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Chapter 33: Rising Tensions

It was just past sunset when the Fellowship and the Dúnedain reached Dunharrow, where both Théoden was mustering a large company of Rohirrim and were lay the only road that led to the Paths of the Dead.

In charge of the mustering before Théoden and his men arrived was Éowyn, and she was there to greet the companions.

"Welcome, my lords, to Dunharrow," she said. Her tone of voice was the same as when she had first met them; cold and distant. "Word was sent that your company would be coming ahead of the King's, though I will say that I am surprised that you are here so soon. You must have ridden hard."

"We have," replied Aragorn, "and harder still we shall before our deeds are done. But first we shall rest here tonight."

"That is well," the blonde woman nodded. "Tents have been made ready for you, and when you are ready we shall sup in the large center pavilion."

The man nodded and he and most of the Company left, but Anamaria, with Elizabeth and Will, lingered.

"I am glad to see you again, Éowyn," the dark woman said with a bright, genuine smile. The other woman's mask fell and she returned the smile. "It seems you've been busy the last few days."

"We have," she confirmed. "While scouts left Helm's Deep at King Théoden's command to find all able-bodied warriors, I left with the refugees back to Edoras and then came here as quick as I was able and have seen to the organization of the camp. It has grown larger every day, and I imagine by the time the king comes with his own company it will have grown even more."

"Do you know when the king and Éomer will ride out to Minas Tirith?" Will asked.

"Soon, very soon," she said, her eyes darkening from the thought. "He would not have ordered a muster from Helm's Deep if he was not preparing to leave soon. He knows that Mundburg is in trouble."

"Mundburg?" Elizabeth asked with a frown.

"That is what we call Minas Tirith in our tongue," she confirmed, looking at Elizabeth with a slight frown. "Forgive me, we have not been introduced."

"Oh!" Will looked slightly sheepish. "This is my wife, Elizabeth. She was one of our companions captured by the Uruk-hai."

"A terrible experience, to be sure," said Éowyn, looking at the woman with a stoic expression, the mask returned. Elizabeth met her gaze evenly. "I am afraid I am keeping you from refreshing yourselves. I shall speak with you more at supper."

"Definitely," Anamaria said. The other woman nodded and walked away.

"She's very-" Elizabeth hesitated as she searched for a word.

"Cold. Distant. Aloof," Will supplied. "You get used to it."

"She gets better as you get to know her," Anamaria argued. "I spent a rather miserable night with her at Helm's Deep and she softens up a bit. Decent woman, and not afraid to stand up for herself, her. If you show her you aren't afraid of a sword she'll be a bit friendlier."

"I prefer the bow, you know," Elizabeth rebutted with a laugh. "Still, I'll take your word for it."

"Why was she so unfriendly towards Aragorn?" Will asked. "When I last saw them together before the battle, they were on friendly terms."

Anamaria looked slightly uncomfortable by the question, but answered, "Before the battle at Helm's Deep, when she and I were together, I told her about Arwen."

Elizabeth looked surprised. "She has feelings for Aragorn?"

"Had," the other woman corrected. "It seems she's over him- or, at least, is doing her best to not let her affection come again."

Will glanced at the tent where the blonde woman had gone into with pity. "Unrequited love. That is how I spent many years looking at Elizabeth; it is difficult."

His wife grasped his hand. "Not requited anymore. As it is, I do not doubt that she will find another, if she allows herself. But let's now clean up before we sup; I'll take whatever opportunities I have to do so."

Anamaria only snorted in response, but followed the two to the group of tents that held their companions to prepare for dinner.

About half an hour later the Grey Company and the Fellowship sat down with Éowyn for supper- the Rohir making a point to not sit beside Aragorn, and rather finding company between Anamaria and Elizabeth. The company eagerly dined on the food supplied for they knew that their ride to the coast of the Anduin would be long and meals would be short and meager.

"I hope your lodgings are to your liking," Éowyn said to the members of the Fellowship who were near her at the table. "Other accommodations can be made if need be."

"Do not trouble yourself with us," said Aragorn. "We shall be here for only one night, and if we may we will break our fast tomorrow before setting out at first light."

Éowyn was confused and not exactly pleased with this answer. "You will not, then, wait for the King?"

"No, he replied. "Tomorrow I shall ride by the Paths of the Dead."

She visibly paled by his response and turned to all of them in shock. "Is it your errand, then, to seek death?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Jack replied, leaning back against his chair casually. "We are, after all, looking for dead folk. Paths of the Dead sound like as good a place as any."

"That is madness!" she argued. "Your swords are needed in war, and yet you go into the shadows where the living do not pass. You should stay here and wait for my uncle and brother and ride with them into battle." Her gaze landed on Aragorn, and a flicker of emotion quickly passed over her eyes before she became stoic once more.

"It is not madness, my lady," Aragorn answered, "for it is a path appointed to me. All those that come with me go with their free will, and if they do not wish to they may ride with the Rohirrim. But I, at the least, shall take the path."

"And we," Anamaria added, indicating to herself, her captain, and the couple, "aren't afraid of a few spooks. We'll be going."

Éowyn said nothing in reply and the conversation ended, but unnoticed to all Jack and Will shot each other a look at Anamaria's statement.

If they had any say, not everyone would be going.

O0O0O0O

Will was unnaturally silent as they headed back to the group of tents that held their company. Elizabeth noticed this but said nothing in front of the others; she would only ask if he continued to brood for much longer.

Inside of their tent, when he did not speak his mind or reveal his concerns, Elizabeth decided to try and make conversation with him as he sharpened his sword.

"The dinner was good," she started. Will only nodded distractedly in reply. His wife held back her annoyance and rather said, "I imagine we won't be eating as well on the road- we won't have much of a chance to cook much, either."

The man lifted his head slightly from his work, but did not turn to face her. "I won't," he said.

Elizabeth blinked in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"I will be rushed- you will not."

An initial rush of anger came, but she held herself back. He surely could not be indicating what she thought he was indicating. "Will, clarify yourself. What do you mean?"

"What I mean," he said after a pause, "is that you will not be coming with us."

The anger came, but she kept her voice calm as she asked, "And who made this decision?"

"I did."

The cool, unassuming answer irked her greatly and she could not control all of her anger when she spoke next. "I did not realize, Will, that you are my caretaker!"

"I am your husband and it is my duty to protect you. You are not coming," he said. He went back to sharpening his blade.

"Oh, no, I don't think this conversation is over!" Elizabeth said sharply. She got to her feet and stood in front of her husband. "I was just reunited with you a couple days ago- I am not being separated from you again so soon!"

"We will be reunited after the War," he answered, not looking at her as he continued his work.

"Reunited after- oh, do not think you can keep me out of all the fighting!" she cried. "I fully intend on partaking in it- I have been in this Fellowship since the beginning, and I have no plans on leaving when I am perfectly capable of fighting."

"If you are so capable," Will started, finally looking his wife in the eye, "how did you manage to get yourself captured?"

"That is a low blow, William Turner," she snarled. "Remember that two warriors more capable than I died that day! Or are you so forgetful?"

"I will never forget Boromir or Gibbs," the man snapped, jumping to his own feet and looking down on his wife. "I will never forget, either, how often I wondered if you were also going to be among the dead! I cannot let it happen!"

A sting of pity hit Elizabeth, but her already boiling anger quickly consumed it. "And I often wondered the same!" she hissed. "Nonetheless, I would never, ever, think about holding you back from your companions due to fear! Don't you dare presume that you can do the same to me."

"We will see." Quickly sheathing his sword, Will brushed past his wife angrily and left the tent. She was tempted to follow him and shout angrily at him, but her sense of control came over her and the woman settled for a moan of frustration before collapsing onto her bedroll in fury and frustration.

O0O0O0O

"Anamaria," a soft call from the outside of her tent forced her from her thoughts.

"Jack? Is that you?" she asked. He poked his head inside the tent with a toothy grin in response. "What, did Elizabeth teach you manners or something?" she scoffed.

Rather than rebutting as was his wont, he studied her silently. Her arm was well-healed, but her ankle, well, she could not walk without a limp, and her stubborn refusal to use a crutch only made it worse. On top of all that the hard riding from the last few days had completely taken the wound off of its normal healing course.

He liked his shipmate. She was an interesting woman, and one that he respected- even if he did not admit it to her. The last thing he wanted to see was her lose her leg from an infection- or, worse, die from it. There would be no rest for the wound on the long journey to the Anduin- Aragorn had been quite clear on that.

His decision was made.

Anamaria's amused expression quickly turned to a mix of suspicion and concern at Jack's lack of reply, as if unsure what to make of him. "Ey, what's wrong?" she half-snapped.

"You aren't coming with us," the man said.

"What?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You heard me. You aren't coming with us."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is," he started off sarcastically, but then calmed. "What I mean is is that we'll be riding nonstop for days. Your leg can't handle that."

"I think I know what my leg can and can't handle, Jack Sparrow," she bit back. "I'm coming."

"You can hardly walk," he pointed out. "You're staying behind. Savvy?"

"I. Am. Not," she stressed out every word, as if daring him to argue with her. He took the dare.

"Do not make me order you as your captain," he warned.

"You wouldn't do that," she smirked, but her confidence was faltering.

"Try me," was his only response.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it. "I- you would not!" she repeated, her smirk all but disappeared. He said nothing in reply, but his face made it very clear that he was completely serious. "Since when did you care about my leg?" she snarled. "I'll look to me own affairs!"

"When you jeopardize my interests, mate," he replied. "Do not cross me." With that, he left the tent.

'Interests? Since when was he interested in the welfare of the world?' Anamaria stared at the opening of the tent in shock. When the woman finally recovered her movement, she stood and limped over, tied the opening shut, and then collapsed onto her bedroll. She buried her head into the pillow and did not allow the unshed tears to fall.

O0O0O0O

Will did not care where his feet led him; he needed to walk off his anger before he returned to his tent to try and convince Elizabeth to stay behind.

Oh, who was he kidding? Even after that she would never stay behind at his request, and would only laugh if he tried to command it on her. There had to be some way to make her stay- perhaps he could hide her saddle somewhere... but no, Éowyn would just give her another.

There had to be a way.

"You look deep in thought, Will."

The young man nearly jumped in surprise from the unexpected voice. Looking up, he saw Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli right in front of him.

"You would have walked straight into us had I not spoken," Legolas said with a soft smile. His smile faltered, however, when he saw the turmoil within the man's eyes. "What is it that troubles you so, my friend?"

"It is-" he started, about to wave off the matter, but stopped; perhaps they could help him come up with something that would make his wife stay behind. "It is Elizabeth," the man admitted.

"Is she unwell?" Aragorn asked, concern etched on his features.

"Not exactly," the man confessed. "She refuses to listen to my plea to stay behind."

"Stay behind?" Gimli frowned. "From what I remember, she was very adamant concerning her experiences with the dead- do you fear that the Paths of the Dead will be a point of no return? I do not blame you, lad- I am rather sure that we will not be making it out alive-"

"No, no Gimli," Will shook his head. "It is not the Paths of the Dead that concerns me, but rather the battles that are sure to follow. She has never fought in a full-scale battle and the thousands of men that are supposed to follow Théoden to Minas Tirith only shows me just how great this battle will be. She cannot be there!"

"I understand your concerns," Aragorn started, "but she has seen battle before, which is more experience than many of the men who will ride out with Théoden."

"I do not care!" he rebutted. "Elizabeth is not of Théoden's army- she is my wife, and does not belong in battle!"

"She does not agree with you," Legolas stated knowingly.

"It does not matter," he argued. "She cannot go! I cannot bear the thought of losing her!" He turned away and put a hand over his eyes to try and keep his emotions in check. The other three exchanged glances with one another.

"Nonetheless, you cannot tie her down and keep her away," Gimli muttered in what sounded like sympathy. "She is a strong lass."

"No, I cannot tie her down," Will agreed, but just as he said it an idea came to him. "I cannot tie her down, but I can keep her here! Aragorn, you are a healer- do you know how to make different potions of sorts?"

The older man frowned. "I can make healing draughts, but I will not give her something that makes her ill, if that is what you want."

"Don't be ridiculous- I want her well and out of harm's way. No, I need a sleeping draught." Will's eyes were bright with hope as he looked at Aragorn.

The Ranger looked unsure. "You want her to be asleep when we leave."

"Yes."

"Deceitfulness does not become you, Will."

"Would you want Arwen in the war we are to face?" the younger man rebutted. "Would you not do anything in your power to stop her from witnessing the atrocities? From possibly becoming hurt- dying, even?"

Aragorn exhaled slowly. Wordlessly he drew a small pouch from his belt, and quickly rummaged through it until he found a small leaf. "Crush this into a cup of water," he said quietly.

Will took the leaf with obvious gratitude, almost missing the dwarf's words. "You are making a mistake, lad." Legolas nodded silently in agreement.

"She will be angry with me," he admitted. "But I will gladly live with her anger for the rest of my years if it means that she lives."

"None of us are guaranteed to perish," Legolas quietly countered.

"And none of us are guaranteed to live," Will countered back. "I will not see her risk her life. I will not relive those hours that we hunted her when she was in the hands of the Uruk-hai. I will see her risk her life needlessly. She means too much to me." With that he left them, the herb cradled in his hand.

"Why did you give that to him?" Legolas asked Aragorn incredulously.

The man was silent for a moment. "Because I would do the same, were I in his position," he said quietly. "Arwen has never been in a large battle, despite her skills. I could not bear to see her in war and would do all in my power to shield her from it." With that, Aragorn left them. He went into his tent and spoke to no others for the rest of the night.

O0O0O0O

When Will returned to his tent, a cup of water in his hands, his wife was asleep. He watched her form quietly for a moment, wondering how in the world he had been so lucky as to call this fair creature his wife. He would let no harm befall her, never again. This would make sure of it.

He gently shook her awake, and she blinked, still half-asleep. "Will," she recognized him even in her drowsiness, and a small smile formed on her features.

A pang of guilt seized his heart as she looked at him; her eyes were filled with complete trust. Could he truly do this?

Before he started second guessing himself, the man said, "Drink this," and gently coaxed her mouth open. She obeyed and drank, her state of drowsiness letting her forget any arguments or concerns she had with her husband. The woman soon drank the whole cup down, and Will let her fall gently down on her bedroll again. Within a minute she was asleep once more.

He sighed as he put the cup down and made for his own bedroll. He knew that she would hate him for a very long time for doing this to her, but it was for the best.

He would never be able to live with himself if he had allowed her to go to battle and she died. He simply could not let that happen.

O0O0O0O

It was a cold dawn when the Grey Company and five members of the Fellowship made ready to ride out. None of the other Rohirrim rose to see them off, for they feared the road that they would travel and dared not to come too close to it for such a foolhardy errand. The only one that stood to see them away was Éowyn; Anamaria and Elizabeth were nowhere to be found.

"Will your other companions, then, not be joining us?" Halbarad asked his chieftain. Aragorn only shook his head, and the man was glad; war was no place for women, no matter how bold and courageous they may be. And the battles to come the next few days would be some of the greatest and deadliest battles of the age.

Éowyn said nothing about the absence of Anamaria and Elizabeth, but rather turned to Aragorn one last time to convince him away from his path. "You and the men who follow you would be better suited in the company of the King of Rohan. Please reconsider your path."

"I cannot, lady," he said. "Time is of essence, and this path is the only one I will tread to Minas Tirith. Fare well!" He kissed her hand and sprang upon his horse, missing the flicker of emotion that momentarily broke her stoic expression. She was still as she watched them off, and did not leave until the last of the company was around the corner and out of sight.