Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate and New Line Cinema.

Their Hope in the Light

"Wait!"

First across a dazzling ballroom...then amongst the chaotic destruction of the battlefield...and now in the middle of a dirt road…

Holding his breath, Boromir did not move until after the cloaked figure slowed, stopped, then a moment later turned around. He willed himself to be calm, steady – one false move and he feared of her melting away just like before. Cautiously he moved to meet her as she came back towards him.

"How many others have you asked?" the words tumbled over each other swiftly, harshly.

Boromir froze, now only an arm's length away, caught off guard by the question. The hood of the ugly fur cloak was pulled down low over her face, casting it in shadow. He tightened his fist, longing to be able to see her expression.

"None," he answered simply. He sensed her shock at his reply. "You are the first," he added, praying she heard the truth in his voice.

Because there had been no need to ask any of the others while he searched. All the maidens he'd met during those long months were not whom he sought. So the ring hanging on the chain around his neck had remained hidden under his tunic.

Sighing heavily, the soldier lifted up his closed fist, gradually uncurled his fingers to reveal the silver ring nestled in his palm. The single emerald in it sparkled in the sunlight. His gaze flickered from her to the ring and back.

"Please," Boromir requested, feeling like he was balancing on the edge of a cliff.

He let out a silent exhale when, after an endless minute, a small hand appeared from under the cloak. Tentatively taking it in his free one, he noted the skin's coarseness, tanned by the sun. Without effort he slid the ring onto the middle finger. It fitted perfectly. Boromir's heart soared; he felt the small hand in both of his tremble. He reached up with his right hand and gently pushed back the hood until it slipped off the maiden's head. He took in the golden hair, pale skin, hunched shoulders, tense lines around her mouth, long eyelashes still hiding her eyes from view. A faint smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

He whispered hoarsely, "There you are."

At his words, grey eyes flew upward to meet his blue ones. Something in him eased – the tiredness, discouragement, uncertainty, and feelings of being at a loss not as stifling. Here was his lady.

It had been eight months since he'd thought he glimpsed a certain face before being claimed by pain and darkness amidst the clashing swords; and even longer since they were surrounded by the ball's splendor. ...Yet he recognized her: her air of age, fierce beauty, wild spirit, and added cares in her haunted eyes. He saw in her face the same vulnerability and fear he'd been battling since the enemy was vanquished. After so long living in and battling the darkness, he was not sure how to live in this new world filled with overwhelming light.

Tenderly Boromir's knuckles caressed the maiden's cheek. "There you are," he said, his relief and joy spilling forth. "I found you."

She'd regarded him with a mixture of disbelief, anxiety, and questioning in her look. Now her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly, her expression changing to amazement. Shaking her head faintly, her face became guarded.

"At the ball...were you sincere? When you asked me to…," the maiden trailed off, glancing away.

Boromir dropped his hand to cover hers again, drawing her attention back to him. His expression was grave. "...To stay, with me?" he finished. (She had not forgotten.) She nodded once, blushing faintly. He pressed her hands. "I was sincere then, and I am now."

She protested, "You don't know who I am!"

She ripped her hands away, backed towards the staircase...

The soldier was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts, pushed away the memory. "I know you are courageous, a fighter, loyal. I know you have been my hope in the darkness, giving me strength not to give up, to believe I'd find you. I know I desire to have you always by my side. You are my lady, and I finally am home. Who you are will not change that," he confessed, voice strong and eyes bright.

Expression softening, the maiden's eyes shined with unshed tears. For a long moment she and Boromir stared at one another.

"Eowyn," she spoke shakily. "I'm Eowyn of Rohan. And you were my hope also."

Resisting the temptation to laugh with delight and relief, Boromir simply gave her a soft look, allowing the love he felt to reflect in his gaze. He knelt on one knee, clasping both her hands in his. "Eowyn of Rohan, I would not again be parted from you, if you will have me."

Eowyn's eyes shone brighter and a faint smile lighted her face. She nodded. "Yes, I will, Boromir."

Smiling in return, Boromir stood up. Then he pressed his lips against hers, sealing the promise. This was their hope in the light: to learn to walk in the sunshine together.

THE END