Thanks once more for the reviews and lovely messages this week (obsidianj, Agape4Gondor).

While I originally hoped to also follow Frodo Sam and Radagast to the end of their journey, I realised it was this that held me back from finishing the tale for many years, so in order to finish the tale I have focused on the events in Minas Tirith. I hope this does not disappoint any fans of Frodo / Sam's Mordor journey.

I enjoyed writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it too.

Chapter 51 – To labour in healing

Merry's eyes drooped as he sat by Pippin's bed. He was worn out, and while the excitement of being reunited with the rest of the fellowship had held him upright for a while, now he very nearly slept where he sat. He had watched until the Hobbit, happy in his awakening, had returned to a peaceful slumber. Merry's only remaining hope was that Aragorn could perform the same miracle for the Steward's son and the pale lady of Rohan.

Soft murmurings lulled him as Aragorn, Faramir, and Eomer talked across the chamber where Aragorn was seeing to Boromir. The Warden of the Houses of Healing was there also, but he seemed a kindly man and Merry felt as comfortable in his presence as with his human companions.

Denethor alone did not speak, and though Merry's eyes closed in soft slumber he felt the Steward's watchfulness and suspicion like a cloak over the proceedings.

"Sit now in peace by your son, lord Steward," Merry heard the Warden say after what seemed a very long time.

Merry shook himself at the words and looked around, Pippin's slack fingers slipping from his grasp onto the bed sheets.

"Miraculous healing has been done this day of the like we have not seen in many an age. We are blessed, for great heart it will give the people of the city to hear the lord Boromir will yet live!"

Aragorn smiled over at Merry. The man's eyes were as weary as his own, but Merry felt acknowledgement of the part he himself had played in this healing, and in bringing Boromir home to safety.

Denethor approached the Hobbit also, and Merry drew back slightly, fully awake now and a little afraid of the other's intense bearing.

"I thank you now, master Hobbit," he said, and his voice was rough with little speech and much watching. "As I should have done earlier had my grief and fear not overcome my conduct." The Steward's sleepless eyes had frightened Merry at first, but he now saw only one who had loved his son before all else.

Denethor's pride, however, had not fallen under the spell of his relief. Witnessing Faramir's grateful embrace of Aragorn, to whom thanks should have gone in equal part, his nostrils flared and he regained his seat and took to watching once more.

Aragorn did not seem to expect more thanks, and only moved to Eomer, who waited fretfully by his sister, holding her pale hands.

"She is slipping further into this deathlike sleep," the horselord said, and the fear and agitation in his tone grated upon Merry's pity.

Faramir came to stand by Merry to watch quietly, and they shared a thin-lipped smile.

Aragorn said nothing yet, but gently separated the young King's hand from his sister's and himself took the seat by her bedside, pressing one hand to her forehead.

"She is growing weaker, Eomer, but has not slipped so far away that I cannot reach her and attempt to draw her back."

Merry saw the rider's neck muscles tense as though he was finding it difficult to swallow.

Aragorn spoke gently, and so softly that Merry could not catch the words.

Fluttering of the lady's eyelashes met the attempt, and a silent struggle ensured that seemed to draw their friend out of the small room in the Houses where they all were gathered together and into a far off place where no other could follow.

Merry felt Faramir's hand on his shoulder, and seeing the man's white knuckles thought perhaps the gesture was more for his own comfort than the Hobbit's.

Eomer too wrung his hands before him as though wishing this battle could be fought with swords and not patience, but as before, both healer and patient seemed to come back to the room and the lady opened her eyes.

Her soft gaze seemed surprised by so many faces to greet her, and she drew up a little as though to rise.

"Rest a while yet, lady of Rohan," Aragorn said, and her eyes were drawn to him. "Your brother has shown great restraint this day and I would repay him for his patience."

"Patience?" she said, and reached out a hand for Eomer to grasp, "this is not a quality I would have expected."

"Chide me not, Eowyn! For this has been the longest of days and I was all but lost without you."

Aragorn placed a hand on Eomer's broad shoulder solemnly, and spoke to Eowyn. "You see now before you the new King of Rohan."

Her eyes widened. "Our Uncle?"

Eomer shook his head.

She lay her head back on the pillow and looked aggrieved, but Merry thought there was relief in her face also, and some unlooked for wish fulfilled.

"How came I here?" she said after some time. Memories had perhaps come flooding back as they had with Pippin. "What of the shadow beast and those who fell beside me?"

"All is as it should be," Eomer soothed, and helped her to sit up a little higher on her pillows.

The lady's pale face lit up at the sight of the others, and rested a while on Pippin sleeping peacefully. A small smile was on the Hobbit's face, and he dreamed, no doubt, of consuming Merry's pipeweed that he had foolishly offered in the first joy of seeing his cousin awaken.

Eowyn reached out her hand and Faramir stepped forwards to take it joyously, for they had not thought to come alive together out of the shadow king's hold. There was a contented light in the lady's eyes as she rested herself back against the bed.

Merry saw that Aragorn not only leaned upon Eomer's shoulder, but that the rider was bearing much of the ranger's weight. He jumped to his feet, ready to lend aid where he might, but was unsure of how best to assist.

Gandalf entered and in seeing Aragorn weary and unsteady on his feet spoke a few quiet words to the Warden who took the man's arm and led him from the room to somewhere he could rest.

Gandalf's eyes smiled in Merry's direction. "Well master Meriadoc, of all those here you may have come the furthest upon your journey. We must speak together a little and you must tell me of Frodo at your parting..."

Merry glanced to Denethor and Eomer, and was unsure how candid he could be amid the company. After thinking carefully he said, "At the last Radagast had spoken of the path by Durthang."

Gandalf looked interested at this, and not as perturbed as Merry had feared, and Merry continued, telling more of their passing through Ithilien and their meeting with Boromir's company.

Here he paused, and looked to Faramir with a heavy feeling in his chest, for he did not like his words to bring pain. He struggled through the story and ended with his own and Boromir's return to Minas Tirith. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Denethor had turned in his seat to listen intently to the Hobbit's story.

"You have done well Merry," Gandalf said, and Merry knew the wizard did not praise without good cause. "I will worry no more tonight for Frodo and will turn instead to the city's own defence."

"Well might you praise those that follow blindly at your tail." Denethor's voice came from across the room like a chilling rain.

Out of the corner of his eye Merry saw Faramir shift slightly.

The Steward was standing now, one hand on the back of his chair. "But I know enough to perceive at this hour that to send this thing into the land of the Enemy, as you have done, and this son of mine, is madness."

"What then would have been your wisdom?" There was an edge of anger in Gandalf's tone that Merry had rarely heard there before.

"It should have been kept, hidden, hidden dark and deep. Not used unless at the uttermost end of need. But such words are vain. Already you have forced my hand and taken my rule from under me."

"Do not be unjust in your care, Father," Faramir said, discomfited. "By your own command was the Lord Aragorn welcomed to the Houses and surely has repaid any small trust you have granted?"

"Lord?" Denethor did not seemed to have absorbed aught else in the entreaty. "Ever you have looked for some high Lord to sit in Tower Hall above your own kin. So be it. Be grateful for what Mithrandir has dredged up, and come not to me should the tower fall."

Merry caught Faramir's angry exhalation as he moved away to stand by Eomer.

"But we must come to you," Gandalf said quietly, and Merry heard the urgency in the wizard's words. "For two great armies are set to break upon the city and only by a contrivance now can we hope for any small victory."

"You speak in riddles, and I have little patience for games or talk."

"Is there not, my lord Steward, more reason for your bitter words than the fate of your son?"

"Though I would labour in healing to yet hear one word from my son, I know that our time is now short. The eyes of the white tower are not blind, Mithrandir."

"Nor even are those of the two towers, and united their strength must out way any certainty one alone may possess."

Denethor appeared to think long on this, and turned away to feel again the brow of his recovering son. "What would you have me do?"

"Bring forth the stone of Minas Tirith," Gandalf said, naming it at last. "Bring it forth and we will see what can be done to break the ties that bind the east tower to the west. Then we shall see how the armies hold to their purpose."

"So be it then, I will order it done," the Steward said. "What else have I not forfeited this day? This advantage too I shall place at your feet. Send for my chamberlain and leave me!"

"Come, friends," Gandalf said quietly, having achieved his purpose. "We will adjourn to somewhere more comfortable." He took Merry's shoulder and gently turned him towards the doors. "We will go for the present, my Lord," he said, addressing the Steward who seemed not to hear him, "but worry and grief will not defend the walls."

When Eomer made no move to leave the room, Denethor turned to him. "Her life is in the hands of fate, and you can do nothing for her. I wish to be alone."

The tone was not to be questioned, but the new King of Rohan was not to be moved. "Do what you will, sir," Eomer said steadily, "set your guards upon me, but I will stay by my sister until she is moved to her own chamber."

Faramir, leaning both hands on the bedside, appeared to fear a further scene. "Seek for a healer, Eomer," he said wearily, "I will watch over her until you return."

Eomer took a long moment in deliberation, but at last shook his head in defeat. "I charge you, brother," his wide eyes fixed on Faramir, "keep her from harm until I return."

He left, though slowly, and his steps resounded around the silent hall.

It was a long time before Denethor spoke, and when he did it was barely audible. "I would not ask you to leave," he said, "though I would be alone."

"At the least," Faramir said grimly, "allow me to recount what has been decided."

Aragorn sat alone in Tower Hall. It was a long time since he had been so, travelling long with Gimli and lately being reunited with the grey company.

Before him was the palantir of Minas Tirith, and the black orb called to him even from beneath its cloth coverings.

One of the Steward's men had brought it to him, and had eyed him suspiciously, not knowing what this strange man from the North did in the hall of kings. Nevertheless, Aragorn had thanked the man quietly, and he had gone from that place with more hope in his heart than he had entered.

Aragorn was tired beyond measure. The journey through the haunted pass, and subsequent battle had been trying, but nothing compared to what was to come. He only hoped he had enough strength for what remained.

He looked up in surprise as the door at the other end of the hall opened and Legolas stood framed in the doorway.

"I thought you might need some company." The Elf's voice echoed, but his footsteps made no sound on the white stone floor as he approached.

"There is hardly a more perilous place in the city," Aragorn said, but wished fervently for the Elf to stay.

Legolas slowly took a seat by his side, long legs stretching out before him to sit on the low steps below the dais. Aragorn noted his friend's restrained movements and wondered what wounds were still hidden from sight.

"I will stay, for no place will be safe come morning and this city is a strange and barren place. All is stone and nothing is green or flowers. When you are king, Aragorn..."

"My friend..."

"When you are king I shall help to make this city flower."

He looked back down at the palantir. "I look forward to it, but there is much to do before such things can be thought of."

Legolas was quiet then, gazing up at the great stone faces of the kings of Gondor and lending only a comforting, familiar presence.

Aragorn steadied his resolve and drew the cloth from the palantir.

Saruman would be his first target. The wizard would be assured of the power at the heart of the citadel, and the prize seemingly waiting for the taking.

From Saruman's mind Sauron would understand who in Gondor held the will and the strength to bear that which he feared most. He would see where that power dwelt and if all went to plan would empty his lands to counter that threat.

"There is little light for writing." Eomer stepped softly into the chamber holding a candle of his own. The Houses of Healing were a strange place at night, and the city itself deadly quiet.

Faramir looked up from his writing, and Eomer saw in the man's grey eyes the same weariness of care that must have shown his own. "Aye, and the candle is almost burned down, but I have but one line left to write."

"I will wait a moment then," Eomer said, "that we may walk back up to the citadel together." The new King of Rohan could not admit that he had little idea of how to find his way back through the twisting circles of the city in the dark.

He looked to the man in the bed and his brother, dark head bent over to write in the flickering light, and saw the brothers side-by-side properly for the first time; their similarities and their differences.

As Faramir folded the paper and wrote a last on the outside, setting down his quill, Eomer asked, "Of what did you write?"

"Of what is to come," the other the replied, and behind his set jaw was the same doubt that had shown there earlier that day, "and little else for there was no time to say aught but that all will not be as it seems. Lest he wake and find the streets overrun and the enemy hammering at the doors of Tower Hall, only that he might take the time to read what I have written, and not come charging to the citadel!"

Eomer gave a small smile and doubted he himself would take the time to read a letter if he woke to find the city ablaze.

"I have set his sword and shield by him nonetheless," Faramir said grimly, "for if all goes to ruin he would not be without defence." He rose stiffly and set the letter down on the side table. Taking a last look at the face of Boromir he blew out the candle, following Eomer's flame into the hall.

"There is guard enough outside the Houses," Eomer said, for he had passed them on his way in. "But I suppose if the wizard's forces are to be let to proceed to the citadel, the less show of arms here the better."

"That is my thought also," Faramir said, and his voice was less light than it had been now that they had set their steps towards the citadel. "Though it rankles to set no defence where one would order the strongest bastion."

"I did not leave my sister any words but those spoken aloud," Eomer said, regretting he had left nothing more substantial, "and not even those could express my heaviness of heart in seeing her here when I believed her far away and as safe as I could keep her."

"She is not one to be kept safe by another's hand, my friend." Faramir spoke quickly, and with fervour. "Even her brother's, and had she not taken the road to Minas Tirith I would not be here to speak of it."

"I know it well." Eomer nodded, but the heavy weight over his heart was not lifted. "I would see her smile once more, and seek more than death and glory in battle."

"I think you misjudge her in this," Faramir said, as they crossed out of the Houses into the cool night air and the darkly lit gardens. Their footsteps echoed in the paved stone streets.

"How so?"

Eomer had heard that the Steward's son had a talent in reading and understanding the hearts of men, and he wondered whether he was indeed mistaken in Eowyn's thoughts and desires.

No great battle lay at the end of Saruman's road, at least no battle where the Rohirrim would have fought with honour or for glory. In fighting for the redemption of her people and her King, who she feared had sunk beyond all honour, she was not seeking death."

"I had not thought on it this way," Eomer mused, and as they passed through the great gate of the fifth circle, they turned upon themselves and he was glad he had waited for the other to guide him.

"But you are her brother, Eomer, and you know her better than I. All I saw was kindness to aid three strangers, where one who cared less about life might have left all to perish in their own way."

"You have seen in her more than I in these last three years," Eomer said, and the fears he had been dwelling all that day rose again in his thoughts. "The shadow cast over our home by Wormtounge drove me from our doors with anger and helplessness, and I left her there alone..."

Faramir was quiet in response, and Eomer looked sidelong as they walked, his steps feeling heavy.

"She is healed now Eomer," Faramir said at last, "and we can but trust that she continues in hope at her recovery."

Eomer was troubled to hear doubt in the other's tone, and wondered whether Faramir had again gauged something he had missed. "If there is aught you suspect, my friend, speak plainly and do not hold me too fragile to be trusted with what concerns my heart most closely."

Faramir was quiet another moment, and when he did speak Eomer detected some kind of quiet desperation behind the words that gave him much pause for thought.

"It is not my place to speak of the hearts of others or to gauge the strength of feeling therein, but I will say this much. It seemed to me that in Aragorn your sister encountered the possibility of a new life, and that high hopes may be more disappointment than physcal healing could easily restore."

Eomer narrowed his eyes at this, but he did not trust his own judgement enough to contradict it. Aragorn had brought hope to Edoras, and in him the magnificence of the Kings of Old had walked amid their people for a time. But Eomer considered all he had seen since, and his sister's wakening that very day, and wondered whether in this case he might hold more insight than his companion.

His distress for Eowyn quietened then, for if they lived through this night, the day that followed might be brighter for all that had come before.

"Goodnight brother," he said pointedly, and saw a start of surprise in the other's eyes as they parted.