Chapter Six: Make Every Moment Count
"Oh Amrothos…"
Her brother's stone-grey eyes blazed from one emotion to the next: ire, hurt, shock, dread, and once again ire, before settling on sheer and unabashed relief.
"Lothíriel," he collected her into his arms, smashing her frame into his hard chest. Lothíriel didn't even feel the pain that accompanied the movement because her guilt was so great. "I thought you were lost…"
"Amrothos…"
She pulled her arms to twine under his own and wrap about his waist, burrowing her face in his clean tunic. She began to weep again, her fingers wrapping around the linen tightly albeit shakily. The emotions that had been held at bay before broke through the dam of her reserve and her knees suddenly gave out. Amrothos transferred her to the bed and sat down beside her, cradling her in his arms and rocking her gently.
"What were you thinking?" he chastised softly. "What on earth were you thinking?"
"You cannot possibly begin to understand." Lothíriel bit out, her voice hard and full of indignation.
"Understand what?" Amrothos asked, pulling her back with thick hands wrapped around her shoulders. "Loth, you almost got yourself killed."
"I think I know that well enough!" Lothíriel ripped herself away from Amrothos and cradled her head in her hands as her headache screamed shrilly. "I do not need to be reminded."
"Then can you please explain to me your way of thinking, because I dare say I understand what would drive you to do something so completely and utterly stupid! By the gods, I should've known! How could I not have recognized my own sister?" Amrothos kept going much to Lothíriel's absolute irritation. "I should've taken notice of the way your clothing was too big or your helmet didn't fit, always shadowing your face. How you always wore it, even around the fire! Who wears their helmet when it's not needed in the dastardly heat of summer? Even the way you always stood off from the others should've been a dead giveaway! How could I have been so blind?"
At once the door to the chamber opened and in strode Éowyn, directing two servants who were pushing a wooden tub. As she stood by to let them pass she took note of Amrothos, and instead of curtsying to him and excusing herself to give them privacy Lothíriel watched as she placed her hands firmly on her hips and adopted a scowl.
"Out." Éowyn ordered, pointing toward the door. "Your sister has been through enough this eve and could do fully without you berating her. She needs a bath and a healthy rest."
Amrothos did not move save his jaw dropping and Lothíriel had to dip her head to stifle her smile. Servants came trailing into the room then, carrying buckets of steaming water as the tub was settled before the hearth.
"Well, off with you." Éowyn fluttered her hands toward the door and dumbly Amrothos stood, making for the threshold.
He paused, barely over it, before turning to face her. "I have sent word to father that you are with me."
Cold fear numbed her very soul as Amrothos took his leave, moving away and down the hall to his own borrowed chambers.
I will be sent home on the morrow then. Lothíriel stared mutely at the floor before Éowyn's slippered feet appeared and a soft hand cradled her chin to raise her face.
"I know what it is like to have an overbearing brother." she explained and Lothíriel was suddenly very grateful for her tidy dismissal of Amrothos.
"Come, do not worry about your father. What matters now is that you are safe and alive." Éowyn smiled down at her and Lothíriel couldn't help but return the gesture. She was right; Lothíriel could not think about what would happen tomorrow or the next day; in this world it was ever-changing. Her father's wrath would be there when she returned home, as well as the life she left behind. The tedious, stately, unexciting life which would now be followed by her father's ubiquitous shadow even more harshly than before.
Which is exactly why she had to live in the here and now.
Some time later Lothíriel sat perched on the high bed freshly cleaned and wearing a new shift while Éowyn brushed the long locks of her ebony hair. Her foot, she had found out, had been bitten by a warg, but thanks to her thick leather boots the lacerations were superficial and only warranted a bandage. The ache that plagued her head had subsided somewhat and as Lothíriel nibbled on cheese and bread she listened as Éowyn recounted all that had happened thus far in the War of the Ring. She told of the history of the One Ring and the Fellowship, how it came to be and was made up of factions from all over Middle Earth, but had been broken.
"They thought they had lost Gandalf as well as Boromir, but the wizard came back, hailing of the White Order."
"Boromir?" Lothíriel asked, momentarily stunned. "What do you mean, lost? What of my cousin?"
She turned to face Éowyn and the fair maiden of Rohan paused in her ministrations, a sorrowful look on her features. "I am sorry, I did not mean to speak so plainly. I thought you knew."
"No," Lothíriel whispered, turning back around as Éowyn took to brushing her hair once more. This war continues to take loved ones. Boromir and she had not been desperately close, but she had many fond memories of playing with Faramir and him as children at Minas Tirith.
Éowyn continued to tell Lothíriel of the hobbits Sam and Frodo and how the fate of Middle Earth rested on just their shoulders. She spoke of the coming of Gríma and the fall of Théoden which in turn had almost led to the fall of Rohan. Éowyn had been there when Mithrandir had broken the spell Wormtongue had over Théoden; apparently it had been a powerful sight to behold.
She spoke of Prince Théodred, her cousin, and how he had fallen at the Fords of Isen under the swords of orcs. Éomer had returned the fallen prince to his home, but where the Marshal had ridden after being banished under punishment of death no one knew.
"If it were up to me I would ride out and look for him myself." Éowyn spoke boldly.
"Aye; if it were one of my brothers I would do the same." Lothíriel remarked as the brush passed from her scalp down her back. Even supercilious Elphir.
Éowyn continued to recount her knowledge of the army from the east, how Saruman was amassing tens of thousands of orcs to bring down all before them. Lothíriel listened, taking in everything that was being shared. If fear had been at the forefront of her emotions resolve now took its place, steady and sure.
Like father, I would rather be dead than see the day Sauron and his orcs run Middle Earth, she vowed to herself.
"Now tell me how you came to be at Rohan." Éowyn laid the brush aside and crawled across the bed to sit before Lothíriel. "And please, do not leave out a single detail!"
Lothíriel laughed, and though the night grew late and her bones cried for sleep she recounted every last bit of her journey. Éowyn's eyes shone with wonder and mirth, and she even laughed at the part where the soldier had urinated in the river right next to her! Lothíriel could not help to suppress her own laugh because it was funny now, really. At the time though… Lothíriel turned red at the very memory, eliciting another light peal of laughter from the Lady of Rohan.
"My brothers don't understand. They are their own men, free to make their own decisions. Since I was a babe I have lived in their shadows and my father always sought to protect me well beyond reason. I will have to marry for Dol Amroth, will never know true freedom, and this was my one chance to have an adventure and to make a difference rather than cower in the shadows. But I will surely be sent home now." Lothíriel's voice held a note of pain, one that did not speak for the injuries her body had acquired. No, this was a pain of the soul, one that spoke volumes of emotion.
"You do not need to explain yourself to me." Éowyn whispered, and she reached forth to clutch Lothíriel's hand tightly. "We are one in the same in this, princess."
They shared a smile then, one that leant to the very firm foundation of a lasting friendship.
"Rest now, for I can see you are weary. I will come to you on the morrow."
The next morning Lothíriel slept well past breakfast and it was almost noon before she left her borrowed chambers in the Golden Hall. The gown she had acquired from Éowyn was a deep green with golden embroidery around the cuffs and neck, but indeed too short for her. The boots she chose to wear were not covered at all; even the pale flesh of her calves was exposed! She almost considered asking for a pair of trousers, but she was so sick to death of the way they chafed her thighs and she had enough bumps and bruises on her body as it was. Éowyn accompanied her to the throne room after Lothíriel had braided her own hair in a single plait and with their arms laced they came upon Amrothos, Théoden, Éothain, and Aragorn pooling over a map and speaking war.
"If we stick close to the mountains by way of the Great West Road we may be able to take to the peaks for refuge if need be." Théoden was saying, and the ladies stilled in their walk to listen inquisitively.
"If we pull too far into the Mark we may meet orcs." Aragorn agreed, but at the dainty throat being cleared the men paused and turned to face the ladies.
"Lothíriel!" Amrothos straightened and it was then Lothíriel noticed the bandage on his arm.
"You're hurt?" She frowned, motioning to the dressing.
"It is only a brush. Where are you off to?" Amrothos looked at her warily, as if expecting her to bolt. Lothíriel watched as his eyes flickered from her sunburned face to her raw and reddened hands, down to her feet in boots and the dress exposing her calves. She could only imagine the thoughts of disapproval that were going through Amrothos's mind and she secretly delighted in every spark of dissatisfaction in his eyes. He had never been stern with her before last night (although, admittedly, she did deserve his anger) and took pleasure in getting a little rise out of him. She knew the stress of the situations around him must be aggravating, but at the same time could he not see that she was distressed as well, and could've done without the chiding?
Men!
"We are going to take a turn about outside. It will do the princess no good to stay cooped up here. She needs fresh air and to stretch her limbs." Éowyn answered, patting Lothíriel's hand. Lothíriel stifled a giggle, though she saw she wasn't the only one who couldn't contain her mirth.
Ignoring her brother's black look she stepped forward and offered her hand to Aragorn. "Lord Aragorn, it is utterly enthralling to finally meet you." She curtsied deeply as the heir to Gondor's throne bowed over her hand.
"My lady."
He was very handsome, this Strider. With brown hair that hung in loose waves to a set of broad shoulders, he had kind blue eyes and a mouth that always seemed to hint at a smile. He was no taller than she but built like a warrior, presenting to her in brown leather and weapons dripping from every place he could fit a sheath.
She turned to the King of Rohan then. "And Théoden King, please forgive my discourteous means of arrival." She curtsied even deeper then; the maneuver would've made her father proud.
"You are forgiven, if what Éowyn has told us is true." Théoden replied, raising an eyebrow as Amrothos opened his mouth to dissuade anymore words of praise from the king. "You are very brave to have accomplished all you have. But, as a father myself, I can speak for yours when I say he will be most displeased."
"That I do not doubt; you should be lucky you are not the one who has to face him!" Théoden laughed, as well as the others (save Amrothos, who was still scowling), and Lothíriel continued; she did not want to hear anymore on her behavior! What's done was done and there was only moving forward from here. Amrothos would fully forgive her in time; she knew he had already begun to by the soft look of affection scarcely hidden behind his malicious glare. Of all her brothers he was the most lighthearted, and like her father could not stay mad at her for long. "From what I hear we have much larger matters at hand."
"Yes," Théoden nodded, his gaze flickering to Éowyn. "We depart for Helm's Deep on the morrow. Make sure you are ready."
Hope kindled in her chest and she looked excitedly at Amrothos.
"We are to accompany them. It is too late and too dangerous to go home now." Amrothos conceded. "You are in my charge now, sister."
Elation bubbled up from her toes to her throat and she could not stop the smile that suddenly lit up her features and blinded those in the room.
I am not to be sent home! Enemies and dangers be damned, she was to stay! I will have a chance to make a difference for my people…for Middle Earth!
"We take our leave my lords." Éowyn ducked a curtsy and steered Lothíriel from the Golden Hall, their feet taking them swiftly across the wooden planks. A pair of guards opened the doors leading from Meduseld and together they took to the stone stairs, tittering happily between one another as they descended the long flight.
"Look!" Lothíriel clutched at Éowyn's arm suddenly, breathless with ardor. "Mithrandir!"
He stood by the stables conversing with one of the guards there; Lothíriel recognized him to be the one who stood beside Éomer before the tide of battle took over. The White Wizard was tall, much taller than she, and seemed to shimmer in the early afternoon light of Edoras. With white robes that brushed the dirt of Rohan, a beard that dipped low on his waist, and long straight hair that ran past his shoulders, the only hint of color on the wizard was a set of piercing blue eyes that suddenly tilted her way. He nodded at the guard as the women approached, dismissing him before gracing them with a gracious smile. An elegant, gleaming ivory horse stood behind him, neither saddled nor bridled; however the beast stood patiently, keeping silent vigil over his master.
"Ah, there is the Princess Lothíriel." Gandalf took her hand and bowed over it. "I am very humbled by your presence my lady. Indeed, your deeds of boldness have not fallen on deaf ears."
Lothíriel blushed as his eyes skimmed down to her bare calves before coming back to meet her gaze with mirth. "I have done nothing worthy of valor, Gandalf. Merely stupidity."
Gandalf threw back his head and laughed, clutching his staff tightly as his antics threatened to topple him. Already Lothíriel was gaining eyes from her manner of dress, but standing with the White Wizard with the Lady Éowyn by her side, the three were a sight to behold she was sure.
"Ah Lothíriel, if I were but a younger man I would vie for your hand." His eyes twinkled and he reached up to pat his stallion on the neck. "But that honor is saved for another man.
"My ladies, tomorrow you embark unto Helm's Deep. Your journey will not be without trials, but hold fast; you are needed yet."
And with that Gandalf swung himself up onto his steed and laid heel into the beast's ribs. The women stepped to one side and watched as the White Rider parted townsfolk in his haste, leaving them stupefied in his wake.
"What do you think he means by that?" Lothíriel asked.
"I more so want to know the man who will have the honor of taking your lovely hand." Éowyn teased lightly. "My brother is unmarried, you know."
Lothíriel giggled, as females do when talking of matters concerning the heart. "And have you as a sister-in-law? No thank you!"
The women laughed and paid no more mind to the subject than that.
Later that evening the servants laid out a meal that was hearty and fulfilling, all the more preparing the people of Edoras for their great move. Roasted venison was accompanied by mead and ale, as well as a fresh bed of greens, tasty rolls, mushrooms, and quail. Lothíriel ate her fill, but it was not the meal that brought her the greatest entertainment of the night.
Before the sweet meal at the end of supper was served, Lothíriel found herself engrossed in conversation with Éowyn before a strange voice interrupted their idle chitchat.
"My lady."
She looked up and Amrothos paused in his conversation with Aragorn to eavesdrop, because standing before her were the crusty-eyed guard and the younger guard from their company to Edoras, the ones who had given her the most trouble.
"Good soldiers," Her revenge had presented itself and Lothíriel vowed to relish this moment. "What is it that I may do for you? Oh," she raised a hand then, tapping a finger against her chin as Éowyn looked on with a knowing grin. She was well aware of what had happened with the soldiers, but Amrothos who was now listening to the exchange unabashedly, hadn't a clue.
"I know! You," she pointed at the younger soldier, and though he was quite handsome the red mottling his skin did not suit his features. "Need help finding a river to piss in."
"My lady—"
"Lothíriel!"
"Or perhaps you would like to show me what was in your trousers? After all, I have never seen one before."
Amrothos was sputtering at this point but Aragorn could not sustain his laughter anymore than Gimli the dwarf could, who was also listening. The attention of Théoden was now had as well, and he leaned across his plate to watch the exchange.
"Princess Lothíriel, we humbly beg your apology—"
"And you," she turned her finger to point at the older soldier. "were right. A soldier of Dol Amroth I am not. However, I am a fair maiden and you will do well to remember that the next time next time we cross paths."
At the stricken looks on both their faces Lothíriel tossed back her head and laughed. "I forgive you both; after all, how were you to know I was a princess under all that garb? In fact, you helped my ruse, so I should be thanking you."
"Princess Lothíriel, please do not think wrongly of us." The older soldier pleaded, his own face mottled purple from embarrassment.
"It is forgotten." Lothíriel said kindly, dipping her head to dismiss them. The soldiers bowed and stepped down from the dais, leaving the lady Éowyn laughing uproariously behind the shield of her hand as the others exchanged looks of baffled amusement...except for poor Amrothos.
"Lothíriel, what the devil is wrong with you, speaking like that?" Amrothos chided.
"Do not even get me started on you!" Lothíriel laughed, turning to her brother on her left. "Threatening to make me walk on foot and ordering me to care for your mount while you sat and ate the choicest of morsels for supper! Is that how you treat all of your soldiers?"
Amrothos turned as red as a tomato while Théoden and Aragorn laughed loudly next to him.
"I did not know it was you!"
"And how Captain, did you not recognize your own flesh and blood?" Théoden asked, a blonde brow raised in mock chastisement.
"I am a great deceiver, Théoden King." Lothíriel leaned forward and winked, causing the king to laugh once more. Lothíriel did not take notice of the common folk of the hall watching the exchange; it had been a long time since their king had laughed and they were grateful for the spirited princess and her humor. "After all, I am a woman."
Aragorn choked on his ale while Amrothos merely stared at his sister in shock, his mouth hanging open.
"Honestly sister, where have you learned such manners of behavior?"
Freedom has allowed me many liberties; I am discovering only now what it is truly like to be Lothíriel. Not Princess Lothíriel, or the daughter of Prince Imrahil. Simply Lothíriel.
"Amrothos, I am the only female in a house of four males; you really cannot expect that much from me."
Short and sweet, but necessary all the same. I enjoyed the humor of this chapter; I think it helps to lighten the inevitable. Hopefully you all enjoyed it as well, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts. See you all next week (or sooner; keep an eye out)!