The Shadow Walker

102. The Day Before

My hands shook as I tried to wrestle my hair into a braid. The ends kept frizzing, vicious tangles materializing out of nowhere. I was just about to scream for a pair of scissors when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," I snapped, letting my stress slip into my voice.

Èowyn poked her head into the itty-bitty room I had been assigned last night to try and get some rest. "Queen Amariel? Might I help?"

I dropped the half-started braid and rubbed my face. "Yes." In the last twenty-four hours since Legolas had been stabbed, I'd bitten every one of my fingernails down to the quick and tried—unsuccessfully—to funnel my energy into useful things.

Èowyn walked in and laid a battle-dress thing on my bed. "This should fit, there are lots of places it can adjust, and the blacksmith is talented at guessing sizes. He made mine perfectly." She came over to me and finger-combed my hair into her hands. Sighing, she murmured, "You aren't the only person who struggles to keep your chin up. Everyone is afraid."

I eyed the battle dress. It looked too tight around the middle. "It's not just the battle. Or...it's not me I'm afraid for." I sighed. "Legolas was hurt quite badly yesterday. He's up and about, not listening to anyone telling him to rest...and if I want him not to fight, I'm going to have to knock the daylights clear out of his head."

Èowyn didn't say anything, but her fingers kept pulling and twisting my hair into an efficient braid with expert precision.

Crossing my arms, I said, "What about your love interest? How does he feel about all this?"

"Boromir is a good man," Èowyn emphasized. "His loyalties are misplaced, but Denethor's madness aside, can you blame Boromir for supporting his father to the end?"

"When your father-in-law is trying to kill mine, yes."

A pause. "Would it help if I apologized for them both? I do not wish to be your enemy."

That girl was good at politics—or maybe just people in general. "No, don't apologize for them," I said with a sigh. "I'm sorry for taking out my frustration on you."

"I understand. And I forgive you." She secured the tail of my braid and stepped back. "But please, Your Majesty, do not let these comparatively petty grievences prevent you from fighting with the Alliance."

Pulling a strained smile to my face, I nodded. "You're right."

She smiled in response, with not an ounce of stress or anxiety in her features. "Would you like aid, getting into your armor dress?"

"Thank you, yes." I raised an eyebrow as she retrieved it from the bed. "Where is yours?"

Èowyn glanced down at her elegant, but ordinary dress, and the wrapped item tucked under her belt. "I thought I should feel what it's like to dress properly, at least one more time." When she smiled at me again, her face betrayed sadness, fear, anger, and exhaustion. She quickly masked it. "I will put it back on before we march, don't worry."

We worked together to wrestle the monstrosity over my other clothes. Èowyn deftly located what could and couldn't adjust, and miraculously, when we finished I could breathe without anything falling out of place.

"Thank you," I said, giving her a grateful smile. "It's good to have armor...and Legolas will be glad as well."

Èowyn smiled as well, relief showing through her eyes. "I'm glad you are pleased. But...that was not the primary reason I came." She pulled the wrapped item from her belt and extended it toward me. "I have been saving this for you, and now is a perfect time to return it."