone through enough together for you to call me by my name?"

"Eowyn." Merry blushes a little. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome," Eowyn says, and when Merry is moved by hobbit impulse to put his arms around her, she does not protest. Her eyes sting with tears, and in her heart she feels a sudden warmth and thaw, like spring.

**************

The end ( of this piece, but more short ficlets to come.)

Author’s Note: The title is a quote from The Two Towers, ‘Thus Aragorn for the first time in the full light of day beheld Eowyn, Lady of Rohan, and thought her fair, fair and cold, like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come to womanhood.’