Disclaimer: same as usual.
Author's note: Sorry for the delay. Have no excuse, except the very heavy workload I've been dealing with at school. And I have a feeling I haven't responded to a single review. It's not because I don't enjoy getting them, but I'm just so damned… um… lazy, and now I don't think anyone actually remember what they wrote, so I don't see the point to respond now. I love getting reviews, and I appreciate every single one of them! Even from those threatening to kill me…
Here's the next chapter, and so far it looks like there's just one more after this, and possibly an epilogue.
Quick summary of last chapter:
Éomer was almost killed by an assassin, Thora, a former lover. The messenger sent by Talon from Dol Amroth is still alive and roaming about. Lady Valinea, Lothíriel's friend, is captive by Talon and Arlos. Éomer, Éowyn, Amrothos and an éored has taken the Paths of the Dead to come to Gondor's aid, as Talon's plan is to take Dol Amroth first, and then take Minas Tirith and the rest of Gondor (although our heroes are not quite certain of all this yet). Prince Elphir is now certain of Talon's bad character, and has taken precautions to stop his plans and protect his people. He has sent his wife and son away from Dol Amroth, afraid they would be in grave danger if they stayed. Imrahil is still as stubborn as ever, claiming Talon to be both good and honourable. And now, the wedding draws near, and guests arrive to take part in the event, among them the King, Queen and Steward of Gondor.
Things Worth Fighting For
Chapter 23
While Elphir sent his wife and son away from Dol Amroth, King Elessar and Queen Arwen were escorted to the chambers they had to their disposal while guests in Imrahil's city. As soon as the servant left, after asking the royal couple if he could be of any more service, Arwen went over to the window. She looked up at the clouded night sky, a concerned expression upon her beautiful face.
Aragorn knew something was amiss and went to her. "What is it?" he asked quietly.
"I am worried," she admitted, turning to him. "The Princess Lothíriel, she seems so unhappy. This union is not one of love."
"Marriages between royals and nobles rarely are," Aragorn answered. "Such is the world of Men. It may seem cruel to you, my love, but this is how it is done."
"This I know, but I fear this union will destroy the princess."
"Destroy her?" Aragorn asked.
"She's dying, Estel," Arwen said sorrowfully. "She is dying a little more each day; I can see it in her eyes. She is suffering from a breaking heart."
"This fate does not belong in the world of Men," Aragorn replied, though not disagreeing.
"The blood of the Eldar runs in her veins," Arwen said. "Though many ages have passed since the time of Mithrellas, I fear the part of her that is Edain will not be strong enough to overcome this."
"If what you say is true, then she has already given hear heart to someone else," Aragorn said. "Someone she cannot have."
"The moon is clouded," Arwen said, turning towards the window. "I fear tomorrow's feast may bring more sorrows than joys."
For the entire ride Amrothos had ridden next to Captain Éothain, and he'd had little chance to speak to Éomer, as his sister had mostly been there with him. Now, however, he rode up to the King. They rode in silence for a time, before Amrothos spoke.
"Do you love my sister?" he asked.
Éomer looked at him, having waited for the question to come ever since they departed Edoras. "Yes," he answered honestly, "I love her."
"And you would protect her from any harm?"
"I would give my life for her, and protect her from any danger to the best of my ability," Éomer replied. "I would do all in my power to keep her from getting hurt."
Amrothos nodded, thoughtfully. "And if the choice stood between her and your people? Whom would you choose?"
Éomer looked at the path before him, his face stoic. "If it came to that, if I had to choose between Lothíriel and the people of the Riddermark, I would be forced to choose my people. As her husband my heart would want me to choose her, but I will always be a king first, Amrothos, and a husband second. Whatever choice lies before me I must think of my people and kingdom. Whatever desires I have for myself must wait. I cannot do otherwise."
"Not even concerning one you love?" the Prince asked.
"Not even then," the King answered. "Were I any other man, free to do whatever I wanted, the answer to your question would not be so hard. But I am King of the Riddermark, son of the House of Eorl, and whatever decisions I make affects someone else. So it has always been. Hopefully I will never be forced to choose between my people and your sister, for I love both and if I failed either I would not be able to meet with my forefathers when the time comes."
Amrothos nodded. "I suspected as much, and I must say, Éomer King, that no other man would I wish for my sister. She is of royal blood; she knows the responsibilities that come with a title. You will find no finer queen for your kingdom if you searched all over Middle-earth."
"I know," Éomer said quietly.
Arwen walked over to the table in the corner, where a pitcher of water stood. As she was about to pour a glass for herself and one for Aragorn, she noticed a note on the table, addressed to her husband.
"It's a note here for you," she told him.
Aragorn looked at her. "A note?" She handed it to him. Curiously he unfolded the paper.
King Elessar,
Meet me in the stables at midnight. We have something of great importance to discuss.
"Who is it from?" Arwen asked.
"It does not say," Aragorn answered.
Arwen looked at the message. "What can be of such importance that it must be discussed in secret," she wondered.
"I don't know, but I intend to find out."
Faramir had just fallen asleep when he was awoken by someone knocking on the door. Cursing, he got out of bed and put on a robe. When he opened the door, Lord Alheon stood there.
"I am sorry for awakening you, my lord, but you must come with me," the man said.
Faramir stared at him. "At this hour? Why?"
"Please, we have little time," Alheon said; looking around to be certain they were not overheard. "You must hurry."
Faramir was close to ordering the man away, but something in his eyes made him change his mind. He nodded. "Give me a moment."
Erchirion looked at his brother, his arms crossed. "When are you going to tell me what is going on?"
"When the others arrive," Elphir answered.
"What others?" the younger brother wanted to know.
"Patience, Erchirion," Elphir replied.
"Patience," Erchirion repeated, shaking his head.
Elphir looked at him. "You don't want Talon to wed Lothíriel, right?"
"Of course I don't want that!" Erchirion answered, as realization dawned on him. "You're going to do something to stop the wedding?" he guessed.
"Something like that," Elphir admitted.
Then the doors to the stables opened and Faramir and Alheon entered.
"Elphir!" Faramir said in surprise. "Erchirion? What's going on?"
"You will know in a few minutes, cousin," Elphir replied.
Faramir looked at them, confused. "Why are we meeting in the stables?"
"A question I would very much like to know the answer to as well, Prince Elphir," the King commented as he entered.
"My lord," they greeted, bowing.
"I apologize for all this secrecy, my lords, but we have something important to discuss," Elphir started.
"Something that could not wait till morning?" Faramir asked.
"I'm afraid not," Elphir answered. "We are all in Dol Amroth for the same reason; my sister's wedding. We must stop this wedding from taking place."
"Lothíriel?" Imrahil opened the door to his daughter's room. "Lothíriel, we need to talk."
Since the date of the wedding had been announced, Lothíriel had retreated to her room, refusing to speak with anyone. She took her meals in her room, and sometimes the food was hardly touched.
Imrahil worried, as every father would, but so far he had left her alone. But enough was enough. She would be married the next day and it was time she started behaving as befitting her station.
"Lothíriel?"
He found her standing on the balcony, a cloak draped around her shoulders. As he approached she turned towards him, and Imrahil noticed how pale her skin appeared, how her green eyes seemed to have lost all life, how they now appeared more grey than green. As he took her hand in his he felt a chill go down his spine.
"You are cold," he exclaimed in surprise. It was not very cold outside, and his daughter's pale complexion had him worried. "Come inside," he said, leading her inside, walking over to the fireplace and threw a log on the embers, watching as the flames grew bigger and danced in the fireplace.
He avoided looking in his daughter's face, fearing what he would find there. More and more he started to realise that this whole affair had been a mistake. He should have let his daughter have a say in her own fate. He should have waited for her to find someone to love. He should not have forced his decision upon her.
But this couldn't be undone. The Prince of Dol Amroth was a man of his word, and only under the direst circumstances could a marriage contract be dissolved. He had given Lord Talon his word. The contract was signed. There was nothing that could be done.
It was not because of Lord Talon Imrahil now wished he had waited to have Lothíriel married off. It was because of his daughter. Lord Talon was an honourable man, of this Imrahil was certain, but Lothíriel did not love him. She will grow to love him, a part of his mind argued, but Imrahil knew in his heart that she never would. She loved Éomer of Rohan. And she would never forget that love, or open her heart for someone else to take his place.
"Ada, why do you trust Lord Talon?"
Her question took him by surprise, and he looked at her. She was still pale, her eyes still more grey than green, but to him she seemed a little better.
"Why I trust him?" Imrahil repeated her question. "Do you doubt his honour? He is of good family; his family have been of great service to Gondor in the past. His father has been my friend for many years. I know he will make you an excellent husband and a good father for your children."
Lothíriel looked away, unwilling to let her father see the pain in her eyes. There was only one man she wanted to call husband; only one man she would want to call the father of her children.
Imrahil must have seen something in her, for he sighed deeply, caressing her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "I know he is not the one you want. But give the man a chance and you might be pleasantly surprised. I am certain you will be happy together."
Lothíriel did not answer, but turned away from him, watching the moon through her window. "Tomorrow," she said, "I will do as you wish and wed Talon. But that is all I will promise."
Imrahil nodded. "And that is all I ask."
When Elphir explained his reason for wanting to stop the wedding, all that could be heard in the stables were the sounds of the horses.
Elphir regarded the other men in silence. Alheon had been his accomplice from the start, and he knew he could continue to count on his help. His brother seemed annoyed that he had not been informed earlier, but Elphir knew he could count on Erchirion. He would never allow Lothíriel to wed Talon after what he had just learned. Faramir was pacing back and forth across the floor, trying to decide what to do. But whatever Faramir felt was right, he would do as his king commanded. And that brought Elphir to the fourth man, standing near the door. His face was impossible to read. Elphir had absolutely no idea what the king would decide to do, and he now started questioning the wisdom of sharing his concerns with a man he hardly knew.
King Elessar was a close friend of his father. Maybe Imrahil would even listen to him, if Elessar was the one to reason with him. His father had been unexpectedly stubborn on this subject, but for the plan to succeed, they had to stop the wedding. The King of Gondor had more chance of success than Elphir himself. The question was if he would do it or not. Would he even listen to Elphir's arguments? But Elessar was also a close friend of Éomer King, and had visibly paled when he learned of the messenger who had left for Rohan. Elphir had no way of knowing what Elessar would do, but he could hope and pray.
After a long silence Aragorn looked at the heir of Dol Amroth. "And you have tried to convince your father of this matter?"
Elphir nodded. "He refuses to listen. For some reason he cannot see what kind of man Lord Talon really is."
"But you said yourself that if you hadn't found out that the man who attacked your wife and son was one of Talon's men, you never would have suspected him capable of something like this," Faramir commented. "And Erchirion knew nothing of this until tonight."
"Yes, but I never liked him," Erchirion interjected, crossing his arms.
"I believe Lord Talon is a very good actor," Faramir continued. "And I believe his act is mostly for Uncle Imrahil's benefit. If he manages to convince Imrahil that he is the perfect choice as Lothíriel's husband, who is going to say otherwise? It is his right to arrange her marriage with or without her consent."
"Well, I do believe that law should be changed," Erchirion grumbled. "Yes, it should be changed. Fathers shouldn't be allowed to decide their children's future by signing a piece of paper!"
Aragorn forced himself not to smile at that. He couldn't agree more, but such a radical change would surely only bring trouble. But a subtle change of the law could be a more attainable goal; like getting the bride's consent before the contract could be signed.
Elphir could not help but wonder if Erchirion feared for Lothíriel's future or his own. After all with both himself and Lothíriel married, preferably to a man she loved, their father would only have Amrothos and Erchirion left to get married.
"What I do not understand," Aragorn said suddenly, "is why Talon would wish Éomer dead."
Elphir sighed inwardly. This information was something he had deliberately withheld. It was impossible to predict what reaction this news would receive, and how it would tip the scale.
"Because Éomer and Lothíriel love each other," he answered, having decided it was no point trying to break it to them gently.
Erchirion stared at him disbelievingly. Faramir rubbed his temples, as if this whole affair did nothing more than give him a headache. King Elessar, however, looked amused.
"Oh," Erchirion said after a moment. "Well, he's better than Talon."
"We must stop the wedding," Elphir said. "The messages my men have intercepted between Talon and a group of Haradrim should be evidence enough, without having to add Lady Valinea's disappearance, the message to assassinate King Éomer and the attack on my own wife and son."
"You believe then he is after the throne of Dol Amroth?" Aragorn asked.
"I have no doubts, my lord," Elphir answered.
"If what you say is true, why satisfy himself with Dol Amroth?" Faramir asked. "If we do not stop him now, we can expect an attack on the White City in the nearest future."
"I agree," Aragorn nodded. "Prince Elphir, I suppose you have a plan on how to proceed?"
Imrahil raised a brow. "Postpone the wedding? Whatever for?"
"Some information has come to my attention that has led me to believe that it will be a mistake if Lord Talon weds your daughter."
The Prince of Dol Amroth frowned, despite his attempts not to. "Have you been talking with my sons?"
Aragorn knew he could not lie, especially to this man, who was a close friend and ally. "I do not believe Lord Talon can be trusted," he said. He had never been a very good liar, but he was good at evading questions. "There has also been some correspondence between Talon and a group of Haradrim, which should be reasonable doubt of this man's loyalties."
"Correspondence?" Imrahil questioned.
"Messages from this palace to a Haradrim commander have been intercepted by some of your son's men."
"Elphir has never mentioned this to me," the Prince muttered.
"The messages were not signed, so it is not condemning evidence. I believe your son feared you would dismiss it," Aragorn explained.
Imrahil looked at him. "The messages were not signed, yet you seem certain Talon sent them."
"It is reasonable to believe, given the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
No one was more surprised than Imrahil himself when he ordered that the wedding would not be held until sunset the next evening.
Could he have been so wrong about Talon? Had he condemned his daughter to a life of misery when he agreed to the marriage? Was it now possible to correct this mistake?
He didn't know. He didn't know if there would be evidence of Talon's crimes by tomorrow. He didn't know if Talon was indeed guilty, or if it was simply his overprotective sons who had somehow managed to convince the king that Talon was dangerous. Imrahil believed otherwise, having had time to think about it now. King Elessar was not easily fooled, nor was Elphir one to spread lies. He should have listened to his sons. Why hadn't he listened?
Without evidence, though, sunset the next day was as long as he dared to delay. If Éomer and Amrothos had not arrived by then, or if by some miracle other evidence presented itself, Lothíriel would have to wed Talon.
"What is going on?" Lothíriel asked as her father entered the room. She was sitting by the window, not having slept all night. Dawn was approaching. Only a few hours and she would be wed to a man she despised.
Imrahil walked silently over to her, taking a seat next to her. "Daughter, gohena nin," he whispered
"Ada?" she looked at him. "Ada, forgive you for what?"
"I have been such a fool. Not taking your feelings into consideration, not listening to you or your brothers. I believe now," he said. "I believe Talon is not to be trusted."
Lothíriel's brow furrowed. "Why this change of heart?"
"I have delayed the wedding till the sun sets, but no longer. If Éomer has not arrived by then, we must find another solution," Imrahil said.
For the first time since returning to Dol Amroth, her eyes lit up and the slightest hint of a smile appeared. "Éomer is coming here?"
Imrahil nodded. "Hopefully, and hopefully your brother is coming with him." He told her everything he knew about the messenger, the assassin, and the messages between Talon and the Haradrim.
"Lothíriel, someday… someday I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me," Imrahil said. "I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to cause you this unhappiness. If I had known… I would have waited. I would have waited for you to tell me whom you wished to marry, and if that man was naught but a simple soldier, I would happily approve. All I want is for you to be safe and protected, but most importantly I want you to be with someone who love you, not for your title, but for the wonderful person you are."
"Ada…" Lothíriel started, but he cut her off.
"Get some sleep," he told her, standing. "And pray that your father's foolish actions will not lead to our doom."
On the top of a ridge, four riders looked down upon the marching army, their spears glistening in the rising sun as they moved across the plains below.
"They march towards Dol Amroth," Amrothos noted, sighing heavily as he watched the army. They were too far away to be overtaken, and too many to be defeated by the Rohirrim alone.
"From where do they hail?" Éothain asked.
"Lebinnin I believe," Amrothos replied, trying to see if he could recognize any markings on their livery or armours, but they were too far away. "I do not know, but I believe so, if I am to guess from their direction, and where they have possibly come from. They must be Talon's men, in any case."
"Is Dol Amroth far?" Éowyn asked, trying to find some sign on the horizon that they were nearing the sea.
"Too far," Amrothos muttered before looking at her. "I believe we will not reach the seashore before nightfall, and that force," he motioned below them to the marching army, "will be there an hour or so earlier."
Éomer looked at him sharply. "They will not," he said. "Not with our horses. Let's waste no more time." And with that he guided Firefoot down the ridge, where his men were waiting. The three others followed close behind.
"This is enough!" Talon declared, angered beyond reason. "Postpone the wedding. Postpone the wedding!" he shouted, throwing a silver cup in the general direction where Prince Imrahil had just been. It hit the wall, giving a ringing sound as it fell onto the floor, spilling wine all over the fine marble.
Arlos winced slightly at the sound, before eating a grape. He shrugged his shoulders. "We still have the girl."
"She is of no consequence!" Talon retorted. "It is the Princess we need, not some wailing Steward's daughter!"
"She is hardly wailing," Arlos found it necessary to point out. "But you are right; we do need the Princess. So the way I see it, it is simple. Wait a few hours until we see our men nearing Dol Amroth, then take the Princess and demand her to marry you. The Princess can hardly refuse when we are the masters over the life of her dear friend."
Talon looked at his brother, considering the matter. At last he nodded. "Yes, we must do it the way you suggest. And if she still refuses, we will threaten to kill her dear nephew."
Arlos hesitated a second before opening his mouth again. "Yes, well, about that… Princess Mariel and her son have fled. They are no longer in the City. Apparently, Lord Elphir must have suspected something wrong…"
He barely had time to duck before a bottle of wine was thrown in his direction.
The day passed slowly for Lothíriel. Often she would sit on her balcony, in vain watching the north for some sign of Éomer. None came, and she started to worry that he would not come. That he could not come… because the assassin had succeeded.
Ignoring those thoughts, she watched as the sun as it started lowering on the sky, marking that another day had passed. As she watched the sun, maids entered her chamber, preparing the wedding clothes and waiting for the Princess to return inside so they could begin the preparations.
When Lothíriel did not come, one of the maids approached the balcony, almost reluctant to do so. That the Princess would rather marry a lowly farmer than Lord Talon was a fact well known in the palace.
"My lady," the maid spoke in a low, almost frightened, tone. "Will you not enter? I fear we must begin soon, or we will be late."
Lothíriel's knuckles were white as she held onto the balcony rail. She said nothing, but stared towards the north, listening for the sound of approaching horses or horns being blown. No sound did she hear, and no rider did she see. And the sun would soon be down, with it taking the last rays of light from Lothíriel's life as well.
She heard nothing except the silence from the north, and so she was unaware that someone other than the maid had entered the balcony. A strong arm gripped her around the waste, clutching her painfully. His hated voice entered her head, his disgusting breath against her ear sending shivers down her spine.
"If you wish your friend to live," Talon muttered threateningly, "you enter your chambers and prepare." He let his hand travel upwards, to her breasts, kneading them as his mouth travelled to her neck, making contact with the silky skin.
Lothíriel shuddered and, using the advantage of her lesser figure, quickly withdrew from him.
Talon just smirked as he watched her. "By the end of this night, you will be mine. All of you."
Lothíriel stared after him in disgust as he left. With a desperate sigh, she looked one last time northward, before resigning herself to the fact that hope had left her, and entered her chambers.
The maids, who had been ordered out when Talon entered, and had quickly returned when he had left, were waiting. The preparations began, and the wedding was now only an hour or so away.
Translations:
gohena nin – forgive me