Hilde sat in a quiet corner of the courtyard, peering out over the quiet greenness that grew amid the cool stone and pale sunlight. Up in her chamber Éowyn had been ordered back to her bed to rest, though Hilde suspected she would return to her window as soon as she woke again just as she was sure Lord Faramir was likely to return to the courtyard for a chance to catch a glimpse of her again. Their budding romance did wonders to lift Hilde's spirits, and as she sat on the bench in one of the quiet green alcoves that surrounded the small court, she could feel herself beginning to drift off, the thought of the nightmares she would no doubt encounter not seeming nearly so threatening as they had before.

The sky was beginning to darken when she finally woke. Though she couldn't remember just what she had been dreaming of, she knew from the way her nails were clenched against her palms and her sprained finger throbbed that it had not been pleasant. It took her a brief anxious moment to figure out where she was amid the lingering bonds of sleep. She was no longer on the stone bench where she had been sitting when she dozed off, instead lying in the chambers she and Éomer had been given, pleasantly warm thanks to the thick wool blanket tucked up around her shoulders. It was then that she realized she was not alone.

Lost in a light doze, Éomer lay in front of her, their foreheads nearly touching while his hand rested comfortingly on her waist. Instantly her lingering unease vanished and she found herself staring at him, trying to memorize every facet of his features. Unbidden, her fingers, still stiff and aching from the way she had clenched them in her sleep, lifted to trace his jaw, gently carding his long hair away from his face.

It was a moment before she realized his eyes had opened, watching her with the same intentness as she had been looking at him. It was a long while before either of them spoke, happy instead to just savor this peaceful time alone. His hand had begun trailing up and down her side, sometimes absently tangling in her long red-gold hair while she continued to trace his features with gentle fingers.

But eventually a shadow began to grow in his eyes, something Hilde didn't miss. Immediately she knew something had been decided at the discussion in the Throne Room, something that clouded her husband's eyes as he tried to push it from his thoughts.

"What happened," she finally asked quietly, "what did you all decide." It was a long time again before he answered, a reluctance to talk about it just yet surfacing on his features.

Eventually, though, he told her everything; about the Halfling who even now was trekking through Mordor to destroy Sauron's fabled Ring, about the reports of Sauron's forces regrouping... about Aragorn's plan. Here he faltered. Hilde tried to give him a reassuring smile, but already she could feel the now familiar feeling of dread coiling in her chest.

"We march on the Black Gate, Hilde," he said quietly. Not them, we. What was left of Rohan's army was to march with Aragorn to Mordor, including Éomer. Hilde's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers had stilled as he'd spoken, coming to rest against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Now, as resignation threaded through his voice at the outcome of that last council, her fingers had tightened on his shirt, her knuckles white, pain lancing through her sprained finger. Slowly her eyes closed, fighting tears for what felt like the hundredth time. She was sick of crying. Just when she had begun to think they were safe, to hope that their part in the war was done...

"Lord Aragorn has suggested that you stay here, leading the remaining shieldmaidens and a small host of our men to safeguard the city." It was a testament to just how weary Hilde felt in that moment, that her protestations were given with only half-hearted enthusiasm.

"Surely there are others far more suited? Gamling? One of the Gondorian Captains?" he nodded briefly.

"Gamling is already set to lead a small host of his own that will patrol just beyond the city walls. You will be here, inside." Hilde frowned.

"Or I could ride with you again." A faint grin quirked his lips. Shifting forward he placed a soft kiss against her lips.

"I get the feeling that we are going to have this conversation every time I ride out," he said lightly before turning serious again, "more than looking to the defense of the city, I need you to prepare to return to Edoras. Take the shieldmaidens and Éowyn with you, and see to the Golden Hall," he sighed heavily then, the shadow of grief surfacing again in his eyes, "and return my uncle to Meduseld." Hilde felt him tensing beneath her fingers. A faint smile of her own tugged at her mouth as a thought came to her, drawing a faint confused frown from her husband.

"Perhaps, Éowyn should not leave just yet," she murmured, tentatively meeting his gaze. His brow furrowed with concern and bewilderment. Her fingers lifting, she did her best to smooth his brow with a gentle touch. "She has found a peace here that I feared she might never find, and his name is Faramir. It would be cruel to take her away just yet." Éomer's eyes widened as he slowly understood what she was suggesting. A flicker of worry passed over his features, and she could see his protective instincts waking in the way his jaw set, his grip involuntarily tightening on her arm. Leaning forward she kissed him softly again, her fingers combing lightly through his beard. After a moment he began to relax, his gaze falling on her questioningly.

"You think she has fallen in love with him?" Hilde nodded.

"She looks at him the way I have always looked at you. The way I see you sometimes looking at me. And she smiles when she sees him, quietly, without even realizing she does it." Hilde quickly swallowed back the emotion that was suddenly rising in her throat. It was something she saw mirrored in her husband's eyes; he feared for Éowyn's happiness now just as much as he feared for her health. They both worried at how Théoden's death had affected her, not to mention her experiences on the Pelennor Fields. That she might now have a chance of real happiness...it still didn't banish the wariness in his eyes. Hilde nearly chuckled at the look. It felt normal, seeing such brotherly concern surfacing amid the concerns of war and newly bestowed kingship. He raised an eyebrow then at the way she was stifling her laughter.

She merely shook her head as her grin widened, her arms snaking around his waist as she burrowed into his arms. After a moment he too chuckled lightly, the sound rumbling quietly in his chest as Hilde tucked herself beneath his chin.

***

Strangely, it was with an almost dreamlike detachment that Hilde pulled herself from her husband's arms. As he had ridden for Gondor her heart felt on the verge of breaking as she fought the fear that she was saying goodbye for the last time. Now, for some reason, while she did feel that fear, it wasn't consuming her as it had then. Perhaps it was because every time she had thought she had seen him for the last time he made it through, returning to her side without fail. Or maybe she was just learning to master the paralyzing fear better.

Oh, she still feared. Her heart thrummed with terror like the futile beat of a snared bird's wings. It was rumoured that over ten thousand orcs waited in Mordor, and the force readying to ride out from Gondor was only a couple thousand strong at most. There was a very real chance that they were all riding to slaughter. But she stood firm anyway, embracing her husband tightly as he bid her a final farewell in the great courtyard. Off to the side Aragorn, resplendent in garb fit for a King, was descending the steps of the Great Hall toward Brego, who was also arrayed for battle in the white tree and stars of Gondor. Gandalf was already mounted and waiting on Shadowfax, the Halfling Peregrin Took sitting in front of him. Hilde took no notice. She was too lost in that final embrace.

She had been utterly bewildered when Éomer had captured her lips in a final, searing kiss, his fingers digging into her back as he pulled her closer. He was never so open with his affections, not unless they were alone; he was normally too stoic and solemn for that. It only served to frighten her more at the way he held her with such abandon in the centre of the courtyard, in the shadow of the White Tree. It had only stoked her own desperate fears, and she had wound her arms about his neck, not wanting to let go anymore than he did.

But she did let go, and so did he. And despite the all encompassing fear that had been fighting to gain hold in her heart, she watched him go with dry eyes and steady hands. It didn't feel real; perhaps that was why it hadn't consumed her. Mounted on Firefoot, Master Brandybuck riding behind him, he met her eyes one more time, his love for her plain for all to see as a tiny comforting smile lit his lips. Hilde hugged herself tightly, feeling like she was holding back the wave of grief just waiting for a chance to break free.

As Aragorn, Éomer, Gandalf and the rest of the Host of Men descended through the levels of the White City, Hilde blindly made her way back to the Houses of Healing to watch the Host cross the plains on the road to the plain of Dagorlad and the Black Gate with Éowyn.

Stepping into the courtyard, she paused as the watery sunlight hit her face. There was a chill in the air that seemed to match the one growing in her heart. Across the small green courtyard Éowyn stood framed in one of the arches that looked over the Pelennor fields, a dark blue cloak wrapped about her shoulders as she looked out at the Host as it moved steadily down the road. Hilde had been nearby as Éomer told his sister of the march to the Morannon, and had been unable to watch as Éowyn threw her arms around her brother, distraught at the news. Not once did her sister ask to ride with them. That Éowyn had been changed by her encounter with the Witch King was abundantly clear. No longer did her longing and passion for battle burn within her, but had been replaced with what Hilde could only describe as a longing for peace. It was a desire Hilde could easily say she shared, though part of her heart longed to be down on that road with her husband, even after all that she had seen and all that now haunted her.

Éowyn wasn't alone, though. As Hilde walked down the handful of steps from the main House onto the bare soil that filled the courtyard, she could see Faramir stepping to stand beside her friend, speaking quietly with her as a small, gentle smile lighted on his features. For a long moment their eyes met before he reached out, lacing his fingers through hers. Hilde couldn't help but smile with satisfaction when Éowyn stepped closer, leaning against him, her head tucking against his shoulder.

Though the sight pleased her, Hilde still felt her breath catch painfully in her chest as she watched them looking out on the Host headed to the Black Gate. As happy as she was for her friend, the sight of them together, watching as Hilde's own husband rode off to a likely death was proving far more painful than she had anticipated. Unable to bear it any longer, she turned, unsure where she intended to go, but determined to go somewhere else, to leave her friend alone with her new companion. Her foot scuffed against the first step, evidently loud enough that it caught Éowyn's attention, for by the time she reached the top step Éowyn was close behind her, reaching out to take Hilde's hand.

Turning, Hilde met her new sister's concerned gaze. It proved to be too much, and the reality of what was happening around her came crashing in on Hilde. Before she could stop herself, a sob tore from her throat, then another. As tears poured down her cheeks, she buried her face in her hands, struggling to regain control. Instantly Éowyn was wrapping her arms around her friend, her gentle hands rubbing soothing circles over Hilde's back, murmuring what comfort she could. Though Éowyn's voice grew thick with her own emotions and anxieties, she held on tight to Hilde, letting the flame-haired shieldmaiden cry into her shoulder as she finally lost control against the surge of fear and anxiety that had been eating away at her since before the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

Eventually she managed to calm herself, shuddering as her sobs quieted. It was something she realized she should have done a long time ago. All the fear and worry, the anxiety and horror had been building within her, growing into a toxic, aching knot of bitter emotion in her chest that she had been battling to contain rather than just letting it go.

Even though she still desperately feared for Éomer's life, she felt better now than she had in a long while. Pulling back, she managed to give Éowyn a faint apologetic smile. Her friend only sighed with a faint look of affectionate exasperation flickering in her eyes before pulling her friend into a second, bolstering hug.

Out across the scarred fields the column of men bound for Mordor were finally disappearing into the distance. But Hilde felt lighter now, and for the first time since she had heard of the plan to march on the Black Gate she felt a true flicker of optimism. A fledgling hope that perhaps Éomer wouldn't only come back to her, but when he did this forsaken war would be over, and the Dark Lord who had torn their lives apart would be vanquished.       

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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