Title: Signs of Hope
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
Éothain had taken his boot. Éomer knew he should be grateful that the leather had taken the brunt of the sword blow, and the foot had not needed bandaging, but even so it was undignified sitting here in only one boot.
The figure in the bed moved and his boot was forgotten as he reached out to his sister. She was so pale and wan it was hard to believe she could ever recover, no matter what Aragorn told him.
As he moved, his foot touched something. He looked down; someone believed, for under the bed, waiting, were slippers.