Part 11

Having assumed command of his ship, Master Eldacar had—diffidently—sent everyone except Haldir below decks, insisting that Eowyn should take the captain’s cabin.

“I did everything so wrong,” she said, sinking down onto the bunk. She buried her face in her hands.

Legolas knelt down beside her. “Let me take off your boots,” he said, gently, “and then you can rest.”

She raised her head. “Stay with me?”

Legolas smiled. “Of course,” he said.

“All I could think of was persuading the Djinn to bring me to you, Lassui—but I should simply have told him to bring the ship back to its mooring. Then you would have been safe, he would have been safe, and I would not have risked Haldir and Master Eldacar’s necks in that stupid, risky… Ohhhh!” She thumped the bed with her clenched fists.

“Shhh…” Legolas caught hold of her hands, and brought them to his lips. “I am hardly going to scold you, melmenya, for rushing to my rescue,” he murmured. Then he added, more seriously, “You were calm, and brave, and your ‘men’ followed you without question. And you would not be the first commander to decide on the wrong course of action.” He kissed her hands. “That is, if it really was the wrong course of action—how do you know that the Djinn would have been able to carry the ship? Against the wind?”

“But, because of my mistake, Lassui, he fell.”

“And Haldir says he can find him.”

“Do you believe it?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to comfort her. “Can we go with Haldir,” she asked. “To rescue him?”

“Of course we can.” He pulled off her boot. “There. Now get into bed.”

…

Gazing through the cabin windows at the night sky, Legolas felt Eowyn’s hand move, and smiled.

Words were not necessary between them; her touch—gentle but demanding—guided him to where he most wanted to be.

He made love to her slowly, thrusting deeply, shivering with the joy of possessing, and being possessed. “I love you, shieldmaiden,” he whispered. “I love you, my strong—my brave—my...”