The day passed very slowly. My ribs throbbed sharply with every step Hasufel took, and the dust kicked up by the massive procession made it immensely difficult and painful for me to breathe. Still, I fared better than many on foot.

We stopped at sundown, and I gratefully dropped from the saddle and into Aragorn's waiting arms, letting him set me on my feet.

"Go talk to Legolas," he murmured, nodding across the milling people to where Legolas was laying out his bedroll between two boulders.

Yeah, like that was gonna happen. Shrugging, I said, "If he wants to talk to me, he can come and talk to me."

I started to walk away, but Aragorn gently caught my elbow. I reluctantly met his gaze, and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Pride is a poor companion." Straightening, he flashed me an affectionate grin and patted me on the shoulder. Then he began to unsaddle Hasufel.

As if that would change my mind.

I scanned the ragged bunch of Rohirrim, all settling down for the night. Boromir wasn't far away, still with the family he'd spent the day with, and at the moment he was chatting with the boy, whose age I estimated at about thirteen or fourteen. The boy watched Boromir's vague hand motions with something like hero worship, while a young woman a few years older prepared a simple meal, watching Boromir with a wary fascination. Already, their mother slept on a blanket, her baby tucked in at her side.

I felt someone's gaze, like a chilling caress on the side of my face. Without meaning to, I turned to meet those blue eyes across the camp. We locked stares for a moment, and a shiver of longing ran down my spine. But Legolas broke off his stare, kneeling onto his bedroll and taking off his boots, then laying aside his various weapons. Refusing to look at me again, he lay down and covered himself with his cloak.

Well. If that's how he wanted to play.

I walked over to where Boromir sat. He looked up curiously, along with his young friend. Smiling in what I hope was a friendly manner, I said, "Hey Boromir. Who is this?"

He glanced at his friends, then said, "Eda, this is Èolir," he motioned to the boy, "and Kèolyn." He motioned to the girl.

I waved, attempting—truly attempting—to be pleasant. "Hi."

Gimli's gruff, animated voice approached. "...and that's why it's so extremely valuable. Besides, of course, the fact that it is light as an eagle's feather, and hard as the scales of a dragon."

I turned, finding Gimli laying out his bedroll next to Aragorn's, chattering to a too-patient Lady Èowyn. Lady Èowyn, however, had eyes only for a certain ranger who happened to be kicking off his shoes and stretching out for the night. Luckily Gimli didn't notice. Aragorn did, though, and flashed Èowyn a brief, hesitant smile of acknowledgement.

And that was my cue to rescue the poor Man.

Waving goodbye to Boromir and Friends, I headed toward the disaster scene.

Gimli opened his mouth to keep talking, but I interrupted, thus saving the sanity of all those in hearing range. "Gimli, are you talking about Mithril again?"

He turned and beamed at me. "Why, yes lassie! Would ye care to listen?"

"No, Gimli," I said gently. "I need to get some sleep, and I'm sure Lady Èowyn does, as well."

"Oh," Gimli replied, his features sinking. "Of course."

"I should very much like to hear more tomorrow," Èowyn said quickly, smiling at Gimli.

He grinned back. "Tomorrow, then. Good night, my lady." And with that, he collapsed onto his bedroll and started snoring.

Lady Èowyn turned to me and mouthed, Thank you.

I grinned and nodded, and she left us to ourselves.

I grabbed my own bedroll and settled down between Aragorn and Gimli. I kicked off my shoes, setting them next to Aragorn's, and as I deweaponized, I caught Aragorn's gaze. "Someone's got a crush on you," I murmured, careful not to wake Gimli.

Aragorn flashed me an unappreciative glare.

I blinked innocently. "What? It's not my fault you're gorgeous."

Sighing, Aragorn closed his eyes and said, "You know Legolas can and probably is listening to us."

I followed suit and laid down. Staring up at the cloudy night sky, I smirked and said, "What do you think he'd do if you randomly decided to kiss me?"

Twang!

Dirt sprayed the foot of my bedroll, and I startled. A silver-feathered arrow protruded from the ground, occupying the narrow space between Aragorn's boots and my own.

Aragorn smirked, his eyes still closed. "Does that answer your question?"

I huffed and began brushing the sand off my blankets. "He got dirt on my bedroll," I growled.

"Oh, if I kissed you—and you let me—he'd do a lot more than that."

My hand froze in place. "Are you trying to say what I think you're trying to say? Because if you are trying to say what I think you're trying to say, you're wrong. He wouldn't."

"Don't be so sure," Aragorn said with another smirk. He opened his eyes and watched me as I continued cleaning off my blankets. "Legolas already thinks you belong to him."

I scowled. "Oh, really?" This both irritated me, and made me all mushy-gushy inside. Which irritated me more. "Then why is he sleeping all the way over there and pretending he hates me?" I cringed, awaiting the arrival of another arrow...and none came.

Aragorn chuckled. "He's nursing his pride, is all."

I flashed him a wicked grin. "And I thought guys didn't nurse...?"

He didn't disappoint. Aragorn's eyes widened for a split-second, then he scowled at me scoldingly. "Eda!"

I blinked and smiled innocently.

Aragorn gave a peeved sigh, then closed his eyes again. "Go to sleep, Eda."

Translated: you win. Smirking, I closed my eyes and let my exhaustion take over.

* * *

Aragorn didn't make me ride with Legolas the next day. Instead, he boosted me up onto Hasufel and walked beside us once again.

True to her word, Lady Èowyn walked with Gimli once again, letting him ride her horse. Their conversation shifted from Mithril to a more interesting subject.

"It's true, you don't see many Dwarf women," Gimli conceeded. "And in fact, they're so alike in voice and appearance—" he chuckled. "They're often mistaken for Dwarf men."

Barely concealing a grin, Èowyn glanced over her shoulder at us.

I covered my mouth to keep from sniggering out loud, but Aragorn took a different approach to the situation. "It's the beards," he whispered, gesturing to his own chin.

I laughed into my hand, and Èowyn's eyes lit up. "Shh!" she hissed, desperately holding back her own laughter.

Completely unaware, Gimli continued to ramble. "This in turn leads to the belief that there are no Dwarf women—and that Dwarves just, spring out of holes in the ground!"

Èowyn laughed on cue, not too hard, and not too quietly. Eru, whoever taught her her manners, I needed to schedule a free consultation. On second thought...I enjoyed being rude.

Suddenly, Èowyn's horse bolted, running forward before she could catch its rein. Gimli fell backwards and flopped to the ground with a heavy thud.

Now laughing from sheer amusement, Èowyn ran forward to the Dwarf, who was standing and calling out, "It's alright, it's alright! Nobody panic; it was deliberate. It was deliberate."

Laughing, Èowyn glanced back at us as she brushed off Gimli's cloak, her eyes landing on Aragorn.

Gimli did not remount Èowyn's horse, but instead walked with Boromir and his friends for awhile, entertaining them with talk of gold, silver, and mithril. And Èowyn, leading her horse, dropped back to walk beside Aragorn and myself.

She was silent for a long time. All three of us were, and it was awkward. Finally, she said, "Where is she?" At his confused glance, Èowyn added, "The woman that gave you that jewel."

Aragorn frowned and gazed off into the distance. "She is sailing to the Undying Lands, with all that is left of her kin."

I blinked. Arwen, leaving Arda? Leaving Aragorn? I mean, hey, if I'd known that a few weeks ago...! And yet, it didn't feel right.

A horse's panicked scream echoed over the next hill, back to us.

Aragorn frowned, then glanced at me. "Stay here," he instructed, then he jogged off toward the sound. Èowyn gazed after him with a rather starstruck expression, and I huffed.

"Just for the record," I said. "I'm in line for him next."

Èowyn turned and looked up at me, frowning slightly. "I'm sorry?"

I shrugged. "It's just, I've known him for a good ten years, and I've always harbored a massive crush on him. So I'm in line for him next—but I guess my point is, I don't even have much hope that he'll ever become emotionally available. I've seen him with Arwen, and that's not something he could just move on from."

Èowyn flushed bright pink, and she looked away. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured.

I rolled my eyes. It wasn't like I was speaking in code! "Look," I tried again. "My point is, find another Ma—"

"Wargs!" Aragorn came running over the hill. "We're under attack! Get them out of here!" He threw a hand out to the women and children as he passed Thèoden.

Aragorn came to a stop beside us. Before I could protest, he'd already pulled me off Hasufel. "Go with the others," he said firmly, swinging into the saddle.

"But Aragorn, I want to help!" I cried, grabbing at Hasufel's rein.

He shook his head and leaned down to place his hand on my cheek. "Eda, you heard what Gandalf said. You have to be protected."

"And what about you?" I snapped, grabbing his wrist. "You're not battle fodder, Aragorn, you're a king."

"All riders to the head of the column!" Thèoden called.

Aragorn pried his hand away. "Do not fight, Eda," he warned, then he spurred Hasufel away, joining ranks with the other horsemen.

Gimli came running up, breathing hard. "Get me up there, I'm a rider!" Èowyn reluctantly began helping Gimli onto her horse, and I smiled to myself. With her distracted, I could just slip away—

I bumped into someone. I startled and jumped away, but he grabbed my arms. "Where do you think you're going?" Boromir said with a grin.

"I, uhh..."

Èowyn, having successfully gotten Gimli aboard her horse, turned and frowned at me, not fooled in the least.

"That's what I thought," Boromir replied. "Come on, then." He motioned for Èowyn to come as well, and together, they began following the panicked hoardes. I reluctantly tagged along, knowing they would notice my absence if I tried to sneak away again.

Behind us, the sounds of battle rang out. Orc screeches, warg howls, the cries of wounded men...and the distinctive twang of Legolas's bow. I glanced over my shoulder, just to see if he was in view—only to find a warg and its rider running toward us.

"Boromir," I warned, resting my palms on the hilts of my swords. Boromir grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back into Èowyn's arms. "No!" I yelled, thrashing, but failing to free myself. "Let me go! I want to help!"

They ignored me. Big surprise there.

Boromir strapped his shield onto his left arm, then drew his sword and held it at the ready. The warg drew closer. Just before it could run him down, Boromir swung at the creature's head, cutting a deep gash behind its jaw. As the warg staggered, he thrust his sword deep in the rider's chest. The orc screeched and fell. The warg came back around, and Boromir slammed it in the face with his shield. Opening him up to attack. The warg's teeth sank into his side.

No words were needed for a new alliance. Èowyn grabbed one of my swords, and together we ran forward.

The warg shook Boromir like a toy, then tossed him to the ground. He landed hard and groaned, hand tightening on his sword. With a vicious snarl, the warg pounced. Yelped, then stilled. A bloodstained blade protruded from the back of the warg's neck.

Èowyn hitched her skirts up a few inches and kicked the warg off Boromir. Dropping my sword, she knelt at Boromir's side and took his face between her hands. "My lord?" she asked, her voice steady and unafraid. When he only groaned and winced, she looked to me. "What is his name?"

"Boromir," I supplied.

She gave a nod of thanks and looked at him again. "My lord Boromir, we must get you to an infirmary. You must stand and walk; I cannot carry you."

Boromir's eyes opened, and he looked up at Èowyn. His lips parted, and he blinked. "Is this...am I dreaming?" he muttered, still staring at Èowyn.

Her cheeks colored lightly, and she looked away. "Indeed not, my lord. Come, we must leave this place."

Boromir dazedly let Èowyn pull him to his feet, and I winced at his condition. His tunic was badly torn and bloodstained under his left arm and across his chest, where the warg had grabbed him, and his face was rather pale. He swayed on his feet, and Èowyn grabbed him. "Lean on me," she instructed. To me, she said quietly, "He's in shock. We must hurry to Helm's Deep."

I glanced toward the noises of battle, still in full force. I couldn't hear Legolas's bow...though he may've been using his blades...

"Eda." Èowyn's voice was firm. "I need your help." Our eyes locked, and she said, "Please."

I nodded reluctantly, and pulled his sword out of the warg's throat. After pushing the weapon into its sheath at Boromir's hip, I took his shield off his arm and secured it to his back. Then I moved under his arm and helped Èowyn lead him after the masses, toward Helm's Deep.