Note: So glad everyone is enjoying the story. Much more to come. Get comfortable.
Chapter 4
(25 May 3019 III)
Lothiriel awoke leisurely, and lay in bed pondering what was so different about this morning. The sun through the window, certainly, and the comfortable bed as well. While she was appreciative of those, that was not the difference. After a short deliberation, she realized that she felt safe – utterly and completely. Surely that had been the reason she slept soundly.
In the Rohirrim encampments and travelling along the road, she believed she was safe, probably even knew it for certain with Eothain at her side. She suspected he had been allowed to neglect other duties to ride alongside her and keep her company. But for all that, she had never felt safe, not until she arrived here. Surrounded by this sturdy house and the formidable town walls, the tension in her had ebbed for the first time since she was taken from Lossarnach.
She let out a slow breath, ending it with a smile. It was glorious to not fear the world around her, if only temporarily. She let herself luxuriate in that feeling for several long minutes, but then sat up. The sun's position told her the morning was well upon them. No doubt dear Betersel had allowed her to sleep in. She would have to make a point of thanking the housekeeper for that additional kindness. It had been evident when they first arrived here that Eomer was fond of the woman; she now shared that sentiment.
She almost didn't hear the soft tap at her door, but more importantly she realized her heart had not lunged into her ribcage at the sound. "Come in," she called, continuing to brush out her hair before braiding it. She had quickly discovered that Rohan was as windy as Dol Amroth.
Betersel entered behind her, smiling warmly. She held the promised lighter-weight socks – two pairs. "Is there anything else you need, dear? Will you come down for breakfast, or shall I have a tray brought up?"
Setting down the brush to begin working on the braiding, Lothiriel told her, "The socks were all I needed. And I will come down. I do not wish to make extra work on my account."
Betersel stepped forward and took the strands of hair from her, nudging her down onto a bench and set to doing the braiding herself, humming a tune that Lothiriel did not recognize. The finished style was not one Lothiriel had ever worn before, but she rather liked it and smiled at Betersel in the mirror. "Thank you."
"Come down when you are ready," Betersel told her, turning toward the door. "Erkenbrand rode in early this morning, so the menfolk are already behind closed doors. You will be on your own. What would you particularly like to eat?"
Lothiriel shook her head. "Whatever is easy for you will be fine with me."
With a nod, Betersel closed the door behind her and Lothiriel sat back down to put on the boots. She had been right – the thinner socks made all the difference. She took one final glance in the mirror before setting out the door and downstairs.
Before she reached the dining room she and Eomer had used the previous day for both their meals, a girl gestured for her to follow and led her to the kitchen and a small table off to the side. She settled there as a meal was laid before her. Betersel's idea of 'whatever is easy for you' involved a great deal of food! Eggs, potatoes, ham, crusty bread and even berries! It seemed the housekeeper intended to make good on her promise to see Lothiriel well fed. And, though not used to eating large meals, she found she had a hearty appetite this morning. Perhaps it was another result of feeling safe here.
Several of the servants spoke to her, with varying degrees of ability, in what Westron they knew. Surprisingly, she realized she was beginning to recognize a few Rohirric words. The men around the campfire at night had taught her a couple of common words, and her ears could now pick those out even when she wasn't sure of the meaning of the entire sentence being spoken.
Bolstered by the night's rest and the food, she decided to attempt a solo visit around the town. At supper the previous evening, Eomer had assured her it was quite safe, and with the guards on the walls, she was inclined to trust that. After learning of her plans, Betersel encouraged her to go, to stretch her legs and enjoy the fine spring weather.
There were not many shops in the town and those sold items of a more practical nature than she was used to seeing. There were several businesses – broommakers, candlemakers, seamstresses and the always useful blacksmith, pounding away at his craft. The people she encountered eyed her curiously, and she called on her training in proper behavior to nod and smile, speak to them if they made any attempt to converse.
Because the town was along the Great West Road, many that she met spoke Westron quite well. One woman was pleased to tell her how the town was laid out; two children were eager to take her hands and guide her to the general-purpose store that sold common household items. It was a large place, and she realized that many of the other merchants perhaps sold their goods here for the convenience of it.
As she did not have any money with her, all she could do was browse, mostly out of curiosity. The items on display gave her an idea as to the lives these people led. Most of the clothing was for men, presumably for unmarried soldiers. She assumed the women tended to sew for themselves and their children. While she was there, a woman came in and traded a basket of eggs for a bag of apples. When she saw no money change hands, she understood that they also bartered what they had for what they needed, to everyone's benefit.
The children had gotten bored and wandered off, so she continued on her trip around the remainder of the buildings alone. Most were homes, or stables for their horses. She was curious to see how they were stabled, knowing how well they had been treated on the ride here. There was a barn a short distance ahead with open front doors, and she strolled there. Although no one was around, she stepped inside.
Stalls lined both sides of the building, except for a small room on her left and stacked bales of hay and straw on her right, near the doors. She had seen horses in a paddock outside, apparently all of the occupants since no inquisitive heads poked out of stalls at her presence. She went to the nearest stall on her right and peered in – not too terribly different than those at home, really. Perhaps larger, but certainly clean and tidy.
A sound behind her made her turn, then lurch backwards. A man was coming at her out of the shadows of the small room, whose door now stood open. A livid scar ran across the front of his face, from his hairline on his right side, across his nose and continuing down his jaw and along his neck. It did not appear to have healed properly, as the skin was puckered and misshapen. The scar in and of itself would not have bothered her – several of Eomer's Riders had visible scars and she had become somewhat accustomed to seeing them, however unpleasant they were. But this man was threatening, yelling at her, a wild look in his eyes. Her heart leapt into her throat. She stumbled back, hoping he would leave her alone, but he kept advancing toward her, shouting in Rohirric. She fell back more, her heart racing frantically. She could not be sure, but he almost seemed to be asking her a question. "I-I-I do not understand," she told him, holding her hands up to keep him back.
When he had made his presence known, he was slightly behind her and his advancing was pushing her deeper into the barn, away from the door. Her breathing became shallow as panic set in, but just as she was about to scream, yell for help, anything, a silhouette suddenly shadowed the stable doorway. Only as the newcomer moved forward, into the light filtering through the stable windows, did she realize it was Eothain. It was all she could do not to weep with relief. Rescue had come; all would be well!
To her astonishment, he looked not at her, but went to the man who was continuing to berate her. He put an arm around the man's shoulders, talking quietly to him in Rohirric until the man began to lose his agitation. Finally, he calmed enough to cast one last suspicious look at her, before picking up a bucket and heading into a nearby stall. Eothain gestured for her to come with him and turned toward the exit.
The sight of Eothain had replaced her terror with the comforting warm assurance that he would keep her safe from harm, but her heart had not yet resumed its normal cadence. Eothain obviously understood she needed to compose herself and did not pursue conversation. When finally she felt recovered sufficiently, she asked, "What was that about? What did I do to make him angry?"
Eothain sighed. "Nothing. He…he was injured during a skirmish with Orcs last year – his brain. He never spoke Westron very often, but after the injury, he has not spoken it at all. Sometimes he even has difficulty speaking Rohirric. He forgets words, or cannot say what he wants to say so he will be understood, and it caused him to retreat into himself. The scars he bears did not help. Eomer is determined that all men will be made to feel useful. The solitary life of stablekeeper suits him, as there is rarely need for him to converse with others. And, fortunately, his sister has infinite patience with him. She was widowed and now keeps his house, to look after him."
Lothiriel glanced back at the stables they had just left, then asked, "Are there many like him, scarred that cruelly?"
"Enough," Eothain admitted. "But, sometimes scars are the price we pay to survive."
She nodded, then observed, "You and Eomer have been fortunate, to have survived without being marred physically or disabled in some way."
"We are not marred outwardly," he replied. "No man who goes to war comes home unchanged."
"I was not expecting your gentleness with him," she said. "I only saw his threatening me, and assumed you would move to defend me."
"You must think me a great bully," he commented ruefully, looking away from her.
"No…not that. I know that you have a gentle side to your nature – I have seen it, here as well as before, but…"
When she let her words trail off, he prompted, "But what?"
She came to a stop and faced him, cocking her head to one side as she studied him. "I also know that you do not tolerate abuse from others, and put them in their places. I suppose there are those who would say that makes you a bully in your own right, and I might believe it if not for the gentleness and compassion you have also displayed. Those are not traits for which bullies are known."
Both were silent, as they continued on their way back to Eomer's house, pondering their conversation until Eothain sighed. "It was never my intent to bully others. I just do not like it when a person uses their greater size or strength to torment someone weaker than they are. If they cannot defend themselves, then I take it upon myself to do it for them."
It was not until they reached Eomer's yard that Lothiriel spoke again. "Eothain, do not think I have a poor opinion of you. Indeed, I was greatly relieved to see you in that stable just now. My surprise came from not understanding that man's circumstance. I expected a different reaction from you. In truth, it was far more pleasing to see the way you did respond than what I had expected." She smiled at him, and gave his arm a gentle squeeze, before heading into the house.
Eothain watched her until the door closed, his thoughts lingering on her words. Slowly, he turned and continued on with his day.
After the excitement in town, Lothiriel kept to her room the remainder of the morning. Just before she was to go downstairs, a servant came with a tray, advising that the men were still in their meeting and eating as they continued. Betersel had assumed she wouldn't want to sit at the table alone. Ah, that woman was a gem! If Eomer wasn't careful, she might steal her away to Dol Amroth! Not that Eomer would have to fear – it was unlikely Betersel would go. She clearly was as fond of the young king as he was of her.
While she had been out, someone had also brought a couple of books and left them in the room for her. To her surprise, two were in Westron, but the third was in Quenya. She would have to inquire of Betersel or Eomer how that came to be. As she leisurely enjoyed her meal, she flipped through the book in Quenya, which turned out to be a book of poems. The more she looked through it, the more she was convinced her father had a similar book in his own library, and she had browsed it on occasion, though she was by no means fluent in that language. The two books in Westron also were vaguely familiar to her. She must have at least seen them before even if she had not been tempted to read them.
She could not say that she knew a great deal about the Rohirrim, save what tidbits she had learned after becoming part of Eomer's company. The books in Gondor that mentioned them focused mostly on military and political aspects, more than on the people and the sort of lives they led. She had been told that they were not a people given to a written language, and the Gondorian scholars had not been inclined to record Rohirric history if its own people did not. Since arriving at Aldburg, though, she had noticed that their history was remembered in other ways. Eomer's home had numerous wall tapestries that he said depicted important events from their history. In addition, while they had been riding, the men had often sung. When she asked Eothain about it, he explained that the songs told of their past – of battles and kings and great important deeds. The Eorlingas might not write down words about their past, but they did keep their history close in memory and song and art. Not what she was used to, but certainly a new perspective and way of looking at preserving the past.
The young servant girl – she did not know her name, she must remember to ask – had come and collected her tray recently, but she had continued to look through the books a while longer. Now she stretched as she set the poetry aside. If one was bored, it occupied your time, but she was not overly fond of the flowery lines. And attempting to read Quenya made it even less appealing, since Sindarin came more easily to her. She had gone quickly through the other two books. They were hardly remarkable, but reading was better than sitting idle.
It could only be an hour or two past noon. She might have attempted seeing more of the town, but her morning's upheaval left her reticent to venture out alone. Perhaps she could persuade Betersel to give her a chore to do. She was not sure the housekeeper would approve of a guest – noblewoman of Gondor or otherwise – doing any appreciable work, but maybe she could convince her that a bit of sewing would not be an affront to proper manners.
Lothiriel stepped into the hallway with that intention, but then as she glanced to her left, she saw the double doors at the end and went to investigate further. It turned out that they led to a small balcony. As they were not locked, she opened them and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. A glorious scene lay spread before her. Situated on the hillside, the second story of the house allowed a view of most of the town, and also over the surrounding wall to the plains beyond as well. It was evident why the original king of Rohan had chosen this spot for his home. She could only imagine what the view must be from Meduseld to have made them move to Edoras.
A sound behind her made her jump, but she relaxed as Eomer's head poked through the open doors.
"Oh. I wondered why this was open," he said, coming to join her.
"Am I somewhere that I should not be?" she asked. "It was not locked, so I figured it would be all right."
"No, no. It is fine. I just cannot recall the last time it was used. I certainly cannot remember when I last time came out here." He looked around as he spoke, pausing to relish the view. "Now I must wonder why that is," he murmured.
Lothiriel leaned down to lay her forearms on the railing, and then rested her chin on them as she gazed pensively down at the yard. "If this was the home of the kings of old, did they speak to the people or their troops from here, do you think? It would be a good spot."
Eomer shifted his attention to her. "I cannot say that I know for certain, but I suppose it is possible."
"This was your headquarters as Third Marshal, was it not? Did you ever speak to your men from here?" She turned her head to look up at him.
Eomer raised a surprised eyebrow. "Eothain has told you quite a lot about us, about me! But, no, I do not think I ever had occasion to speak from here. I only ever called to anyone on the ground when I was a boy. I would yell down to my friends, or later to call down instructions to a servant or stablehand." He smiled at the memories evoked.
Lothiriel straightened, realizing what his presence might mean. "Your meetings have ended?"
He nodded.
"And?" she prompted.
He shrugged. "It is rather as expected. Any who no longer have homes in the Westfold, Erkenbrand is gathering into the Hornburg for the winter. The Westemnet was sparsely populated anyway, so that group is all accounted for, and I had managed to bring those in the Wold and Eastemnet closer to the Entwash, or even into the Eastfold during the early war years. We have people spread between the Hornburg and Aldburg, and a few even farther east, but the ground they occupy has been greatly reduced."
"I know you mentioned the need for food, and possibly clothing. What else?" she asked.
Eomer leaned against the rail. "More pens for animals, and more homes to withstand the winter cold. Yet timber is in short supply. The most ready source would be Entwood, but we dare not cut wood there. In that place, the trees are not like most trees. They have a living presence. No one ventures there."
"What about using what wood you have, but then take up sod to cover the framework. I have seen homes constructed that way, though I do not know how well they hold up against cold and damp weather," she suggested.
"It is a possibility. We have used it before. But those houses do not fare well against much rain, and are very…dirty inside," he explained.
"Oh. I have only ever seen them, but never been inside one." Lothiriel thought a moment. "Could a tent be erected inside the sod house to protect from that, but let the house provide the first defense against cold and wet?"
Eomer contemplated that. "Maybe. I do not know that it has ever been done that way."
"If there were several built in a row, they could share one wall. Less building would need to be done, and it would provide greater warmth by blocking off one side from wind and weather," she mused. "Yes?"
"I will discuss the idea with those who know more about it than I do," Eomer promised. "Perhaps that will ease what is required."
"Then you would need fuel for cooking and warmth, and candles or oil for light. Gondor could send that to assist you, in addition to food and clothing," Lothiriel added, warming to the challenge. She chewed a corner of her lip, then announced, "I will study the problem more and give whatever suggestions I think you may find of use."
Eomer smiled at her enthusiasm, but merely replied, "Thank you."
His countenance sobered as his thoughts took another direction. "Eothain tells me there was a mishap in town this morning."
She bowed her head but nodded. "I am sorry to have caused a disturbance. Luckily Eothain was at hand to intervene."
The king sighed and looked off toward the stable. "Glydged was not always as you saw him. He is not a bad person, but his injuries have affected his behavior as well as his speech. He reacts strongly to change and unexpected events. Still, it is not his fault. He defended our land and paid a high price for it. We owe him, and many others, all the patience and understanding they need. Eothain in particular is very good with him."
Lothiriel chewed her lip, then asked, "How did Eothain become a champion of the downtrodden? It almost is a duty to him."
Eomer shrugged. "In a way, that is true. As a child, Eothain was small and weak, and there are always those who will use weakness to their advantage. Eothain had determination, though, and was learning to defend himself. Then he had a growth spurt, and suddenly he was not the ready pickings he had been before. But he never forgot what it felt like to be belittled and tormented by larger boys. He began to turn the tables on the bullies, because at last he was bigger and stronger than they. He made it known that any who picked on the weaker boys would answer to him. After enough lads lost scraps with him, they began to pay attention. I suppose his reputation developed from that and he tried to live up to it ever after. Being a soldier keeps him honed and skilled in fighting, and there are not many who would foolishly dare challenge him."
"The two of you grew up together, then?"
Eomer chuckled. "No. He lived at Edoras and I was at Aldburg in my early life. Not until my parents died did Eowyn and I go to live with our kin at Meduseld. I was already eleven years then. But he was one of the first boys about my age that I met."
Lothiriel eyed him steadily then shook her head. "I am sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine losing both parents. My mother died when I was very young. I barely remember her, but I always had Father and my brothers."
"That was long ago," Eomer told her, not entirely sure he wanted to discuss it, even now these many years later. "It was painful then, but Uncle and Theodred loved and cared for us. We were not left alone in the world as so many are."
Sensing his reluctance to talk on this subject, Lothiriel let it go. Instead, she asked, "And what about you? Eothain champions the weak, but I cannot think you would stand idly by either."
Eomer met her gaze, then nodded. "That is true. Perhaps I do not approach it in the same way, but I am no more tolerant than is Eothain."
Turning the conversation, he said, "You had wondered when we might be going to Edoras. Now that I have met with Erkenbrand and Elfhelm, I would like to go as soon as possible. There is a great deal to do before we return for Theoden. Would you feel up to making the journey tomorrow?"
It was courteous of him to ask, though she could hardly refuse knowing the urgency of his travels. "Of course. Let me know when to be ready, and I shall be prompt. Though, I confess, I will miss Betersel! She is a jewel."
Eomer's features softened. "She is. I have entertained the idea of bringing her to Edoras, but I do not think that would be fair to her. This has long been her home and I have no good reason to uproot her other than selfishness. I do not doubt that she would come if I asked, but there is perfectly capable staff at Meduseld, and it would be wrong of me to put her in that position. I will just have to make sure I visit Aldburg regularly. She is very dear to me and Eowyn."
Without noticing, both had begun walking back inside as they talked, and they continued on down to the dining area. A servant was sent to find Eothain, and Eomer arranged to meet with him and Betersel in a half hour to plan their departure.
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.