Chapter 7

Hello! I'm back with an update for you. I hope you enjoy. I know it's been far too long that you've had to wait, and it's true that I am a very slow writer. I've been mulling over the plot for this story and I've got a few ideas.


Lothiriel sat in council with a large group of men, and Cecil. "It must be the bandits we heard of." Argued Captain Gilmandil. "They are trying to divide us. If we send armies to protect the Grey Havens, then they will attack Dol Amroth."

Lothiriel frowned. "I object to that, captain. We have many armies to command. If it is the bandits, then they mean to attack but one of us. Which direction was it stated they were traveling in?"

"I believe it was east," Cecil said, at precisely the same time that Eomer said, "South." Sparks flew between them as Cecil silently orchestrated a staring match, readjusting her position and glaring at him fervently. Ever since Cecil had arrived from the Grey Havens, Eomer and her had gone head to head on numerous occasions.

Lothiriel sighed, breaking the silence.

"It seems that either way, the numbers of said group are too small to be an army attacking us. Perhaps they flee from a greater power."

Eomer, who was blatantly ignoring Cecil, nodded in agreement. "That makes sense, in some ways. However, what could possibly make this group of bandits run away with their tails between their legs?"

Captain Kartoa frowned. "Saruman's death was never accounted for after the Battle of Pelennor Fields. On the contrary, last I heard he was living and breathing just fine. He may be attempting to enact his revenge." Cecil broke eye contact with Eomer.

"Cirdan had confirmed last I left of this unknown enemy's location. They had been moving along the North-South Road, past the Shire, and then stopped just beyond the Far Downs."

Legolas waited for a pause in the debate, before entering his own opinions. "If the Grey Havens call for aid, we must answer!"

"We are far from the Grey Havens as it is. We cannot hope to get there in time." Lothiriel argued. Legolas leaned towards her from across the table. "Then what course of action do you propose we take, your highness?" Lothiriel considered. "Send word to the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains. They are the closest. They will send aid."

Legolas frowned. "It's true that Dwarves and Elves have become less opposed as of late... I suppose that would be best."

"Then we shall send a message to the dwarves. We need someone who is fast on a horse."

All heads turned to Eomer. He nodded, accepting the duty. "As a horse master, I believe I could reach the blue mountains in three days or four days. That is as much as I can offer."

"We shall take a vote." Lothiriel said, a knot of worry forming in her stomach "All in favor?"

Everybody raised their hand in the air. "Very well. Let it be so." Eomer rose and exited, everybody else trailing behind him, chatting amiably.

Lothiriel was left in the room alone, with her thoughts. If he was gone, and she couldn't control herself… I could… I could make another attempt on my life. He was her metaphorical rock. He was the only person who made her feel truly safe. She suddenly felt indubitably alone, and a shudder overtook her. But then, No! said a defiant voice from deep within her. I can take care of myself for a fortnight or so. Don't be selfish, Lothiriel. You have too much to live for, and life is too short to spend half of it terrified of your own mind. She let those happy feelings flow through her, and lifted herself up, buoyed by her will to succeed.

I must go wish Eomer good luck. He shall need it, from what I can tell. She hastened from the room, heading down to the stables. The saddle bags had already been packed and ready to go, so he would be heading out already.

She reached the stables slightly out of breath, and barged inside. It was empty. She looked around quickly, hoping against hope that he hadn't already left. She ran down to the bridge, then back to his rooms, knocking. One of the maids said she had just missed him.

She found herself running back to the stables, just in time to see him mounting his beautiful Criollo horse, Mirane. He looked up when she entered, and smiled at her. A beam of dusty light lit up his face, and she found had to restrain herself from walking over and cupping his face in her hands.

"I came to say good luck." He dismounted and walked over. "Thank you. I think… I will need as much luck as I can get." She nodded. "Just, well, don't die. If you have to fight, try to stay out of danger as best you can." She looked down. "I wish I had a good luck charm to give you, even if good luck charms are rather silly and they don't really work in the slightest. It's just superstition, you know." She took a deep breath.

Eomer was smiling at her. "You'll be fine, Lothiriel. I don't need a good luck charm from you, because you are my good luck charm." She stiffened, taken aback, then relaxed a bit, tentatively giving him a quick hug.

She smiled at him, then said quietly, "You should probably go." He turned, mounted his horse, and waited for her to move aside. She did, and he left swiftly. She watched him leaving, took a few deep breaths, and collapsed in a pile of hay. She sat there thinking for a long while before Cecil entered slowly.

"Good day, Lothiriel. May I, ah, join you?" Lothiriel smiled at her, nodding. Cecil sat down next to her in the hay bale. "You seem upset."

Lothiriel's heart began to beat faster. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. I saw the way you two danced. You must be close."

"I wouldn't say we're that close." Lothiriel felt a piece of straw poke her sharply and she readjusted her position. Cecil smirked. "Oh, of course you're not. My mistake."

Lothiriel watched her carefully, slightly piqued by her ruthless honesty. "What do you want Cecil?"

Cecil took a breath. "I'm sorry if I seemed rude, your highness, but since I have arrived I have noticed that a gray cloud hovers above you. I think I may have an idea for you."