Part 196 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.

A/N: This one has been in my mind for some time (more than a year), but only recently did I manage to get it finished. See A/N2 at the bottom after you have read it. Also, there is a story called "Hearts of Men" by Aelaer with a rather intriguing plotline that you might want to check out. She is about 6 chapters into it.

Notations

(August, 3 IV)

Eomer rubbed at his tired eyes, leaning back in the chair. After a few minutes, he gave a sigh and reached for the next document in the stack. Nearly through, he thought with relief. Bed could not come soon enough. After being away for so long, riding with Aragorn against the Easterlings who were still causing trouble, he was glad to be home, but a great deal had been left unattended during his absence. Long days that lasted well into the evening hours had been the only way to attack the problem.

With a wife and son from whom he had been parted for far too long, this was not the way he preferred to be spending his time, but there was little that could be done until all was sorted and the pile awaiting him had been cleared. His eyebrows twitched together as he looked at the page he had just picked up. It appeared to be a letter, as it was sealed, though why it should have been buried in the stack of reports he did not know.

Assuming a mere oversight, he broke the seal and opened the sheet to find a single character written in the center of it – an 'L'. It was the only bit of writing on the paper, so it was difficult to know who might have written it, though his instincts told him it had been Lothiriel, despite it not matching her usual writing pattern. Affixed below the character, with a small dab of wax, was a lock of raven hair, lending credence to his supposition. He fingered the curl of hair thoughtfully, his lips twitching in a grin despite not understanding what the purpose of this was.

After several moments, he opened the top drawer of his desk on the left side and slipped the paper in, giving it one final, lingering look before shutting it away and returning his attention to the work before him. It had to be near to midnight, he decided, and the rest would have to wait for a new day. Taking up a lone candle after dousing the other lamps in the room, he made his way through darkened corridors to join his sleeping wife.

In spite of his going to bed so late, Eomer was awake just before dawn. He felt somewhat guilty about not finishing his tasks of the day before, but smiling down on his slumbering wife, he could not entirely regret the choice. Gently he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before carefully rising so as not to disturb her. He would just have to try and work more quickly today to make up for what had been left undone. Come to think of it, there were a few tasks he could assign to advisers and relieve his load slightly. They placed enough work on his shoulders, it was only right that he should return the favor!

By mid-morning, it felt as though he had never left his study the night before, but at long last the stack had been depleted. Sitting back with satisfaction, he glanced up when there was a knock upon his door. "Come," he called out and Gamling entered, his arms full.

Two new piles were placed before him as his Doorward told him, "The packet has just come from Minas Tirith, my lord, and here are the reports from Erkenbrand regarding the Westfold."

Eomer shut his eyes for a moment, disheartened by this fresh assault. He should have known he was not yet finished. "Thank you, Gamling," he murmured, less than sincerely, not glimpsing the sympathetic look in his friend's eyes.

The Doorward started to turn away, but then looked back and asked, "Lord Bronow is ever eager to be of use. Would you perhaps wish him to go through Erkenbrand's reports and organize them for you?"

He raised a teasing eyebrow after the suggestion, and Eomer grinned. "Aye, that seems a good idea! Would you take them to him with my instructions. By the time he returns them, I shall have made progress with my correspondence."

Gamling nodded and moved toward the door as Eomer called out, "And have someone bring me some tea and sweet bread."

A raised hand acknowledged the request, just before the door closed and he was alone with his letters. That had been easier than he expected, and he began his task with renewed vigor. With the packet emptied onto his desk, he noted seals also from Dol Amroth, so clearly he had news from Imrahil as well. He sifted through the letters, idly considering where to begin, when his eye glimpsed a sheet addressed only with an 'E' on the front, and looking a good deal like the mysterious letter he had received the previous day.

Without hesitation, he pulled it from the pile and broke the seal. Inside, again there was only a letter 'L' in the center, but this time there was a glob of wax with quite a few grains of dirt adhered to it and next to an inky pawprint. His brow knit with confusion as he studied the note before him.

Idly he rubbed his thumb over the curious grains, and several loosened, then fell to collect in the fold of the paper. Only then did he realize that it was sand. His eyes flicked back to the pawprint which he recognized as belonging to a cat, and a grin tweaked his mouth. Sand and cats! The combination immediately made him think of Aunt Ivriniel, whom he had met at Dol Amroth not long after his marriage to Lothiriel. The small woman had been most unusual, but despite her eccentricities he had liked her a great deal. Before they left the south, they had visited her a few times and with each encounter she and Eomer had warmed more to one another. He was rather sorry they had not gotten back to visit since then as he knew how much his wife adored the aunt who had virtually raised her. After several moments, he carefully refolded the letter and placed in his desk drawer with the first one. He would speak to Gamling and see if there was any way to clear time on his schedule for a trip to Dol Amroth. He would enjoy it as much as his wife, if for no other reason than escaping this desk and having only his family to occupy his attention. A grin still playing around his mouth, he returned to the missives before him and set to work reading and responding to them.

As the noon hour neared, he was just finishing a letter to Aragorn and as yet Gamling had not returned any of the work they had sent off to Bronow. Stretching, Eomer rose and decided to hasten to the dining chamber. He would gladly rather dine with Lothiriel than remaining at his desk, and if he left now the sight of a large pile of paper would not guilt him into lingering.

He was there several minutes before his wife arrived, looking surprised to find him joining her. "This is unexpected," she said, bending to claim a kiss before settling Elfwine into his chair. "How did you escape?"

He chuckled, saying, "Lord Bronow was slow in returning the reports I sent him to organize so I fled before he could corner me!"

"Well," she smiled, "I would commend him on his sluggishness, but I fear it might induce him to be quicker next time. You will forgive me if I keep silent, dearest?"

"Certainly!" Eomer laughed. "Indeed, I am counting on you to keep my secret!"

The servants were bringing in the food and they fell silent as they began to load their plates. When they were alone once more, Eomer reached for his fork, but glanced curiously at his wife while she was helping Elfwine. After a moment, he ventured conversation. "I have been receiving the most curious notes lately," he commented leadingly.

He watched her from the corner of his eye for a reaction, but there was none. After taking a sip of her tea, she asked, almost disinterestedly, "Indeed? From whom?"

"That is the most curious part – they are unsigned except for a single letter. Then there is some picture drawn or emblem attached to the page. They turn up randomly on my desk."

"That is most intriguing," she agreed, focused on cutting the meat on her plate.

When nothing more was offered, he pressed, "Are you not eager to know who is sending them?"

She looked mildly at him and replied, "The letters are coming to you; therefore, it is your mystery to solve, not mine. I am sure you will tell me of it when you resolve the matter."

She put a bite of meat into her mouth and began to chew, apparently oblivious to Eomer's frustration over the casual response. Clearly she intended to give nothing away, but he felt certain she was behind this and he would catch her yet.

The pleasant interlude with his family of course had to end, but the mysterious letters continued. When he offered wine to a visitor, he found a letter under the wine bottle on the table in his study. When he put on his armor for a trip to Aldburg, there was one tucked in the buckles. He even found one on his throne that none of the servants had dared touch or move.

Questioning Gamling had been fruitless. There was honesty in his eyes when he denied knowing anything about the letters. He knew the Doorward too well to think he could lie about this without giving himself away. He was sure the letters were from Lothiriel, but how she was managing it he did not know. Certainly she seemed to know where he would be and what he would be doing at any given moment, and somehow managed to slip in without his notice to place them.

He found himself listening more closely to all their conversations, however trivial, seeking to detect her trying to glean information to aid in her efforts. And, beyond that, he watched carefully in an attempt to catch her planting the notes. Despite his alertness, though, he almost hoped not to catch her. He was enjoying this game far too much to want to bring about its end.

Though he never mentioned it to her again, she had to know of his increasing attempts to intercept her, but still she gave nothing away. But one thing Eomer did know was that each and every letter had given him a moment's reprieve from work and care – a moment to think only of loved ones. And as they accumulated in his desk, just being in the study would bring a smile to his lips as he thought of his secret stash. Altogether, he could not think that was a bad thing.

The game endured for nearly a fortnight. He had finally begun to catch up with all that needed his attention and was getting to bed at a more reasonable hour. And, more importantly, he was finding more time to be with his family. As he was escorting a tradesman back to the Hall after their visit, he noticed his toddler son trotting eagerly toward him. Neither Lothiriel nor Elfwine's nurse was in sight, so he hastened to the boy and scooped him up into his arms. "What are you about, little man? Where is your Mama?"

Elfwine merely giggled and hugged his neck, but as he welcomed the child's embrace he felt something strange under the boy's shirt. Lifting it in the back, he found a letter tucked into the top of Elfwine's diaper and pulled it free. Another one? And delivered in a much more obvious manner. This should be interesting, he thought, as he sat down on a nearby bench, settling his son on one knee. Breaking the seal, he saw the familiar "L" centered on the page, but this time there was an actual message. "I am waiting."

His brow wrinkled in confusion. What did that mean? Waiting where? Elfwine had gotten bored and squirmed to be let down, but as Eomer set the child on his feet, an inspiration took him. Perhaps the mode of delivery was a clue to where Lothiriel was 'waiting'. "Shall we go find Mama, little one?" Too impatient for little legs to keep up, he scooped the child up into his arms once more and strode toward his bedchamber.

The room was empty, causing a momentary letdown, but then his eyes flicked to the nursery, and he moved to the connecting door. As suspected, there was Lothiriel, sitting calmly in the overstuffed chair he had placed in the room several years ago, and smiling up at him with amusement. "What do you seek, my lord?" she asked, laughter bleeding into her voice.

"I seek the authoress of this," he replied raising the letter he held. Setting Elfwine down, he went to stand in front of her, looking down with tenderness. "Do you know where I may find her?"

"How do you know that it is a she?" Lothiriel asked, standing without taking her gaze from his face.

"Instinct," he murmured softly, "though I am not entirely clear what her motive might be."

She moved into his ready embrace. "Motive? That is simple enough. I would keep us in your thoughts even when I cannot keep us in your arms," she explained, resting her head against his chest.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Not that I much needed such inducement," he told her, "but it definitely worked! Thank you, my love."

THE END

4/4/10 – 7/4/11

A/N2: I considered how to present the idea of Lothiriel's "mark" in this. Tolkien was quite the linguist and worked out rather elaborate languages and rules for his various peoples, but it is difficult to translate to the page, especially on a website that does not allow special characters or images. So, in the end, I merely settled for indicating she used an "L" as the first initial of her name. There is a rune, with the name of "inguz" that means "true love", and it would have been fun to use that, but alas the restrictions were too difficult to overcome. However, if you wish to imagine that instead when you read this story, feel free to do so! It looks like the angle brackets (those things above the period and comma on your main keyboard) overlapping – sort of an X where the points don't meet in the middle.

End note: It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content.