Early August 1, Edoras
There were times when Lothíriel wondered who was really the Queen of the Golden Hall.
This thought surely occurred to her when Osythe one day gave her a sharp look and told her she should go out for a ride.
"It is lovely weather outside and you look like sunlight would do you good. I have everything under control here", said the chatelaine in firm tones. When Lothíriel tried to protest and say she should be home preparing everything for her husband's expected return this same day, the older woman just waved her hand.
"He is not due back before evening, and I am perfectly capable of ordering his bath drawn and organising the supper for his welcome", Osythe replied, seemingly unmoving to her reasoning. Then something like a smile seemed to touch her face, "I should think it would please him to see the sunkissed face of his wife."
While Lothíriel had to admit she didn't know exactly what Osythe meant, it did sound convincing. Then Éothain turned out to be in league with the chatelaine, because he reassured her there were no urgent matters to demand her attention, and according to him he was well capable of preparing appeals for the King when he returned. In the end she let herself be persuaded to go for a ride. Scýne joined readily, as her mother was visiting Edoras and staying with their family. Aedre was more than happy to spend time with her grandchildren, both of whom were growing so fast these days. Elva was still following Elfhelm around whenever he was in the capital, and she had also announced she would become a Shieldmaiden just like Ceolwen.
"Béma, if that girl was twenty years older, Elfhelm would be in big trouble... and I would have some serious competition", Ceolwen had chortled as she and Lothíriel watched Éothain's daughter practice her braiding skills on Elfhelm's hair. The young queen had nearly choked on her tea.
A few guards came along too. The Queen, no matter how capable of looking after herself she was, could not just leave the capital all alone. Among them was Alger who seemed equally happy for the chance of a vigorous ride. The greater part of the Royal Guard was with Éomer and guarding duties back in Edoras were mostly nominal, though the King himself – ever the fuss – would probably have claimed otherwise.
So, about half an hour later Osythe had given her suggestion/command, the Queen and her small company were already speeding over the plains. They roughly followed the river Snowbourn which flowed north of Edoras. Playful riding contests took place of course, even if at this point Lothíriel knew it was in vain to try and win someone who had learnt to ride before they had started to walk. In this, Scýne was no different than any other Eorling.
Still, it was fun as ever, and the young queen forgot about the every day concerns for a while as they sped over the green plains. She did not think of harvest or rebuilding of homes or the blissful letters from new parents Aragorn and Arwen.
After about an hour they agreed to turn back, as Lothíriel wanted to be ready for Éomer's arrival. He had been visiting and inspecting villages in the West-mark for over a week now and she missed him very much. But before racing homewards they stopped by the river to water the horses.
This gave Lothíriel a chance to explore their surroundings a bit: she was always eager to get a closer look on whatever things she happened to see in Rohan. The busy days in Edoras did not often provide her with a chance to see the different parts of the realm. While she explored, Scýne stayed by the riverside to bathe her feet in the cool waters of Snowbourn.
In a moment's spur, she decided to climb a small hill to get a better view on the lands about them – perhaps she might even see the capital from afar. Edoras could be spotted even from leagues away, especially on a sunny day when light would hit the gilded roof of Meduseld and give it a brilliant blaze.
The young queen came to a halt on the top of the hill and gazed about the plains. Some way to east she thought she saw a village but couldn't remember its name from the top of her head – she made a mental note of having to ask Éothain help her memorising the names of Rohirric villages. She saw a small herd of sheep grazing near the river, which glittered in sunlight as it ran eastwards to join Entwash. Bright midday was upon them and the world was fair in the late summer. A breath of wind came and blew through her hair, like gentle fingers combing through her tresses. She did not shiver but rather turned her face against the wind, the sun. There was a sense of rightness to this moment, and to being here. Yet it did not escape her memory where she had been only a year ago now: she remembered the journey from the south, the long days on Erchirion's ship, and then at last reaching Pelargir... it was strange, for at the same time it felt like no time at all had passed, and yet so much had happened since then.
Almost a year ago she had chosen to follow Éomer to a road unknown, expecting nothing but hoping everything. Now she was in the Mark and she was queen.
Her reminiscing was interrupted then, for Alger shouted from the foot of the hill: "My lady! The horses have been watered."
"I'm coming!" she replied and began climbing down the hillside, her mind already turning towards the return of her husband; hopefully they would have some time to each other tonight, as he had been gone for so many days.
But then suddenly all thoughts of Éomer left her mind, because her foot seeking for the ground's support did not find any, and her foot left slipped; with a cry she fell as she felt her ankle twisting between stones.
"My lady!" Alger shouted again and came running. "Are you all right?"
Tears flooded her eyes as lances of pain went through her ankle. She didn't realise at first it was stuck somehow, not before a slight tug at her leg only made the pain worse.
"I – I think I sprained my ankle", she managed from between grit teeth. The young rider came down on one knee to inspect her leg carefully.
"Your ankle seems to be wedged between two rocks, my lady", he told her; now Scýne was climbing the hillside as well, along with two other riders.
"Damn it", Lothíriel grumbled and wished away the tears of pain which were still burning her eyes. "Can you dislodge me?"
"Just wait a minute", said Alger and tore off some grass to see better the pit and the stones imprisoning her ankle. Scýne arrived then, looking worried.
"Are you all right?" she wanted to know, kneeling by the young queen's side.
"It's nothing serious. Just a sprained ankle, I think", Lothíriel said and grimaced as Alger worked to free her leg. "I should have been minding where I walk."
"It's no wonder you saw nothing in this grass. Don't worry, we'll get you to a healer in no time", Scýne promised.
"This may hurt a bit", Alger said as a warning and pulled her leg, finally dislodging it from between the stones. Lothíriel tried to hold back a groan but did not quite succeed. Before anyone had time to ask if she was all right for the third time, she tried to push herself up.
"Let's get going. I would like to see the healer before my husband arrives", she said and nearly fell once more, but Scýne and Alger caught her by arms before she went sprawling again.
Scýne told her she wasn't going to walk or ride by herself, and two riders more or less carried her down to where the horses were waiting. Before she had a chance to protest they already had her atop Alger's steed and the young man mounted to sit on the front of her. She took support from his waist, which felt awkward, but the last thing she wanted was to fall off a horse. The last time she had ridden with someone had been when she and Éomer had entered Edoras after the Kin-strife, and before it... well, she couldn't remember that far back.
For obvious reasons rest of the ride did not provide much enjoyment, and Lothíriel was mostly concerned with the throbbing pain in her ankle and the frustration it was already causing her. This would be a source of major inconvenience for weeks to come.
In the courtyard of the Golden Hall she did not have time to protest before Alger had leapt down from the saddle and was already lifting her as well. She let it pass, though – she knew she would not have been able to get down by herself without hurting her injured leg.
Still, the young rider looked like he just might scoop her up and carry her in himself. Scýne was fortunately more tactful than that and hurried along to fetch one of the doorwards to aid the Queen. One of them hurried down the steps, and between him and Alger Lothíriel was so well supported she did not really have to walk, but just let them carry her weight across the yard and up the steps of Meduseld.
About the time they got her to the royal chambers Scýne had already called a healer, and Osythe was there as well, fussing about like a mother hen. Apparently the common understanding was if the Queen was harmed in any way, a great many people would be in serious trouble with the King – even if she tried to tell them this was nothing more than a sprained ankle. Such was the healer's diagnosis as well and he went to fetch supplies soon as he had Lothíriel's now swollen ankle propped up on a pillow resting on a stool, along with some ice wrapped about it – trust Osythe to have some ice stored around the year. The chatelaine hurried off to fetch some tea and Scýne accompanied her; the young queen had a feeling it was more about tea's soothing qualities than anything else. Alger was the only one who stayed behind, and at first Lothíriel did not deem anything odd about it.
"My lady", he spoke, "does it hurt much?"
"I will live", she grumbled, leaning back her head and feeling foolish that this had even happened. She went over again the obvious observation she should have been more careful... though of course that was now irrelevant.
"I'm sorry you hurt yourself, my lady", Alger said and took a step closer.
"It's fine. Really, don't worry about it", she said and waved her hand to dismiss the matter, but all of a sudden he caught her hand and fell on his knee next to her. The look in the young man's eyes was bright and somehow feverish.
"I would not be able to bear it, my lady, if anything ever happened to you", he said, clasping tight her fingers, "You are the sun that shines in this Hall."
She could not speak at first for her surprise. She blinked at the young rider and wondered if this was some kind of a bizarre jest. But even as the moments passed by she could see no trace of humour on his face.
"Alger", she sighed at last and pulled away her hand from his. "I am the wife of your King. My love and loyalty belong to him completely. You must understand that even if there was the slightest inch of me that was willing and capable of betraying him, you would not survive his wrath."
His face paled noticeably and she thought he was imagining the instance of facing his king in battle. To mask his reaction he lowered his eyes, but he could not hide how his shoulders slumped. Gently she reached for his shoulder and the young man glanced warily at her. Lothíriel gave him a comforting smile.
"You are a brave young man, Alger. I have not forgotten the debt I owe to you. Both myself and the King are grateful to you, and I know you will continue to prove your worth in times to come. But that is all there is", she said, her voice warm and compassionate.
The rider let out an unhappy moan.
"I feel so idiotic, my lady. I apologise for my conduct", he mumbled, not daring to meet her eyes.
"It is all right, Alger. I'm glad you spoke of this to me", she said to him and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Don't be troubled. Your heart will find its true home, like mine did. It may not be today, and it may not be easy, but it will be worth it."
By the time Éomer came home, the healer had already left Lothíriel with bandages to compress her ankle and instructions to recovery, and Éothain had limped in and out with a promise of providing her with crutches as soon as possible. The idea of having her ability to move so limited did not amuse Lothíriel one bit, but she knew all she could do was grit her teeth and wait for her ankle to heal.
Her husband seemed concerned as he strode in to the royal chambers, as though such a minor injury warranted worrying – the man was hopeless – but his expression lightened a bit when he saw her smiling at him.
"Welcome home, beloved", she greeted him and he came to her side, lowering himself on one knee.
"Thank you, dear heart", he said and leant closer to kiss her. When he pulled back, he frowned, "Osythe said you had hurt yourself. Are you quite all right?"
"Oh, I'm fine. It's just a twisted ankle – I should survive", she said and offered him another smile.
"I hope it doesn't hurt too much", he said, placing aside his gloves and reaching to brush hair from her cheek.
"I've had worse", she said and waved her hand dismissively. That brought a crooked little smile to his face and he rose up to his feet again.
"Let me just get rid of my armour. Have you had supper yet? I can go and fetch some – you should not be moving about with that ankle..."
He may be a fuss, she thought to herself with a fond smile, but he's my fuss, and I would not trade him to anyone else.
It was a quiet and pleasant night and Lothíriel's ankle did not become troublesome. She did not complain about things like eating together by fire, or being carried into bed by her husband. And she certainly did not complain when she was safely nestled in the crook of his arm and he comfortably rested against some pillows. He had been telling her about his trip to the West-mark and the people he had met there, and in turn she had spoken of the past week's comings and goings in Edoras.
"You know, when you ride out the next time, you may want to take young Alger with you. I think some time away from Edoras could do him good", she commented eventually.
"Why is that?" Éomer asked, absent-mindedly running his fingers up and down her arm.
"He told me today he is... well, he did not say it outright, but he didn't need to. It seems he's sporting some kind of an infatuation towards me", she said, watching his face to see how he'd react. The news didn't seem to move him over much, though: they were both quite confident in each other's love.
"Hmm. I'm not really very surprised. You are a beautiful woman, and braver and stronger than many that live now", he said softly and kissed her temple. As he pulled back one corner of his mouth rose in a half-smile, "I shall spend the rest of my days fighting off amorous men in the pursuit of your good favour."
She couldn't help but laugh at that. She shifted on her side and snuggled closer to him, as much as her ankle allowed.
"Whoever pursues my good favour is wasting their time. My love is given to one only", she told him. His dark eyes glimmered and her heart swelled with love and contentment. It was good to see him happy and unburdened.
"And for that I will always consider myself a lucky man."
A/N: Here's an update! I guess this may seem kind of random, but I was on a random mood when I wrote it. And sometimes random stuff just happens, don't you think? Anyway, I don't know how serious Alger's feelings really are. To my experience, young people are sometimes prone to be infatuated with a person they admire. Most often it's just a passing fancy but at a young age it's always larger than life.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Jo - Yes, Silfren is quite a special steed. :)
Miss Pixie M - Glad to hear that! I'm rather enjoying writing this one, and I've got plenty of ideas for more scenes/chapters, so I think we'll be on this ride for a while still!
brandibuckeye - And I think it was very much needed for them both. :)