Chapter 14
Finally after a week and a half of hunting orcs and organising lodgings for farmers who had lost their homes during the raids, Éomer spotted the hill on which stood the town of Aldburg. Really, the call of duty could not have come on a more inconvenient time, what with his wife's nearing childbirth. His heart had been heavy when he had left her, and not even telling himself that she'd be completely safe and cared for managed to take away his concern.
At the sight of his home Éomer urged Firefoot into a gallop, and the stallion readily complied. Even after their patrols the horse was eager as ever for some speed; a quality the Marshal very much appreciated in his steed.
The guards at the gates greeted the riders with shouts, but Éomer sped past them. He was so close now, he could not waste time by loitering around... he had to see his wife and make sure all was fine with her. Perhaps he had arrived in time? So, in hurry he rode uphill, and all the while his anxiety was eating him away and filling his mind with terrible scenarios. What if something had happened while he had been away? A man should not abandon his pregnant wife like that. Oh, she'd be angry with him... that was, if she was even all right. Lots of things could happen in one and a half week!
His thoughts were turning somewhat hysterical when he finally entered the courtyard of his home, and the fact that his wife was not there to receive him only managed to fuel his madly racing mind.
He dismounted and would have ran inside, though he feared what he would find there... but Mistress Bierwén caught him by arm before he could dash inside. The woman had taken it her duty to receive him home when his lady wife was otherwise occupied.
"My wife?" Éomer asked, his voice strained. The old chatelaine smiled.
"She is well. She has given birth to a healthy little daughter", Bierwén answered in calming tones. "Congratulations, my lord."
The news had him wavering where he stood, both delighted and relieved for the safe delivery of the child but also disappointed and regretful for not being present during the childbirth.
"And all went well?" he asked quietly.
"Aye. At first we thought something was wrong the way she screamed... but the poor thing was just in shock for what was happening. As soon as we were able to make her calm down, it became apparent it was a normal childbirth and the unexpectedness of it had merely scared her. The babe came a bit early but she is healthy and strong", Bierwén explained.
Éomer grunted something non-committally at that, as he was already in haste to go and greet his wife... and his child.
And so he strode inside, or perhaps it was best called a flight; he very nearly knocked over two servants on his way to the chambers that belonged to him and his wife. All the while his heart beat fast, hammering in his chest with anxiety... until finally, he saw that familiar door and he stormed in, all the way to the bedchamber.
There she was sat on their bed, resting against pillows. Though she had given birth recently, she looked healthy if a bit tired. In the crook of her arm lay their newborn daughter, and evidently she had juts finished nursing the little one. For a moment, all Éomer could do was just to stand there quietly and watch. His family. Perhaps it was not one that he had picked, but it was the one he had... and he found he was content with what he had been given.
Lothíriel lifted her eyes and a small smile came to her face.
"Welcome home, husband", she said softly.
"Lothíriel", was all he managed as an answer; his voice came out weaker than he had intended, for there was a lump in his throat that made talking difficult. The smile on her face widened and reached her eyes.
"Come and meet your daughter", she urged him.
As if in a dream, he approached the bed and sat on the edge of it. The baby had apparently had her fill already, as she sniffled softly and settled again in her mother's arms. It was too soon after the childbirth to really tell if the baby looked more like him or her, but Éomer found he did not care. All that mattered was their child had been born healthy, and his wife was well too.
"I am sorry for not being here when she was born", he said then, managing to speak stronger this time.
"It's fine. You have your duty as a Marshal", she answered gently, resting one hand on his.
"But I have duty to you too", Éomer murmured, twining his fingers with hers.
"You're here now", she simply answered, and she smiled again. "Would you like to hold her?"
"Of course", he said right away, but then as she offered the child to him, he suddenly felt fearful. He asked: "What if I hurt her?"
"You won't, husband. Just support her head. She's a child, not glass", Lothíriel said, carefully placing the babe in her husband's arms. And the weight of the little one was light as he held her and the look on her face was calm, apparently completely content with a windblown rider holding her.
He let out a wavering breath as their daughter rested there, already asleep again. Everything about the little one was like a miracle: her mouth that reminded him of his wife now that he looked properly, the soft ruddy skin, the tiny hands... the baby was so small that he thought he could easily have carried her on the palms of his hands.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Lothíriel asked softly.
"That she is", Éomer said weakly. Though he already had Elric, the joy of fatherhood was something that never dimmed.
It took a while for him to gather himself as he quietly watched his daughter sleep, but eventually he felt like being able to speak sentences longer than just three words. He lifted his eyes to look at his wife.
"How are you feeling? Are you getting enough of rest?" he asked.
"I'm fine. Still a bit sore, but it's not so bad anymore", she answered. Then an amused expression came to her face, and she continued, "And I definitely am getting enough of rest... most of the time it seems there is an entire line of people at the door, asking to look after her while I sleep. She's only three days old yet she has already wrapped virtually everyone around her little finger."
Éomer laughed at her words and did not make the obvious statement how the babe already had him as well.
"Elric must have been all over you. He has been looking forward to this so much", he said.
"Oh, in the end it seemed like he was far more terrified about everything than I was. And he takes after his father, what with the fuss he made when they let him in to see her..." Lothíriel commented and there was that teasing little smile on her face that he found he rather liked.
"I don't make a fuss about things", he firmly told her, at which his wife rolled her eyes.
"Of course not, dearest husband", she snorted.
"I am glad that we agree about that", he said lightly. Then he looked at the baby again, and asked, "What of my Grandmother?"
"I was too tired to get out of bed, but Scýne and Elric took care of it and brought the little one to her. They say she was beyond blissful", Lothíriel answered and settled back against the pillows. He could very well imagine his Grandmother's happiness for seeing the line of Éomund continued... and witnessing this new life, despite all the death.
"How do you feel about it?" he asked softly, searching her face for any sign that she might be uncomfortable. She had been so worried and even scared before, and he had wondered if this would just make her unhappy.
"To be honest, I really don't know yet", she answered at length, and her eyes fell on the baby. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to her, but... I still don't feel like I'm ready for this."
"Perhaps it just takes a while to adjust", he offered. It was surprisingly scary to think that maybe she didn't want this child at all, like he did.
"Yes. You're probably right", she said quietly.
He was about to say something but then the child started to move restlessly and it wasn't long after that she let out a loud cry - "She has inherited your lungs, husband" - and as he had no idea of what to do, he placed the baby back into his wife's lap. Obviously there was a lot he'd have to learn about infants and tending to them.
Humming softly, she rocked their daughter in her arms and the baby eventually calmed down.
And as he looked at his two ladies there, Éomer knew he'd do anything for them.
With Elfhild's birth, a new era was introduced not only in the daily comings and goings of Marshal's Hall, but also in the lives of Lord and Lady of Aldburg. It was evidenced by things like the toys that had appeared in their chambers, dirty napkins, clothes for small children, and the wooden cradle beside the bed. Suddenly, the rooms were filled with the cries of a baby and voices singing lullabies. A full night's sleep became a rare thing as the little one often had to be fed in the middle of night, and she'd express her need rather loudly.
After childbirth and with all the work of caring for the child, Lothíriel did look often quite tired, which worried her husband. So, as often as he was able, he'd snatch the baby from her and tell her to rest. He'd sit with the child himself, rocking his daughter in the crook of his arm or in the cradle while telling stories he knew she did not yet understand. If he was unable to tend to her himself, there were always happy helpers. Scýne didn't mind looking after Elfhild while tending to her own son, and Elric was quite possibly the most devoted older brother in the world. Though he was but a boy, he never expressed anything else than utmost care when handling his little half-sister.
"You know, Éomer, your daughter is probably going to be the most well-looked after girl in all of Rohan. Even if you weren't her father, no one will ever dare to bully her, what with Elric around", Éothain commented with a grin after observing Elric with the baby for a while. He probably wasn't even wrong in saying that.
There was a new thrill to returning home now that he had a child waiting for him too. Of course Elfhild was too small to understand such thing yet, but he could already picture how it would be: riding to the courtyard, and the sound of an excited voice calling him as a little fair-haired girl rushed to meet him with her arms wide open.
Elfhild appeared to have inherited her mother's grey eyes, but soon after her birth, light hair began to grow on her head. Perhaps she'd have the fair hair of her father's kin, unless it turned darker with age. He thought she had Lothíriel's mouth though, and Elric was convinced they had the same ears. How the boy could tell something like that, the Marshal himself was not sure.
Two weeks after her birth Éomer made a brief trip to Edoras to bring the news of Elfhild's birth; there were tears of joy in Théoden's eyes when he told the King what name they had chosen for the baby.
"Bring her here as soon as you can. I wish to see your daughter, sister-son", uncle said gently, and Éomer swore the three of them would visit Meduseld as soon as it would be safe to travel. The next day he was already speeding back to Aldburg, anxious not to be too long away from his family... and so deeply entranced he was by the birth of his daughter that even news of Dunlending Captain Áed's escape under unclear circumstances managed to catch his attention for too long.
Sometimes, when Éomer sat with his daughter and she was asleep in his lap, he'd stare at her and wonder about just how much his life had changed during this past year. Only a year ago he had been an unmarried man... in the Marshal's chambers there was only the most necessary furniture, and he had felt so misplaced here. But now he had a wife and a daughter, and the empty rooms of his life were filling with so much noise.
And for the first time ever since his parents had died Aldburg was finally starting to feel like home.
The day had been long and the most of it had passed for Éomer in the middle of hearing to pleads of the folk in the eastern parts of Rohan and doing what he could to help them. It had not been an easy winter for them, as they had barely escaped orcs with their lives; everything else they had been forced to leave behind. He had also busied himself in making queries whether there was any work for the now homeless and bereft families. In his own household there was fortunately some work for a weaver and a kitchen maid, but it would take a while for these families to settle down and adjust.
But as he often did these days, he found himself leaving those concerns at the door of their bedchamber. How could he think of anything else anyway, when he saw there his wife and daughter? Lothíriel was sat on the bed, rocking the little one in her arms, and singing a song in a language he recognised as Sindarin. It was a sight for sore eyes.
As quietly as he could, he made his way to bed, sat down and settled against some pillows after getting rid of his boots. When she carefully shuffled back with the baby still in her arms, he spread one arm so that she could settle there. With the two of them by his side, his heart was full and whole. She continued the song again and the flowing sound of Sindarin filled the room with calm.
"What was that song?" he asked her after she had fallen silent.
"It's something my mother used to sing for me when I was a little girl. It's about this sailor's wife, who sings for the sea and asks it to bring her beloved safely back home", Lothíriel answered softly. Elfhild had fallen asleep in her arms.
"It's a beautiful song", he commented and leaned back his head, feeling sleepy already. Idly he thought of a couple years past when he had been a bachelor still, and he might have spent a free night in the alehouse with some riders. Now he was entirely content staying here with his family.
"I was thinking... I'd like to teach her Sindarin. It was the language I used with my own mother", said his wife after a while.
"That is fine by me", Éomer answered and gave her temple an absent-minded kiss.
"And you'll doubtlessly teach her all the crude jokes in Rohirric, correct?" Lothíriel asked dryly.
"How did you guess?" he asked, laughter rumbling deep in his chest.
"I just know these things", she told him and turned her head so that she could see his face. "Don't you dare fall asleep there with your clothes on. I'm not going to undress you if you pass out."
"Pity. I was rather hoping you might", he said lightly, trying not to smile but failing miserably.
That made her snort and she muttered to herself something about stupid horselords as she crawled away to put Elfhild to cradle, and he did not fight his smile anymore as he got up to undress. He spied a glint in her eyes and soon as Elfhild was safely in her cradle, he scooped his wife in his arms and murmured against her neck: "Foolish, precious woman."
Lothíriel's father arrived to Aldburg about a month after a word of Elfhild's birth had been taken to Dol Amroth. Éomer had sent one of his fastest riders, so that the news would reach Dol Amroth as soon as possible. Judging by the ragged looks of not only Father's steed but also the man himself, Lothíriel wondered if he had ridden here without stops, all the way from the city by the sea.
The moment Prince Imrahil rode to the courtyard of the Marshal's Hall trailed by an escort of Swan Knights, Lothíriel squealed with happiness and wanted to run and hug her father. It was strange and a bit alarming to know that she had not seen him since last May – in other words, little less than a year now.
As soon as he dismounted she dashed towards him and he caught her, laughing as he did. The feel of his arms was familiar as ever and like always, it still succeeded in making her feel like a little girl. When her father hugged her Lothíriel felt like nothing bad could ever touch her. She might be a married woman and a mother now, but her father still had the ability of summoning back the child she had once been.
After a long, tight hug, Father pulled back so that he could look at her properly. He was smiling too, but it was the same bittersweet kind she had seen on his face when they had parted in Minas Tirith.
"Oh, my dear child! It is so good to see you!" he said gently, looking at her as if it had been years since they had last seen each other.
"It's good to see you too, Father! You're most welcome here in Aldburg!" Lothíriel answered.
Her husband approached then, wearing that solemn face of his that usually meant business. He bowed his head at Imrahil as a sign of respect.
"Welcome, my lord. We are honoured to receive you", he said quietly.
"Lord Éomer", said the Prince, nodding his head at the younger man. "I'm glad to find you in residence. My sons tell me you're often away."
Lothíriel thought she heard a vaguely displeased note in her father's voice, as if it were somehow wrong for her husband to attend to his many duties. So she linked her arm with that of Éomer's.
"My lord Marshal is tasked with protecting the entirety of eastern Rohan. It's not a small duty, especially in times like these", she said before her husband could say anything, as she knew how sharply he could sometimes speak.
"Of course", said Father with that proper face on him, the kind he always wore in formal occasions. But then he smiled an looked at her. He asked, "Now, where is my little granddaughter? I'd love to see her."
"Of course. She's with the nurse at the moment", Lothíriel said. "Why don't you men get comfortable, and I'll go and get Elfhild?"
"That is a good idea, wife", said her husband, resting a hand briefly on her shoulder. She flashed a smile at him and then hurried off to her daughter. Fortunately Elfhild was awake at the moment, so she only had to scoop the little one in her arms and then make her way to their private chambers.
The men were already sat by then, with mugs of ale and both looking equally uncomfortable. However, the arrival of the princess and her little daughter instantly brought smiles to both their faces.
"Look at her! She is beautiful", said Imrahil at the sight of Elfhild, extending his arms impatiently towards his granddaughter. Carefully, Lothíriel lay the child in his lap; he let out a long, soft sigh as he stared down at the baby.
"She looks just like you did at her age", said the prince at last. "Except for her hair, of course. I somehow thought she'd have your hair too."
"You shouldn't be so surprised, Father. She's a daughter of a horselord, after all", Lothíriel said, sitting down beside the Prince. He smiled, rocking the little one in his arms like someone who knew how to handle small children. Well, he had four children of his own, so of course he did how to handle babies.
"Of course", Imrahil said, looking down at Elfhild. She stared right back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. "I just didn't think you'd be the one to produce my second grandchild."
"Neither did I expect that", Lothíriel said softly, her eyes fixed on Elfhild as well. When she glanced at her father she could see a look on his face that promised there would be a long talk between the two of them some time soon. She had asked Erchirion to tell Father everything was fine, but of course he'd want to make sure himself it was true.
Thinking perhaps it was for the best to change the topic for now, Lothíriel sat a bit straighter on her seat and looked at her father again.
"King Théoden has summoned us to Edoras. He wants to see Elfhild, his grandniece. We are set to leave in couple of days, but perhaps you would like to come along, Father? You'd get to see Meduseld, and I'm sure the King would want you to visit the capital, now that you're here in Rohan", she explained. She briefly glanced at her husband too, to see what he might be thinking of her suggestion. Éomer just nodded silently at her, evidently as a sign of agreement.
Imrahil thought of it for a moment, gazing down at the face of his granddaughter as if deep in thoughts. Then he looked up and smiled.
"That would be an honour, of course", he said. "I'm afraid I cannot stay for very long, though. Elphir and Erchirion have everything under control in Dol Amroth, but your uncle was not too happy to see me leave for this journey... it took a while to persuade him that my absence would not cause any catastrophic events in the southern parts of Gondor. You know how he can be."
"Oh, I do", Lothíriel agreed. Casting a look at her husband, she smiled and commented, "Uncle Denethor takes all our duties more seriously than we others combined."
"He seemed like a great man, what little I saw of him during our visit", said the Marshal carefully.
"That he is", Imrahil said softly. He smiled at his daughter, "I saw your cousin Faramir in Minas Tirith before I departed. He asked me to bring his fondest greetings to you."
"Thank you, Father. You'll have to take back mine, once you go home", Lothíriel answered. Suddenly, a lump formed in her throat as she understood how much she missed her cousin, along with the rest of her family. She remembered how worried he had been for her happiness... and he hoped that she might one day tell him not to worry for her.
Then, summoning a smile on her face, she asked her father of his journey here, and thankfully the rest of the conversation went along a less painful and uncomfortable line.
This time, the travel to Edoras took about twice as long as before. That was of course because Elfhild came along, and thus both the child and the mother had to travel by a wagon. Lothíriel herself would have loved nothing better than getting to ride, as her pregnancy had prevented her from doing that for months. Before leaving she had gone to see her mare and patted Ǽfnung's neck, promising that soon the two of them would go for a long and hard ride.
It was frustratingly slow to travel by wagon, but at least Father rode beside to keep her company. It was a good opportunity to talk and share all the things that had happened ever since the wedding in last May. Showing him around in Aldburg and introducing him to all the people she had come to know had been nice, though apparently Father's favourite occupation was to sit with her and speak while holding little Elfhild. It had been rather surprising when he didn't even comment on Elric, the first time he saw the boy. When Lothíriel had told her father that she'd have expected outrage from him, he had just given her a dry little smile.
"It is a good thing you didn't see me when Erchirion told me about the boy, but I understand now this is simply a matter of different cultures", he said. Not much more was spoken of that particular matter, but Lothíriel could sense her father was, while not entirely approving, not going to raise an argument. Apparently some kind of talk did take place between him and Éomer when she wasn't around, but she could never tell what had been the outcome of it. Well, they were both alive still so perhaps it had gone better than she'd have expected.
And after Imrahil had been in Aldburg for three days, the four of them along with some riders from the Marshal's éored started the journey to Edoras.
"My husband says Théoden King is very anxious to see Elfhild. He says it's getting harder to reach the old king these days, so it's good that he's so interested in his grandniece", Lothíriel told her father. The Prince thought of her words silently and then gave her a slightly worried look.
"I did not know it was like that here in Rohan", he said quietly. "It worries me, daughter. I fear for your sake... and for the sake of your child."
"It's all right, Father", she said. "I don't think these matters should concern me or Elfhild, and anyway my lord husband will take care of us. Not to mention his cousin Prince Théodred is a good man and entirely devoted to protecting the realm and the people."
"They'd better, lest they want to deal with four very angry princes from Dol Amroth", Imrahil muttered. He glanced at his daughter, frowning as he spoke, "and I wish I could believe you, but I can't help but fear it will come to concern the two of you as well. You're the Marshal's wife and the mother of his daughter... you are a member of the royal house now. Lothíriel, you may very well be more important than you even realise."
At that, Lothíriel frowned, but she didn't want to cause concern to her father. So to mask her worry she made a face, and said, "Why couldn't uncle pick some Gondorian lord for me? I'm not so sure I'm good at coping with all these troubled tidings."
Her father snorted at that.
"My dear, we both know very well that a Gondorian lord would never have suited you, and if there were no troubled tidings you'd cause some yourself", he told her, which made her laugh.
"I suppose you're not entirely wrong to say that, Father", she admitted.
"Of course I'm not. I'm your father, so I ought to know", he answered lightly. It was good to be able to have this carefree banter with him, like they used to in old times.
The wagon rolled forward and for a while they were silent; Imrahil looked lost in his thoughts while Lothíriel busied herself with calming down Elfhild. The little one was a bit restless, as she wasn't used to travel.
When her daughter had drifted into sleep, Lothíriel turned to regard him again.
"Father?" she asked carefully, not entirely sure of how he'd react to what she was about to ask.
"Yes, daughter?" he asked back and gave her a quizzical look.
"What do you think Mother would have thought of all this?" she asked softly.
Imrahil lowered his eyes and let out a small sigh. It had been years since Mother had died but Lothíriel knew how the loss of her still pained him. He had never remarried, though a man of his station and reputation could easily have found a second wife among the nobility of Gondor. Indeed, even some of the younger ladies had given him quite the chase after the year of mourning had passed, but the society had quickly understood Prince Imrahil did not welcome such attempts. Eventually, he had been left in peace... although every now and then some of the more stubborn ladies still gave it a try.
"She would have been sad to see you go", he said at length. "You were, after all, her only daughter. In fact I even feel she would have put up quite a fight with Lord Denethor, to try and prevent you from leaving..."
"What would she think of Lord Éomer?" Lothíriel wanted to know. That made her father smile.
"I imagine she'd have lectured him long and thoroughly so that he'd know to treat you well. Your mother was a formidable woman sometimes... but if she decided he was good enough for you, she'd treat him like she treated all of her family", he said softly.
"She'd have thought she had acquired another son", Lothíriel concluded. Somehow that made her smile.
"About so, yes. And she would have adored Elfhild. She always wanted more daughters", Imrahil said, his voice turning downcast.
"I'm sorry, Father. I shouldn't have asked", said the princess quickly, seeing that same old sorrow on her father's face.
"It's fine, daughter. She wouldn't want to become a touchy subject for conversations. It is good to remember her", Imrahil answered gently. He smiled then, and asked, "Now, would you like to tell me about Edoras? What should I expect once we get there?"
From there, they proceeded into a conversation on the capital of horselords and Rohirric customs, which proved most entertaining as soon as Éothain joined; the rest of the way was spent in talking of differences between Gondorians and the Rohirrim.
They arrived to Edoras late on that night but like before, Éowyn was there to welcome them. A smile came to her face as soon as she saw the little one in Lothíriel's arms.
"Béma be kind, she is adorable!" said Éomer's sister when the company was still climbing the stairs up to Meduseld. Then she took note of Imrahil, who stopped to stand just behind his daughter, and Éowyn looked at him quizzically.
"Lady Éowyn, this is my father Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. He came to visit his granddaughter and we decided to invite him along. Father, meet Lady Éowyn, my sister-in-law", Lothíriel introduced the two to each other.
Her husband's sister curtsied at Imrahil, who answered the gesture with a bow of his own.
"Well met, my lady", he greeted the tall Rohir woman.
"Likewise, my lord. It is an unexpected honour, but my uncle the King will doubtlessly be delighted", Éowyn answered. "I will have chambers prepared for you."
"Is the King receiving any visitors tonight?" Éomer asked.
"He has already retired, brother. I'm afraid we must wait until tomorrow", said his sister, her voice turning serious. Lothíriel wondered if that signified something grave. She wasn't left to think of that, as Éowyn continued, "Please come in. I'll have them bring you some supper, and we can sit down and share tidings. Not to mention I'd like to take a closer look on that little niece of mine."
"Of course", said her brother with a smile. "Just so long you don't try to steal her."
"Steal your daughter, dear brother? I am wiser than that", Éowyn snorted, and they made their way inside the Golden Hall.
Théoden King looked to be completely enamoured with his grandniece. When little Elfhild was introduced to him the next day, this great light came to his eyes, and it appeared to almost dissolve the fog of weariness Lothíriel had perceived in him. Elfhild was very well-behaved as well, staring at her granduncle with wide, unblinking eyes as the old man held her in his arms. When the King's cooing succeeded in bringing out her happy smile, Lothíriel could not tell who was the most thrilled about it: her husband or Théoden King himself.
By the looks of it, it seemed to Lothíriel that the Lord of the Mark would have been quite content to sit with the child for the rest of the day, and it took some effort to recapture his attention long enough so that Éomer could introduce Prince Imrahil to Théoden King. The difference between the tired old king and the tall, energetic prince was painfully obvious. But her father was gracious and subtle about it as ever, for which she was grateful. Yet it worried her too, for she knew he would make his own assumptions... and feel ever more troubled for her sake.
Realising that, she felt concern... and almost unconsciously, she reached for the hand of her husband to seek for strength. It was there, in the calloused fingers of Éomer, and she felt a bit more courageous when she thought she could trust him with her life.
If there was anything encouraging about this it was how Théoden King smiled and the way he ignored Gríma Wormtongue, who stood by his side as ever. It was encouraging, for the King could still be reached and he still had such love for his kin. However it was alarming too, as for the smallest moment she could see the unveiled hate in Wormtongue's eyes as he realised on this day his influence had been conquered by that of a child.
It was all Lothíriel could do from dashing in between her daughter and Wormtongue, and burying a knife in his heart to prevent him from ever harming Elfhild.
Before that moment Lothíriel the Princess of Dol Amroth and the Lady of Aldburg had never contemplated taking a life... but as she looked at Gríma Wormtongue, she understood she would not hesitate to kill a man to protect her child.
The moment she saw the child – their child – a powerful feeling of being ill came to Dreda. Somehow it was all the more tangible, more definite now. Of course the little thing had been there for months and months already, growing under the princess' heart with terrifying inevitability... but an unborn child was far less definitive than one that had already been born. From now on the child would grow, she'd have a personality and a name of her own, and she'd call him a father and her a mother.
His daughter, carried and birthed by a woman who wasn't Dreda. And the way he looked at them... the babe in the princess' arms, and the damned Gondorian herself...
A sense of defeat came to Dreda then, for she saw that look and knew what it meant. He wasn't hers anymore. Éomer belonged to them now, he was theirs and they were his, and he would not give them up if there was a living breath left in them and himself.
Her hatred turned bitter and sorrowful at this realisation. What was left for her now? She had been sent away from her home and the man she loved was a husband to another woman. And even if by some miracle the princess was removed, her daughter would remain, and be the constant reminder of Dreda's defeat.
She was the proof he had chosen a stranger over Dreda, the one he had known all his life.
So she turned and half-ran outside, wishing to escape the sight of the family that could have been hers. The wind was cold but she barely noticed from the burning of tears and grief, and Dreda wrapped her arms about herself in a desperate attempt to hold back the sobs that threatened to tear her apart.
"Most peculiar. I was under the impression that this new life in the House of Eorl would make everyone happy", came a soft voice of a man they called Wormtongue. During her time in Edoras, Dreda had learned he was someone you ought not to quarrel with. Though he was of slight build and probably not much of a challenge in an honest to Béma combat, he was dangerous. For his power was not of arms, and the King more often that not paid careful heed to what he said.
"Just tears of joy", Dreda muttered, wiping a hand across her eyes. She would not cry on the front of this man – or many man, that was.
"Of course", Gríma said softly, and he took a step closer to her. His pale eyes followed her unblinkingly, and he continued, "but I could not help but notice the looks you gave the Gondorian princess."
Her mouth became a thin line.
"You see many things, my lord", she said non-committally, wondering how she might excuse herself from this conversation.
"Indeed I do", he said, smiling ever so slightly. That smile did little to console her, though. "But I do share your sentiment, Dreda. I am not too pleased to see her here either."
"Is that so?" she answered carefully, not sure how she should tread here. Was it some elaborate trap? What was she supposed to say?
"No. Gondorians have no place amongst us... least of all, her. Don't you agree?" he asked.
"Aye. Strangers don't belong here", Dreda muttered before she could stop herself. The smile on Wormtongue's face widened.
"You would like to see her gone, then?" he asked, lowering his voice to make sure only she heard him.
"Nothing would please me more", she answered.
"Then we are of the same mind, my friend. I can help you, but only if you help me in turn. And it is going to take some patience and time", he said quietly, his pale eyes intensely focused on her.
Perhaps this man was a blessing in disguise. Keeping her face as straight as possible, she studied Gríma for a moment. Obviously he had his own endgame in mind, and she was fairly certain it was nothing good.
But she didn't have to go all the way to the end of it with him, did she?
Let him do her dirty work... and then she'd jump off the wagon when she considered it done. After that, the men of the House of Eorl did not need much encouraging or excuses to rid the land of the snake. Théodred or Éomer, or possibly even the two of them together, would take care of this Wormtongue.
And she'd have her future.
A/N: So the baby has been safely delivered, and all seems to be well for now... but how long will this last?
It was rather nice to bring Imrahil to Edoras - we'll probably see more of his interactions with Rohirrim in the next chapter. Maybe even that conversation he had with Éomer... we'll see. Anyway, he does seem to be coming in terms with his daughter's new life.
As usual, thanks for the comments!
1607hannah - I do feel that this version of Lothíriel would have more conflicted feelings about the pregnancy than some other versions I've written. But like she discovers here, there is something of a Mama Bear inside her after all.
Talia119 - I fear that the matter of Áed will remain bit of a mystery right now. But perhaps we'll get back to him sooner or later, and also to how he escaped justice.