Chapter 21

(Dol Amroth, December, 3019)

Lothiriel blinked. She wondered just how long she had been sitting there, staring unseeingly at herself in the mirror. It wasn't that she was engrossed in looking at her image. No, her reflections were turned farther afield. Today was just the most recent instance, but for the past couple of months, Erchirion had been dropping suggestions, offering what he deemed evidence of Eomer's interest in her. Regardless of how often she disputed his words, or scowled reprovingly at him, he had persisted. He seemed to believe that if he kept Eomer in her thoughts that all would be well.

At least in one respect his efforts were productive. His frequent mention of the northern king did little to help Lothiriel put Eomer from her mind. Even worse, she knew that she wished her brother was right, that she had not ruined all chance of…

No, she must not think of that. Regardless of Erchirion's opinion, she saw it more clearly. She was sure that Eomer liked her, and she even expected that he had actually forgiven her, but that was not the basis of romance. That was not sufficient to send a man into courtship. In other circumstances, the relationship might have developed differently between them, but now that could never be. And what was most discouraging of all was that she knew in the deepest recesses of her heart how much she regretted the way things had happened. If only she had asked permission before acting. Erchirion was right about that, too. She had been raised in a household of men, and should have realized it would bruise Eomer's pride to usurp his authority. She had allowed her zeal to blind her, and now she must live with the consequences.

Were Eowyn not a dear friend, and Faramir a beloved cousin, she might have sought a way to avoid going to Minas Tirith for their wedding in the spring. But that was cowardly, and she could not hurt others in order to avoid further hurt to her own feelings. She would make sure a shipment was ready to go back to Edoras with the wedding guests, and inquire if Eomer wished for her to seek additional assistance for a while longer. If she persisted past what he perceived as Rohan's need, she would again be on dangerous ground, potentially offending him with charity.

She sighed and laid aside the brush she had been twisting in her hands. Eomer was not the only reason she would have liked to avoid the White City, but it could not be helped. She was Prince Imrahil's daughter, and she had responsibilities.

The Mettare celebrations this year would be bittersweet for her. They had won the War and for the most part peace filled Gondor and Rohan. And her family had all been returned to her safe and sound. She had never dared to hope she would be that fortunate. But there was also the regret of how her life had changed with that abduction, and even more for the disarray of her personal life. Her father would have let her marry for love, she felt sure, and Denethor could no longer try to take a hand in the decision, but now that she knew her heart, she also realized her only choices would be to never marry, or to settle for someone else. That put a pall on all that she did, as heavy as any laid there by Mordor the past few years.

With winter full upon them, it had slowed her progress in procuring and shipping supplies northward, but she continued collecting clothing and candles. Those could be placed on packhorses to be transported to the Mark. Her work on this endeavor seemed all that kept her sane. Inside, she felt as scattered as the clouds on a windy day, and she did not know what could be done to overcome it.

xxxxx

(Edoras, mid-January, 3020 III)

Eomer had never liked being confined indoors. As king, that was where he spent most of his days anymore. Even in the coldest, wettest weather previous to the War, he had ventured forth, if only to visit Firefoot in the stables. He could not bear this idleness!

Restlessly he paced his study. He had almost gone to the great hall, where there was more room to move, but he did not want his agitation to be noticed. And there were far too many in the hall with perceptive eyes.

Abruptly, he strode for the door. The walls were closing in on him – he needed air and knew where he could get it unobserved. It was a quick trip down the halls, and he let the door bang open as he passed through onto the back terrace. His breath fogged in the cold air. Probably he should have worn a cloak, but he had no intention of returning for one. The bracing chill was invigorating.

His eyes flicked over the landscape before him. They had been fortunate that snows this season were scarce. At present the ground and plants were only lightly dusted. Yet the garden looked as frozen and dormant as his insides felt, as though the sun had disappeared forever. Why would that be? They were weathering the winter far better than he had dared to hope they would. Could he no longer be pleased with small victories?

He rubbed his face with both hands. Would there ever come a reprieve? All around him advisers and friends offered their versions of solutions, but often he wondered if they sought to help him or themselves. He let out a long sigh. Certainly some of them had his interests at heart, though he did not always approve of their methods or agree with their reasoning. Eothain! His friend thought he knew Eomer so well, and in many respects that was true, but sometimes his solutions were overly simple. A king could not base his decisions on mere personal desire alone, not if he wanted to properly care for his people.

A shiver unexpectedly shook him. Even he was not entirely immune to the cold. With great reluctance, he reached for the latch and reentered his cage. Cage? He stopped short. Was this how Eowyn had felt? Locked in Meduseld, bound to serve no matter the personal cost? How could he never have seen that, or understood? Pensively he continued on to his study. Today was a day of revelations, and not entirely pleasing ones at that.

xxxxx

As Imrahil exited his study, his gaze was caught by his daughter, slowly climbing the stairs. Her cloak and head scarf told him she had been outside. Despite the cold and the threatening sky, she apparently had ventured forth. If she was aware of him, she gave no indication and he watched until she was gone from sight. His steward had stood patiently at hand, and at length Imrahil turned to him, instructing, "Balaras, would you have someone see if they can locate my sons? I would speak with them."

"Yes, my lord." Balaras was quickly gone, and with a sigh, Imrahil moved on to the library, the usual family meeting place.

He was surprised at how quickly his sons arrived; they had been more at hand than he realized. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he took a seat in his favorite chair by the fireplace. Silently, his sons followed his example and settled nearby, then waited for him to speak.

No point dancing around the problem. "I am worried about Lothiriel." He had been watching the wine he was swirling in his glass, but now looked up and eyed each of them in turn, encouraging a response.

Erchirion was not particularly surprised when everyone looked for him to answer. He had never fully shared what Lothiriel told him last autumn, but perhaps they needed to know. "Even…" He tried again. "Despite being returned to us physically unharmed after her abduction, Thiri was not unaffected. She has…struggled more than you know." Eomer had told him of the lone bandit who very nearly succeeded in a second attack on her, but he had never mentioned it. Now it seemed best that all be told. Perhaps then something could be done. His words left them stunned into silence and looking uneasily at one another.

"Not only did she suffer that additional ordeal, but the gossipmongers of Minas Tirith stirred the flames of public interest, whispering suggestions of more than had been admitted, and making her feel tainted. That was why she fled the City so abruptly last year. I am sure she was eager to be home again, but that was not what prompted her departure."

"Why did you never speak of this before?" Amrothos' tone was accusatory.

"Because," he replied patiently, "I did not think she wanted…well-meaning expressions of concern. She did not seek to hide it, but neither was she desirous of making it widely known, even within the family."

"And this is what hangs heavy on her shoulders?" Elphir asked. "Somehow that is not what I have seen."

"No. She struggles with that somewhat, still, I am sure, but that is not the whole of it. Though she does not admit to it, and is adamant all chance of it lost, I think she and Eomer developed feelings for one another. And from what I saw, I was not the only one of that opinion. But neither of them will acknowledge those feelings, if they do exist, and Lothiriel is convinced any possibility of a union was lost with her misstep at Minas Tirith. I am not sure of that, but I do not know what we could say that would persuade her otherwise. Only if Eomer does have similar feelings and chooses to act upon them…"

Imrahil sighed again, rubbing his head. "My poor girl. To go through that nightmare and now to endure loving someone she does not think requites that love. How could I have been this blind?"

"We were all blind, Father," Elphir soothed.

Erchirion nodded in agreement. "Thiri even said as much. In our love for her, we saw what we wanted to see: no ill effects of recent events. We wanted to believe she was safe and happy as before, and downplayed any twinges of concern we might have felt had we paid more attention."

"Well, then, what can we do?" Amrothos was never one for beating around the bush.

"I am not sure there is anything we can do. Only time will heal the scars of her abduction, and greater caution for her safety. As to Eomer, that must come from him, and I do not think he would respond well to any mention of it. The woes of his people overshadow all else just now. Perhaps time alone will resolve that as well. However, knowing Eothain, I do not think Eomer will escape without encouragement to act."

Imrahil had hoped for a firmer course of action that could be taken, but Erchirion's words made sense. It would be no easier to remove the scars of Lothiriel's abduction from her mind than it was to remove them from the minds of men who had seen battle. But he could pay more attention, and he could help her more in her efforts on behalf of the Eorlingas. He would not have his daughter or Eomer think only she was grateful for her safe recovery.

xx

If Lothiriel was surprised by the sudden fervent aid of her family in her endeavors, she did not voice it. Once or twice Erchirion glimpsed her eyeing various of them pensively, her countenance somewhat puzzled, but she must have been satisfied with whatever conclusions she reached. Likely she had expected it last October when she unburdened herself to him, and did not realize he had only given the family a cursory explanation of why her efforts should continue.

With all the effort she had spent on the endeavor heretofore, he wondered if perhaps she had mixed emotions about their help. Before, it had been solely her undertaking, but not anymore. He was sure she was pleased for any additional aid their participation provided, and did not mind the assistance in getting the items ready and shipped, but maybe she considered it less personal for others to help her. He hoped that was not true – he did not wish to deprive her of the privilege of helping.

Women in Gondor's society were limited in what activities they could pursue, and this venture had done her credit as the daughter of Dol Amroth's prince. There were too few opportunities for her or any other woman, and after comments she made, he knew she felt that, especially after viewing the freedoms of Rohan.

He grinned ruefully to himself. If she and Eomer would just wake up to the truth of their feelings, that could easily be remedied!

xxxxx

(Edoras, early Feb 3020 III)

Eomer shifted his position and glanced toward the window. No sign of light yet, but then he had known there wouldn't be. He had never had trouble sleeping…until now. However tired he was when he turned in at night, he was wide awake before dawn.

That same dream, varying only slightly if at all, came to him most nights now. Darkness, hands reaching for him from all directions, disembodied voices calling for help. He tried to do as they bid, to find who needed aid and provide it, but he was mired in place as though knee deep in heavy mud. He wanted to go to them. He wanted to give them what they needed. But his efforts were in vain. No amount of struggling broke him free from the restraints ensnaring him, and so he failed them and awoke with guilt permeating the very air around him.

He would have liked to blame it on concerns of the kingdom, but the truth was, they had managed remarkably well. No, he knew within himself that was not the cause. Thanks to the generosity of Gondor, and the unstinting efforts of Lothiriel, their needs had been met. The dwarves she'd sent had gotten structures built with astonishing speed. They might not have been used to building those sorts of things, but they learned quickly the best way to do it.

The persistent dreams he had been having for more than a month now only revealed his own uncertainty with the tremendous task laid before him. Wintering well was good, to be sure, but there was more that needed doing. Worse, though, was that the dreams had taken a turn about a week ago. One of the voices stood out in the darkness and he knew who it belonged to even if he wanted to ignore the implications. During his waking hours, he was able to marshal his attention and keep it turned to the troubles that surrounded him. It was the night that betrayed him. She had been gone for months now – more than half a year. Yet the dreams grew stronger, not lessened by their being apart. He had never dreamt of her when she was here, under his roof. Why was now different?

For that matter, why would Lothiriel need his help? She was safely with her family, just as he promised. His obligation to her was ended long ago. In all honesty, he probably could lay partial blame for thoughts of Lothiriel on those around him. They all seemed to think they saw interest that he did not, as if they knew his heart better than he himself did.

No, he did not need them pointing out her fine qualities. He did not need to be reminded that he was in want of a queen and she was more than suitable. He did not need them encouraging him to follow his heart, when he knew it was not right to allow the distraction. He certainly did not need them making it harder for him to do what he must rather than what he wanted to do.

During the long cold months of winter, he had begrudgingly admitted, if only to himself, that he had feelings for Lothiriel, probably even loved her. It had come on so gradually that he had not noticed, and scoffed at others playing matchmaker. Maybe part of it was loneliness, made all the worse by the knowledge that Eowyn would be gone soon and his house would be emptier than ever without any of his family around him.

But while he would have wished to claim it was mere loneliness causing his unrest, were that true he would have expected to be looking around for companionship with someone at hand. Instead, none of them could hold his interest beyond the length of a conversation. Once he parted from them, they evaporated from his mind like water in a puddle under a hot sun.

Thinking of her was torment, but it was also the only comfort. Eowyn's nuptials drew nearer, and he would see her again then. Would his feelings be sustained once they were face to face once more? He could hope it was so, but he did not feel assured of it. The circumstances of Lothiriel's sojourn in Rohan had helped to form the strong tie between them, but was it more or different from her bond with Eothain and Ceorl? Or was he just another dear friend and rescuer to her?

With a groan, he sat up, raking his hands through his hair. His ponderings whirled in this circular pattern every morning about now, like a dog chasing its tail, but no answers presented themselves. He did not care to admit it, but he was discouraged and lonely. Eowyn would be leaving, and Eothain… His friend persisted with the opinion that Lothiriel was the answer to all his ills. Perhaps she was, or would be eventually, but if he could not stand as king of the Riddermark without her, what good was he? Theoden had not needed a queen in order to rule, indeed had done well for many long years after his wife's death. A queen would be pleasing, even desirable, but it would not be a simple solution to every concern.

Despite everyone's insistence that she had feelings for him, Eomer had never discerned anything in Lothiriel's behavior beyond friendship. She undoubtedly liked him, and it was said that in Gondor that was more than sufficient for marriage. But it was not sufficient for him. He would claim no wife without love. Whatever anyone else said, he deemed that essential. His parents had it, Eowyn had it, even Aragorn did after waiting so very long. Eomer was determined to have it also.

He gave a frustrated growl. He was failing in everything – caring for his people, rebuilding his land, finding a wife. He was even failing Theoden. Surely Eomer fell far short of what his uncle would have hoped for in a successor.

He had learned that sleep was gone for the rest of the night, when his mind rehashed over every last detail of every challenge in his life, and rose to stoke the fire. If he worked for a while, there was the chance he would be weary enough to take an hour's nap just before breakfast. If he was lucky.

xxxxx

(Dol Amroth, March 3020)

There was no turning back now. The ship had eased away from the dock and was slowly turning into open water. Lothiriel watched Tirith Aear receding from them, not truly seeing it. Within a week she would see him again. Truth was, she did not know what to expect. They had parted on friendly terms, certainly, but they had lost the warmth and cordiality that had existed between them before. She did not know if that could ever be fully recovered. At least Eomer was not a man of grudging temperament, but lack of bad feelings was not the same as an abundance of good feelings. She was sure she had slipped greatly in his estimation, ground lost that could never be recovered fully. And that knowledge hurt. She had learned painful lessons before in her life, but none as bitter as this.

With a sigh, she turned away from the view and headed for her cabin. She had rehashed the situation endlessly the past couple of months. Doing so again would not provide any better answers than before. For the duration of this visit to the City, she must put her attention on Faramir and Eowyn's wedding, and their joy. It was selfish to think only of herself right now.

xxxxx

(On the road to Minas Tirith for Eowyn's wedding, Mar 3020)

Eothain watched Eomer from the corner of his eye. Something was different. He had noticed the tiredness – the tiredness Eomer did not wish to discuss, merely claiming he had problems of the kingdom on his mind that sometimes interrupted his sleep. That was not the whole of it, he was sure. His friend had become increasingly restive after Yule. Partly it might be attributed to knowing Eowyn's coming nuptials would take her to a new home; Eothain would allow that, but there was more.

Now that their journey had begun, Eomer struck him as more distracted than ever before, and there was no indication that Eowyn was the source of it. Could it be that his friend had finally come to his senses and recognized where his heart was fixed? Was his agitation due to the likelihood of seeing Lothiriel once more? Eothain certainly hoped it was so.

Eomer was struggling. Not as a king – he was acquitting himself well in that respect, just as Eothain had known he would. But the young king was adrift in his personal life. With Eowyn's departure, he would be bereft of any kin nearby. Friendships had necessarily been altered by his rise to the kingship. Certainly Eomer had not wanted that to happen, but he could not be socializing when caring for the Mark occupied the majority of his days and nights. He no longer had the ease of going off to fish or ride or do aught else whenever he chose. Duties as Third Marshal put restrictions on him, but not like this.

The man needed a wife. Not just a wife, but one who was also a friend. And that just happened to be Lothiriel, at least in Eothain's mind. Perhaps that realization was finally in Eomer's mind also, and maybe with winter's end he would act upon it. Please let him not be too stubborn to act on it! For everyone's sake!

TBC

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves