Note: I'm pleased everyone seems to be enjoying the story. Do drop a review now and then to let me, and other authors, know your thoughts about our work. It's our only compensation!
Chapter 3
(24 May 3019 III)
The fortified town of Aldburg nestled against the foot of the White Mountains, crouched behind a wooden wall. Even with the War ended, Lothiriel could not see that their guard had been let down. Soldiers manned the watch towers of the wall, surveying the surrounding country, but more especially all those who approached the town.
Riding in the midst of Eomer's soldiers, Lothiriel knew she stood out, and no one made any attempt to disguise the curiosity in their gazes, or the low-voiced comments to anyone standing near. The many eyes she felt upon her assailed her nerves, making her struggle to keep her breathing slow and steady.
She reminded herself that she was the daughter of the Prince of Dol Amroth, and had spent most of her years since girlhood learning the ways of her father's court. Now she retreated into that training. She'd had to meet many new people, and present herself as poised, and even charming, to all. The experience of that practice helped to ground her now. As she had gotten older and begun to run her father's household, confidence was instilled. She would not allow the unfortunate recent events in her life to undo all of that. Her father had always counted on her to represent him well; she would do so in this setting just as any other.
Despite that determination, it was easier to look poised than to feel it, particularly when her insides were churning with anxiety. But it was not long before her affectation of composure was unnecessary.
While Lothiriel's presence garnered mild interest, a glimpse of the captive bandits made her almost an afterthought to the Eorlingas. It was evident that these people were far more concerned with threats than with visitors.
Eothain had responsibilities, leaving Lothiriel on her own and any questions would have to wait until later. The soldiers peeled off to the left, though Eomer and a modest party continued on forward, toward a large manor house sitting on a rise, surrounded by a hedged fence of at least four feet in height. Assuming she should go with Eomer, Lothiriel fell in with his group.
A small contingent of servants had gathered in the yard to greet their lord. That was familiar to her; she had seen it often enough when her father returned home. One older woman, probably in her late fifties or early sixties, stepped forward to offer the greeting. "Welcome home, Lord Eomer." Lothiriel was mildly surprised that she did not address him as her king, though after what Eothain had said, it was probable she knew not to…yet.
Eomer smiled down at the woman, before dismounting and pulling her into an embrace. "Your face is always a welcome sight, Betersel!" Clearly, he knew her well and had a great affection for her. Lothiriel knew he was not yet wed, and the woman far too old to be his wife or sister anyway. He would not call his mother by her name. His housekeeper, then?
As the others were dismounting as well, Lothiriel followed their example, and Eomer turned to gesture her over to join him.
"Betersel, this is Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, an honored guest. She was taken by bandits and possesses only what she now wears. Will you see that she is made comfortable?"
The woman's eyes flicked over Lothiriel from head to toe, assessing everything, then she smiled warmly. "Of course. I have a light dinner ready. After that, I would think a bath and clean clothes would be of most interest?"
Lothiriel laughed. "Indeed! I have worn these same clothes for a fortnight. I almost feel as though they have taken root upon me."
Over the meal, Eomer's attention was clearly elsewhere. Lothiriel chose not to bother him with conversation. Once they had eaten, he excused himself to his study, but Betersel was not just a housekeeper – she was a most efficient one. She led Lothiriel upstairs to a room where a bath had already been prepared. Laid out on the bed were undergarments and a simple day dress. Betersel was acquainting her with the room, but turned to see Lothiriel's perusal of the clothing.
"Those belong to Lady Eowyn. She left them here a while ago and they have gone unused. I am sure she will not mind your borrowing them. The two of you are similar in size and height. The fit should not be very much off."
"Thank you," Lothiriel murmured, unexpectedly tearing up at the warmth and generosity toward her. Such was not uncommon at home. She could only think the emotions rising in her were tied to the incivility of her captors.
Unexpectedly, arms went around her drawing her into an embrace. "You poor dear. What you must have suffered. Have no fear. You are under Eomer's protection now, and he does not take that lightly. Even as a boy, he was rather singleminded in his duty to others," Betersel soothed.
Lothiriel leaned into the embrace, only mildly embarrassed as more tears were shed. Her mother had died when she was quite young, so she could not claim to remember what a mother's embrace felt like, but this was similar enough to the warmth of her father's arms to think it must be comparable.
The past few years, what little she had heard of Rohan and its people suggested a no-nonsense sort, who were proud and reserved with outsiders. She supposed she had accepted that…until now. Perhaps they were a proud people – she had not seen that – but there had been no reservation by any of them to welcome her into their midst and offer her both safety and friendship.
As her emotion eased, Lothiriel stepped back and smiled down at the older woman, more than a full head shorter than she was. "You are very kind. It may be the only reason I am not sorry for the events that led me here, but I am very glad of the chance to make the acquaintance of many good people."
Betersel stroked her cheek tenderly, then brusquely told her, "You get yourself washed. Soak a while in the hot water if you like. I will be back in due course to check on you." She disappeared out the door, leaving Lothiriel on her own.
Quickly she divested herself of her filthy garments and eased into the tub of water with a groan of pleasure. For several long minutes, she allowed the heat to seep in, both to warm her and to loosen her tight, sore muscles. Then, reaching for the soaps set nearby, she went to work scrubbing her hair and body. It was heavenly to finally be rid of the stink, and grimy feel to her skin.
Betersel timed her return perfectly. Lothiriel had stepped out of the bath, dried herself and was already into the undergarments when a knock signaled she was back. Lothiriel called for her to enter as she slipped the apron-style dress over her chemise. It was not a style she was accustomed to wearing, but she could see that it would be functional for everyday wear.
Betersel studied her critically and then nodded. "Yes, that fits you very well, though a bit loose on you. I dare say you were not kept well fed by your captors, but we'll soon right that." She moved to the wardrobe and opened it, revealing a couple more dresses and a long green cloak. "Fortunately, Eowyn left several dresses here. You will have some choice, and I'm sure you'll welcome the cloak. The heat of summer isn't upon us yet, so it can still be cold."
Lothiriel smiled affectionately at her fussy chatter, but then asked, "And now what? Is there something I should do or someplace I should be?"
"No, no," Betersel answered, turning back to face her, a pair of sturdy boots in hand that she held out to Lothiriel. "Eomer will be occupied with his work until we eat, I imagine. We do not have a great many books for reading, though you could walk about the town if you wished. Or, you could just have a rest – I would wake you for the meal."
"Perhaps I will rest," Lothiriel decided. "I can explore the town on the morrow."
"Very good, dear. I will send someone before supper if you have not ventured from your room," Betersel told her, again moving to exit.
Once the housekeeper was gone, Lothiriel reviewed her options. She was curious to see more of the town than the brief glimpse while riding in, and meet the people, but recent experience had made her fearful of venturing far from the safety of her protectors. A shiver ran through her, but she refused to dwell on her fears. Maybe later Eomer or Eothain would show her around.
Her eyes fell on the wardrobe of clothes, and the boots Betersel had found for her. Collecting them, she settled on a bench to try them on. Her thin slippers were worse for their wear, not having been designed for walking and riding about the countryside. Once she was assured of better footwear, those would be permanently discarded. With the boots was a thick pair of socks. The boots were tight on her, though she might be able to wash her own stockings or find thinner socks and have them fit better.
She set aside the boots for now, but pulled the thick socks onto her feet for warmth, and then used the extra wash water, in a bucket near the tub, to clean her stockings and hang them up to dry.
That task accomplished, she sat staring into space, unsure what to do with herself. Rest was probably wise, but she was too fidgety to think it would happen. Rising, she wandered to the window. It afforded a good view of a portion of the town. Leaning against the window frame, she merely lost herself in observing life passing by below.
No one looked up or noticed her there, though probably she would have been concealed by the darkness of the room compared to the sunny day outside. What were the lives of these people like? How did they spend their days? What was important to them? From what the soldiers around the fire had said, families were close-knit, as were communities. Eothain had explained that living in a rugged land made people rely on their neighbors more than they might in a city the like of Minas Tirith.
She had never known a place like this in her young life. The daughter of Dol Amroth's prince was reared with fine clothes, the best of tutors and nothing wanting. Not until Mordor had spread its evil tendrils deep into Gondor had she been faced with the possibility that all of her comfort and security could be lost; that all of her family might also be lost. She had not been entirely at leisure in Lossarnach. She was too fretful about the safety of her father and brothers. Like everyone else, she had waited with bated breath to learn of their fate.
But even then, most of her days passed in idleness, or at least inconsequential pursuits. She had gardened occasionally, for the exercise and fresh air, and because she liked making things grow, but most real work had been done by servants. For several years, she had been mistress of her father's household and directed the servants as to what tasks should be done each day, but once Elphir had married, his wife stepped into that place. When her brother took their father's place as ruler of Dol Amroth, Alcathir would be his princess. She would need to be prepared for that role, and the practice now was essential.
With that responsibility handed over to another, her activities leaned more toward dances and needlework, and the other frivolous pursuits of well-bred young ladies. But looking down on the town, she saw women attending to their own children, shopping for needed supplies or tending their homes. There was no evidence of servants to do the work or even assist with it. And, yet, none appeared unhappy with their lot in life. Could a woman find satisfaction in merely raising and caring for a family with her own two hands? That was not a concept that had ever occurred to her until now.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her reverie. In halting, broken Westron, a servant girl informed her that supper would soon be served and offered to show her the way. Glancing down at her feet, she debated whether to put her filthy slippers back on, but that was not at all appealing. She doubted her stockings would have dried yet, so she decided to risk going to the meal in just the socks. Eomer had not struck her as a stickler about protocol. And what her father did not know could not appall him.
She was the first to the table, and the girl left her with a bobbed curtsy. The large table took up most of the room, and she surmised that not only meals were taken here, but that gatherings of large groups of soldiers met to strategize. She walked the perimeter of the space, noting differences between this room and those at home, pausing only when Eomer entered to join her. He gestured to two places laid near the head of the table.
He took no apparent notice of her unusual footwear, but Betersel entered before she was seated and her gaze went immediately there. Her lips pursed and she raised a questioning eyebrow at Lothiriel, who suddenly felt like a naughty child caught at some mischief.
"The boots were tight with the heavy socks. I have washed out my stockings but they were not yet dry," she hastily explained.
Betersel's disapproval didn't budge. "I'll see that thinner socks are sent up to your room. You should not need to go without shoes." She didn't add 'while I am in charge', but Lothiriel heard it in her voice all the same. She smiled warmly at the woman as she took her seat.
Sitting at a table felt more formal than her previous interactions with Eomer and she was at a loss for what to say to him. The servants bringing in dishes of food, gave her a couple of moments to collect herself. Idle talk was commonplace at home, but somehow it was not appropriate here. At length, she settled for asking questions in an effort to draw Eomer out. If he did enough talking, she would be spared.
"Is this the king's home?" she asked, though she recalled mention of Edoras being the seat of the king.
"It was," Eomer told her, dishing food onto his plate, with a nod for her to do likewise. "This was the original site for over fifty years. Edoras had been chosen by Eorl but Meduseld was not built there until after his death. When Brego moved the capital to Edoras, Aldburg was given to his third son, Eofor – my ancestor. I inherited this home through my father, a descendant of Eofor."
"Then Edoras is more defensible?"
Eomer shrugged. "Probably. It is higher upon a hill than Aldburg, thus has the advantage of better visibility. Still, I have never found Aldburg wanting for security."
She could hear the note of pride in his voice. Clearly, he harbored an allegiance to his long-time home, even if he now must move to Edoras as king. It was no different with her father. Though Imrahil was a devoted Gondorian and had desired the return of the king, Lothiriel had always known he favored Dol Amroth over Minas Tirith. So long as he could continue rule of his fiefdom by the sea, let the king manage the rest of Gondor. A cousin of theirs, a son not first born, had moved to Lossarnach many years past because he loved its flowering vales. While her father could admire the beauty found in Lossarnach, he had never desired to live anywhere but Belfalas. She wondered how he would fare if the new king long required him to remain at Minas Tirith to give counsel.
Lothiriel herself was torn. She loved the sea and her home, but she had loved the beauty of Lossarnach while it was her refuge during the war. For that matter, she could see great beauty in Rohan. Though the rolling plains and sturdy mountains were unlike her home, she could not dismiss them as somehow being inferior. For her, the best part of Dol Amroth was the people – her family.
Eomer had lapsed into silence as he began eating, but she observed, "Dol Amroth, and our home, is on a high promontory that overlooks the sea. I am told that often protected us. When under attack, the Princes of Dol Amroth would draw the citizens behind the palace walls for defense." She sighed. "The Corsairs were more of a challenge – attacking the boats and ships, either at sea or as they entered or left the Anduin. Those were more difficult to protect."
"The bandits should be less troublesome now. Aragorn routed them at Pelargir, and sailed north in their ships with men to aid in the fight on the Pelennor and beyond. For the present, they are well defeated," Eomer told her.
"That is good to hear. Even in Lossarnach there was the dread they might make it that far north, and attack us there while the men were fighting at Minas Tirith. Lord Forlong had to leave many of his men behind when he rode to the city because of the Corsair threat."
When she fell silent, Eomer said, "I imagine you will be glad to return to your home, now that it is safe."
"Yes, but mostly I wish to see my family again. I know they are safe, but I would wish to see it for myself." She laughed. "Sometimes their version of 'unhurt' is not the same as mine!"
He smiled in understanding. "Yes, but I assure you, they were in good health when I left them. Minor cuts and wounds that will heal quickly. They will be completely healed before you see them again. I do not think they will even have scars to show, which will disappoint Amrothos. He assures me the ladies are far more interested in a fellow who can boast a well-won scar!"
She laughed. "He is such a goose! He has never wanted for the attention of ladies, with or without scars. He would do well not to hope for a blemish."
Eomer nodded. "True. They are far too easy to come by to desire them."
Fleetingly, she wondered if Eomer had scars. Certainly not that she could see, but he had been in many battles. It would seem probable. And in recent years she had begun to notice scars of a different kind – scars of the mind rather than of the body. Even her brothers sometimes woke at night, crying out in alarm or distress. Her father tried to shield her from it, but she was a light sleeper. He would have had to move her to another part of the palace for her not to hear, and then find a way to explain the relocation to her. Erchirion had told her of the problem, in what were surely overly simplified terms, but enough that she got the idea. How could a mind recover from seeing such horrors as men did in battle?
Even her recent experiences preyed upon her mind when darkness closed in around her. She might not cry out as she woke, but the shaking and sweating was there. This was no doubt mild in comparison, but to her it was enough to know she was better not fully comprehending what soldiers witnessed.
Hoping to turn her thoughts, and the conversation, in a more pleasant direction, she asked, "Is your planning going well?"
He sat back in his chair and shrugged. "It has not entirely begun yet. Elfhelm has returned but not Erkenbrand. Hopefully by tomorrow he will be here so we may study out the issues and reach some decisions."
Both were silent, until Eomer resumed eating. "This is no way to share an evening. Tell me of your home. I have never been to the sea, though your father has invited me to visit when I have the opportunity."
"Oh, yes, you must come!" Then she regaled him with stories of her family, while they finished their meals.
When both were done, Eomer shoved his plate back and mused. "Very different than the Mark. Water is important to us, of course, but we are not ever mindful of it as you are with the sea on your doorstep. Here we have mountains and rolling plains. Most of the horse herds are kept in the Eastemnet, while there is more farming in the Westfold."
"And we are in the Eastemnet now?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No, we are in the Folde. The land called the Eastemnet is north of the River Entwash. The Eastfold has the most people living in it, since it is along the Great West Road, but the two largest towns are in the Folde." He noticed her chewing her lip, concentrating on what he had told her. "Would you like to see it on a map to better envision it?"
Her face brightened with a smile and she nodded. They rose simultaneously and he led the way to his study. For the next hour, they pored over the maps. Each new map raised more questions in Lothiriel's mind, and she kept Eomer busy answering quickly enough to keep up with her.
Finally, however, her small yawns had grown too big to hide behind her hand, and she sheepishly told him, "I think I had best call it a night, and allow you to do something other than indulge my curiosity."
"I did not mind. It is not often I meet anyone so interested in what to me is mundane. But I hope you will sleep well. Can you find your room on your own or shall I walk you up?"
"I can find it, but thank you. You should try to rest soon, also. Your day has been far busier than mine. And once your marshals are both here, it will be even worse, I am sure."
He nodded in acknowledgement of her suggestion and watched as she departed out the door. He stood watching her until she was out of sight climbing the stairs. A most unusual evening for him to have spent, particularly in the company of a lady. Eowyn, yes, but a lady of Gondor? Imrahil's daughter? Most unexpected.
TBC
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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.
