Masks

Sorry guys for being late. I too have the flu. :P It seems everyone's gotten it all at once. Anyways, thanks for the reviews!! Enjoy this slightly longer chapter! (I think it's longer? Hmm.)

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Birds were singing outside her window. Alura knit her brow and shifted on the bed before realizing she was still in her dress. She groaned, feeling uncomfortable now that she had noticed how warm both it and the blankets over her made her feel despite the cool air. Yet she didn’t want to open her eyes. Not yet. If morning had waited a few hours to arrive she would have been very happy. Yet the birds outside her window would not let up and she knew she could not remain in bed this way. She sighed and rolled to her side, wincing at the sensations she felt rush through her. The events of the night seemed a distant memory, but feeling the tension along her body brought it all back. She could still hear his voice in her mind, hissing his pleasure as he used her. And she wondered why. Had he intended this from the start? Had he written the letter? The thought filled her with horror and she found herself unable to return to the peaceful realm of sleep.

Throwing back the sheet she climbed out of bed and wandered towards the baths. Inside the bathing room was warm from the coals heating the tub. She wanted to snuggle beneath her blankets and thought of abandoning the bath that had been drawn while she slept. But the water would cool. She stumbled before one of the mirrors and began peeling her clothes from herself, gasping when her eyes fell upon her throat. Purple bruises marred her white skin where Faramir had kissed her. Alura smoothed her fingers along one of the marks and sighed, turning away from the mirror.

The gown pooled at her feet. She smoothed the stockings down her legs, then kicked the pile of clothes away from her, repulsed by the memories of last night. Stepping into the warmth felt good. She leaned back and closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth that stole over her. Her arms curled before her unconsciously as she considered what she would do now. Should she speak out? Should she remain silent and leave? And what of Éowyn? Alura opened her eyes and stared at the milky white walls across from her. Sunlight streamed in from a window right over the tub, making the room glow far too bright for her tastes. Her cousin, Faramir had said she was ill and Boromir was tending her. Anxiety twisted her stomach into knots. Had Faramir harmed her? Surely he would not do something deadly. But then, he had done something very serious last night.

Alura bit her bottom lip, torn between the choices before her. If she told Éowyn then she would wonder why Alura had accepted an invitation from Boromir. Yet was this more important than that? She just couldn’t decide. It could happen again, she knew. To her or to Éowyn herself if Faramir were so inclined. With one such as he who could tell? Her pulse picked up as she considered if he had already harmed her cousin in such a way.

She could not get comfortable or find peace, no matter how she tried to soothe herself, so her bath was cut short. She wet her hair and washed it, then got out of the tub and sought for a towel. After wrapping herself up she exited the bath and curled up on the bed, wanting to know how Éowyn was, but not wanting to leave her room. She crossed her arms beneath her head and stared at the bedroom door, trying to will herself to get up. Before long, however, her eyes began to close of their own volition. She yawned and gave in to the warm, fuzzy feeling of the soft bed.

An hour passed, giving her time to fall asleep, time enough to find waking up again a difficult and loathsome task. There was a sharp rap at the door that would not go away, however. She opened her eyes as the door opened. Her stomach muscles clenched in anxiety as she waited to see whom it was. Blond hair made her relax a bit. If she could speak to anyone it was Éomer. Alura sat up quickly as he approached with a grave expression. She held the towel around her and stood to meet him, looking forward to lifting the weight off her shoulders by telling him and seeking his advice. “Éomer.”

“Alura,” he breathed, looking her over. It was an innocent breath that left her open to him. He took advantage and suddenly raised his hand, sending it into her cheek. Alura stumbled back from the force, then stood up with wide eyes, grasping her cheek. He reached for her arms and tossed her to the surface of the bed. Sitting beside her, Éomer shook his head and watched her sit up. “You look remarkably undamaged. Did you not even fight him?”

Her heart pounding, Alura got off the bed, expecting him to grab for her. He did not, merely content to watch her pace back from him. “You…you know?”

He gazed at her coldly. “I know. He told me of his intentions. You just had to accept Boromir’s invitation.”

“Boromir did not write that letter, did he?” she asked, feeling sickened and betrayed. How could her own cousin keep such information from her? She recalled his parting words telling her to ‘be well’.

Éomer leaned back on the bed, shaking his head at her. “He did not. Faramir did. He wished to test you.” A smirk ran along his lips. “He told me of how you wantonly pleasured yourself before him with the name of his elder brother on your tongue.”

Alura flushed at his naked words and sank into a chair. “And you did nothing to stop what happened.”

“I did nothing. You got what you deserved, after all, following my sister’s intended around like a slut in heat.”

She looked into his dark eyes, stung by his behavior. “Why do you use such cold words? Do you hate me so?”

“I do not hate you,” he chided, sitting straight. He looked poised to rise, but did not right away. “I tried to warn you.”

“You didn’t tell me I had a sick bastard wanting to harm me,” she hissed in retort.

“You wanted to get fucked, so you got fucked. Be a grown woman and accept what you earned,” he responded simply.

Rage washed over her. She reached for a glass statuette standing on the table at her right and flung it at him, watching as he deflected it with an angry expression. “What’s happened to you?” she breathed, feeling smothered by the uncaring attitude he was treating her with. This was not the Éomer she knew.

Standing, he wandered towards her and leaned down, grasping the arms of the chair in his hands. His eyes bore into hers with a fire unlike anything she had ever seen in him before. “I saw the truth. You will too if you’re smart enough. When Faramir comes to you, do not argue over what was done. Keep your mouth shut and listen if you do not want things to get worse.” Éomer ran his eyes down her face, then stood up. With a grave look he began towards the door.

“Where is Éowyn?” she asked, stopping him in his retreat.

He turned and for a moment appeared the same as he had been before. “She is in her rooms, resting. Go to her. It will brighten her day.”

“Faramir said she was ill.”

Éomer nodded, then opened the door and departed without an explanation. Alura remained seated in her chair, frightened by his drastic change. The Éomer she knew would have slain Faramir for such a grievous offense. Now she understood she was alone in this. Shaken badly, she stood and went to her armoire, opening it with numb fingers, gazing at her dresses, not really noticing the color or style of any of them. Her hands closed over the hanger of one and she removed it, then dropped her towel, not thinking about what she was doing. Before she knew it she was clothed and walking towards the vanity to brush her hair. She felt nauseated by his words to her. He had been so cruel.

Running the comb through her hair, then setting it down again, Alura wandered out of her rooms and to Éowyn’s. She knocked and the door was opened by a maiden wearing white. She bowed her head and said softly, “The lady will be pleased to see you, miss. She’s been asking for you all morning.”

“Thank you,” Alura said through a dry throat. She swallowed a few times, but it didn’t seem to help. Part of her wondered if Éowyn would treat her the same way Éomer had.

The blond was sitting in a sea of pillows, looking pale and sleepy. She smiled and lifted her hand, beckoning Alura near. “Good morning, cousin,” she greeted with a smile.

Alura sank down on the bed, wanting to cry at the warm welcome, but knowing she could not. “How are you feeling?” she asked softly, looking Éowyn over.

The princess laughed and shook her head. “You look as though I am expected to perish, Alura. It was the excitement, I’m certain and a few glasses of wine too many. Do not worry over me so. Tell me of your night.”

“N-nothing…nothing happened,” Alura insisted quickly, shaking her head.

Éowyn raised her eyebrow. “Nothing? Did you not have an affair with Lord Faramir? Éomer says he saw you two leave the ballroom.” She wore a conspiring grin. “Will you not share with me what happened?”

Feeling as if the blood had drained from her, Alura struggled for words. “I…I left with him,” she breathed, trying to find something to say.

“And?”

“And?”

Éowyn laughed and smacked at her arm. “And did he woo you?”

Knitting her brow, hating Éomer for setting her up for his, Alura turned her head and growled, “You know I hate this. We did nothing I care to speak of.”

The blond sighed and leaned back against her pillows. “I am sorry. I only wished to share in your joy.”

“There was no joy last night,” Alura breathed, then clenched her fists, hoping that too much information had not been revealed within her lack of information.

Éowyn seemed to understand without truly understanding. She nodded gently and gave Alura a soft nudge. “Perhaps he was not feeling well.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.” She pursed her lips and looked the princess over. “What happened to you last night?”

“I grew dizzy,” Éowyn explained simply, her eyes halfway closed. “Boromir brought me here and summoned a healer. He seemed distracted. I hope his father is not sending him away.”

“Yeah,” was all Alura could think to say. They were silent a moment before she pulled herself up from the bed and looked down. “You still look a bit tired.”

“I was ill much of the night,” Éowyn explained.

Alura nodded softly. “Perhaps I should let you rest.”

The blond stifled a yawn, shaking her head. “Come now. You look as tired as I. We can talk.”

The dark-haired Rohirrim glanced at the door, wondering if remaining here would buy her safety from Faramir. Would he come to see Éowyn or leave her be? And what of Boromir? Alura did not know if he had been involved in the strange events. The idea that he had made her feel sick. She was curious and wanted to remain away from Faramir, though, so she agreed and sat back down. “I guess so. Did you get to enjoy any of last night?”

Éowyn laughed and nodded. “Some of it. I danced with Boromir once. He was kind. But soon after the wine I could barely stand. Strange.” She closed her eyes.

Alura remained silent, watching Éowyn fall asleep slowly. She seemed innocent of what was going on and Alura wanted badly to keep her that way, to not reveal any of the troubles going on around her. She stood up and found her way to a lounger near the window where she sat and made herself comfortable, gazing outside at the stormy shadows over Mordor. The sight seemed to take what little comfort she had left. Alura closed her eyes and wanted to melt away.

She did for a time. She wasn’t sure how long it was before a hand at her cheek awakened her with a start. Alura glanced up with a racing heart as Boromir looked down. “I did not see you last night,” he said neutrally. “Were you unwell.”

“For a greater part of the night,” she answered him dryly, sitting up with a yawn. “Is she going to be all right?” she asked, hoping Éowyn’s lightness over the situation was true.

Boromir sat down on the bed and nodded. “She will be well. The healers believe it was too much wine.” He gave his bride a glance, seeming to her to be uncomfortable.

There was a silence between them that tempted her to fill it with talk of what had been done to her, but who was he that she could trust him? She wanted help, wanted to understand what was going on, but she knew he could well be a part of it himself. Still, curiosity drove her to speak, anything to fill the silence. “Have you noticed anything strange going on?” she asked, thinking the question was harmless enough.

His eyes became very alert, however and she regretted asking. “What do you mean?” he retorted, seeming to have something specific in mind.

Alura watched him carefully, then shook her head. “Things seem tense around here. That’s all. I just wondered if you had any information.”

He seemed to relax a bit, but something was haunting him. She could see shades of it within his sea-colored gaze. “Things are always tense around here these days. The shadow of Mordor is extending.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” She glanced at the window nearby reflexively.

Boromir watched her. She didn’t notice until she turned and happened to meet his eyes. He seemed to be weighing her with his gaze and she felt intensely ill at ease with it. Did he know what had occurred in his rooms last night? “Would you like to have a walk with me?” he asked, taking her by surprise.

“A walk?” she faltered, then glanced at Éowyn.

“Yes,” he continued impatiently, but in a subdued way that made her sigh inside. Whatever he was a part of, he seemed to have picked up on the sorrow and tension she felt. “I thought perhaps we could talk.”

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to talk, but neither did she want to be alone for when Faramir came to have his words with her. “A walk would be nice,” she agreed and stood up. “I’ll come back to her later, I suppose.”

He said nothing as he led the way to the door, then out. Alura sidled up to his right and gazed ahead, feeling as though she were walking within the span between nightmares. She honestly wondered if there would be more than words for her if Faramir caught up to her somewhere. If it came to that she would fight him, no question about that, but what else would that spawn? Denethor was not one to have as an enemy and Éomer had already proved he would be of no help to her. She felt very alone just now and envied her cousin her innocence.

After a short walk they came to a doorway leading outside and Boromir pulled it open, motioning her past him. Alura stepped out onto the large terrace and blinked at the noonday sun. He led her to a carved stone bench and when she sat down, joined her at her side. He had something on his mind, she could see. He inhaled deeply, then asked, “What are your intentions?”

Alura shook her head. “What intentions?”

“Do you love my brother?” he continued, his tone a little more sharp.

She felt her stomach clench at his question. Just what did he know or suppose? She wanted no one supposing she loved Faramir in the least. “Why do you ask?”

His eyes met hers coolly. “Why do you think I ask? Faramir told me of last night.”

“What?” she hissed, standing up. He did not follow suite, merely watched as she paced. “How much did he tell you?”

“He told me you slept together,” the elder brother retorted in a hard voice. “Do you have any love for him, or were you just fucking around with him?”

Alura stared, wide-eyed, feeling herself at a loss for words. What could she say to that? Faramir had taken the cruel trick he had played and turned it into something worse. “What are his intentions?”

Boromir glared at her for her failure to answer, but answered, nevertheless. “He has said he intends to pursue you.” He said it with a certain amount of disgust. She couldn’t help but reflect that, but for different reasons she was sure. “He told me he might ask for your hand.”

“What!? Tears threatened to sting her eyes. She balled her fists and paced, worry overcoming her concern over Boromir’s apparent ire with her. “He can’t be serious. He just can’t.”

“So you were just fucking around with him?” Boromir hissed darkly and she stopped staring at him. It was on her tongue to tell him exactly what had happened last night, exactly why she had been trapped with Faramir, but the words seemed to halt on her lips. Would he even believe her? She didn’t notice that he was standing up until he was right before her, reaching for her arms. He jerked her close. “It is forgivable to hurt me, but if you hurt my brother, so help me, I’ll…”

“Hurt your brother?” she growled, putting her hands to his chest. “If you only knew. If you only fucking knew!”

“Knew what?” he asked, pulling her back into him when she fought to tear herself away. His hands were painfully curled around her arms. “If I knew what, Alura? Hmm?”

Again pressing her hands against his chest, she shoved with all her might and won free of his hold, hissing, “He raped me!” Those tears that had threatened before now lined her eyes as she turned and began to stalk away, her arms crossed.

She could hear his footsteps behind her, rushing up and before she knew it he whirled her around and slammed her up against the wall. “Say that again,” he dared her, his expression filled with a rage that frightened her.

“You know what I said,” she retorted, hating that her tears were sliding down her cheeks.

He pressed in close to her in an intimidating way, saying very clear and in a dark, low voice, “If you think for one moment I will believe that, you had better think again. I’ll not hesitate to take my hand to you if you start spreading your lies around Gondor. My little brother need not rape a woman to gain her attention and I’ll not have his honor questioned by some filthy little Rohirrim harlot. I know how easily you fall into bed with a man, if you recall.”

Alura watched him with wide, angry eyes. She didn’t know what to say to him and was sure even if she did, he would respond badly to it. He seemed to take her silence as an agreement and let her go, tearing himself away and stalking off. Her eyes followed him before she sank to the stones beneath her feet and covered her face with her hands. She now felt utterly alone, her only possibility cut off. No one in this city would care if she spoke the truth. Footsteps echoed in the hallway and she looked up, watching as one of the guards walked past her without pausing. Folding her arms along her knees, she buried her face against her arms and closed her eyes. She would get her horse from the stables and leave. That was her only possibility.

When the next fall of steps passed her by she didn’t even look, but a while passed and brought a third passer, who stopped and knelt before her. Drawing her hands away from her face, Faramir eyed her gently. “Why do you weep?” She felt physically ill at his calm demeanor.

“I’m not going to marry you,” she said, her voice dulled by her upset having been spent through her tears.

Faramir laughed and smoothed the moisture from her cheeks. “We shall have to see about that. Come on.”

“Why should I go anywhere with you?”

He toyed with her hair. “Do you want me to answer that question?” he asked softly, smoothing it behind her ears. “Things are changing in Gondor and soon Rohan as well. You may as well understand my mind before you start trying to escape your fate.”

Alura slapped his hands away, causing him to smile. “And what is my fate?”

“You’ll understand it in time. We will begin with the basics first.” He took her by the arms and stood her up, then locked his hand around her wrist, pulling her. At first she refused to go, yanking herself back, and he turned with measuring eyes. “What will it take?” he breathed, running his eyes along her form. “Will you make me hurt you?”

“You’re going to anyway,” she hissed, pulling her hand away from him. “Am I supposed to let you?”

Faramir shook his head with a mild expression. “You’re going to hear what I have to say if I have to drag you to a private room to speak it. Do you think you are a match for my physical strength?”

She swallowed and considered how she should reply. “Why can you not speak it here?” she chose to say, not wanting to give in, yet fearing he would insist to the point of hurting her to get her alone.

His eyes darted through the hallways as he hissed in a breath, moving closer to her. “Our private business is not the business of all. I’ve had my fun with you; I’ve made my point. If I wish to fuck you, I’ll do it. I have no need for trickery. I suggest you listen to me if you wish to avoid unfortunate accidents in the future.” His hand curled around her wrist again as he jerked her from the wall. “Let’s go.”

Saving her strength for what she feared would come, Alura followed him reluctantly. He took her towards her own rooms, but she did not feel comforted by the setting. She entered first and he followed, locking the door behind him. He sat down on one of the couches in her room and motioned her to join him. She remained standing, her arms crossed as she said, “What do you want to speak to me?”

He gazed at her through unblinking eyes. “I want you to leave Boromir alone.”

Alura widened her eyes, then flung her hands up. “No problem there! I want nothing to do with that son of a bitch!” She glared at the younger brother darkly, but her true ire was directed inwardly at Boromir. Just thinking of how he had treated her filled her with rage.

“You want nothing to do with him?” he asked softly, weighing her. “Why is that?”

“Because he’s a jackass,” she retorted, then turned away from him. A new fear began to fill her as she considered what Faramir might do if he had learned of her little slip. Whatever was going on, Boromir seemed not to know it. Would he question his little brother?

Faramir sighed and leaned back, lounging on her couch. “True enough, but if you think so poorly of him, why did you allow him to fuck you? I do know what happened between you two.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Alura hissed, frowning at him as she paced. “And is that why you hurt me? To punish me?”

“Partly.” She flinched at his response and he shrugged. He exhaled and stood up, pacing to the window nearby. “You must understand, Alura, this wedding must take place. Neither me nor my father will allow you to ruin what has been worked towards.”

“Why is this wedding so important?” she asked, watching his expressions.

He turned with a soft smile. “To unify Men, of course.”

“Men can be unified. My cousin need not suffer for this. I need not suffer.”

Faramir leaned against the wall and shook his head. “The people need a figurehead, Alura. Unification does not merely happen. But if the people have an example to follow, they follow. So you see what purpose a marriage between Boromir and Éowyn specifically can mean.”

Alura shook her head. “You say these things and make them sound peaceful, but beneath the surface I see darkness. What sort of man are you?”

He laughed at her words. “There is always darkness beneath the surface of the doings of any man, Alura. Do you think what happened to you has any significance to what’s ahead of all of us?” He took a step towards her. “Do you know what Sauron’s Orcs will do to you if the world of Men fails to hold them at bay? If we do not stand together we will surely fail.”

What he said chilled her. It seemed so logical, but felt so wrong coming from his mouth. She swallowed, wondering when she had lost the knowledge of who it was she was surrounded by. “So I stop speaking to Boromir. What happens then? Do your expectations end there?”

Again he began to move towards her, filling her with uncomfortable tension. She dodged when he reached out to her, but inevitably he tried again and smoothed his fingers down her cheek. “You are expected to stay out of these affairs currently, but I would like it if you would play a more active role.”

“As your whore?” she hissed, shoving his hand away.

“No,” he breathed, lowering his arm. “More than that. I would share the vision of the future with you if you would but open yourself to it. I am attracted to you. A marriage between us would only aid my father’s goals.”

“And if I didn’t agree with your vision?” She took a step back, shaking her head.

His eyes met hers sadly. “My father and I want only what is best for Middle-Earth.” Outside a horn sounded and he looked towards the window, then back at her. Purpose was alight in his eyes. “I must go now. Consider whether or not you wish to be a part of a better future or a slave to an Orc. There are things worse than marriage to me.” He smirked and headed towards the door. “Have dinner with me tonight. But for now I must leave you.”

Alura watched him depart, unease with her situation spreading through her. His attitude was as if nothing had occurred between them but a minor disagreement. His logic was reasonable, but what moved it, she wondered. She was not unfamiliar with brutal dictators that went far to achieve what they thought was best, but going along with him seemed vastly wrong. He wanted her to consider it, marriage to him. But was it a choice? Biting her bottom lip, she made a choice. She was going to leave Gondor now and speak with King Théoden. He had to see to reason. He just had to.

She raced to her armoire and reached for her sword, forsaking the finery that lined the inside of it. Tossing that on the bed, she pulled her dress off and searched for something warmer to wear out, dressed and pulled her cloak out. Tucking her sword within her cloak, she headed out of her room, wondering if she should leave Éowyn here. The wedding would not take place for a few days now, but was she really safe here? Alura glanced towards the rooms of her cousin and was startled to see guards standing by the door. Her hands balled into fists, but she said nothing and darted away, trying to avoid their attention.

There had to be something Théoden could do. She could not give up the hope of that. Running along the halls, she remained indoors for as long as she could, not wishing to attract attention outside until she had to. She trailed the stairwells down to the level where the stables were kept and came before an unattended doorway in a nondescript hall. Alura bit her bottom lip and opened the doorway, then stopped short. The men dressed in armor seemed to have increased in number since her arrival. She forsook the citadel and took to the streets, heading towards the stables, watching as more and more soldiers passed her by.

The stables came in view and she exhaled, picking up her pace, eager to be out of here as soon as possible. She entered, her eyes scanning for her mount. One of the elder stable hands shook his head as she raced through. “Miss?”

“Where is my horse?” she asked him, trying to remain nonchalant.

He shook his head, tossing a brush onto a stack of hay. “Your horse is fine, Miss, but you’re not to be taking her anywhere just now.”

A lump formed in her throat. “What? Why?”

“The city’s locked down. Haven’t you heard? We’re preparing for war.”

“War?” Her eyes strayed in the direction of a nickering horse, then returned to the stable hand. “With whom?”

“Can’t rightly say, Miss. I reckon Lord Denethor’s had another one of his visions.” He leaned in conspiringly. “Some say there’s been strange lights seen on in his tower for days now. He wrestles the Dark Lord Sauron himself up there, they say. In the mind, of course. ‘Twouldn’t be a bit of joy in Minas Tirith if we had the actual Dark Lord here, now would there be? That’s what I say, anyway. But I wouldn’t put it past Lord Denethor if he did capture him. Strong mind, that one.”

Alura wrung her hands beneath her cloak, then let out an exasperated breath. “But I need to get to Rohan. I…I left something undone.”

The old man took on a pitying expression, but still shook his head at her. “I could give you your mount now, Miss, but it would do you little good, seein’ as how the gate’s been locked. They won’t let you through unless you have word from Denethor himself. I don’t suppose you do at that, huh, Miss?”

She briefly considered lying, but doubted very seriously that it would matter in the long run. “No,” she sighed, wondering what she could possibly do. “I don’t suppose you know of a way I could sneak out?”

He laughed as if she had made a joke. ‘Now, now, Miss. Why don’t you go back to your rooms and quit worryin’. I’m sure there’s plenty for you ladies to do to distract yourselves without worry or talk of war. Now go get you a warm cup of tea, okay?”

“Fine,” she sighed as he ushered her out. She crossed her arms as he shut the stable door behind her, leaving her alone on the street. Almost alone.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Éomer stopped and motioned the guard he had been walking with to continue on without him.

Alura narrowed her brow at him. “Oh, Éomer, leave me alone,” she hissed irritably. “I’m not going anywhere apparently.”

He cocked his head, then stepped forward, taking her by the arm and leaning close. “But why were you trying to leave?”

“Because I hate this fucking place,” she hissed, meeting his glare full on.

He smiled and nodded, then let her go. His eyes seemed to guess at her purpose, but she said nothing to deny or confirm anything. “Take care you do nothing that I would have to punish you for. I’ll not have you embarrass Rohan by acting like a spoiled little bitch.”

Again his words stung her with how unfamiliar such nonchalant failure to care was on him. “Why do you behave this way with me? You used to love me and protect me.”

“And I will continue to do so as long as you are worthy of it,” he responded firmly, then relaxed. “Things are changing, Alura. I want you to be a part of the future of our people uniting.”

“And this future is okay with you? Even if I am abused by those that strive for it?” She watched him intently. “And what if Éowyn falls to abuse?”

His eyes flashed, but he did not act against her. “Éowyn will listen to my counsel. She has done nothing to earn punishment.”

Alura pushed, trying to reach his sensibilities. “And what if she does? What if Faramir or Boromir decide they do not like something she does? Will you stand by and let them hurt her too?” There was no one he loved more than his sister. If he could stand by and allow her to be hurt, Alura knew there was no hope for his return to the man he had once been.

Éomer looked away, seeming to consider it, then met her eyes with a firmness that made her feel hollow and sick inside. “I would punish her myself if need be to gain peace for Middle-Earth. Such is the sacrifice we all must make for a better future. But I know she would never require it of me. You would do well to make sure I view you in the same way.”

“Won’t you tell me what’s happened?” she insisted, putting her hand on his arm when he tried to move. “Has Denethor been trying to defeat Sauron somehow?”

Quite suddenly his hand darted for her arm. He jerked her close and smoothed her hair behind her ear, then leaned in to say, “Do not meddle in the affairs of kings. He may be Steward, but he is the most powerful man in Middle-Earth. What he does is his own business, not yours.” Pulling back, his dark eyes gazed into hers intensely. “Go to your rooms or wherever you will and stop worrying. What happened to you was what you deserved, nothing more. When you pry into the affairs of men, you take risks, Alura. I am sorry you were hurt, but there are more important things going on than the emotions of a single girl.” He pressed his hand to her cheek, smoothing his thumb along her trembling lips. “Go and tend to Éowyn. She needs you.”

Éomer stepped away from her, again leaving her shocked and uncertain. The changes in him seemed so vast. It made her sick to think on it. Wrapping her arms along her abdomen, she walked slowly towards her room, not having the heart to see to anyone. She felt trapped and helpless to what was happening, and just what was happening had her confused and afraid. Éomer was not himself. He would never have agreed to a mindset that would see him harming his family for any reason. Not in the way she had been harmed.

The warmth of the halls felt soothing, one of the few comforts she thought she would find in this terrible place. Alura moved on slowly, in no hurry to be anywhere anyone would find her. Along the way she found a sitting room that seemed not as grand as the ones near the royal and guest apartments. It seemed suited for servants, but she didn’t care. She stepped inside to steal refuge and sat down upon a worn looking couch. With any luck Faramir would not find her here and forsake her company at dinner.

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