Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire.

Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire. Part Twenty-Seven

Feramil moved across the room in only a few lengthy strides and took back the occupancy of the leather chair, placing down his weary bulk with an exhausted sigh. He watched as Éomer followed suit, perching down opposite himself and glancing to the corner of the room, where (Y/N) chose to stay in place on the stool she had been sitting on, her face emotionless as she seemed deeply lost in her own thoughts.

"Well-" Wolf hushed, looking to the lord with a short smile. "-I know it is a mess that you both seem to be in, but the wizard has seemingly assured me that there is a way out."

"I don't understand how," Éomer found that he spoke with a tone of contempt towards Gandalf and his demands for his help. "He cannot guarantee my return from battle, can he? You know that as well as I do."

"Aye, I do know that. But I also know that you are far above the average soldier. Your skills are second to none, Éomer. There is a very high chance of you coming back." Feramil winked. 

The prince rolled his eyes with a smirk. "It is a different situation now, however..." Éomer looked warmly back across to (Y/N) sitting in the corner. "I cannot just simply leave, especially not to just drop her alone here."

"We could arrange a guard-"

"-No." (Y/N) sternly addressed them, not allowing her eyes to leave the floor. "I do not need a guard. Rohan will need every man that she can muster to defend."

"One soldier will not make too much difference-" Feramil began, but the maid cut across him abruptly once again. 

"-If one soldier will not make a difference, then why does Éomer have to leave?" (Y/N) flashed a look of knowing. "Every man will be needed."

"You know that they will be." Éomer smiled sadly in agreement to his friend.

Feramil mockingly placed a palm across his chest in jestful hurt. "Just a suggestion..."

"Why can we not ride her back to Rohan? She would be safe there." Éomer questioned, a hand playing absentmindedly with the hilt of his sword that hung by the bench he sat on. "Surely that is possible?"

"Unfortunately we don't have the time. I asked Gandalf the same thing myself, but he needs us to head straight to Dunharrow. He does not want to risk (Y/N) to be caught up in war, not when her skills will be needed afterwards, to heal the wounded."  Wolf groaned. "And I have to agree with him."

"Obviously." Éomer nodded in understanding.

"Or, I could travel with you both to Dunharrow!! I would be useful in helping to heal the wounded on the field." (Y/N) rose to her feet, a sudden surge of excitement writhing through her exhausted body. She had not realised how drained she had become and was in desperate want of a bed. "Surely I would be needed out there?!"

Éomer also stood, shaking his head vigorously in her direction. "You are not going anywhere near the fight. It is no place for you, and I will not chance you getting hurt."

Feramil sternly nodded his support to the prince. "You cannot come to war, miss. I have to agree."

She slumped back down onto the stool, crossing her arms. "Then what choice do we have?"

Éomer looked upon his partner with such compassion that he almost found himself freely crying. (Y/N) allowed her eyes to glance back outside to hide the fact that she was silently sobbing, the fingers of one hand pressed firmly against her plump lips as the tears steadily streamed down her cheeks, landing harshly around the neckline of her cotton dress. "Feramil. Can we have 5 minutes alone?" Éomer asked, and indicated that the soldier should wait upstairs.