NOTE: Many thanks to Certh for tolerating the endless discussions of details and exploring of possibilities. The story would be a lot less interesting without all her input.

Also, posting this chapter will put us on the Wed/Sat posting schedule. You get an extra one this week. I calculated it out, and at 2 chaps/week, you'll have something to read almost to the end of August. You're welcome!

Chapter 2

(22 May 3019 III)

After the morning meal, Eomer approached Lothiriel while his Riders began to break camp. "Lothiriel, will you walk with me?" he asked politely. She raised a curious eyebrow but nodded, turning to fall into step beside him as he made his way out of the bustle of the camp. Lothiriel was sure the ravages of not enough restful sleep over the past weeks must be evident on her face. At home she had the means to conceal, or at least diminish, it. That was not an option here. Eomer did not make any comment on her appearance, for which she was relieved, but she did not believe he had missed seeing it. He struck her as being a man who was always completely aware of his surroundings.

They strolled toward the picket of horses, and finally Eomer spoke his purpose. "Let us be honest now, Lothiriel. I know you said you were taken from Lossarnach, but I do not think that was your home. Since the bandits have been captured, I must send a messenger to Gondor advising of your safety. I am sure your family is frantic."

She let out a soft sigh, looking down at her folded hands and shook her head. "I…am from Dol Amroth," she admitted.

"Though you would wish to return to your father, who is in Minas Tirith just now, with your brothers?" he prompted.

Her head snapped up in surprise, and she blinked questioningly at him. "How could you know—" She bit her lower lip and hesitated.

He smiled. "Know that your father is Imrahil? He and your brothers spoke often and fondly of Lothiriel, and were eager for me to meet you and your other brother, Elphir. I…know Imrahil well, and I am ever in his debt. It was he who noticed my sister was not dead on the Pelennor and saw her carried to the Healing Houses. Thinking her lost to me, I had ridden back into battle in a rage."

"But you say she is not lost," Lothiriel said. "And as for owing an unpayable debt to my father, you are mistaken. I am quite sure he will count my safe return as more than adequate compensation."

Eomer nodded. "Perhaps. And I am just glad I do not have to carry ill news to him of your fate."

"Thank you." She straightened. "Well, then, as you already know of my father – and more of his whereabouts than I do, it would seem – I would appreciate if you sent word on to him. He will be out of his mind, my brothers, also." She shrugged apologetically. "As the only female in the household, they all rather dote on me, and have all my life."

Eomer smiled at that, then sobered and told her, "There is another subject we should discuss before sending the message. We will be returning to claim Theoden King's body and bring it to the Riddermark for burial with his kinsmen. I could arrange a small escort to return you to Gondor now, if you wish, but the easiest solution would be for you to return with us."

"And when would that be?"

He mentally calculated their departure. "Early July. We told Aragorn we would be there by mid-month. We would not be leaving for some forty days."

"I see." She reflected on this, then eyed him speculatively. "Your sister is here now? And there is a great deal to do to order your kingdom before then? Eothain mentioned assessing your needs for the winter."

"All that is true. My sister waits at Edoras, where we will return soon. We found you by accident while traversing the Eastfold to determine needs. Erkenbrand and Elfhelm, my two Marshals, are doing the same in other areas. We will meet at Aldburg to discuss what we have found and fix on a plan."

"Perhaps I might make myself useful, whether in helping to order your household, or maybe I could even provide information or suggestions as you plan your request for aid. I have some knowledge of Gondor's resources," she offered.

It was Eomer's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You are most generous, and the assistance would be welcome, I assure you."

She shrugged and smiled. "It is the least I may do to thank you for all you have done on my behalf." She paused, becoming solemn, then confessed softly, "I had begun to fear that I would not be found and safely recovered before they could carry out their plans." Looking up, she added, "When first you rode into the camp, I dared hope slightly, but when I met your eyes, I truly felt deliverance might have come."

Eomer nodded. "Then I should not tell you how close we were to riding on without stopping. Only when they slapped you did that become impossible. Whether you were with them by choice or not, we could not stand by and not offer aid when they displayed violence to you."

Her voice husky, she smiled, saying, "I think I shall greatly like the people of the Riddermark that have such honorable standards. Certainly I have gained a favorable view of you and your men."

Eomer glimpsed his camp leader trying to catch his eye and he nodded. "It looks like they are nearly ready to depart. Let us return."

As they walked, she asked, "We go to…Aldburg from here?"

"Yes. We will be there day after tomorrow. Once my counsel with the Marshals concludes, we will continue on to Edoras. That is another day's ride to the west."

"I look forward to seeing your cities, and meeting more of your people," she said sincerely.

His men were efficient, and all had been readied, right down to the horses. Everyone was quickly mounted and underway. While the main company continued westward, one lone Rider set off back East along the Great West Road, carrying Eomer's hastily penned note.

Before falling in with the company, Lothiriel did not move, her eyes following the Rider disappearing down the road. Eothain pulled his horse in beside hers and raised a questioning eyebrow. It drew her from her reverie to say, "Perhaps I should have jotted a note to my father also."

"I am sure he will understand, and he will trust Eomer's word to be true," Eothain assured her.

As they fell in with the company, she asked, "How long will it take him to reach Minas Tirith?"

"About six days. He will not want to work his horse too hard – it might founder him – but he will not dawdle either. There could yet be Mordor evils lurking about."

"Should he have gone alone, then?" she asked.

"He will be safe enough. Message riders know how to be cautious – another reason he will not want to overtire his horse. A war horse is almost as good as a fellow Rider. He will alert you to sneaking danger."

She relaxed with a nod. "I will trust you on that. Though he will have to face that danger again on the return ride."

Eothain shook his head. "No. Usually a messenger would rest a day or two and then make the journey back, but Eomer instructed him to remain there until we return. He will join us in bringing Theoden King home."

Her eyes fell on the bandits, hands tied to their saddles and each being led by a Rider. Clearly Eomer meant not to risk any escape attempt. "What will become of them?" she queried softly, glancing at Eothain.

He followed her gaze and gave a snort of disgust. "Sadly, that decision will be left to your King to decide as their crime was done in Gondor. But, if they cause us any trouble, we will feel free to dispense justice in our own way, as the two dead ones discovered."

"Tell me of my new King. You have met him?"

Eothain shrugged. "Met him, fought alongside him, almost killed him once, even."

She opened her eyes wide in surprise, prompting him to explain, and for the next hour of their journey he entertained her with the milder version of their encounters with Aragorn.

After they had stopped for a rest break and then returned to their travel, it was evident she had been digesting his tales. "I recall Eomer calling Gondor's king by another name – when you entered the bandit's camp."

Eothain chuckled. "Aye! Elessar! The man has more names than many folks have clothes, I think. We knew him as Aragorn, but for some reason when he was crowned king he took the name Elessar. I am afraid your father or brothers will have to explain why."

Her thoughts flickered in another direction. "And what of your own King?"

"He told you, then, who he is? He has been hesitant to claim the title until the people approve of him officially."

"Is there any doubt that they will?" she asked in surprise.

"None. But Eomer…he is just careful. And, the pain of losing his uncle soon after Theodred's death has made him uncertain. He was never one to presume too much."

"It was not he who made me aware of his identity," she confessed. "That news we had heard in Lossarnach, that the King of Rohan had fallen and named his nephew Eomer as his heir. Beyond that, I know little. What manner of man is he? I cannot quite make him out."

Eothain grinned at her. "Do you prefer the truth or the good-natured ribbing of his closest friend?"

Lothiriel smiled at that. "The truth, if you please. I am serious."

Eothain considered what to say, then shrugged. "An honest man, an honorable man, one of the most loyal friends anyone could have."

Lothiriel grinned. "I suspect he would say the same of you, and already has!"

Eothain flushed slightly at the compliment, then continued, "He has a fierce love for the Riddermark. With friends he is kind, good-natured, even humorous, but he is also a formidable enemy to those who would threaten his friends or his people. I just fear…" He let the words trail off without finishing.

"Fear what?" Lothiriel persisted curiously.

With a sigh, Eothain explained, "Eomer was never intended to be king. As the King's nephew, his cousin Theodred was the rightful heir. But Theodred died at Isen, and Theoden King fell on the Pelennor, so the responsibility falls to him. I worry that he is not entirely suited to the task. He is a man of action and energy. Politics and diplomacy do not come naturally to him." Then with a grin, Eothain added, "Though I suppose a wife might make it easier for him! And certainly he needs to produce an heir or two in due course. Eowyn could do that, but she's—"

"Eowyn?" Lothiriel interrupted.

"Eomer's sister." He looked down, sobering. "She disguised herself as a man and rode to battle with us in Gondor. She very nearly died defending Theoden from the Witch-king, but she still managed to defeat him."

"Indeed! He mentioned a sister, but gave no name, and said only that she was found near dead on the field," Lothiriel exclaimed. "It had been said that no man could slay the Witch-king. If true, it was fortuitous that she rode with you and could fell him."

"True. But now she has gone and fallen in love with that Gondorian, Faramir, and will only call Edoras her home a short time longer. I know that also disquiets Eomer, despite his happiness for her."

Lothiriel gaped at him in astonishment. "What?" he asked. "Did I speak too freely?"

"Eomer's sister is to wed Faramir? The son of Denethor?" she asked, not hiding her skepticism of his assertion.

"Yes. They will be trothplighted at Edoras in August, after Theoden King's funeral. Why is that surprising?"

"It is just…my cousins, Faramir and his brother Boromir, have long resisted the wiles of Gondor's ladies regarding matrimony. Partly I think they did not wish to make a young widow of anyone, but also I could never perceive either had found anyone who touched their heart. To know Faramir is taken with a woman of Rohan, one who rode into battle, well, I would never have dreamed it of my mild, bookish cousin!" she explained.

Eothain chuckled. "Oh, 'tis quite true. I saw with my own eyes the way they gazed upon one another. With both injured and confined to the Healing Houses, neither could accompany us to the Black Gate. Apparently they had plenty of opportunity to become acquainted."

"I must say, this is quite the revelation. I now eagerly look forward to meeting Eomer's sister! How Boromir must be crowing over his little brother!"

Eothain gave her a strangled look. "Did you not know? Boromir is dead," he told her quietly.

She gasped. "What! When? How?"

"As I understand it, a party of nine left Rivendell on a quest to return the One Ring to Mordor and destroy it. Which was accomplished by two Hobbits in the party, thus the reason the Black Tower crumbled and Sauron defeated. Somewhere in their journey, Boromir was killed by orcs before his companions could assist him. I heard it happened around the end of February."

"Uncle Denethor must be mad with grief! Boromir was his greatest pride," she mused softly.

"Er…I have more bad news, I am afraid. Your uncle is dead as well – he killed himself during the siege. I do not know all the particulars, though it is said that he tried to burn Faramir with him, convinced he was wounded unto death. Gandalf and a Hobbit helped save Faramir, but Denethor perished." Eothain regarded her sympathetically. "I am sorry to bear you ill news. I did not realize you did not know."

"No, I thank you for telling me," Lothiriel assured him with ragged voice. "We were even more sheltered in Lossarnach than I knew. News trickled through to us, and we heard the eagles declaring victory, but clearly there is much more to be learned of the events of those last days." She smiled ruefully. "I think we were too pleased at the victory, and bent on celebration, to think long on the implications of loss that would come with that victory. My father had written to assure me of his and my brothers' safety, but wrote in haste so did not give a full accounting. I expect he would have been more forthcoming when he retrieved me to go home."

Eothain gave her arm a brief, sympathetic squeeze. "I will try to answer any questions you may have, and be more careful of the possible shock or surprise from my news. I assumed you already knew."

"Thank you," she said, lapsing into silence.

xx

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully, which suited Eomer just fine. It had been enough contending with these bandits. He could not let himself be distracted from his main purpose – the survival of Rohan's people. When they stopped at the end of the day, he walked out from camp, and found himself staring westward, his mind roiling with possible solutions.

Lothiriel had seen him separate himself, and when he had not returned after she had organized her tent with all she had, she walked out to join him. "You are troubled?" she asked quietly, standing a short distance back of him.

He whirled at the remark, surprised that she had managed to approach so close without his notice. Relaxing when he realized there was no threat, he shrugged. "Troubled, worried, whatever you would call it. The state of the Mark is…"

"Devastatingly overwhelming?" she supplied, moving up beside him and stretching her stiff muscles.

"Yes, that would describe it all too well," he murmured.

"Without fully knowing and understanding your situation and people, I cannot necessarily advise you. But, I will tell you that my father, when there was upheaval or famine, tended to bring the people nearer to the city and house them there. When they were gathered, it was a more effective way to dispense supplies and share necessities. Rather than each family having its own cooking fire, a large fire could feed several families. That sort of thing. Would that be possible in your land, perhaps?"

He speculated briefly, then nodded. "Possibly. When orcs were often attacking in recent years, I drew as many people closer to the towns as I could for greater safety, and most have not attempted to return to their homes – not that many of them have a home to return to any longer." He bit back further words until he could speak without bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Many lives were lost during the war; there will be empty homes in Edoras and Aldburg. I will look into using them to house people through the winter." He smiled at her. "Your father is a wise man."

"He is that," she acknowledged, "and he has had many years of experience, both as prince himself and as heir to the prince before that."

"Likely that is why Aragorn is keeping him at Minas Tirith for a while, to help in restoring the kingship and city, and offer guidance to a newly crowned king with scarce experience," he observed.

She raised a surprised eyebrow, but then shrugged. "I had not heard about that, but I am not surprised. Father could offer wise counsel, and Elphir is well capable of managing Dol Amroth in his absence. It will be good training for when the task falls fully to him."

Eomer smiled ruefully. "Would that I had more training. Uncle did see me educated and taught alongside Theodred, but as I had no expectation of ever needing to rule, I did not give it proper heed. It was merely a chore that must be gotten through until I could go ride or practice fighting."

"Still, you are sensible, and from what I have seen of the way your men regard you in this group, you have garnered respect. They readily follow your leadership. That alone is a good start. It is not easy earning the trust of others so they will listen to what you say and act accordingly. And, if Eothain's judgement is to be trusted – which I think it is – you will do far better than you expect just now. Give it time, and trust your instincts. Natural leaders usually have excellent instincts," she told him.

He smiled at the ground, remarking, "I gather you have good knowledge of leadership."

She shrugged. "Enough. I grew up in a household of men, all of whom became leaders eventually. I have had plenty of opportunity to observe what worked and did not work, to decide what made for the best leaders. And then there were the lengthy debates of these subjects at meals! One can listen and learn, or be bored to tears!"

He laughed then, his mood lightened. "Yes, I suppose that is true. Perhaps that is why frequently the men and women congregate at different tables for meals – the ladies do not wish to hear us rehash the same endless debates."

xx

Lothiriel was less reticent to join the men at the fire that evening for supper. More of the men attempted conversation, or at least were willing to make remarks in their own language and have one of the others translate for Lothiriel. Most could understand Westron better than they spoke it. They might blunder through, trying to communicate with soldiers of Gondor, but were not as willing to look foolish in front of an attractive woman.

One man had been to the sea, when he was a youth, and he spoke of his memories with enthusiasm, Lothiriel listening attentively. As the night deepened, though, and more and more men took themselves off to duties or bed, she found herself tensing. It was not hard to feel brave and carefree in the midst of such eager protectors, but it was more difficult hanging onto that security when she was alone in the tent and strange night sounds came to her ears.

At length, however, there was no avoiding it, and not wishing to appear weak and silly, she steeled herself and rose to depart. Eothain had left shortly before, to finish with the responsibilities that fell to him, but Eomer instantly stood after she did, clearly ready to act as her escort. She welcomed the company, even just walking that short distance in the dark. She wondered how long it would be before she was finally able to put her fears behind her.

If Eomer sensed her tension, he did not remark on it, talking lightly of what the plans were for their day on the morrow. She was glad of the distraction.

(23 May 3019 III)

To her surprise, she slept somewhat better than the previous night, and there was no doubting that she needed the rest. The bandits had been pushing hard to put distance between themselves and Lossarnach, before she was discovered missing and a search could begin. She had been unused to riding a horse all day, but her captors were not interested in her comfort. Regardless of how tired and sore the riding made her, they rested only when they or the horses needed it. She was expected to keep up, or else.

They had never specified what would happen if she balked, but she had seen enough of their coarseness and savagery to not want to test it. She had silently endured every ache and pain, every weary muscle within her.

Oddly enough, it had toughened her. Once the Rohirrim had thwarted the bandits kidnapping, she was able to continue riding. For all the urgency of their business, they had been accommodating of her, and even more of the horses. She had heard of the fabled love the horselords had for the animals, and now she witnessed it with her own eyes. Whereas the bandits were content to stop for the night, picketing their horses while they ate and rested, then tending to the beasts, the Eorlingas saw first to their mounts and then to their own comfort.

She was also unused to sleeping on the ground, but she had no choice in that either. At least now she could boast bedding and a tent. Even more than bedding, she was relieved to have the latter; she had not been comfortable sleeping among the bandits, wondering what they might do to her as she slept. Or even just knowing they might be looking upon her with the lust that she'd seen in their eyes more than once. One man in particular had eyed her hungrily and she did not like to think what might have happened if she had ever been left alone with him. Fortunately, he was one taking orders rather than giving them. Only the wish for a rich reward had kept her safe as long as it had, from any of them. She had never been entirely sure that would not change at some point.

It would be a very great luxury to reach Aldburg and have a real bed on the morrow.

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.