After the Rain
Chapter 4 (late July-early Aug, 3020 III)
The Valar have a sense of humor. An odd one, to be sure, but they have one all the same. There may be those who doubt it, but I stand firm in my conviction of this truth. How else to explain my situation? Just as I decided to remain in the Mark rather than riding to Gondor to woo a lady there, where do I end up? In Gondor!
Two days after I sent my reply to Lothiriel's letter, a messenger rode into our camp full tilt, bringing word from Aragorn of trouble with some dissident Haradrim causing problems in Ithilien. Peace had largely been established, after the War, with most from that land, but there were still those unhappy about Sauron's defeat who continued to weary Gondor's eastern border. Aragorn asked that I bring an eored, and ride with him to quell the difficulty, and I could not refuse. So I found myself riding for Gondor in spite of my full intention not to go there at present.
Still, despite the irony inherent to this circumstance, I reminded myself that Lothiriel was of Dol Amroth, not Minas Tirith, and I was unlikely to encounter her during my brief time in the White City.
Wrong again! I arrived at Mundburg only to learn that Imrahil had come to offer counsel to Aragorn, and his daughter had accompanied him. Before I could even fully adjust to that discovery, I was being drawn into a meeting with said lady. That was when I got my next unexpected jolt. Perhaps because I always envisioned Lothiriel as she had looked at Eowyn's wedding, I had forgotten that Gondor mourns differently. Seeing her still clad in her stark mourning attire was like being doused with a bucket of cold water.
Surely any overtures I might have been inclined to make toward her, would not only be inappropriate but unwelcome. I suppose, in the long run, it was just as well that I was reminded of her sorrowing state before I inadvertently wrote something in a letter that would offend her. Here I had set out to ease her grief, and yet I had callously pressed beyond it long before she was ready to do so.
Gazing at her, I wondered which of us had the right of it. Did Gondor mourn excessively, or did Rohan lay aside their grief too quickly? I still thought of Theoden and Theodred; indeed, it seemed I wondered almost every day what decisions they would make in my stead toward resolving the problems the Mark faced. Even so, any pain I felt over their loss was not expressed outwardly. My pain was my own, and kind words from another person would not ease it, or so I thought. I knew there were people who wept and wailed long after someone had died, and I certainly did not think Lothiriel that sort, but Gondor's outward show of loss by wearing mourning clothes for a full year seemed too much, as though seeking perpetual consolation from others.
On the other hand, once a precedent has been set, how would one break the tradition without suffering censure? While Gondor had tolerated Imrahil's family setting aside their somber clothes for Faramir's wedding, I did not think they would be so understanding if they failed to properly display their tragedy for the prescribed duration. Even if Lothiriel wished to put away her mourning sooner, it was unlikely she could do so unscathed. The attending uproar probably would cause her more pain than simply adhering to society's strictures.
"My lord," she acknowledged, offering a curtsy to me and I naturally bowed in response as I was drawn from my reverie. "Father mentioned that King Elessar had sent for your assistance, so I was hoping I might see you while you were here."
She had wished to see me? I mentally shook myself; there was nothing surprising in that. We were friends, and had agreed to correspond, had we not? It would be perfectly natural for her to think thus.
"The delight is mine," I replied. "I did not think you would be at Mundburg, so I was not expecting this pleasure."
Despite our previous interactions, and the two very stilted letters that were written, we were awkward together. I struggled to know what to say to her, but finally decided to address the most obvious issue. "How do you fare? I see you still wear mourning clothes, but that does not tell me whether your heart is beginning to heal."
She smiled, a slight shadow lingering in her eyes, and she murmured, "The same might be said of you, my lord. Though you do not outwardly express your mourning by what you wear, that does not necessarily mean pain does not still eat at your heart."
Why were we dancing around one another, rather than merely answering the questions each posed? I did not know, but I was reluctant to comment on what I was feeling. "A man is not permitted to display such things, except in rare private moments when he is alone," I told her. If I wanted her to be honest with me, I suspected I would need to prove myself equally forthcoming.
She gave a soft sigh and nodded, "True. It is most unfair to not grant men the same courtesy which ladies are given. But please know that I think of you often, and hope that your heart is beginning to find peace."
I was startled at this pronouncement, but before I could examine it too closely she added, "I continue to improve, my lord. The pain is still fresh, but each day seems to find it a little easier to bear. And keeping busy appears to help a great deal. I have less time to dwell on my loss."
Had we not been interrupted just then, I think I might have forgotten myself and tentatively sought to discover whether she had given any thought to me other than in concern for my well-being. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Aragorn joined us, summoning me to a meeting with his council just then and I was forced to take my leave of her. The meeting went long and food was brought in to us for our supper, so I had no further occasion to speak with Lothiriel, and we were departing at first light the next morning.
She had risen to see her brothers off; Erchirion and Amrothos were to ride with us, while Imrahil kept his men on hand to make the city safe in Aragorn's absence. I could not be sure, but I hoped Lothiriel's farewell wave was intended for me as well as her family members.
In some ways, this excursion was much like our ride to the Black Gate, with men of Rohan, Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth all riding together. But though this was still dangerous, as all warfare is, the odds were not overwhelming and the oppressive atmosphere that had prevailed then was not present. After becoming so accustomed to constant fighting, it almost felt good to be back doing what I knew best. I never studied diplomacy and statesmanship, and perpetually spending my days behind a desk, worrying over reports about crops and herds, was completely foreign to me. Sitting a saddle, my sword at my hip and a spear in my hand, felt natural. I was not entirely sure that was a good thing.
With any luck, our days ahead would be ones of peace. We would hope not to have a great deal of warfare from here on, and we desired to restore prosperity to our lands, Aragorn and I. If we succeeded, then I must become more proficient with other pursuits than brandishing a weapon and vanquishing foes.
xxxxx
The foray took over a fortnight, but proved very worthwhile in ridding Gondor of more dissidents. Aragorn decided that the Ithilien Rangers, whom Faramir had led so effectively during the War, would now be deployed to guard the eastern border, and hopefully discourage further incursions by renegade Haradrim.
We returned to a relieved populace. Though there were some injuries, we had not lost any soldiers in the various skirmishes, and the city rejoiced in that. A small feast was held the evening after we arrived, to celebrate our success before the Rohirrim continued on home the next day.
At long last, I finally got to see my sister once more. She and Faramir were at Emyn Arnen when I had arrived, and we did not make contact in my journey south. While the army was chasing down the dissidents, the couple had returned to Minas Tirith, to be there in Aragorn's absence.
I wasn't particularly expecting Eowyn to have changed her mind, or regret her decision to wed a Gondorian, but still I was pleased that she seemed as content as before. I did not like to think she might have married for the wrong reasons and then found it not to her liking. After the difficulties of her infatuation with Aragorn, I was understandably concerned whether she was thinking clearly. I knew she gave every indication of truly loving Faramir, and I thought him a fine man, but I needed this added reassurance that all was well for them.
Indeed, Eowyn was not just happy, she was blissful, and eagerly rambled on telling me of the house that was being built at Emyn Arnen. High upon a hill, in some respects it reminded her of Meduseld, and she made me promise to come for a visit once it was finished and they were moved in. She did not need to argue too strenuously in that regard – I was anxious to do so, and some little part of my mind noted it would be a good reason to have to return to the east in a few months time.
Despite all my good intentions to remain circumspect with regard to Lothiriel, still I was drawn to her. It was one thing to dream of her when she was many leagues away from me and I could not act on my thoughts, but having her so near, even before my very eyes, it was more difficult to keep my distance and restrain myself. Eothain persisted in encouraging me to approach the young lady, and although I repeatedly explained why I could not, he steadfastly insisted my reasons were irrelevant. While I knew he meant well, and desired my happiness, I did not need that added pressure to give in to something I already wished to do, particularly when I knew it to be impossible.
At length, I thought I had found a compromise. Dancing was not generally engaged in by those in mourning, being seen as too frivolous an activity when one should be sorrowing, so Lothiriel settled at a table along the perimeter of the room, sipping at a goblet of wine. I danced with a few ladies, for appearance sake, but then slowly made my way over to join her, hoping for quiet conversation that might eventually bear fruit when at last she was freed of the constraints upon her.
She seemed pleased at my company, and though we got off to a lumbering start, eventually our discourse became more friendly, as it had been previously. Even so, it appeared she was no less desirous of seeing to my welfare than I was to hers. She was determined to engage me in discussing Theoden and Theodred, and even pursued questioning me about my parents. Perhaps it helped her with her own grief to focus on someone else's instead, but I was not entirely thrilled with the direction our words had taken. In spite of my reticence, she drew me out, and I told her far more than I had ever told anyone else, or ever thought I would share with another person. Eowyn had some inkling of my feelings in the matter, having lived through the experiences herself and feeling similarly, but no one else had been privy to our innermost thoughts.
I did have to concede that she urged my confidence with tact and compassion, but men, particularly in the Mark, do not care to show weakness of any kind and this appeared to be such a thing. Further, I had little intimate experience with women. While my mother lived, I am sure I confided in her somewhat, but once she was lost, Eowyn essentially became the only female in my life with whom I was close. I had flirtatious encounters with young ladies at dances, and casually knew mothers of my friends, staff of Meduseld or wives of shopkeepers, but no women to whom I would think to reveal my most personal thoughts and feelings.
One thing I did discover, in the course of my conversation with Lothiriel, was that I had never truly allowed myself to confront the loss of my parents. As we talked about it, I began to realize that I bore a certain measure of anger toward them; my father for his recklessness that ended in his death, and my mother for not being strong, and surviving if only for the benefit of her children. Those who are lost through unavoidable illness or injury are easier to forgive, but it almost seemed as if my parents had willfully left me.
Contrasted with that, were my feelings about Theoden and Theodred. I had seen much death as we battled the forces of evil, so I was no stranger to it. Sometimes fortune simply does not smile on a man, and he is lost in an instant. My sorrow for them was different than what I felt for my parents. They had done all the right things, yet still had fallen, through no fault of their own. In a sense, my parents had given up. My father gave up reason and got himself in too deep, and my mother gave up trying to live without him.
I did not like the tightening in my throat, nor the prickling of my eyes, as I made these realizations, and I did not voice them completely to Lothiriel, though I got the impression that she guessed at least a portion of it. Almost as though she felt obligated to share her deepest feelings in return, she expressed how alone she felt, being the only woman in a household of men, and not feeling she could seek solace from them. To go to them would only have caused them greater sorrow, and concern over her well-being, so she had suffered alone, until I came along. She did not specifically say that, but it was evident all the same.
I asked if she could not have spoken to Alcathir, her sister-in-law, but though they were friendly, Alcathir was wrapped up with her little family. Additionally, Lothiriel feared that confiding in her might mean it would get back to Elphir, and thus the family, again adding to their own heartache.
"Long walks and rides on the beach help some. I suppose the exercise is beneficial," she mused aloud, and I smiled.
"I have always believed it helps to do something active in order to get through grief," I acknowledged in return.
She glanced down as she fingered her dress, and then hesitantly observed, "I think I prefer the Rohirric way of mourning, my lord. Lady Eowyn has told me that once the funeral is held, your people put aside your sorrows and strive only to remember the good of those who are gone. I suspect we in Gondor dwell too much on our grief, and thus sustain it far longer than necessary, or wise."
My eyebrows quirked at her remarks, but then I realized she was indicating the wearing of mourning clothes. Apparently, she agreed with my previous determinations on the matter, but yet, as I surmised, she felt compelled to honor the tradition. I did not make any attempt to comment on it, lest I urge her to follow her own inclination in the matter and bring censure upon her. I would not have anyone think she dishonored her mother at my behest.
We had sat talking far longer than I realized, and the event was beginning to conclude. Noticing this, she rose, giving me a warm smile. "I have enjoyed the conversation, my lord. I thank you for keeping me company. My apologies for keeping you from the celebrating and dancing."
I stood also and shook my head. "Not at all. I was not in the mood for all of that anyway." Cocking my head, I asked curiously, "Have you received my letter? I replied to you shortly before Aragorn summoned me, but it would have gone to Dol Amroth, and you were likely already here."
She nodded. "I did. It came while you were away fighting. Elphir forwarded the packet on to us when it arrived there."
Mention of my letter brought to mind the stiffness of our communications, and I flushed slightly. "I…I will attempt to do a better job of the next letter. This was not my best effort," I assured her.
To my surprise, she laid a cool hand on my arm and told me, "It is sufficient. I am just pleased that you were willing to answer. I will look forward to hearing from you again, but first I must reply to you!" Her eyes were glinting with unheard laughter, and suddenly I was desperately aware again of how lovely she was, and how luscious her mouth happened to be.
Swallowing hard, I stepped away from her before I acted on the impulse shooting through me. Offering my arm, I suggested, "I will see you to your father and then call it a night. We depart very early."
She did not question my abrupt formality, and merely took my arm to walk with me in silence.
The next morning, as I rode through the silent streets with my escort, she appeared at the gate to the courtyard of her family's home and waved a wordless goodbye. Eothain gave me a hard look after we passed her, but I ignored him and fortunately he did not broach the subject just then.
xxxxx
The Riddermark once more claimed my full attention, at least during the day. Autumn was upon us and I needed to make sure that needs were met before we suffered the new winter. Despite that, once I was alone in my chambers at night, I invariably thought of Lothiriel.
I was a little surprised at her quick response to my letter, particularly since we had seen each other so recently, but apparently she had answered before she and her father left Minas Tirith to return home.
There was an odd tone to this missive, and I contemplated it for several days, wary of seeing too much in her words, but not wanting to overlook any meaning that truly did lurk there. On the surface, it seemed perfectly normal…
My lord Eomer,
It was a great pleasure to see you once more at Minas Tirith. When Father asked if I wished to accompany him there, I confess I was hoping we would meet again. I am not sure if I can ever thank you enough for your many kindnesses in my behalf, and especially for your great compassion and empathy for my sorrow. As you noted, my father and brothers have mourned in a different way, and I believe they were at a loss as to how they might comfort me when they themselves were struggling. Having someone willing to listen to anything I might wish to say of my mother, and my own deepest feelings, was a great consolation to me.
Having had the opportunity to compare the mourning practices of our respective lands, I think I prefer Rohan's inclinations in the matter, but that is not for me to decide on behalf of Gondor. All the same, when I allow my spirits to be lifted by activity or other means, I confess I feel somewhat guilty, as though I dishonor my mother by shifting my focus away from her. I would never wish to do that, and I could not have loved her more but, as you expressed, she would not have me continually weighed down by sorrow. She most assuredly would want me to seek whatever happiness I could find in my life, for she would certainly know that I always would hold her dear in my heart.
I think you would also like to know that I believe I am seeing improvement in Father and my brothers. They, too, seem less burdened by their grief, and we all are finally adjusting to life without our beloved Sirrin. I wish you could have known her, for I think she would have liked you very much, and I have little doubt you would have felt the same. Indeed, I think you would have been amused had you been able to see my parents together! In private, Father was so different when he was with her. She brought out the best in him, including a lighter-hearted demeanor and great sense of fun. I was fortunate to grow up in such a loving family setting. I know you had something similar, though I wish you could have enjoyed it far longer than you did. Such a thing can make the trials of life far easier to bear.
At that point, she had turned her communication to more mundane topics, concerning life in Dol Amroth and the events of her daily routine. The latter portion I had read once, with mild interest, but it was these first few paragraphs that riveted my attention.
Could there be a hint, buried in all the talk of love and family and her mother approving of me, that suggested she might be attracted to me? Was that attraction one of the things shifting her focus away from her mother, and making her feel somewhat guilty?
I sighed, as I set the letter aside after perusing it for probably the tenth time since it had arrived. Regardless of any concealed hints therein, I still was not in a position to act in response. From the looks of my schedule, it was unlikely I would find time to return to Gondor before the spring, though at least then her period of mourning would have ended so I could feel more free to express my own attraction to her.
Growling in frustration, I rose and began to ready myself for bed. Until the spring, I would have to do my best to turn my attention from the lady, and not allow thoughts of her to torment me too greatly. But, more and more, I was beginning to think, even hope, I might well find myself with a wife in the not-too-distant future.
xxxxx
By the hardest, the Riddermark endured the winter without seeking aid from Gondor, and that pleased me immensely. I had worked long days and long nights making sure it would be so, and it was rewarding to see my success. Still, it had left me tired. Were I anyone else, I would have attempted to slip away for a few days of hunting and fishing, to simply enjoy being outside while freshening my skills in both pursuits. Meduseld could always make use of the food I procured, and it would have relaxed me as nothing in the city could, but kings had little opportunity for such frivolity.
At least with the advent of spring, I could begin to consider that long-desired trek to Gondor, and spending more time with a certain lady there. Eowyn had written that she expected the house in Emyn Arnen to be complete sometime in May, the building having been slowed by inclement weather, and I had it in the back of my mind to look for time on my schedule to make the trip then.
My anticipations of making such a journey in May left me slightly unprepared when a letter from Prince Imrahil came in the packet from Dol Amroth. I could not restrain a grin at the man's inquiry as to whether it might be agreeable for him to come for a visit in order to purchase some fresh blood stock for his horse herds. A visit from a dear friend was always welcome, of course, but a line of the letter indicating that Imrahil's daughter desired to accompany him, and see Rohan for herself, gave the suggestion even more merit.
Lothiriel – here? All the better! I would much prefer drawing her out, and learning if she could have feelings for me, in the more relaxed setting of my own home than under the rigid, watchful gaze of Gondorian society. Too, I could judge her reaction to my homeland. I knew some of Gondor's nobility had been less than impressed with the simpler society and circumstances found in the north, but I very much hoped Lothiriel would not be in that group. Her family had seemed quite comfortable here; hopefully she would be also.
After quickly responding that I would be delighted to receive such welcome company, I began looking at my home more critically. I had never paid any particular attention to the way Meduseld might appear to others. It was what it was, and I had simply expected others to take it at face value. Now, though, I wondered how it might be viewed through a woman's eyes – a woman who might be asked to come and live here, to be its mistress.
Over the next fortnight, there was a flurry of activity as I pressed the household staff to clean the tapestries and freshen the overall appearance of the hall. With or without the visitors from Dol Amroth, I had to think it did not hurt to present a more polished setting to any who came to Meduseld. And it would add that much more to my pride in my home.
I am not a man given to nerves but, if only to myself, I could not deny a fluttering in my stomach as I anticipated the pending visit from the noble house of Dol Amroth.
TBC
Sirrin – "river queen"
Walda - from weald - "power"
FYI: There are some distances given between locations for LOTR, but not all. I'm figuring it took about 4 days for the trip from Dol Amroth to Minas Tirith by boat, and the Riders traveling overland took about 9 days. So having set out 6 days before Eomer did, they arrived the day before he did. (and thanks to Lady Bluejay for giving me a more realistic reckoning of the travel time by boat)
For this particular scenario, you'll have to assume the Fourth Age started in Sep, 3021 rather than in March as I usually have it. Shire Reckoning fixed the beginning of the Fourth Age to coincide with Frodo sailing to the Undying Lands in Sept. rather than the March reckoning Gondor tended to use.
Tuilérë
Spring holiday. Tuilere was a day between the months of March and April. It did not belong to either month. Tuilere and the autumn holiday Yaviere were added to the Revised Calendar of the Stewards' Reckoning created by Mardil in 2060. The Stewards' Reckoning was used in Gondor and other places where the Common Speech was spoken, but not in the Shire.
The colour of deepest mourning among medieval European queens was white rather than black. This tradition survived in Spain until the end of the fifteenth century, and was again practiced by the Spanish-born Belgian Queen Fabiola of King Baudouin's funeral. It was the custom for the Queens of France to wear deuil blanc or "white mourning".
