Linger

VIII. Backed into a Corner

Against Rowan's hopes, Éomer had gotten hurt: an arrow had embedded into the fleshy part of his left shoulder. His breastplate had prevented it from digging deeper into the muscle, so the healers removed it easily. With his arm bandaged, the Third Marshal of the Riddermark joined them in the court of Meduseld to discuss damages and what to do now.

They had lost more of the Rohirrim than she had thought. Fortunately, none of the townspeople were slaughtered. The ratio of Rohirrim to townspeople was troublesome, though.

"Edoras cannot withstand an army of larger numbers. We are exposed from all sides," Éomer began. "I dread leaving our home, but we must seek safety for our people. Helm's Deep. The road will be long, but I believe death will find us quicker here behind wooden walls, and not stone."

Rowan struggled from grimacing. She wanted to avoid Helm's Deep at all costs because of the hard-fought battle there. Having Gríma killed made her believe they would stay in Edoras and prevent so many dying. But it looked like they would go there, regardless. Maybe the battle wouldn't happen...

"Lady Rowan," King Théoden began, drawing her attention from her thoughts to him seated in his chair. "You possess foresight; what path do you see us take?" All eyes turned to her.

She hoped she wasn't leading them wrong. "As we have seen, our greatest threat lies in Saruman. You take your people—the women, children, and the old—and make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. It is prepared for such an evil as this. There they will be safe, and we will find others to increase our force and strike out with strength. Isengard is strong."

He nodded.

"Háma, instruct the people we leave for Helm's Deep," the king ordered. "We take only provisions; we will not be burdened with valuables."

His Doorward bowed, then left to deliver the king's decision. Others of the Court left to prepare.

King Théoden rubbed a hand down his face. "Never would I have thought our ruin comes from the West—who we believed a friend—instead of the East. Yet, it may still come." His eyes landed on her. "But hope travels there, where sits our greatest fear. Doom hangs still on a thread, though."

"Hope there is still, if we can but remain unconquered for a little while," Aragorn said.

"Yes. Yes, there is." The king stood, eyes steely hard as his determination was renewed. "And unconquered we shall be."

***

As all of Meduseld concerned themselves with packing, Rowan pulled the four hunters to the side to tell them what could happen: from the Wargs attacking the caravan on the trek to Helm's Deep to the battle. She quickly mentioned that she had planned on avoiding it by letting Wormtongue die; she said it looking at Aragorn.

"What do you think I should do?" she asked. "Tell them and risk being wrong, or stay quiet and let whatever happens happen?"

They discussed the options for a while.

"Perhaps you should be vague in your foretelling, like with the Nazgûl attack near Amon Hen," Legolas suggested.

With everyone in agreement, Rowan headed off to snag the king and tell him. But she couldn't catch him. Every place King Théoden was said to be at, he wasn't there when she arrived. As she continued to play tag with the king, she ran into Éomer.

He could only use one arm since his left was held to his chest, but that didn't stop him from helping load valuable weapons and heirlooms into a chest. Once full, the guards with him carried it off to hide in a vault or storage, which Rowan assumed was somewhere in case of marauders while they were gone.

Since she couldn't locate the king, she would tell him.

"Éomer, I must have a word with you."

He turned at her voice and watched her approach.

"Are you okay?" she blurted, gesturing at his injury.

He nodded. "Do not fear, I am not as wounded as it appears." He moved his arm some without grimacing for proof. "For it to heal quicker, the healers bandaged my arm to prevent me from using it."

Éomer looked back at her with a grin. "Is my health what you wished to speak with me about?"

"No. No... I mean, I wanted to be assured you were well—and I'm glad you are—but that's not the whole reason why I need to talk with you."

Him chuckling lightened his usual stern expression and made him far more attractive. "Do I rattle you so for you to ramble as such?"

She smiled as she ducked her head. He knew damn well he was!

"I suppose."

He didn't respond for a while, so Rowan looked up at him: he looked stunned. "Éomer, is something wrong?"

"No, but your smile... I have never seen something so captivating..."

Now blushing hard, Rowan ducked her head again. She thanked him, because what else could she say?

"Anyway, I came to tell you that something may befall us on our journey to Helm's Deep. What I've seen is confusing, but it involves Wargs." She took a chance at looking back up at him. "Will you inform King Théoden?"

The stunned-look was gone, replaced by admiration in his eyes. He nodded. "You have my word."

After thanking him again, she made a hasty retreat.

Love wasn't something Rowan should be focused on—surviving was. But if it was, he'd surely be on her radar, along with Boromir.

Maybe he already was, for she definitely seemed to be on his...

***

It was just past noon when the exodus from Edoras began. Horses carried the Rohirrim or Royal Guards so it was slow-going, for most of the townspeople were walking or the elderly and handicapped were drawn by carts. Families with fathers, brothers, sons, or relatives in the Rohirrim took turns riding; those who had no one in the horsemen or guards had no choice.

She and Boromir were in agreement to let others ride Nárind. They walked beside their horse as children rode. Because of them, everyone nearby (except for the king, his Royal Guard, and Éomer, who needed to remain mounted in case of an attack) followed their example.

Éowyn stayed by them, laughing mostly from things Gimli said, but usually spoke with her or Aragorn. She caught the looks the White Lady gave the Ranger. They would be a good couple, but Rowan much preferred Aragorn being with Arwen and Éowyn with Faramir.

Speaking of couples... Rowan could feel Éomer's eyes on her back and he had to know she was looking at him when he rode ahead, and Boromir was beside her, talking with her and pulling out smiles and laughs, and even conversing with the kids on Nárind. Sometimes when either would let go of the reins a second for a break, then reach for them again, their hands would touch. Whoever brushed the other would apologize and ignore it ever happened, but she saw the light redness on the Gondorian's cheeks, just as she blushed too.

At night, the five hunters camped together, and she reflected on her dilemma. Rowan had told herself she wasn't going to become concerned with finding love, but here she was. With nothing else to do, she compared them, and they were practically even.

Neither had a bad mark beside their name in her book. Boromir looked to enjoy spending time with children, and Éomer had listened to her for some Rohirrim constantly scouted ahead of them. Both were handsome, seemed to have interest in her, and didn't have personalities that were off-putting or overpowering. So, who did she like better?

Rowan didn't know.