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You weren’t a delicate flower. You were used to hard work, to travelling day and night, to sleeping less than three hours a day or even longer. Yet, you were feeling exhausted. Exhausted and hopeless.
Aragorn did not want to admit that there might be a chance that Merry and Pippin were dead. That Uruk-hai might have found out that neither of the hobbits was the Ring bearer and had left them to die. To be honest, the four of you denied that it was possible and it was the only thing that kept you carrying on, pushing your body to move forward, to follow Aragorn and chase Uruk-hai with all your might.
“I hear something,” Legolas said, halting all of you in your steps. You frowned, looking at him confused.
“What do you mean? What is it?”
“There is something coming our way,” Aragorn clarified and a shiver ran down your spine. You started feeling threatened and anxious – despite travelling on Rohan’s territory for days you hadn’t been approached by anyone, which meant that now the only option was that Uruk-hair sent their kin to kill you. Somehow, they spotted you and learnt that they were followed.
“Uruk-hair?” you asked weakly and Legolas shook his head.
“I can hear horses, Y/N.”
“Oh, thank Eru,” you mumbled, taking a deep breath. You knew that whoever was coming might still be a threat but the fact that it wasn’t Uruk-hai was comforting. The four of you could handle everything, after all, especially together.
“Better take your hoods off,” Aragorn suggested and all of you slid the hoods of your coats off your heads, listening to your first instincts as you all hovered your hands over your weapons.
You focused your gaze on the raiders that were approaching fast, recognizing Rohan’s Mark. You could not see their leader’s face as it was covered by a visor.
When the raiders circled you, the four of you immediately stood back to back, your eyes wandering over the raiders, assessing them.
“What brings you to Rohan?” the leader roared and you shivered again. You knew that voice, frankly, you were quite familiar with it.
Few years ago you had stopped in Edoras during your journey and you had met Éomer, a Marshal of Rohan’s Mark. Throughout your short staying there, you had spent many hours in his company, listening to stories of battles he taken part in, telling him about other lands he had never seen. There was an instant connection between the two of you and when you were leaving, you had felt a sting in your heart at the thought of never seeing him again.
You were glad that fate had proved you wrong.
“We mean no harm, my lord, we are looking for our friends,” Aragorn explained, trying to lose the tension that stiffen from a conflict between the raiders and Gimli and Legolas.
“And what are your friends doing in Rohan?”
“They were captured by Uruk-hai, we wish to rescue them,” you replied, hoping that your voice would be recognized as well.
The Marshal appeared to be surprised as he straightened in his seat. He reached to take off his helmet and his eyes, filled with happy sparkles, bore into yours.
“Y/N?”
“I’m glad to see you again, lord Éomer,” you said and bowed your head slightly, gaining confused looks from your companions.
“And I you, Y/N. I’ve never thought you may travel into this land once more.”
“Neither did I, but here I am. Have you seen any Uruk-hai wandering through Rohan?”
“Yes, we have seen them. We hunted them down and slain them but we saw only those monster.”
“No hobbits?”
“Hobbits? They don’t exist, Y/N.”
You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes at his remark and tried again.
“They’re smaller than Dwarves, can travel silently. Maybe they managed to escape?” you turned your hope-filled eyes to Aragorn, allowing yourself to smile softly.
“Can you give us directions to that place?” Aragorn asked and Éomer explained how to find the spot where Uruk-hait camped and where Éomer and his people killed them. You wanted to dart there instantly, to search the place for any kind of sign that the hobbits were indeed there and that they were unharmed. Hoping against hope, you gazed at Gimli and Legolas, not paying much attention to what was happening between the raiders and Aragorn.
“… our horses. We have only two but I am sure you will manage. There’s no need to cover such distance on your foot. This way you’ll be there quicker.”
“I’m grateful for that offer,” Aragorn said and you chanced a glance at Éomer. He was still speaking with the Strider but you caught his eyes as he peeked at you. You quickly lowered your eyes on the ground, suddenly very interested in the condition of Rohan’s grass. You tried to ignore how sweaty your palms were.
“Legolas, you will ride with Gimli on one horse. Y/N and I will take the other,” Aragorn ordered and when you looked at him, he beckoned you to come to the horse, and so you did.
You were aware that Éomer was behind your back, that he was watching you – you felt his gaze burning the skin of your neck and for the first time you regretted that you joined the Fellowship. It was brief, yet you wished you could part ways with your companions and go with Éomer, spend more sleepless night with him and listen to new stories he undoubtedly had.
Yet, it was not the time for longing for something that silly. Any kind of feelings had to wait for when the war with Darkness would be over.
_____
The final battle, when you followed Aragorn to whatever end, was everything and nothing you would ever expect.
It felt as if the entire Middle Earth, all races on Arda came to fight with the Evil and that the Evil was prepared for it perfectly. You always hoped to see oliphants, however not bearing an enemy on their backs. All you could smell was blood and sweat, all you could feel was desperation and hope that Frodo would end this madness once and for all.
You heard raiders of Rohan, yet you could not even look at them to see if Éomer was there. You hoped he would, you hoped to at least lock your eyes with his once again before both or one of you would be gone forever.
A new wave of enemies arrived and you wielded your sword harder than before. With a cry on your lips you ran straight into the fighters, hearing whines of killed ones and passionate shouts from others fighting against the Evil. That gave you more courage and with renewed strength you lifted your sword higher, preparing yourself to behead an enemy.
Which never came. You were stabbed with a dagger under your ribs. The air left your lungs with a pained whimper and with a disbelieving gaze you felt yourself collapsing on the cold ground. You knew better than to take the weapon out of your body, although you were suddenly too weak to even move.
Your eyes fluttered close and the last though in your mind was one about a blond-haired Rohan’s Marshal, who brought nothing but joy into your hard life.
_____
You did not anticipated you would ever wake up again. You were convinced that you would pass away on the battlefield, not having a chance to learn whether you won or lost.
You moaned, your throat feeling as if you swallowed hundreds of shatters of glass. Your head was spinning but you never felt more conscious that now – you could feel every fiber in your body, especially the ones in your right side where a dagger hit you.
A dagger…
Your hand shot to your right side but there was no weapon. Instead, underneath a clean tunic you felt fresh bandage, wrapped around your stomach. You were alive. Someone must’ve taken you and cared for you.
Carefully, you opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light.
“Y/N,” a soft, deep voice called from your side and you narrowed your eyes slightly as you took in a figure sitting next to you.
Aragorn had a large bowl with water on his lap, in which he dived a clothe and gently wiped your face and neck with it. The sensation was soothing and you let out a contented sigh.
“Your fever finally subsided. For a moment there, I feared that we will lose you. The wound is healing well, too.”
“Frodo?” you inquired, your voice barely louder than a whisper.
“He destroyed the Ring, Sauron is gone.”
“We won…” you screeched, tears of joy stung your eyes and Aragorn rushed with a clothe to wipe your face again. He flashed you a smile, watching as you cheered and when you calmed down his face became serious again.
You had once more question, the one you were too afraid to ask, the one you could barely think of.
“Is Éomer… hurt?” you managed to say and your eyes immediately filled with tears again.
“He is well, Y/N, he’s not hurt,” Aragorn assured, taking your hand in his two and he squeezed it as you cried with relief, giving you time to acknowledge the news, “Eowyn is, yet I tended to her as well. They say the hands of the king are the hands of a healer.”
“And it’s true, Aragorn. I didn’t expect to make it, if I am honest. I thought I would never see you or the hobbits or Gimli or Legolas ever again.”
“Or Éomer.”
“Yes,” you nodded slightly and Aragorn stood up from his seat to prop you on the pillow so you could sit up comfortably, “I wanted to ask you, when we met them in Rohan, I wanted to go with him. I was worried about our little ones but I saw him and… I’ve met him before while I was travelling to Mirkwood yet I thought it was our last meeting. And then he was there again and he was so close and I did nothing!”
“Do you want me to bring him here? He surely is by his sister’s bed.”
“Does he know about me?”
Aragorn shook his head.
“He did ask, yet I didn’t want to bring him more sorrow since you were-“
“I understand, Aragorn,” you squeezed his hand and gave him a tight smile and he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead.
“I will tell him you wish to see him.”
“Thank you,” you murmured, “for everything.”
Aragorn said nothing, only smiled softly before he walked from your bed. Few, eternally long minutes passed before there was a figure approaching your bed fast and almost fainted from happiness that washed through you upon seeing Éomer.
He kneeled by your bed, reaching to gingerly cradle your face.
“Forgive me for not looking for you, Y/N, I was afraid that I would find you among fallen. I could not bear it, I could not bear losing you,” he whispered, his brown eyes seeking yours fervently and you placed your hands over his, brushing his skin delicately.
“I thought I lost you, too, I thought that I missed my chance,” you said, your heart racing in your chest but, finally, everything felt right.
“I’m here, my darling, and I won’t leave you. And I am not letting you leave my side ever again, never,” he spoke passionately, his words sincere and full of affection and you gasped, your mouth falling agape as you tried to find right words to answer.
It took you a moment but you recovered, a teasing smile tugging your lips upward as you whispered,
“for that, you will have to marry me, my dear.”
“Y/N, my sweet, and why do you think am I kneeling?” Éomer said with a hint of mischief as his nose bumped on yours, before he closed the almost non-existent distance between you and your lips met in a searing, loving kiss.
And somewhere between tasting each other, between soft and intense kisses, your love asked a question, to which there was only one answer.
“Yes, I will.”