Chapter 25
Upon waking Lothíriel felt better than in days. In fact, as she drifted into awakeness she considered she had not felt this good ever since she and Elric had been taken as captives. That was physically at least, for the hurts of loss and being parted from Éomer remained still.
Yet feeling her strength returning did cheer her up a bit, and she got up just to feel out this refreshing change. Quietly she wandered towards the window and wondered where this feeling had come from. As she thought back on yesterday, she couldn't think of any reason for why she should feel better now.
These thoughts also reminded her of the reason for her illness of late, and touched her stomach. She sighed and closed her eyes, hoping away the pain... yet knew it hurt only because she cared.
Éomer had not been the only one to say it wasn't her fault – that she couldn't have known what would happen. But she knew it would be long, if ever, before she could forgive herself. And the thought of him... the vastness of distance between them, and all that had happened... the pain felt even more intense. She needed him.
The choking feeling threatened to consume her and tears burned her eyes, but a knock on the door brought her back. She forced away this moment of weakness; her family needed her to be strong.
"Come in", she called and hated how thin her voice sounded. But if Hrodgar noticed it as he entered, it didn't show on his face. But that was never a guarantee in his case.
"Hrodgar! I was starting to wonder already whether you'd come at all", Lothíriel said, even managed a smile for him.
"I arrived late last night. Your ladyship was already asleep then", he said in that familiar gruff manner of his, which surprisingly brought her a fond feeling. There was always something reassuring about his no-nonsense attitude.
"I'm glad that you came, though it seems it was in vain to call you. I'm feeling so much better today", she said and gestured him to sit down. A strange little half-smile touched Hrodgar's bearded face.
"It was not in vain, my lady", he said. "And it is good to hear I was successful."
That made her frown and she searched his face for an answer.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I was with you late last night, Princess. You were asleep, which is for the better, for I would not like to explain what I did. You need only know you will heal", said Hrodgar.
"I'm fairly sure I do need to know what you did", Lothíriel said. She had no recollection of Hrodgar being there last night. What could he possibly have done to make her feel better? On the other hand, she did know he was not an ordinary healer.
"I'm not certain I could explain or that you would understand. But if you insist, Princess, your spirit was hurt and I happen to know how to deal with it", muttered the soothsayer reluctantly.
"That doesn't really answer my question", she complained, still frowning.
"If you must know, it wasn't entirely different from what I did for you daughter when she was ill", Hrodgar answered, looking away. He was never eager to share the extent of his knowledge and abilities, and really perhaps he shouldn't be accused for it.
"I see. I thank you, Hrodgar and assure you I will remember all that you have done for me and my family", Lothíriel said, considering perhaps she shouldn't push him. After all, the important thing was that she felt better now. "Speaking of Elfhild, how is she?"
"She is fine. Ceola stayed after to take care of her. She does miss her mother, though", said the old man.
"I miss her too. I wish she could be here", said the princess quietly, thinking of her little one. It must have been a difficult time for the child, being parted from both of her parents. And the worst thing was Elfhild was too young to even understand the reason for it. Hopefully she could mend this soon and go home.
"She is better off in Aldburg at the moment", Hrodgar said, lowering his voice. His brow furrowed, "for there is peril in the realm now and its moment draws nearer."
Then, as if to confirm Hrodgar's words, Elric dashed in, closely followed by Éowyn. Both looked very grave and instantly Lothíriel knew something was afoot.
"Well? What is it? Spit it out and don't stand there looking like someone just grew another head", Hrodgar grumbled. He never wasted time to courtesies.
"There's no need to be rude, Hrodgar", Lothíriel told him, though she too felt anxious. She searched the faces of Elric and Éowyn, and asked: "Is something amiss?"
They exchanged a look, and then Éowyn spoke.
"It's the King, Lothíriel. He has ordered to evacuate Edoras. We are going to ride for Helm's Deep."
By midday, almost the entirety of Edoras' population was on the move. Even prisoners from the dungeons had been taken along, though that was not to say there were many of them. Most of the prisoners taken lately had been enemies of Wormtongue and their crimes had consisted more of opposing him than any actual foul deeds. However, there were few of them who had actually done ill things, and not least of them was Dreda daughter of Deorwine. Like Amrothos, she appeared to have survived her captivity rather well so far, but Lothíriel couldn't tell why that was. Perhaps Wormtongue had not dealt with her because he had hoped imprisonment would break her. If the intention had been successful she couldn't tell, because Dreda's eyes remained cold and expressionless as she travelled in the middle of guards.
Be it as may, Lothíriel found she did not want to think of the woman any more than she had to. Théoden King would no doubt judge her according to her crimes once he could, but for the moment there were more important things to engage his attention. Survival of the Mark was far more crucial than dealing with criminals like Dreda.
The Dunlending women Wormtongue had taken captive also came along, but they were not treated as strictly as prisoners anymore. The King had decreed they had no part in what schemes Wormtongue and their deceased leader had harboured, and the company of evacuees was as good chance as any for them to return to their own land. Elric at least was happy about this development: as soon as the women were brought out, he ran to meet the healer woman who had taken him and the princess under her wing in the Dunlending camp. Odd as it may be, the two appeared to have become friends. But then, such was the way of Elric's open heart.
As they left Edoras behind, Lothíriel gazed at the capital of Rohan and wondered if she'd see this place again. She was not in the counsels of the King and so she had no clear idea of what was waiting them, but she had heard Wizard Gandalf had ridden away like the storm wind, and all over the town there was talk of war.
"I think it's dangerous for us to go like this. With so many women and children we are an ideal target for any malicious intents", Amrothos muttered to her. He was riding Ǽfnung beside the wagon Lothíriel travelled in (though she was on the mend she had been informed by Éowyn, Amrothos and Hrodgar that she should not yet ride). Elric was currently walking with Birte his friend, Éowyn was conversing with Gimli the Dwarf, and Hrodgar rode behind the wagon looking like he was completely lost in his own thoughts.
"But the King's own guard is here, as are Lord Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Not to mention you, brother", Lothíriel pointed out.
"Hmph. Do you have any idea what Father will do to me if I let you get killed?" he grunted.
"You mean you're going to survive, no matter what will take place?" she asked back.
"Of course I will. I'm Prince Amrothos, after all", said her brother confidently. She sometimes wondered if he regarded himself immortal.
"As if I could forget that", his sister snorted. That brought a brief smile to his face, but then he frowned again and she guessed he was again worrying about the fate of this escort.
"I was wondering", Lothíriel said then, if just to distract him for a while, "what do you think of my Rohirric family? You've been here with us for a while now, but you've never really said much about them."
"Well, they're nice people as far as I'm concerned. Your daughter is a complete sweetheart of course, and Elric is a nice lad. He's going to be a tough one once he grows. And Lady Eadmod – why can't we have a grandmother like her back in Dol Amroth?" he said at length.
"What of my husband and Éowyn?" she asked.
"I think both of them would do well if they laughed some more every now and then. I'm sometimes intimidated by how... how stern they are. Of course they are courageous and honourable, but some happiness would not hurt them", Amrothos answered, staring ahead thoughtfully. He then glanced at Lothíriel, and said: "I'm not sure Lady Éowyn really likes me, though."
"Why do you say that?" she wondered.
"It wasn't so obvious before, especially when I returned to look for you. But then we had a common interest in the safety of you and your husband. Now that has been taken care of, I... I don't know. It's like there's something about me she disapproves of. We don't talk much but it's not so friendly sometimes how she looks at me", Amrothos mused. Lothíriel frowned.
"Why would she dislike you?" she wondered out loud, but her brother shrugged.
"Don't ask me. You know her better than I do", he said.
They didn't talk more then, and Amrothos rode forward to exchange few words with Lord Aragorn. The young prince appeared to be rather interested in this ragged Ranger, and for a good reason as far his sister could say. After all, she had heard one of the older members of the King's household saying he had known this man many years ago, when Thengel had still been alive; evidently Aragorn had then gone by the name of Thorongil, but where others had aged he had changed little.
It was true, like the stories said: in the Dúnedain of the North the ancient blood of Westernesse ran stronger than any other people who now lived in Middle-earth.
Her thoughts were then disrupted, for Scýne rode next to the wagon. Her eyes were dry now but grief was still there; she had received news of her brother's fate last night.
"How are you feeling?" asked the princess softly. Her friend managed a brief little smile, though it didn't really reach her eyes.
"Don't worry for me, Lothíriel. I will be fine, sooner or later. My brother... he knew what he was doing. He'd consider it an honour to die defending you, who are wife to his Marshal. It is a fact of life that sometimes the rider leaves and does not return, and Eorlingas accept it", Scýne said softly. She looked away and continued, quieter this time: "He rides with Béma now."
"I'm sorry about what happened. If I had just-" said the princess, but the red-haired woman looked at her sharply.
"No. Don't you think like that. Blaming yourself for what happened to him is not going to bring him back and I knew Silfbár well enough to tell you that he'd never blame you either", Scýne told her firmly. Lothíriel nodded quietly and hoped she could have said something to comfort her friend. But loss of family member was not something to be healed by gentle words. The princess knew that very well herself, for last night Théoden King had brought her a word of the death of Boromir. She had not cried on the front of the King, but the moment he had left and Amrothos had returned, she had wept like a child.
And she had remembered watching Boromir ride away with Prince Théodred and thinking whether she'd ever see him again. Oh, she should have known! She should have prevented him from going, or at least told him all the things she never did when he was alive... Now both of those men were gone and their peoples were sorely missing them; but she also knew what severe blow it would be for her uncle. Lord Denethor would not receive a word of Boromir's death well.
The thought of her cousin brought back that choking feeling and Lothíriel sighed heavily, watching the landscape and trying to find some comfort there. Scýne too appeared to be fighting her grief. They remained quite for a while before the princess spoke again.
"You miss your husband?" she asked softly, if just to distract them both for a moment. That was at least something they could both understand.
"I do", Scýne said, "but even if I had the power to change it, I wouldn't prevent him from going with Lord Éomer."
"Why, if I may ask?" Lothíriel wondered out loud.
Scýne's face was without smile. Yet in her eyes glinted something fiercely determined.
"They are the Sons of Eorl, Lothíriel. And us women of the Mark, if we love them, do not ask them to stay when their duty calls them. We may fear for our men and worry for them but to hold them back would be wrong", she said. The princess thought of this for a moment and nodded then.
"I am glad he is with my lord husband. If Éothain hadn't gone with Éomer, I'd fear for him much more than I do now", she confessed.
"Aye. Those two have a way of finding a way through danger and darkness, especially when they ride together", Scýne agreed.
The company travelled forward. Before long Elric returned to travel with Lothíriel, and Amrothos came back too. The prince launched into an adventurous (and obviously imaginary) story of his imprisonment, which included many insane escape attempts and heroic fights. It entertained Elric very much and even the princess found herself chuckling at Amrothos' tale every now and then.
Come afternoon they stopped on the plains for rest and some food. Elric brought – or dragged – Birte the healer woman to meet Lothíriel; as much as she had helped the princess when she had been sick, now she didn't seem too comfortable.
"My lady", said the Dunlending woman and made a clumsy little gesture that was probably supposed to be a curtsy.
"Mistress Birte", Lothíriel answered and offered the other woman a smile she hoped was friendly and welcoming, "I'm glad to see you remain unharmed."
"It seems that man Wormtongue did not really know what to do with us, so we were just left waiting for the most of the time", Birte said.
"I suppose even he, as pitiless as he was, did not quite dare to harm defenceless women", Lothíriel mused. The healer nodded.
"Aye, my lady. I'm rather glad we were not too high on his list of urgent matters", she said. Her brow furrowed then, "What became of your lord husband, Princess? I have not seen him and it does not seem like anyone cares to share news with us."
That question made Lothíriel frown. Once again she remembered that one last desperate moment she had shared with her Marshal, and all her doubts whether it had been the last time she'd see him.
"Wormtongue had him banished. He was seen riding north couple of days ago, and he is probably far away by now", she said sadly and shook her head. Forcing aside her hopeless thoughts she tried to smile and said: "Mistress, I never got the chance to thank you for what you did for me and for Elric. I would probably be dead now if you had not helped me, and I dare not think what might have become of my husband's son without your protection."
Birte smiled as well and she curtsied again.
"It was an honour, my lady. Common healers like myself rarely have patients so noble", she said. "And at least part of it is because young Elric and his refusal to give up."
Lothíriel cast a smile at her husband's son; the boy sat a bit straighter and seemed flattered.
"I know. I owe my life to the both of you, and am thankful for all you did for me", she said softly. "My lord husband is thankful as well. Hopefully he can tell you that himself one day."
"I'm sure he'll return, Lady Princess", Birte reassured her. Hoping she was right about that, Lothíriel nodded quietly and tried not to think of the alternatives too much.
The conversation was then interrupted as an unexpected participant asked to join the princess and Elric for their meal. Wide-eyed, Birte made way and curtsied yet again: Lord of the Mark had arrived to the scene. Théoden King gave the healer woman a friendly smile and Elric hurried to give his grand-uncle his place on the edge of wagon.
"My lord", Lothíriel said, bowing her head to the kindly old man.
"Lady Lothíriel", he greeted her and received with thanks a bowl of hot stew from Éowyn, who had returned to wait on him. He then looked at the princess again, "How are you faring?"
"I'm fine. It seems I am getting better, my king", she answered.
"That is good to hear. After Éomer has returned and this war is finished, Rohan will need her future Queen", said Théoden, not ungently. She looked at him quickly.
"You believe that all will turn so well, my lord?" she asked, not really daring to think of a future where she indeed was a queen.
"A king should always try and trust in hope, even it is hard. For if he loses himself to despair, it is not long before his men follow him", Théoden answered. Lothíriel thought of that for a moment; it sounded a bit like something Father might say. Really, she thought her father should meet this new – or old – Théoden. Perhaps there would be time after war?
After war...
"Lord, what will Rohan do when the war does begin? I mean... if the Gondor is attacked?" she asked carefully. After all, strengthening the alliance of two realms had been the incentive of her marriage to Éomer.
"We do what we must, like we always do", Théoden said gravely and she could tell he did not take pleasure in this topic, "but as the King of Rohan I must first see to the safety and well-being of my own people."
"Of course, my lord", she said softly, though she still felt troubled. She thought of her old home back in Dol Amroth... if the war did come to Gondor, it wasn't just Minas Tirith that would burn.
"I wonder, how does it make you feel, my lady, that I mean to declare your husband my heir once he returns?" he asked then. "How do you really feel about the prospect of becoming the Queen?"
"It scares me, to be honest", she said at length, "even if I haven't really given it thought I perhaps should have. And lately, there has been so much happening... My king, I confess that I would have been happy as a Marshal's wife."
"But you are a princess, Lady. Whatever our intentions might have originally been, I do not think it was ever your fate to remain the Lady of Aldburg. Éomer is... he has the makings of a great king in him, if he would accept that path", Théoden said thoughtfully, almost as if to himself.
"He would, if only for your sake, my lord", Lothíriel said softly. "He loves you very much."
That brought a sad little smile to Théoden's face.
"I know", said the King and looked ahead. Then he looked at her again and this time his smile was not so melancholy. "Now, did he ever tell you of his father?"
"Not much. It seemed to pain him, my lord", said the princess.
"Aye. I wonder if he'd ever have become such a ferocious warrior had Éomund lived... you may think your husband hot-tempered, but Éomund was that tenfold. Reckless he was, which in the end cost his life. But a good man nonetheless, and one of the best riders and warriors I've known, save for his son. He has been gone for many years yet I still conside him the best friend I ever had", Théoden said, his voice slow and soft. She could tell he too missed this man who had been dead for years, just like his mother and children did. Perhaps even more now when the future of the kingdom, and everything Éomund had fought for, was at stake.
"Éomund lived with such a passion, like he was so in love with life – and life was in love with him. In that Éomer is very alike to his father, though his spirit is more consumed rather by anger than joy. Perhaps that is changing now, though... you know how it is when he enters the room? It's like he takes a lot more space than he actually does. Éomund was like that too. It's no wonder Théodwyn loved him so, and was so heartbroken when he was gone. The world was empty without him", he continued and sighed. For a moment he was silent and looked down, but then he glanced at the princess again and smiled. "Forgive me. Perhaps you're not so interested in listening to an old man ramble about people long gone. It is just I'm remembering so many things these days, things I thought I had forgotten."
"It's all right, my lord. I'm glad to hear more about Éomund and Théodwyn. I haven't dared to ask of them from others, as I've feared it would cause pain. I understand they were well loved by their family and friends", Lothíriel answered quickly.
Théoden smiled and looked like he'd have spoken more, but then the Captain Háma of King's guard arrived and suggested they move forward. The company had rested and eaten and were all ready to go.
The King got up on his feet and bowed his head at Lothíriel.
"I fear we must cut our conversation here. I'd like to talk more, but duty calls us and we must continue later", he said.
"Of course. I look forward to it, my lord", she said, smiling as she spoke.
The King mounted his horse then and rode along with his men. Elric hopped on that place beside her and soon the wagon began rolling forward again. Amrothos too joined them, riding by the side of the wagon.
But it was not long after that the sounds of alarm spread, and the air electrified as the fighting men among were called to gather: somewhere ahead, ill things were afoot.
"What is it? What's going on?" Lothíriel asked her brother. But her question was answered about as soon as it was out of her mouth.
"Warg riders!" shouted one of the King's Riders, and cries of terror filled the air.
"I must go and help", Amrothos said briskly, loosening his sword in its sheath. A part of her would have liked to ask him stay, though she knew she couldn't. Gathering Elric close, she gave her brother a solemn look.
"Stay safe, brother", she told him. Ever the cheerful one, he grinned.
"I'll bring you a warg pelt, sister", he said and rode, and Elric watched him go.
"I could go too – I could-" he began, but Lothíriel cut that sentence right there.
"I'd like you to stay with me", she said. Though she managed to keep her voice quiet and calm in this situation, it seemed to have the impact she had hoped for. The boy's face softened and he nodded.
The company, and the wagon along with it, was turned to take another route, and somewhere behind the hills there was a noise of battle. And like the last time she had been on these plains, Lothíriel felt fear hammering where her heart was supposed to be.
"It's going to be all right", she murmured to Elric, though she had no idea if that were actually true.
The Hornburg was an impressive sight even for someone who had grown up in the stone palaces of south. When the company rode into that ancient fortress the Sea Kings of old had built in the embrace of mountains, she instantly recognised the handiwork: it was the same as Minas Tirith and her own old home by the sea. As she looked upon this place Lothíriel could very well understand why the King had chosen this place as a refuge. It was difficult to imagine anyone invading such a strong fortress.
But there were more urgent things than gazing at the fortress in wonder. There behind the walls fugitives from Westfold were already filling the halls and chambers. Théodred had started the work of bringing them in and as the situation grew more dire in the kingdom, more had arrived.
Lord Erkenbrand was the master of the fortress now that the Prince was gone, and his wife, Lady Léoma, came to receive the princess. She was a lovely woman with long auburn hair and bright blue eyes, and she was tall even for a woman of Rohan. Beside her came a maiden who could only be her daughter. The likeness between the two was striking, though the younger of the two had lighter hair with a tendency to curl.
"I am sorry to say we are quite cramped at the moment, with all the refugees from the lands near this fortress. I am quite busy presently as well, for I have many in need to care for and mouths to feed. My daughter Elswite will look after you and find you lodgings", said the lady, and her daughter curtsied.
"Thank you, my lady", said Lothíriel and gave a smile to the young woman. She estimated they were about the same age, though Elswite was perhaps the younger one.
"If you would follow me, my lady. I must warn you, I'm not sure if we have a place fit for a princess with so many refugees in the fortress", Elswite said and lead them in. Though she was faring better, Elric and Hrodgar still trailed after her as if they didn't quite believe she could make it on her own. While she knew it was because of a genuine concern, she still had to occasionally supress an urge to tell them to snap out of it.
"It's fine. As long as we have a roof over ourselves and some sufficiently warm spot to sleep on, we're all right", Lothíriel reassured the woman.
"I must ask the Princess receive some warm and dry place for rest. She has been ill recently, and I will not have her sickening again", Hrodgar put in, his voice grumbling like he was already going through all the things that could go wrong.
"Of course. Father would no doubt murder me if he heard Lord Éomer's wife was here and she got ill because of my sloppiness", Elswite answered and smiled.
She found a place for them in the inner part of the castle, in a chamber Éowyn would share with Lothíriel and Elric. Hrodgar too looked like he wouldn't wander far even if he were told to do so. But as soon as they were settled down, the princess' mind instantly returned to the plains and to her brother... her dear, dear brother, fighting off wargs. She had heard of them but had never seen one, for which she considered herself fortunate. Still, stories were enough to inform her they were nasty beasts.
Elric, being the dear heart he was, noticed of course.
"Don't worry, Lothíriel. I'm sure Amrothos will return all right", he reassured her. She gave him a weak little smile and hugged him.
"Let us hope so", she mumbled and closed her eyes.
Elswite sensed the need for some comforting words, or at least wanted to give them something else to think about. So she sat across them and asked about Gondor and Dol Amroth; in turn, she'd tell of her own life in the Hornburg, which apparently was the most abysmal place in all of Middle-earth. She'd have loved to come and stay in Edoras, but her parents had forbidden it.
"And ever since the Prince died, it has been even more bleak here. It's like the world is ending. I suppose it's understandable, what with Isengard so close to us... but you can take only so much of doom and dreariness before it starts to smother you", she said, shaking her head.
"It seems to be much the same in all the realm", Lothíriel said softly, wrapping her shawl tighter about her shoulders. "And based on what I've seen in Edoras, I'd say you've been happier to stay here in Hornburg. Though perhaps, if we should live beyond these days, it will probably be different in the capital now that the King has been revived..."
"Aye. I've heard of what that snake called Wormtongue did to him", Elswite agreed readily. "Is it true then? The King is free of ill influence?"
"It is. He seems a completely different man now – wise and kind, though sad", Lothíriel confirmed. The young Rohir woman nodded gravely, doubtlessly thinking of Prince Théodred.
"Would you then say we have hope of enduring this storm? Surely there must be, if Théoden is once again leading us", she wondered out loud.
"I don't know. I'm not in the King's counsels, and when the hammer of war will fall... I don't know how severe its blow might be", Lothíriel said softly, thinking of her brother again. Her thoughts turned to Éomer as well, wherever he might be.
"Prince Théodred said there's always hope as long as there is one man left in the Mark willing to lead our people and fight", Elswite said. "Perhaps Théoden is that man, or his sister-son."
"But Lord Éomer my husband is not in the land", the princess pointed out.
"He may yet return. It is said that the House of Eorl is also the House of Sun, and I do not think it is yet a time for that sun to go down", said the Rohir woman confidently.
But whether she was right remained yet to be seen.
At nightfall, Elric turned out to be right: there were shouts from outside and noises of riders returning. The princess, accompanied by Elric and Elswite went along to see the men, and all the way outside Lothíriel's heart hammered with fear. What if something had happened to Amrothos on the plains? What should she tell their father if her brother fell here, far away from his homeland?
But as soon as they got out, she spotted his blue raiment among the King's green-cloaked riders, and his dark hair stood out as well; she let out moan of relief and hugged Elric tight.
"I told you he would come", said the boy, though his grin was that of relief too.
Then Amrothos saw them and he came leaping up the stairs, smiling at his sister and Elric.
"There you are, sister. You can stop looking like a warg ravaged your house", he said and caught both her and Elric in a bear-like hug. "Though I must apologise for not bringing the pelt of one for you. Even a troll would not want such an ugly rug in his cave."
"You're completely absurd", Lothíriel mumbled weakly. Amrothos smiled and they made way inside, and she never took notice of the wide-eyed, appreciative looks Elswite gave to the young prince.
Waking up on the morrow was a disappointment, for Éomer had dreamt of his wife, and the waking world where she was far away seemed cold and bleak. One moment more he spent there under the warmth of his cloak and thought of her, hoping to slip back into sleep, and to feel the touch of her fingers on his skin once more... but it was morning already and he had to leave his hopes and longing for the dark hours of night.
The air of sunrise was brisk and cool. The camp was starting to wake up and the quiet voices of men broke the silence. Some were still in the blessed realm of dreams and lay scattered around the ground; the Marshal had to take care of where he stepped lest he walked over a sleeping man.
Firefoot greeted him with a neigh as he approached the horse. Like he did on every morning on road, Éomer's first task was to check on his steed. After all, there was no rider without a horse.
Though he had taken a look at the stallion's legs and hoofs last night, he checked on them again, in case during the night Firefoot had hurt himself. But all was as should and the horse searched his hand for a treat.
"I'm sorry, old fellow. I have no apples for you this time", he murmured gently. Firefoot chortled and tossed his head, looking a bit like he was considering biting his master, and Éomer quickly removed his hand from the reach of the steed's teeth.
"You foul-tempered old dragon", he chuckled and turned back towards the camp.
As he slowly strode back, he thought of their dwindling provisions. Wormtongue had not given them a chance for taking proper supplies, and each rider had as much as had been left in their saddlebags. At least there was plenty of water on these plains, and hunting game was always an option.
He thought of his wife again and the image of her returned into his mind. Leaving her like that had been one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do. She was sick, she had lost their child, and she needed him. He should have been with her now... and poor Elric, left with so much responsibility and all the world falling apart around him and Elfhild alone without her parents... oh, how he missed his family!
And how he loved his wife...
She loves me in turn. She will wait for me.
Éomer sighed and turned to look North. It was a perilous road ahead, and he had yet to figure out how they might pass by the infamous Golden Wood. One thing he knew at least and that was they couldn't stay in these wild lands for ever. In North – and if they by some miracle were able to travel that far – there was Dale and those lands Éothéod had long ago come from. Surely there they might find some kind of safe haven? There had to be work for a rider who could wield a spear and a sword...
Still, even as he knew he had not many alternatives now, it was a stinging wound to his pride. He, the Third Marshal of the Mark, banished from Rohan and forced to become a sellsword! His father would have been so ashamed.
But then, Éomer knew he had not many other choices. There was no way he could have gone south, and even less his pride would have allowed him seeking refuge from Imrahil's court. Though he did not doubt his father-in-law's hospitality, he'd rather find his way somewhere else.
After all, the truth was he had become a dishonoured man the moment they had driven him from the Mark.
Oh, Lothíriel...
She deserved more. She should have married Théodred – he'd never have caused such grief and pain to her, and perhaps there would already be an heir in the land... but then, the mere idea of Lothíriel in the arms of any other man nearly had his blood boiling.
What if they say her marriage to a traitor is not an abiding one? What if she moves on? What if...
"You look like you're thinking of something very unpleasant. What is it, old friend?" asked Éothain. He had approached without the Marshal noticing – he had been too deep in his dark musings.
"My good captain, trust me when I say you don't want to know", muttered the younger man and rubbed his forehead. Éothain seemed to sense this statement was true and did not pursue the matter.
"Have you decided yet where we should head next?" he asked instead. He offered his friend some tea, steaming in small wooden mug riders kept in their saddlebags. Éomer muttered thanks as he received it and took a sip, thinking of his captain's question.
"It seems to me the North is the only way we can really go, though the road may be uncertain and dangerous", said the Marshal at length. "I'd stay here in the borderlands if we had proper supplies."
"In case your uncle changes his mind and calls us back", Éothain realised. "I see. That would be my counsel as well, but like you said, we don't have the supplies we would need. Do you have any idea of what path we should take North?"
"No. If there is a way past the Golden Wood, it has passed beyond the knowledge of Eorlingas. We could try west and see if there's some way by mountains... east I would not go, even if there was some way of crossing Anduin. There is shadow on the eastern banks I would not want to face with so few men", Éomer answered.
"We could always turn south, follow Anduin, and ride to Gondor", Éothain offered.
"Do you think Lord Denethor would receive us well? All that I know of him would not imply so, and it is possible he'd hold a grudge against me for wedding a precious princess of a high Gondorian House and then turning out a dishonoured man. I doubt he'd welcome any man who rides with me. Perhaps he'd even hold on to the alliance between our realms, and consider us all outlaws", said the younger man. His mood turned ever darker at the idea, and he sighed.
"There is no easy way about this, is there?" Éothain asked. Even he, the one with usually dauntless spirit, was starting to look worried.
"There has been no easy ways for us in a very long time", Éomer said quietly. Suddenly, he felt tired and discouraged and there was a part of him that would just have liked to lay down and give up. What point was there in fighting when all was doomed anyway? He'd not see his family again, and Rohan would fall, and all the world would be consumed by the flames of war...
But then he thought of his wife again and he knew he could not give up if he ever hoped to see her again. No, that was not what the men of the House of Eorl did – and that was what Éomund would never have done. Eorlingas were fighters and though the end might be bitter, he would go and meet it. Like Eorl and Helm and his sons before him, he'd go and see things done even if it killed him, and perhaps Elric and Elfhild would see a better day dawn upon the Mark.
"If only we could go back home and somehow get rid of that snake of a man..." he muttered to himself. Again he began to go over their options, but his thoughts were then interrupted as Heming approached the two men.
"Lord, there is a rider coming this way. He travels very fast", he said.
"Only one rider?" asked Éomer.
"Aye. Clad all in white, seems to me", Heming answered. The Marshal and his captain exchanged a confused look, both wondering what this was about. Nevertheless they followed Heming to the hill-top where he had been keeping an eye on the wild lands around them.
When they got up there, the rider was approaching fast. Indeed he was clad in white, but what caught the Marshal's attention was the steed bearing this odd traveller. Fast and so effortless this horse galloped that he instantly knew he was looking at one of mearas. And the thought of that great line of horses brought back something he had heard only last year: the wizard Gandalf had taken Shadowfax, the apple of the King's eye, and the most magnificent of horses that now lived in the Mark.
But Gandalf had fallen and aside from the King he was the only one known to ride mearas...
"Who is that?" asked Éothain. He too appeared just as puzzled by this development. "Should I call for the men?"
"No", Éomer said, for as he watched the rider come closer, a sudden hope dawned in his heart, though he knew whence it came from. "I do not think this traveller means us ill."
And then at last the horse was climbing up hill towards them, and the horse indeed was none other than Shadowfax the great. The man he bore was so alike to Saruman yet so different, and only very briefly Éomer's hand rested on his sword's hilt. His hair was white as were his beard and raiment, but unlike Saruman he had bright blue eyes. In them, a great light shone.
Gandalf had come.
"Hail, Marshal Éomer!" called the wizard at last.
"Well met, Grey Wanderer", said the Rohir, "though you do not seem so grey to me now."
A smile appeared on that old lined face; at last Shadowfax was on the front of them and the wizard dismounted.
"I would hope to come with the white light of hope, my lord", Gandalf answered.
"And what word do you bring? They say your tidings are rarely good or hopeful", Éomer said. He had once seen this wizard long ago, and he seemed much changed. What had befallen him the Marshal could not tell, but it seemed to him if he had gone through shadow he had conquered it, and re-emerged stronger than ever before.
"I usually come with the necessary tidings. Otherwise there would be little to do for me; I was sent with a task of great need, after all", Gandalf said, his face turning serious. "And need drives me again. Not my own, but Rohan's. My lord, the Mark would call back her Son, for the land and the very life of the King are in peril, and the hour of war is upon us. Éomer son of Éomund is needed on the wide plains of the Riddermark, not in these misty wildlands. Will you leave your exile and come back with me, and ride for Helm's Deep where the King waits for you?"
There was only one answer Éomer could give.
"Aye. We will come!"
A/N: Here's a new chapter! I didn't mean to update so soon, but I know you guys are eager to read more.
Originally I meant we'd get to the Battle of Helm's Deep in this chapter and perhaps also have Éomer return. However, I soon realised I couldn't possibly get that far in just one chapter. I know there's lot of talking in this chapter but I believe all of it is necessary. For one, some of it is to tie up things (joining Hrodgar's thread with Lothíriel's again and Boromir's fate for example), and some is to make way for other events that are yet to come. Plus, I wanted to have her bond with Théoden some more, and this was really the only place where I could have those conversations happening.
I know it's kind of a slow chapter - and it's not my favourite either - but I couldn't figure out any other way to do this. However, we should get to the battle in the next chapter.
I know Amrothos comment about Éowyn not liking him seems cryptic here, but it will be clarified later.
Also I meant to talk more about Dreda in this chapter but decided eventually I couldn't fit any of it here. Whether Lothíriel's guess about her time in prison was right will remain to be seen.
Thanks for comments!
Kiiimberly - I really wanted to write him returning in this chapter, but that has to wait for a little while more.
Sandy-wmd - It seemed more than necessary, considering all the bad things that had happened lately.
I know this chapter answers your question only partly, so wait and see!
Borys68 - The meaning of that sentence was there to show Elric is starting to understand what it really means that he's an illetigimate child while Elfhild is not. No one would consider it strange or improper if Elfhild ran to hug his granduncle, but it would probably be frowned upon if Elric did the same.
Anyway, thanks for pointing it out. You're quite right it's not the best-formed sentence.
Recovering4Life - I confess I can't wait for it either! :D
1607hannah - Ha, I'm glad to hear I managed to make you worry! To move Lothíriel and the children to Minas Tirith would certainly have been one way to go, but that way I'm no sure how I'd have cleared out Helm's Deep and some other things I've planned.
Thanks on feedback about the scene of Gríma's downfall!
Talia119 - Seems like it's Helm's Deep for us! I'm not sure Amrothos would have wanted to travel with them, even if that had been possible. With the Swan Knights gone, he considers it too dangerous for now. Plus there's some stuff that needs to happen in Rohan...