A/N: Surprised to see me? Yeah, me too! Likely you won't be surprised at my main characters, though. I've done fits and starts on other stories, so hopefully now that this is done I will continue with working on one or more of them. Now you know, if you didn't already, why I don't post unfinished stories. It would be too cruel!
Many thanks to Certh for her unfailing willingness to discuss the fine details of Tolkien's Middle-earth as I seek to bring in new elements without going against canon.
Resilience
Author P. G. Wodehouse wrote: "There is in certain men … a quality of resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which aids them as effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of a sterner and more practical kind."
Chapter 1
(21 May 3019 III)
Even before they fully came upon the encampment, Eomer's eyes were flicking over the layout and people in residence. Among the group of men, he could see only one woman. Not common, but not entirely unusual either. Just then, the man who was holding her firmly by the arm slapped her hard, and clearly voiced a threat.
Well, now, that was a mistake. Until that moment, he might have been willing to ride on by with just a nod of his head in acknowledgement as they passed. That slap changed the situation. His jaw clenched. He could tolerate many things, but abuse of a woman was not one of them.
He glanced to his left at Eothain, his captain of the guard, and it was evident that his friend understood his intent. He gave the merest nod to indicate he was ready. Turning their horses into the camp, they sat just long enough to see who made himself known as the leader of the group. When one man stepped toward them, Eomer dismounted, and Eothain flanked him an instant later.
"Good day, gentlemen," Eomer said, his pleasant tone belying his underlying tension.
Perhaps the man wasn't fooled, for his eyes narrowed. Or maybe he had something to hide. "Can I help you, friend?" It was clear that title was no more than a courtesy.
"Where I come from," Eomer replied evenly, "men do not strike women, whatever the reason." His gaze flicked to the woman, questioningly. Did she want assistance or was he meddling? No, there was fear in her eyes, and barely concealed hope.
"Then maybe you ought to go back to where you came from and not concern yourself with our business." His attention was pulled back to the man before him.
The woman started to speak, but the one holding her yanked her arm sharply as a reminder to keep silent, or else. Eomer shifted his shoulder slightly in her direction, and Eothain moved forward at once.
As it happened, Eothain was built like a bear. Nearly as tall as Eomer, who was taller than most men of the Eorlingas, he carried another fifty pounds of weight besides, and all of it was muscle. When he glowered, there was no mistaking that this was a man who could pull your arms out of their sockets without breaking a sweat, and would not hesitate to do so when he deemed it necessary. Eomer often found that…useful.
The man holding the woman's arm released her and fell back a step, two steps. With the tiniest smirk, Eothain offered his arm and led her back to Eomer. By now, the leader was seething with barely contained rage, but hesitated to act. When Eothain went to retrieve the woman, the rest of the soldiers had spread out surrounding the group, clearly at the ready should any unpleasantness arise.
"You have no right!" he hissed at Eomer.
Unimpressed, Eomer retorted, "I have every right to defend a woman at need, if she wishes it." His gaze flicked to her, and took a closer look. Her clothing was dirty and torn in places, but he recognized fine fabric when he saw it. This was no peasant woman, and she was obviously higher in station than her company. "It is in my power to see you to a place of safety, if you would like to leave here," he told her.
She swallowed hard, then gave a convulsive nod of her head. "Yes. I would like that."
"You—" the leader began, angrily advancing on Eomer, but was abruptly cut off verbally and physically when Eothain stepped threateningly up beside his king. "She is ours!" the man snarled, but held his ground rather than moving closer.
"She belongs to no one unless she chooses," Eomer told him firmly, "and she does not choose you. If she is a citizen of my land, then she has the full protection of the King of Rohan. If she is of Gondor, I am quite sure King Elessar will offer her similar protection. Now, then, unless you wish me to ask more questions, and dole out whatever justice I see fit, I suggest you keep your distance and let us depart without incident. Otherwise, it will not go well for you."
Eothain strolled to where the horses were picketed and claimed one that was already saddled, leading it back to the lady. Though the men of the camp glared, and balled their fists as he passed, none dared attempt to prevent him from it. Once Eomer and the lady were mounted, he edged back to join the other soldiers, with Eomer keeping a sharp eye on his safe retreat. After Eothain was back on his horse, Eomer again looked to the leader, still staring venomously at him, and gave another slight nod of his head, reiterating wryly, "Good day, gentlemen."
They had not gone far, when Eothain glanced at the woman, then asked in Rohirric, "You know they were Gondorian. And she must have been taken against her will. Why did we not punish them?"
With a sigh, Eomer replied in their language, wishing to keep the conversation private. "Because they were Gondorian. And because that part of the Firien Wood could be considered as part of Gondor, despite the long understanding that it is under Rohan's rule. Aragorn would have backed my actions, but the Gondorian people might not have taken kindly to our doling out justice by our laws without first being given specific authority."
"They will follow us," Eothain observed darkly. "Try to take her back."
"Yes," Eomer acknowledged, allowing a slight grin. "And if they are foolish enough to do that, then we may act as we see fit in dealing with them. Whatever their rights in Gondor, they do not include attacking the king of Rohan's party on Riddermark soil!"
Eothain returned the grin, satisfied. He had no doubt the men were indeed that foolish. They had been strangely fortunate not to be punished for their likely crime, and wisdom would dictate that they vanish and count themselves lucky. He did not think wisdom would prevail. He, too, had seen the man slap this woman and threaten her. He was eager to return the favor on her behalf.
The woman had remained silent, but now found her voice. "Where are you taking me? This is not the way to Gondor."
Eothain quirked a surprised eyebrow at Eomer. Both realized she must be a noblewoman of sorts; they would not expect her to be able to readily discern direction travelled.
"I have business at Aldburg first," Eomer told her, laconically.
"But, you said—"
"I said I would take you to a place of safety, and I have done that. While you travel in our midst you will be safe. None of these men will allow you to be harmed."
She scowled, so he added, "Unless you prefer that I return you to your previous situation?"
There was the tiniest of shudders, and she shook her head, looking away from him.
His mouth tightened in anger. "I saw them strike you. They did not…harm you beyond that?" It might well be Eothain would get his wish to return and punish the brigands, depending on her answer.
At length, she shook her head. "No. They handled me roughly, but they only ever struck me twice. Nothing…more."
He nodded, relaxing in his saddle. "Where is your home?"
She hesitated, and he suspected she did not entirely trust him, even with the apparent rescue. Finally she said, "Lossarnach. They took me from Lossarnach."
"And your name? I am Eomer, and this is Eothain." Until he was officially crowned, he preferred not to use the title of king except at need.
Again she hesitated, then merely said, "I am called Thiri by my family. Short for Lothiriel."
Eomer heard a slight hiss from Eothain on his other side, and then his friend murmured, "Did not Imrahil have a daughter by that name?"
"What did he say?" Lothiriel asked warily.
"A pretty name," Eomer told her. It didn't answer her question, but she wouldn't know that.
She relaxed somewhat at the response. "Thank you." When she did not initiate further conversation, they lapsed into silence, though Eomer chanced a glance at Eothain, his eyes warning his friend to silence. They would discuss this further when they were alone.
It was over two hours later when they finally set up camp. Thiri watched in silence as they put up the tents and ordered the camp, her grey eyes attentive. As activity began to settle, Eomer approached her, and she asked, "Where am I to sleep?"
He gestured to his left and she fell in beside him as he led the way to a small, one person tent. "This is…yours?" she asked.
"No. It is Eothain's. He will bed down in mine since it is larger and will allow for two." He grinned. "Even when one of the two is as big as Eothain."
His jest was rewarded with a small smile. Then she asked, "May I eat in my tent?"
Eomer shrugged. "You could, but it would be warmer by the fire and the night will be cold. Whichever you choose. However, you will need to come to the fire to get your food. I will not make my men wait upon you. They are tired and hungry, and many of them will be standing guard duty tonight."
"Because of me?" she asked softly.
"Not entirely, but yes. I promised your safety. Do not be alarmed."
"You think they will come for me?" she asked, looking up at him, a crease of trepidation between her brows.
"It was apparent that you were not with them by choice. So, yes, they will come. And they will regret it."
"But why did you not…" She broke off from her question, though he suspected what it was. Possibly she did not want to sound ungrateful.
"Not punish them? Had we been in the Riddermark, I would have. And it may yet come to that. At the very least they will suffer injury in their attempt, and it will provide me with a reason to take them prisoner that I did not have before."
She pressed her lips together, distressed by his words. Finally, she told him, "I do not wish for any of you to be hurt on my account."
He smiled in amusement. "Nor do we wish it, but that slap was felt by every man in this camp. We do not tolerate rough treatment of women in the Mark. No true Eorling would. Besides, Eothain is quite determined to avenge your wrong for you! I would not spoil his entertainment."
That elicited a soft laugh. "For all his fearsome size, I am inclined to think he is a good man."
"He is a very good man, one of the finest you will ever meet anywhere. And even more than most Eorlingas, he is intolerant of abusive behavior. A man once struck his sister, you see."
She cocked her head to the side and asked quite seriously, "Is he still alive?"
Eomer grinned again. "He is, though for a time he would have preferred the painlessness of death, after his conversation with Eothain about it."
He straightened. "I have tasks I must finish. I will see you at supper. Someone will bring you water to wash, and then come for you when the food is ready."
"Thank you," she said, turning into the small tent after he left.
Moving to his own tent just beside hers, Eomer ducked inside. Eothain looked up questioningly from sorting his bedding. "Did you tell her?"
"That they will come tonight? No. It would only frighten her. She knows there will be guards, and that they will come. She cannot know how close we are to Aldburg that tonight would be their best possible chance at us. Tomorrow maybe, but they will not want to risk our being nearer to outside help."
Eothain nodded, though clearly uneasy. Finally, he shrugged. "I have warned the men who will be on guard duty. They know what to do. Yours being the largest tent in the group, they will assume she is here. And I will be waiting for them."
Eomer chuckled at his enthusiasm for the task. "For all your violent words, my friend, at heart you are quite soft. I know others believe your demeanor – do not you be fooled by it too."
Eothain shrugged again, unfazed by this opinion of his nature. He knew Eomer was right, and he did not wish to be any different than he was. But bullies needed to be put in their place by someone with the capability to do it. He more than fit that description. If that made him violent in the eyes of others, he could accept it. "You will not be sleeping in your usual fine bed tonight," he advised. "Having given my blankets to the lady, I stole a couple of yours."
Eomer gave a snort. "I have slept without even a blanket on occasion. I will manage with whatever you left me. And I do not begrudge it to you for your generosity to the lady."
Eothain looked up at him again. "Do you think she is Imrahil's daughter?"
"I do," Eomer said with a sigh. "He did mention she had gone to Lossarnach to stay with a relative. My guess would be she was kidnapped from there not long after our departure from Mundburg, before Imrahil could retrieve her. Otherwise, we would have known of it."
"Why have you not questioned her on it? Told her who you are and urged her to be honest?"
"She has her reasons for keeping silent. We cannot force her trust of us, though you are already well into her good graces. As for telling her who I am, she did not show any recognition of my name. I do not know that it would be of any consequence. Possibly she would feel safer in our midst if she knew. But it was not necessary to mention it, and I have not been approved by the people yet."
"You know they will approve you!" Eothain scoffed. "If anyone was held in higher esteem than Theoden it would be you!"
"Perhaps. We will see soon enough."
Eothain smiled knowingly, but did not argue further as he shoved to his feet. "Let us eat. If I am to bash heads tonight, I will need my strength!"
xx
As it turned out, Lothiriel did join them at the fire for supper. Eothain was the first to spot her lurking in the shadows at the edge of the firelight, obviously hesitant to draw near the large group of men. Setting down his meal, he went to her and offered his arm. Her smile was one of relief to see a familiar face, and she readily allowed him to lead her to the group and find her a seat. Taking up a tin plate, he scooped stew onto it for her and added a slice of bread. Another man was giving her a mug of ale, which she eyed suspiciously.
Handing her the plate, Eothain sat down beside her as he explained, "It is table ale. It is not strong. We do not drink when we have duties."
She nodded and took a tentative swallow, raising a surprised eyebrow. "It is good. I have never had ale before."
Both of them fell to eating then, letting conversation lapse. At length, she observed, "I did not think you spoke Westron."
He grinned. "I prefer my own language, but I can speak Westron at need. And Rohirric makes for private conversations when those around you do not understand it."
There was a pause, then she asked, "You and Eomer were talking about me, then?"
Eothain shrugged. "Your situation, yes. And how best to act." He flashed her a grin. "Do not fret – we spoke no ill of you. We were on urgent business in these parts when we came upon you and your friends. We could not allow it to turn us from our purpose, but we knew we must offer aid."
She eyed him. "What sort of urgent business, if I may ask."
His jaw tightened, and he did not immediately reply. Finally, he told her, "Our land has been devastated in this war, and many of our men lost in battle. Before winter is upon us, we must make sure the people will be fed and clothed until we can recover."
"I am sorry," she said quietly. "Sitting in Lossarnach, we did not see the devastation, though I am certain it would have come to us eventually if Gondor's armies had fallen. It is my understanding that were it not for the timely arrival of Rohan, Minas Tirith would have been lost."
"Yes, that is true. Evil was at their very gate, and even that had fallen when we arrived at dawn. Still, we are in hopes they have sufficient stores that they might assist us through the winter, if nothing else." He turned the conversation away from the battle lest he become morose thinking about it.
"I…I do not know if your people eat fish, but the southern fiefs did not suffer as sorely as Gondor proper. It may well be that they could send barrels of salted fish to supplement your food."
He smiled at that. "At this point, we will accept most every offer. And our people will learn to eat fish if that is all there is! We are a people that make do with what we have."
Most of the other Riders gathered at the fire were not entirely comfortable speaking in Westron, and did not join their conversation, but a couple were willing to test their ability. Talk turned to milder topics as the men told her of their homes and families. By the time Lothiriel took herself off to bed, she was feeling relaxed by the friendly discourse.
Even so, once she lay down in the quiet of the tent, her mind played her false, recalling episodes of her captivity. Eomer had said they would try to retake her, and she did not doubt his word. While she was comforted by the large company of soldiers around her, determined to keep her safe, she could not entirely put her fears to rest – that somehow, some way, the bandits would succeed in snatching her away again.
Her heart raced with every unexpected sound, sure that she heard approaching footsteps. Her agitation would not ease, despite all efforts to think of pleasant things as a distraction, to enable her to slip into slumber. Instead, she would find herself dozing lightly for short periods and then waking with a jolt, listening intently for any new sound to suggest someone lurked nearby.
She could not tell how long this dozing and then waking had gone on when a tap at the tent post snapped her fully awake. She tried to slow her breathing so it could not be heard, and gave no response. Anyone could be out there. Why would anyone in the camp disturb her?
Then a familiar voice called to her.
"Lothiriel, it is Eothain. May I come in?" Eothain's urgent question came softly from the tent flap.
"Yes. Of course," was her answer, though her voice did not sound as welcoming as her words.
He ducked inside but remained by the flap. "It is happening. They are here. Stay in the tent, no light, and keep silent. We will have them dealt with shortly and then you may rest. I wanted to alert you so you did not venture forth and get discovered," he hurriedly explained. Then with a curt nod of his head he ducked back out the flap and was gone.
Fear coursed through her as she huddled over her bent knees, hugging them tightly. With great force of will, she reminded herself that even if the men in the camp felt no responsibility toward her, both Eomer and Eothain had made it clear they were willing to suffer injury in order to keep her from further harm. Not exactly a comforting notion, but a reassuring one at least.
She realized her breathing had become shallow, and she was beginning to feel lightheaded from it. Purposely drawing in a deep breath, she slowly let it. Then another, and another. She sat in the pitch blackness, and listened, and waited.
xx
"Well, well, look who has come to visit me!" Eothain announced cheerfully, from his place to the right of the tent flap. That the man standing before him in his tent was the same one who had struck Lothiriel suited his mood just perfectly.
The man whirled to face him. He made to bolt back out of the tent, but Eothain stepped in to block the exit. "As you are fond of slapping women, surely it would be good for you to know what it felt like to receive such. Allow me!" He didn't wait for the man to react; Eothain's huge fist crashed into the man's face and he crumpled in a heap on the ground, blood oozing from his nose.
"Oh, my mistake! I forgot to open my hand so it would be a slap. Not a problem. When you wake, we will try it again, however many times it takes for me to do it correctly!"
Having taken care of this one, he was sure his presence would be beneficial in dealing with the others. Grabbing one of the man's ankles, he dragged him behind him out into the camp. It did not take long to spot another brigand doing battle with Ceorl. While his attention was focused on not being run through with a sword, Eothain came up behind him and bashed him in the head with his sword hilt.
"Eothain! That one was mine!" complained Ceorl. "Go get your own!" Then spotting the man Eothain had been dragging, he amended, "Well, another one of your own." With a grin, he dashed off to search out more himself, while Eothain dragged the second man over and chucked him on top of the first.
Looking around, he saw one of the brigands break away from fighting and try to bolt toward the edge of the camp to escape. "Oh, no, my friend, I think not," Eothain murmured, dashing around a couple of tents on an intercept course. The man was too busy looking back, to make sure he wasn't being followed, to notice Eothain barreling at him from the shadows. Eothain crashed into him, putting the full weight of his body behind the impact; consequently, his victim went flying, tripped over a tent stake and crashed to the ground, where he lay moaning.
Unceremoniously, Eothain grabbed him by the ankle and towed him back to the other captives. Three! He had only seen eight or nine in the brigand's camp. Certainly he had gotten his share!
Around him, the fighting was winding down. Ceorl apparently had spread the word about Eothain's victim pile, for the other brigands were being dragged or herded to that location also. Any who were yet breathing were tied securely and a guard set over them.
"Did any get away?" Eomer asked, joining the group.
The men murmured in the negative, and the general consensus was that all had been felled, either by death or injury. Eothain's count had been correct, there were eight of them. Two were dead. The other six would be delivered to King Elessar on their upcoming visit.
"In the morning we will send a message rider to Gondor. I wanted these men captured first so they could not harm the rider. I will attempt to get Lothiriel to provide more information on her family."
Eothain yawned and stretched. "Well, then, I am off to bed. A good night's work, men!"
Eomer grinned at his retreating form, then turned to the others. "Six back on guard duty around the camp. Two watch this lot. If they are not cooperative, kill them." He made sure to speak in Westron to let any captives not unconscious know of his instructions. "And good night to the rest of you. Well done."
Eothain had not gone straight back to the tent. Eomer found him at the opening of Lothiriel's tent, conversing with her. "It is quite done, my lady. You need fear them no longer. They will be returned to Gondor for punishment – those that survived."
In the moonlight, Eomer could see tears glinting in her eyes, and her voice was husky as she replied, "Thank you, Eothain. And please thank the others also. I am glad no one was hurt of your men. I will sleep easier now. Good night." She glimpsed Eomer as she was turning back into the tent, and gave a silent dip of her head in acknowledgement.
A part of Eomer knew that he should have been the one to offer her reassurance, but Eothain's relaxed manner meant the captain was more comfortable establishing friendships with people, especially women. Most of Eomer's life had been focused on warfare, and there had been little inclination and even less attention paid to social graces. That would have to change now that he was king; leading his men in battle would still be necessary on occasion, but there were other demands also. The Eorlingas looked to him to wed and provide an heir to carry on the line of Eorl. He could not hope to accomplish that if he remained just a dour military commander. With a sigh, he followed Eothain into the tent. It had been a long night after a full day. Rest was what he needed most just now.
TBC
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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg
Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element
éo meaning "horse")
Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war
Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor,
but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.
Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip
Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel
Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel
Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped
Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills;
in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth
Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed
Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel
Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music
Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice
Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor
Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth
Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire
END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.