Chapter 9

Early morning dawned with soft sunlight.

Lothíriel had heard rain during the night, but it had passed before sunrise, making way to a fair new morn. There was a silence in the air, as though all the world had quieted down with the rain. Surely there was a powerful sense of peace to the vision that greeted him in the main chamber.

There was something incredibly calming about the sight of a fierce warrior sleeping. It made one believe all was well enough in the world, so that even one like him could rest. Éomer slept still on the sofa, one hand tucked under his head and the other resting on his stomach. Eyelashes fluttered softly against skin, signalling light sleep that would soon break. But while she stood quietly and leaned her shoulder against the door frame, he remained ignorant of being watched.

She let out a small sigh and thought about last night, when she had heard him rushing out, and then finding him trying to get a hold of himself after what had to be a vivid nightmare. It actually made her feel bad about herself. There she went in the darkness, lying and deceiving and using dirty tricks to get her way… but this man put himself in line, honest and true, no matter the scars he got in the process.

Abruptly she felt it: she wanted to be as good as him. And she wanted to look at her own deeds and not wonder if she should be ashamed.

You show the world that decency is a choice anyone can and should make. So she had said to him, putting at last into words what had been growing in her mind since the moment they had first met. But did this statement have any value if she did not try to follow it? If it was just something she said to fill the silence? Well, she thought it had meant something to Éomer. Yet it could just become another of her lies, if she did not at least try to follow her own advice. While Aunt had taught her many things, Father too had given her some lessons: do not expect others to take the hard road if you yourself are not ready to step on it.

The sleeping horselord sighed and stirred and she moved away abruptly; she didn't think anyone would be comfortable waking up and finding someone staring at them. Lothíriel busied herself with digging through the contents of the food basket and tried to ignore how very aware of him she was – how his presence was like electricity to make hair at the back of her neck stand up.

"Good morning", Éomer said and let out a mighty yawn.

"Good morning", Lothíriel said and glanced at him over her shoulder. Instantly she felt despair at the warm, sleepy smile he gave her and she quickly looked away. A part of her would have liked to walk over, give him a good shake and yell: "stop being like that!"

But that would be quite absurd, and then Éomer would deem she was touched in the head. Well, he might even be right about that. Such notion surely seemed likely, considering the thoughts that now raced through her mind: why couldn't he be club-footed, or hate women, or be snide and prideful? Or, why did Amrothos have to drag him to that tavern, thus causing him to get caught and forcing her to find out how hard it was for her to be around him and keep her own thoughts under control? If Éomer had just returned to her father's palace safely that night, she would not be here now, trying to fight something dangerous that grew every moment she was exposed to the Rohir…

"Is everything all right?" he asked, and she became aware he was standing right next to her. She shivered, anxious at the way he towered and how it seemed as though warmth was flowing from him like waves to pull her in…

"Yes, yes, all is well", she said a little restlessly. "The rain kept me awake."

The lie stung more than usual, no doubt at least partly because of her thoughts before. Elbereth, she wasn't starting this morning very well, was she? From the corner of her eye, she saw Éomer frowning. Perhaps he knew she wasn't being truthful, and at once she wished she could kick herself. Lying straight to his face was not going to be a good idea, because he already seemed to have an alarmingly good grasp on when she was being dishonest. And if he began to doubt just how much he could trust her, then days and nights stuck together could get very awkward.

So she turned to give him a slight smile.

"Don't worry. It's just the strain of this past week, you see?" she offered him. Well, that at least was true.

Éomer's expression softened.

"Of course. Please forgive me – I know you are working hard to help me", he offered with an apologetic nod of his head, and once more she felt that guilty stab in the region of her chest. Why did he have to be like this when she didn't deserve his courtesy?

"It's nothing", she dismissed it swiftly.

He hesitated for a bit, and she could tell there was still something he wanted to say. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Lothíriel… I wanted to thank you for what you said last night. It was a great comfort. I never thought to become a king, and I often wonder if my efforts are enough. So, it's… it's good to know at least someone thinks I'm doing something right", he said to her, and Lothíriel's heart ached for the knowledge that to him, her opinion meant this much.

It was odd, really – to be a source of comfort and companionship to someone who wasn't family. To be able to offer support and a helping hand, not pass among others unseen like a shadow and use them to her own ends… and have her aid accepted so sincerely, like she was worth something as a comrade.

Her throat felt tight and she looked away. The words she spoke next were delivered less confidently than anything she had told him so far, but it was also the sincerest, most personal thing she had ever said to anyone who wasn't her kin.

"... thank you as well, Éomer. The faith you have in me is truly humbling", she said softly. Each word felt like it might get stuck in her mouth, yet somehow she was able to utter this out loud. She made the mistake of peering at him from the corner of her eye and saw the smile on his face.

In that moment, he was so bright and warm and inviting that she nearly forgot how to breathe.


Lothíriel was acting strange.

Not long after she had mumbled her own thanks to him, she had announced she needed to go and get them some water, and then hastened out in a way that implied they were both dying of thirst.

Éomer watched her go and wondered what was wrong. He had rather assumed that after the conversation last night, things might be… well, he had not thought she would be so awkward with him. Unpleasant idea took form: maybe she regretted saying those things. Maybe she felt it had been crossing some kind of a line.

He rubbed the back of his head. Had he been too overbearing? Éowyn sometimes said he had a way of coming too strongly at people. But Lothíriel wasn't like most people, and so it was easy to forget what was generally considered as propriety in Gondor. Not to mention, their circumstances hardly made normal interaction possible.

The Rohir sighed and decided to start making some breakfast. But his mind was only half in it, for the events of last night were close to his thoughts. Waking up to the nightmare, Lothíriel joining him, and her soft voice as she spoke his praise… for someone referring to herself as some kind of a spider, she surely seemed to have a very good understanding of what a king's duty ought to be.

Éomer frowned to himself. He had wondered before if the deceptions were in fact a natural part of her, or something learned. Now that question expanded: what would have become of her if her training had been to achieve other things? A diplomat, a politician, maybe a ruler, even…

He shook his head and noted two important things: first, he was getting way out of line here, and secondly, it was not his place to question her life choices. Just because she had not, according to her own word, thought much about what she wanted out of her life, it didn't mean this shadowy business didn't make her perfectly happy.

He tried to focus on the food again, pushing other thoughts of his mind the best he could. But soon enough other ideas came, and they had to do with the fact this was to be the second day he would be sitting here like some sort of fragile antique piece that must be kept away from harm. Would Lothíriel approve of him going out to catch some fresh air and maybe have a walk? Probably not. However, he wasn't sure if he could stand the closed walls for yet another day.

So the day would probably have gone, trying his patience and nerves. Only, it happened Lothíriel returned that moment with something unexpected to announce; her bucket was empty and her eyes alarmed as she stepped into the apartment.

"I think someone was following me."


She had left the apartment swiftly, with her head in a turmoil that was not going to calm down as long as Éomer was anywhere close. Elbereth! This was only getting worse and worse! And there was no release in sight, no promise of when help would come and she would be able to get her sorry self away from his dangerous proximity. And yet, as long as they were waiting for a ship to take them to Dol Amroth, she could neither leave him or tell him what was the matter.

Because one thing was clear: she had no business having feelings for King Éomer of Rohan. It just couldn't happen.

Her mind was hardly in the task of getting them some water. Instead, she went over the events of past few days once again, and wondered what could she do to stop this thing before it got even worse. But she couldn't come up with anything particularly useful, and her thoughts were disjointed and confused. It was one damned tangle: her duties to Dol Amroth and the task at hand, Aunt's teachings and expectations, Éomer's friendly smiles and disarming sincerity, and the obvious fact of how very foolish and out of her depth she was.

With her head so high up in the clouds, it was no wonder that she did not realise she was being followed until after she had filled her bucket and cast a look about herself. It was one of those things Aunt had taught her to do as a second nature, to be wary of her surroundings at all times, and thus her eyes briefly fell on the face of one of the corsairs from Dagalur's crew. She recalled seeing him with Shanum's company back at the ship. And he was watching her in a way that left nothing to imagination.

She refrained from muttering a curse, but inside her head, she was fast reproaching herself. Being spotted was always her own mistake; it meant she hadn't been careful enough or paid proper attention to her disguise. The reason was all too clear, and all too embarrassing.

Lothíriel wiped a hand across her face and stood a while, as though a common woman taking a moment to just breathe in the middle of her chores. With her eyes she searched the corridors and paths leading away from the little market about the well, deliberating which way should be the best for making her escape and shake off the man following her. Was the safe house compromised? It did not seem likely – they had been too careful and the corsairs had not been long enough in the city to flush them out. It should be still secure to stay there, provided that she was able to get rid of the villain following her. This might help the pirates narrowing down the area they needed to search, but on the other hand there was only so much they could do on enemy territory.

So she began to walk, keeping her pace even and calm, though the feeling of being watched and followed made her skin crawl. Instinct told her to run and disappear for good, and how easy would it have been, if not for the horselord she couldn't let die! She needed to get back to him and make sure he was safe.

Lothíriel reached one narrow corridor and now hastened her step. She had recalled correctly: another, even smaller pathway, opened steeply to the right less than seven feet away. Now she emptied the bucket and hang it on her shoulder as she hurried forward. She threw a quick glance back the way she had come and saw the figure following, half running to keep up with her.

Serpents of the sea could be formidable opponents when water was close, but now they were in the world of spiders, and she was well taught in the art of disappearing. A few randomly chosen turns took her away from the general direction of the safe house, snatched a frayed piece of linen from an open window where it had been left to air, and then she reached a busy little street with several shops open to business. There was enough of a crowd for her to use as a shield and distraction. Next to an apothecary, she put down her bucket upside down, took seat on it and covered her head with the piece of linen. One might think she was a perfectly ordinary beggar. People around her paid little attention, and wryly she thought of something Aunt had once said: "The greatest enabler of our trade is the supreme indifference of city people."

After some ten minutes and not seeing the man's face again, Lothíriel decided she had been able to lose him on the streets and it was safe to go back to Éomer now. She returned the makeshift veil she had "borrowed" to the same window and almost got a chamberpot emptied on her head, along with a string of insults that even made her cheeks burn a little bit.

But this little sojourn did not distract her from the important thing: the pirates were in the city, they had no intention of giving up the chase, and they were competent enough to have already discovered her on the streets.

Éomer was not going to like this at all.


While Éomer had expected they would be seeing or hearing about the corsairs again, he was still worried by Lothíriel's tidings upon her return. Quickly she explained how she had been spotted, and her attempts to lose the man following her. She delivered the report efficiently, like one who is very much used to it; idly he thought some of his men might do well to learn from her in that regard. He assumed it was because of her aunt.

The way he often did in his own council chamber, Éomer paced in their hideout while she explained what had happened and he interrogated her further. Had she seen others out there? Was she sure this one man had been the only one following her? And quite importantly, why had she let the man go? Now he might return to his crew and tell them he had seen her.

"Well, I couldn't just go and snatch him up in broad daylight. I didn't know if he had friends nearby, so taking him out was not an option, either. I can't engage when I have no idea what I'm up against", Lothíriel said defensively. He grunted and had to agree she had a point, though he did not like the idea of this pirate having sighted her.

"And anyway", she continued, "I think they never had any doubt of us flying right here. It was always the obvious destination both for us and for them. They still needed to do repairs on their ship."

"I suppose you are right", Éomer allowed at length and took seat opposite her by the table. He looked at her straight, "Are you certain there were no others? Is it possible you were followed all the way here?"

"No, I don't think so. I was very careful on my way back", she reassured him. She then leaned forward, "What do you suppose we should do?"

He thought about it for a minute. Yes, they could stay right here and not move a muscle while they waited for Imrahil's Swan Knights to arrive. However, he had a strong feeling it would drive them both mad sooner or later. Just sitting here and waiting was a truly loathsome idea. But maybe there was something they could do while they waited… some way they might make their time mean something.

Éomer looked at his companion again.

"Say, what do you think these pirates will do when they see one of your father's warships entering the port, and Swan Knights overcome the place?" he asked her. Makings of a plan were already forming in his mind.

"I think they will get very nervous. They might abandon their ship and try to get back to Southron lands by foot. And they could think of splitting up, so that it's harder to catch them", she mused, confirming what he had already surmised.

"And your father? What would he say about going through all this trouble without managing to catch any of them… especially whoever is leading the sorry lot?" he pressed on.

"Most displeased, I would say", Lothíriel replied. She frowned and tapped her chin with her index finger, "And as far as politics go, it would be a blow to him. It would be better for the dignity of Dol Amroth if he were able to show our king that some punishment is distributed."

Éomer nodded; similar idea had occurred to him. And if at least a few of them could be caught, it would be easier for him as well to appease to his countrymen, to let them see that the matter had been dealt with appropriately. Rohan did not need another war right now, but in their righteous anger, Rohirrim might forget it.

"Indeed. And if I may say so, I think this goal is easier to achieve if we apply some of your tactics into this situation, Lothíriel, instead of waiting for Swan Knights to arrive and turn everything upside down", he stated and gave her a smile. "How would you feel about setting a trap?"

A silence fell. For once in her life, Lothíriel seemed to be utterly astonished and unsure of how to react. But Éomer met her wide eyes expectantly and let her work through the shock. Well, he could see how it would take her by surprise, him approving and even suggesting they take her perspective to this thing.

"What do you mean?" she asked at length, stammering the words and still looking at him in confusion.

"I was just wondering if we might do some hunting of our own. We still have the advantage – they don't know your father's knights are coming. And we have the perfect bait", said the Rohir. Eagerness for action rose within, to go and give the villains what was due, but he reined it in. He couldn't be stupid about this, no matter how anxious it made him to sit inside four walls. For if Lothíriel agreed to his idea, it would require a great deal of cunning and stealth.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not sure I'm supposed to let you act as a bait", she said warily, having already guessed what he meant.

"I'm afraid only one person gets to fuss over my safety and that is Éothain. You know just as I do that things don't get done if you just sit tight behind a locked door", Éomer said calmly. "Might you feel better about it if I asked for your help as a king in need?"

She huffed as an answer.

"Well, I guess I can tell Father you gave me a royal order, or something", she said at length and looked at him from under her eyebrows. "But you may rest assured Aunt would never comply, king or not."

"Then it's a good thing I'm with you and not her, isn't it?" Éomer pointed out. He was smiling, and thought maybe his observation would amuse her, too. But the look he saw on her face was odd, solemn and even a little melancholy. It seemed as though she was right back to her earlier strange mood.

But suddenly she shook her head, like she was trying to rid herself of some unpleasant thought, and she looked at him with a stark expression once more.

"You bet it's a good thing", Lothíriel said and considered him keenly. "But tell me, what makes you willing to use my tactics now?"

Her question took him aback, and Éomer did not know at first what to say. Well, it was a very good question. How to put it into words? How to explain the painful lesson of being a king, the dawning of understanding that world was not all black and white, and that good and evil often intertwined in ways that left one with nothing but hard, painful choices? As a younger man, he had been uncompromising about his ideals – even ignoring the way one man's right could be another's wrong.

Things were not always what they seemed and sometimes, spiders could be good. And a king had to regard and act in the world as it was, not as he wanted it to be.

"Because… there are some things you can't just charge through with a full éored behind you", he said eventually, speaking softly but not uncertainly. He frowned and shook his head, "But we must ensure justice is done. I do not propose going after these pirates to slay them one by one. I want to bring them to face the laws of Men."

She looked at him seriously.

"Then that is what we will do."


So they began their planning, and soon enough Éomer found himself more or less cheered up by it, however odd that was. But then, he had never feared danger; it was familiar to him and he was used to dealing with it. Making plans and building strategies was something he knew well from years of serving the Mark.

One thing to figure out was their target.

"Obviously, we cannot catch and imprison the whole crew. But that may not be necessary. I would go for their leader… without someone to tell them what to do, they won't be much of a menace", Éomer said, idly smoothing down his beard, which had grown rather longer than usual.

"But who is leading them now? Is the captain still alive?" asked Lothíriel. She sat with one leg propped up on the edge of her seat, looking perfectly unladylike.

"Would that I knew. But if he is, I don't think he will be easily caught. He seemed like he was the most level-headed of them, and after you already deceived him once, he will know to be careful. He won't be trapped again, if he can avoid it", Éomer said and leaned his elbows against the surface of the table. He looked at his companion, "You spent some time with the crew. Who do you think would take the captain's place, if he is gone?"

She didn't need to consider it for long.

"I would say this Shanum, the one with the Black Serpent on his tunic, is the most likely to assume leadership. I'm not sure what his position on the ship was, but other crew members seemed to respect him. He was smart enough to see through my disguise, so it seems likely he could get the rest of them following himself", she answered. Narrowing her eyes, she added, "I get the feeling he's not as cool and collected as the captain. He reacts more emotionally, and that can be used against him. I have a feeling he is vengeful, too."

"Hmm", Éomer made a sound in agreement and considered his hands on the table. "Would that we got eyes on that ship."

"I can go tomorrow to the harbour and sniff around a bit. They will have had to land in the port, if they want to fix the damages and not risk the stream carrying the ship away", said Lothíriel. With a faint smile, she went on, "I think you should go outside tomorrow and make an appearance, too. Maybe show a bit of your face as well. Who knows? Whispers might reach their ears, and we want to keep them on the hook."

"Aye, that could be a good idea", said the Rohir, and not just because he was desperate for some fresh air. "After the stunts you pulled back at the ship, they need something solid. They won't go chasing after ghosts. But if one of them got a glimpse of me…"

"... then they might abandon caution and give us an opening", she finished his thought. She smiled brightly at him and leaned forward on her seat. "I like how you think, Sire."

He flashed her a smile.

"Indeed? Well, I hope that means I've finally found someone who is glad to endorse my deranged ideas", he quipped back.

Her grey eyes glittered as she returned his smile. In that moment, he knew there was so much more light in her than there was darkness. And it was quite clear to him which one he wanted to overcome the other.

"Don't you know?" asked Lothíriel, full of mirth for their banter. "I love deranged ideas."


They stayed up late, shaping and perfecting their plans. A lot depended on whether the corsairs would take the bait, of course, but Lothíriel was hopeful. Éomer was quite the prize still, and after the disaster back at the river, the villains would want retribution. Especially if their captain had drowned indeed. She decided to trust his instinct on that.

Eventually, he told her to go and get some sleep, and seeing it was already very late, she complied. After bidding him good night, Lothíriel retired to the bedchamber. She had a quick wash before crawling under the blankets.

But sleep didn't come easily. There was too much in her mind – expectations and hopes for how their plans would go, wondering what would happen once Father's men got here, and what Aunt would say about all this… and for each of those thoughts there was also one about Éomer. What would he say about this or that, how he'd handle the issue of returning to Dol Amroth, and whether he'd want to meet Lady Ivriniel.

She groaned when she realized what was happening. The man was inside her head, settling down and redecorating in mad glee like a particularly demented hobbit who has found a very nice hole in the ground. And it was getting harder and harder to keep him out.

Lothíriel got up around midnight. Not a single moment of sleep had yet come to her yet and her heart was anxious. Perhaps it was only fitting that tonight, she would be the one to lack peaceful sleep.

The idea occurring to her was stupid, she didn't deny that. But nothing else helped, so maybe… maybe just looking at him for a bit would calm her down. Because that was what Éomer did: he reassured her. With him, she felt like she could conquer the world... or take down a crew of vengeful pirates.

She did not find him sleeping. In the main room, the King of Rohan was seated by the window, staring out and looking as sleepless as she felt. Once again the silver sheen of the moon was on him, but now he did not seem troubled or in pain. There was merely the watchfulness of one who is well-adjusted to crisis and danger. Abruptly she felt safe in a very unexpected way.

He turned to look at her when she came. She noted his eyes were pitch black in this light. Black... but not dark.

"What is it?" Éomer asked quietly in that voice one would instinctively reserve for the still hours of the night.

"Nothing. I couldn't sleep", she replied, pulling a blanket closer around her shoulders.

"I know that feeling well. I rarely can sleep when I know there will be battle", he said quietly.

"You think that's what is going to happen?" she asked him, halting to stand beside him. She clutched the edge of the blanket just to keep her hand from reaching to him.

"I don't know", Éomer admitted. "But at this point it would be foolish not to be wary."

He tilted his head then and looked at her with narrowed eyes. Before she could say anything, he asked her, "Is that what your life is always like, Lothíriel?"

She didn't know what to answer. To tell him the truth was to admit some things she may not be ready to confess, and yet to lie… when she met his eyes, she knew she could not speak untruths to him. He would see right through her… and she would hate herself.

"Not always", she whispered, clutching her blanket so that her knuckles were white. "Not now."

He looked very solemn as he met her gaze. In his eyes there was an ocean, and she was about to fall.

"I should get back to bed", she stated loudly before the man could say anything more to confuse her mind further. She gave a clumsy pat to his shoulder and added, "And you should try to get some sleep, too."

"... good night, Lothíriel."

Had anyone ever spoken her name like he did?

"Good night, Éomer."

And had she ever uttered a man's name like this?

Oh, Elbereth…

To be continued.


A/N: This was another difficult chapter to write. At the start, I had hard time getting inside their heads and writing down anything that sounded plausible. But I hope it reads reasonably well, and their thoughts don't come across as fake! At least, I think I was able to sneak in some pretty good moments. Overall, I hope this did things to develop their relationship further.

Personally, I very much liked that last late night scene from her POV. I think it was fitting for her to have a kind of vulnerable moment just as he had in the previous chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Don't hesitate to leave a comment - it could be more helpful than you know!


Doranwen - I'm glad you liked their conversations! They were great to write as well. :) I hope you enjoy the talks in this one, too! Also maybe they are better equipped for this danger than one might expect. :)

Anon - Yes, I have to admit it's quite delicious being in her head for multiple reasons actually. Also you make a very good point about their late night conversation. It may be more meaningful for them than I had even realised at the time of writing it!

EStrunk - Well, they may just make use of it! Also I admit I do enjoy a flustered Lothíriel. :D We'll see how this goes with her and Ivriniel!

Thalia - I am glad to hear that!

Serni - Thank you very much! I am happy to hear you enjoy my stories. I do hope you will continue to enjoy this tale. I admit I also enjoy this version of Lothíriel, because it allows me such a different perspective to them both!

Merakia - Happy to hear you liked it! I did enjoy it as well. :) But I would imagine this pair is very capable of dealing with menaces!