He barely noticed the man working on the body beside him. All he could think of was her lying there, in the dirt and blood. He could hardly believe his eyes when he had seen her there, hardly believed she had followed them into battle, hardly believed he was seeing the last of his kin dead.

His beloved sister, his most treasured possession . . .a poor choice of words, but she was all he had left. His uncle was dead, he was now king of Rohan.

His mind could not grasp that truth, could not order his body to take breath, nor his heart to beat. What good was the crown? What good was lordship? What could he live for with his sister dead? He had lost hope, he had lost everything. Tears that at any other time would not have wet his cheeks, now coursed down them in rivers, but soon they too ceased. He sat in utter despair, mindless pain dulled his senses, tore his still beating heart from his chest leaving him numb, unable to tell if he was still alive.

Legolas stepped closer, watching Ârâgorn press the cool hands of a healer to the woman’s body. His attention, however, was focused on the man on the far side of the bed. There was an emptiness in those eyes, as if the man felt the nothingness of eternal death.

The elf dropped a hand onto the man’s shoulder and gently squeezed. The man’s eyes lifted to his and Legolas swallowed at the look in those dark irises. “My friend . . .have hope . . .”

“Without her . . .there is no hope,” he whispered.

Legolas lowered to his haunches in front of him. “My brother always tells me that there is always hope and . . .I trust him.”

Éomer frowned slightly. “I did not know you had a brother.”

“I lost him once . . .in battle,” Legolas replied, shuddering slightly remembering the pain of that moment. “In truth many times, but each time he came back. The last time . . .” he swallowed, “is . . .so near I can still feel my own heart breaking.”

Éomer looked at him, in silent acceptance. the pain was evident in the elf’s voice. “Éowyn is dead, Legolas,” he spoke softly. “She is gone. Why does Ârâgorn linger over her when there are others? She has passed into the arms of my father and uncle now. It is hopeless.”

Legolas’ hand shifted, but did not release. “She is still here,” he said. “She is in dreams, speaking in communion with another lost soul, one whose coming was foretold to her. She is still here, Éomer. Do not give up on her.”

Éomer’s eyes widened a little. “Another . . .who? How . . .?”

Legolas allowed a smile. “I can feel it.”

Éomer sucked in an unsteady breath and swiftly let it go. “I will have hope when I see her eyes open again, but I will hold to your word.”

Legolas heard the warning that those words carried, if unintentionally, and swallowed. “She will return.”

Éomer frowned a little. “I thought she loved Ârâgorn. She plighted troth, he drank from her cup. . .”

Legolas smiled again. “Even a woman as wise as Éowyn can mistake one prince for another.” With that, the elf rose and left him confused and uncertain. Éowyn slept on.

El fin