In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer. - Morwen Steelsheen in a letter to her sister
Chapter 35
Pelargir
During his years, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth had travelled on Anduin more times than he cared to count. Sailing was the most comfortable and usually the fastest way as well to make the journey from Dol Amroth to Minas Tirith or back. Now he was not making for his home, though; from the port of Pelargir the ship would not voyage any further. Unless he somehow was able to persuade his daughter to come home for a while, but of that he was doubtful. After her quest she was not like to even consider letting her betrothed out of her sight.
"Finally! If this journey had taken any longer, I'd have seriously considered jumping out of the ship and swimming to Pelargir as an option", stated Amrothos, the youngest of his sons, as he strode to his side. The young prince had been on the edge ever since Aragorn had sent word he and his companions had returned safe and successful. Even though Imrahil had trusted they'd indeed come home sooner or later, the tidings his daughter had come back had still made him weep with joy.
"Now, remember your dignity, my son. You wouldn't offend Queen Arwen like that?" he asked. Elessar's wife had come with them, as anxious to see the travellers as the rest of the company. Her disposition was more than understandable, considering she had not seen her husband since he had left for the campaign in south in what seemed like such a long time ago, though it had been just months.
Amrothos grumbled something under his breath and leaned on the railing, his eyes fixed on the port of Pelargir, where they were just about to arrive. He glanced at his father after a moment.
"Do you think he's going to be very different?" he asked, and Imrahil knew right away just who his son meant. Aragorn's message had not been very long, but he had written Éomer had been kept as a prisoner by some Haradrim tribe, and it was difficult to believe such an experience would leave anyone unaffected. But just how deep the impression was remained yet to be seen.
"I don't know. I suppose we will have to wait and see", he said softly. He frowned at his son, "but no matter how he is, I expect you to hold your tongue."
The young prince looked at him with wide eyes of feigned shock.
"Whatever do you mean, Father?" Amrothos asked.
"You know what I mean, son. You have the tendency of not thinking what you say, and our friend may not be on a mood for your babbling", Imrahil said sternly.
"I am wounded, Father. Absolutely wounded", his son said, shaking his head, but he knew the young man well enough to see when the point had been driven home.
The ship docked then and a bustle filled the pier and the deck as it was made ready for the passengers to land. Faramir came with Queen Arwen, trailed by her handmaidens; in the golden light of afternoon she was breathtakingly beautiful. Imrahil had already concluded one never really got used to her unearthly grace.
"My queen", he greeted her and bowed, and she smiled slightly.
"Prince Imrahil", she replied. "I'm glad we are finally here in Pelargir. I had half a mind to ask you to sail this ship faster."
"I had a similar wish, in all honesty. But we are here now, my lady", he said.
"Indeed. It is good to see them", she said softly and looked ahead to the port. Their horses would soon be brought from under the deck and they'd ride the rest of the way to Ivriniel's house.
As royal guards secured the harbour and the horses were brought out, the event began to gather some spectators, as it was not often that such a retinue of the high and mighty of the land would arrive at the same time. That would perhaps raise attention the longer they stayed here, but Imrahil still believed they could smuggle Éomer to Minas Tirith with minimal noise about it. Aragorn had expressed his wish the announcement about the safe return of the Rohirric King should wait until they arrived in the White City. The Prince was not sure why that was, but he had decided his liege-lord must have his reasons.
Formal retinues, especially royal ones, often had a tendency of moving slowly and heavily. But now the entire company was very anxious to get moving so that they could reach the house of Lady Ivriniel and meet there the four travellers. Imrahil and Amrothos also looked forward to meeting Erchirion, as they had rather worried for him: he had not arrived to Minas Tirith in time and it was known he had been at the sea. Though Erchirion and his crew were all experienced mariners, sea was not without its dangers and even seasoned sailors sometimes went down with storms.
Riding through the city took its own time, especially with people stopping to watch the escort pass by, and many called out: "Queen Arwen! Hail the Lady Evenstar!"
Imrahil didn't know if the crowds had seen her before and thus knew her - he rather suspected she was just impossible to be mistaken about. For who had not heard of King Elessar's Elven wife, the only daughter of Lord Elrond himself? People loved her, as they had from the very beginning, but then again it was hard not to love a legend come to life.
At last they came to the broad street that passed by the house of his sister. Heralds had ridden before them and so the gates were wide open waiting for them when they arrived, though the tiny courtyard could only hold so much at one time – most of the guard had to stay outside while the company filled the front of the house of Lady Ivriniel with noise and bustle.
And there, on the steps of the house, they awaited.
It did not take Imrahil many seconds to understand what was wrong with the picture that awaited them in that courtyard. Only three people stood on the steps, ready to greet the retinue from Minas Tirith. Aragorn was present of course, as were Éowyn and Erchirion. But of Lothíriel or Éomer there was no sight.
So Imrahil practically flew from the saddle, and even before Queen Arwen had time to dismount or greet her husband as the proper etiquette would have compelled, he was already before the King of Gondor and Arnor, who was blissfully smiling at his lady wife.
"Where is she? Where's my daughter?" he demanded to know. Surely she'd be here to meet her father and brother, unless something was wrong?
Aragorn's expression sobered and he turned to look at his vassal.
"It's all right, Imrahil. I -" he started, but then Amrothos spoke up harshly; he had speedily dismounted too and leaped to his father's side.
"It's not all right, my lord! Where is my sister!" he exclaimed. "Did something happen to her?"
"Lothíriel is very much alive, my friends", Aragorn said soothingly, lifting his hands in a calming gesture. "But she is not here anymore – nor is our friend Éomer."
"But why? Where would they go?" Imrahil demanded to know, frowning in confusion. This was not making any sense and he did not like that feeling at all. His King sighed and gave them a joyless little smile.
"I do not know where their road will take them, or when they will come back. What I do know is that Éomer our friend has lost his way, and Lothíriel has gone to help him find it again."
September 3021, Rohan
Elfhelm might have recently acquired the reputation of a madman, but it turned out he could still call in some favours – however grudgingly they were delivered. Well, he had been a rather influential man back in the day and he had made many friends far and wide in Rohan.
Those favours consisted of delivering messages, with the insistence that they be carried in absolute secrecy. Both men he persuaded to do this task asked why such thing was needed, but Elfhelm decided it wiser not to tell them. For it was clear to him that if Feran got wind of what was in his mind, the underking would no doubt regard it treason.
After all, it was well-known that Erkenbrand and Gamling were still solid supporters of Éomer King, even if the man was presumed dead. How suspicious would it seem, if it became common knowledge that the three of the late king's closest men were gathering together in secrecy? Well, Elfhelm was hoping they'd gather at least. Erkenbrand and Gamling might not come to see him and there were only so many favours he could call in.
Knowing this he had written the letters in a very empathetical fashion, making it clear he had something very important to discuss. He called the two men to meet him near the village of Harrow, which he hoped was the easiest place for them all to travel in without raising too much suspicion. His own excuse was visiting some kinsfolk that lived in those parts, to which task he'd return to as soon as he had met with his friends.
It was in a sheltered dale, through which a small stream bubbled; it filled the place with carefree noise that had once made someone say the stream laughed its way towards Snowbourn rather than flowed. Gamling and Erkenbrand would know the place and it was also sheltered enough for a secret meeting. And unless Feran had taught the hills to spy for him, Elfhelm did not believe a word of this meeting would reach him.
The day was rather beautiful, though air was brisk and smelled of first frosts of autumn nights, and the former Marshal sat by the banks of the stream waiting for his friends. As the moments went by he did worry that perhaps the two wouldn't risk coming here after all, and he was waiting in vain. But then, Gamling and Erkenbrand were his friends and they were both trustworthy men. They would not fail a brother in arms.
And his trust was rewarded at least by Gamling when the old man arrived not a quarter of an hour later, riding all alone. At the sight of him Elfhelm rose up on his feet and smiled. It had been too long since he had last seen the old rider.
"Gamling! It is good to see you", he greeted as his friend dismounted, as swift as any young Eorling. His hair was white as snow and age had carved its paths on his face, but his back was still straight and his step was firm, and he bore a sword on his side; the stories had it in his youth Gamling had been the best swordsman in all of Rohan. And later on, he had been relied on by Théoden and Éomer, counted on for his wisdom and good sense.
"Likewise, old warhorse", said Gamling. "But pray tell me, what is on your mind? This secrecy seems unusual and bewildering. What are you hoping to conceal?"
"I'll explain everything when Erkenbrand arrives. Don't worry, my friend. It is a glad thing you'll hear, though perhaps it will also require us to make some difficult choices", said Elfhelm.
Just then there were the noises of another rider approaching, and soon the Marshal of the West-mark came to sight. He was of broad build and in height he fell second only to Éomer himself, and his hair was the bright gold of sun. Stark expression he had, and when one looked at him it was easy to understand why Théoden King in his time and Éomer after him had left this man in the command of the Mark in times of war.
"Good day, my friends", Erkenbrand greeted the two waiting for him. "It is good to see you both, but why must three honest men meet like this?"
"I merely wanted to make sure we could discuss in peace – and without the fear of being overheard. Lives depend on my tidings staying between ourselves for now", Elfhelm said gravely, regarding his friends. Both of them had tensed, as they had sensed something was afoot. To ease their minds he smiled, "Don't be troubled. I have called you here because I wish to tell you something very important... and to ask your opinions on what should be done."
"What is it, then?" Erkenbrand asked.
Elfhelm could not help but grin, and he spoke: "The time of despairing has come to an end, my friends. Justice will return soon to our land, because our King lives, and even now he should be on his way home."
That statement earned him the questions and exclamations he had expected, and a fair amount of time was spent explaining Éothain's words and how the captain had put together two and two. But to Gamling this news came as something of a shock, though not as unpleasant kind – rather, in his eyes glistened tears of joy. As for Erkenbrand, he roared in laughter and even grabbed the younger man in a crushing hug.
Understandably, it took a moment for them to calm down. With this Elfhelm could sympathise, especially remembering his own joy at hearing the news. But one could always count on Gamling's acuity, and when their minds had calmed enough, the old rider regarded Elfhelm with a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"It seems to me you did not go through the trouble of calling us here and keeping this a secret just so you could deliver us these tidings. As glad as these words are, you wouldn't have had to do anything except just wait for our King's return", he stated at length. Erkenbrand nodded in agreement.
"The truth is I hoped for your help", Elfhelm admitted, shifting his gaze between the two men before him. "I can't do anything alone, but if I had your support... Feran may have tried to break us and our alliance, but you both are still well-respected men. And Erkenbrand yet remains a Marshal with all the power that comes with that position."
He momentarily fell silent to watch his friends, until he continued: "What I am asking help for is to overthrow the underking."
Both the men before him stood silent. Their expressions betrayed their surprise and for the longest moment neither of them did not seem to know what to say. Eventually, Gamling glanced at Erkenbrand as though to seek counsel from the features of the other man, but then he turned back towards Elfhelm.
"What makes you suggest this thing?" he asked carefully.
"Everything! Have you looked around yourselves lately? Do you see what that villain is doing to the Mark? I hear stories about the things he allows – greedy relatives trying to steal what doesn't belong to them, thugs bullying people, even plans of usurping the throne!" said the former Marshal, his voice rising with his anxiety.
"And what is it you think we can do?" Erkenbrand asked.
"We must stand up now! We have to rid Rohan of this snake and make ready for when Éomer returns!" Elfhelm said heatedly.
"As much as I'd like to do that, why should we be any more successful than the last time?" Gamling inquired for his part, his voice soft and sad. "We tried to defy Feran before, but Eorlingas did not rise for our cause. The only thing that is likely to happen is we give him the excuse he wants. As a matter of fact, it would be the same as if we chopped off our own heads and handed them over to him."
"Gamling is right", Erkenbrand muttered curtly.
"Then you would have us lay down and just let him walk over all the weak and the defenceless in the land – those we have sworn to protect?" Elfhelm asked. He could not but glare at his friends, both of whom he had always taken for men who'd fight for what was right.
Gamling sighed, his expression revealing he knew what Elfhelm was thinking. When he spoke it was in gentler tones than before.
"I know you wish to see all this wrongness mended. I wish to see that too, but there is nothing we can do right now. We can't unite Eorlingas – we don't have that power", he stated.
"Then who does?" Elfhelm asked angrily.
"You know who", Gamling said, his voice quiet. Elfhelm fell silent and looked at the old man, understanding.
"Only Éomer King can unite our people again", Erkenbrand agreed. "Only for him will the Mark rise – not to the calls of couple of old men and a drunkard."
"And it could be important that we lay low for the time being. Gather our strength, our arms", Gamling spoke. "So when Éomer King returns we will be ready to stand behind him again. If we act now, before he has come back, we will most likely be crushed by Feran... and thus we ensure our King will be that much weaker against a foe that could turn out vicious enough to oppose the rightful Lord of Eorlingas."
"You think he'd do that? He would try to overthrow the heir of Eorl's line?" Elfhelm asked. His anger was practically wiped out by that very worrisome idea.
"Who knows what he will do?" Gamling sighed and shook his head. "He has tasted power and that is a drink that intoxicates men easily. And so we must wait and prepare."
"And we must keep secret that Éomer lives. If Feran hears of it, and realises the true king is coming home..." Erkenbrand said – he did not need to finish his sentence for the other two to imagine how the underking might use that information to his benefit.
"There's no other choice, then? We truly must wait?" Elfhelm asked. Though he knew his friends were right, he could not fight back disappointment.
"Aye. That is the only choice we have for now", Gamling confirmed. He must have seen the troubled look on the face of the younger man, as he reached over to pat Elfhelm's shoulder. "Don't fret, my friend. Though our patience may be tried, now there is something we did not have before."
"What is that?" asked the former Marshal. His friend smiled.
"That something is hope."
Lebennin
The sounds of her beloved awakened Lothíriel to a new day. Curled up under their blankets she felt near complete comfort and contentment – it was only lacking because Éomer was already up and about and not by her side. Judging by the smells he had made breakfast as well.
Rubbing her eyes she sat up and saw him stirring the small kettle over the fire. That object she had purchased from a pedlar on the road, as they had not taken such gear from the house of her aunt, and a hot meal was a nice occasion at least once a day.
He glanced at her and gave her a brief smile, "Good morning."
"Good morning. Why didn't you wake me up? I could have helped you with that", she said, undoing the tangles in her hair with her fingers. A proper comb was one thing she had not remembered to grab along.
"It is all right. I thought you looked tired last night and decided to let you sleep a bit longer today", he merely said.
"Hmph. You fuss", Lothíriel grumbled, but she did crawl over to give him a kiss.
The breakfast was soon ready and they settled down to eat. Food was simple but tasty, as it was shared together in this quiet moment of peace. They talked of idle things: of where they'd ride today and what they might see. When a silence fell it did not feel uncomfortable at all, and to herself Lothíriel assessed that the choice to leave Pelargir had been a good one. For one, Éomer seemed much less anxious and he was smiling at her, and to her understanding these were hopeful things. Maybe some time alone was just what he needed.
She glanced at him then and saw a thoughtful expression resting on his features. So she asked: "What is on your mind?"
"Just wondering... how are the winters here in Gondor?" he inquired at length.
"Well, it depends. It can get stormy on the coast, but it's not so bad inland. Why do you ask?" she wondered out loud.
"I was thinking on how and where we should spend the winter. I would not leave you on the mercies of storms and cold", he said slowly and a slight crease rose to his brow. "You'd be more comfortable in your home, Lothíriel."
"Do you think I care about comfortable? Or do I look like one of those delicate court birds?" she asked sharply and glared at him. Then, softening her tone, she spoke again, "I know why you say that, but please understand I can't... if I went home now, I'd just spend my days wondering where you are and if you're even alive, and it would most like drive me mad. It would be much worse than enduring some cold. I'd rather follow you wherever you will go."
The frown vanished from his features and her beloved looked at her gently.
"I know you are hardy, dear Lioness of mine. You would not have come for me if you weren't. I do not doubt your strength", Éomer said in soft tones. "I just wish for you to have so much more than this life on the road."
Lothíriel put aside her breakfast and moved so that she was next to him. She leaned over to kiss him, and when she pulled back she remained close and rested a hand on his neck.
"But have you considered perhaps right now I don't want anything except a life on road?" she asked him. He did not seem to know how to answer that, and so she went on, "It's not so bad, to be honest. I've often dreamed of being so free – to go where and when I want. I was never much of a lady to begin with, so when I was younger it was an escape of sorts, to imagine just leaving the courts and high society behind. And now I have done that with you. Wandering with the one I love... there are worse ways to spend one's time, don't you think?"
Her words had brought a smile back on her horselord's face.
"You do have a way of making your point irresistible", he told her. "And I must say the idea of going wherever we want to go is an attractive one."
"We could even go all the way to the western shores of Middle-earth! Legolas told me once that on the western coast there is an ancient Elven haven. It was built there a long time ago when Númenor was still young. Well, the great kingdom of Men of the West is gone, but that haven still stands. Legolas said that when they grow weary of mortal lands, the Elves travel there, and from that haven they pass into the West", she said. The idea was somehow bittersweet, but she chased it away and smiled at the man beside her, "Maybe we could travel there too, and bargain a passage for ourselves."
A faint smile touched his face and in his eyes some humour appeared.
"For you they would probably even give it", he said softly, "but I am just a man."
"You're not just a man, beloved", she informed him. "And they don't deserve you anyway. Let them keep their grey ships."
He harrumphed at that quietly and pulled her into a kiss, snaking his arm around her. When the kiss had ended Éomer rested his cheek against hers, and for a while they sat there side by side, feeling nothing but peace.
After a moment of silence he spoke again, his voice very low: "I must have been out of my mind, thinking there was any way I could be without you."
"Hmm. Let us call it temporary insanity", she murmured and in agreement he made a soft sound at the back of his throat.
They did not make haste that morning. Instead, breakfast was eaten in peace and quiet, and afterwards they cleared up the site of their camp. No pursuers had made an appearance yet, and Lothíriel took this for a sign Aragorn had pulled some threads to give them a chance to go. Father had not sent anyone looking for her after she had run away with her friends to seek Éomer, but she'd have understood if he now insisted she come home. She did not think for one moment that the time they had spent on the road had not been difficult for her family as well. Leaving them behind again without a word was the one thing she regretted... but even then, it was clear to her what she had to do.
After all, her beloved needed her much more than her family did... and she felt that here she could do much more good than if she spent her days idling in Dol Amroth.
Morning was growing late when they returned to the road. They did not exactly travel with any fixed destination in mind, but they roughly followed the road that made for Linhir, a town on the coast where rivers Gilrain and Serni joined together. Nights they spent under the bare sky or perhaps a farm, if they were able to find a local friendly enough to offer them a place in their stables and homesteads. The first night they spent in the stable of a small farm Lothíriel had hard time muffling her giggles as they settled down for rest.
"I just keep imagining what the poor man and his wife would say if they knew who are sleeping in their stables", she sniggered to Éomer when she had curled up against him. He didn't bother opening his eyes but he scoffed softly.
"If you told them, they'd take you for a liar or a madwoman", he muttered sleepily. She decided he was right about that... and perhaps it was for the better.
The days went by road. The two travellers did not make haste on their way, and at any rate without a destination it would have been pointless. Sometimes they would ride hours for a time without speaking a word, sometimes they'd become so focused in their talks and stories that they'd even forget to stop and enjoy some food by the side of the road.
There were also moments that did not recall the past. One particularly warm day came, as though the summer had returned for a little while more. They stopped by a pond in the woods, long before the sunset, and as soon as they had cared for the horses and set up camp, Lothíriel ran into the water throwing off her clothes away as she went. He joined her soon after, and even let her to lure him into a carefree and playful mood – which resulted in a lot of splashing and shrieking. But then he pulled her close in the water and what followed was light and tender and beautiful.
They spent the evening and the night there by the pond, and as Lothíriel watched some bread bake on hot stones Éomer sat by the banks washing their clothes. They saw some special effort for the supper that night, and after the moon had risen he asked her to join him for a midnight swim. It was perhaps the happiest both of them had been ever since she had found him.
Eventually they reached the town of Linhir, and seeing they had to buy some provisions Lothíriel suggested she would take care of that while he waited outside the town. But Éomer shook his head and frowned.
"I can't hide from people forever, Lothíriel. And in any case I should like to have a smith take a look at your horse's shoes", he told her firmly. She knew she had to trust him, and also show him that she did, and so she didn't try to change his mind. She kissed and embraced him and promised to meet him once she had picked up the provisions.
Still, when they parted at the markets Lothíriel did feel uneasy – he had not been far ever since they had found him, and letting him out of her sight brought her some rather anxious thoughts on how he might disappear again. But Éomer was right: he could not hide endlessly. In fact, refusing to face people would most likely only hinder his recovery, and it was good that he was not insisting to stay behind. It was more than that, though. She too would have to learn to let him try his wings on his own.
His well-being was not the only thing that concerned her that day, for as they had made way through the town and arrived to the markets she felt the fear of being recognised. What if someone realised the two of them were not just any travellers? And yet, as they made way and passed by the common folk inhabiting this town, no one looked at them twice. So she felt reassured enough when she came to the markets, looking for the things they'd need on their travels. Aragorn had been generous in providing her with currency, making sure it would be a while before they'd have to consider where to acquire more gold. But just to be safe Lothíriel tried to be prudent with their money. Well, they could always become sellswords, which was a strangely attractive idea in all its absurdity.
But then, just after she had got the last of the provisions she had come for, all thoughts of everyday matters like food and coin suddenly left her mind. For as she was starting to make for the small clearing with a well where she had agreed to meet Éomer, she suddenly came across a familiar face.
The woman before her was one of the ladies of southern Gondor, and though she could not remember her name Lothíriel did know her face. Dislike as she might the formal gatherings in the court of Dol Amroth, she had participated in a fair amount of them – and the inevitable part of those gatherings was socialising with people whose minds and thoughts couldn't be more different from her own. This lady before her had often been there in the courts of Prince Imrahil, and as Lothíriel stared at her she felt terrified: she knows me, she has seen me... and if they realise I'm here they will know Éomer is here too...
However, her terror passed almost as quickly as it had come. The lady before her frowned, glaring hard at her.
"Make way, peasant! Watch where you're going!" she snapped coldly... and Lothíriel was so astonished that she could not even muster proper offence when one of the lady's guards pushed her aside. Instead, all she could was just stare at the woman, processing what had just happened.
She doesn't know me.
It took a long moment for her to be able to move again. When she did, she felt like something of a sleepwalker – so deep was her shock. The lady must have seen her a hundred times, and yet... yet she had not known her.
Éomer was already waiting for her where they had agreed to meet. He was again hooded and cloaked, and though he appeared somewhat tense she knew all had gone well. However, when she approached him and their horses, he looked at her and appeared to immediately recognise that something was on her mind.
"Are you all right? Did something happen?" he asked in concern when she came.
"No. All is well. It's just..." she mumbled, unsure of how to speak of this. "I'll explain later. Let us get out of here."
Her horselord did not ask more, though she sensed his uneasiness. Even so he helped her to load the provisions on their horses, and as soon as that was done they mounted and made for the road again.
They did not speak, not until long after Linhir had fallen behind and he suggested they make camp for the night. To this task they attended in silence, and only when the horses been looked after and supper was cooking over the camp fire, Lothíriel looked properly at Éomer.
"Back at the markets of Linhir", she started slowly, "I saw this noble lady. I don't remember her name, but I've seen her countless times in my father's courts. I walked right into her, and she... she looked at me. But she did not know me."
He listened quietly; when she had started to speak, he had looked worried, but that expression fell from his features quickly enough. Lothíriel went on, her voice slightly doubtful now, "It got me to thinking. If someone who has seen me many times... what do I even look like? Have I become a complete stranger?"
Her beloved moved closer to her then and considered her solemnly.
"I do not think I'm the person you should ask that question, because I always regard you with the love I have for you, but... Lothíriel, perhaps you look different than you used to. Your hair is shorter and your clothes are not those a high-born lady would wear. People like this lady you speak of... they rarely see those they take for common folk. And perhaps for now it is for the better. If someone recognised you, that might turn out ill for us", he said at length. Worrying her lip, Lothíriel thought he was probably right about it, and yet it troubled her.
"Perhaps it just proves that I was never meant to be a princess. That somewhere along the way fates got confused and put me in a place I don't belong", she muttered half-audibly as she stared down at her hands. But then, ever so gently, her beloved lifted up her face.
"You are being foolish, dear one", Éomer said steadily. "None of these things, gowns and other such nonsense, truly make a princess."
He leaned closer to kiss her, but when that kiss ended he remained close. He continued, "Perhaps you're partly right, though. Perhaps you never were a princess... do you know why that is?"
"Why?" Lothíriel asked, confused as to what he meant. But he smiled.
"Because it is a queen I see in you. Maybe your hair is short now and you wear breeches, and maybe you are now in wandering, but you have the spirit and the heart of a true queen. And nobody, not fates or any mortal or immortal thing, decides where you belong. That is your own choice, and yours only."
He kissed her again, and then rested his forehead against hers. When he spoke, his voice was very soft, "And had you not been born the daughter of Imrahil, then... would I ever have met you?"
She cradled his face between her hands and spoke fiercely: "Yes. Because I would find you, no matter what. I will always find you."
"Aye. And that is the only reason I am still alive", he murmured. "The life of the King lies in the hands of the Queen..."
Lothíriel was not certain how it had happened, but he had taken away the doubts that had gnawed at her heart. And it was not only a hopeful thing, but it also brought relief and joy. He was supporting her, just as she did her best to support him.
It was as though a stone fell from her heart and she smiled at the man sitting next to her. We'll be all right.
Perhaps it was that conversation and the feeling of closeness they shared on the night after travelling through Linhir, because her doubt was not the only thing to unravel. For after they had eaten supper, Éomer exited the camp for a while, and he returned with enough firewood to last through the night. Then he sat by the camp fire again and looked at her, and in his eyes there was something that held her still and quiet.
"Dear one", he spoke up, "would you come and sit with me?"
She did so, settling beside him. Quietly, he gathered her hands between his own and considered them in silence for a while. But at last he began to speak, his voice soft and his words slow.
"The day we left the camp in the south was a hot one", he started, and Lothíriel held her breath, for she knew what tale he was now telling her. And indeed, he continued: "Do you remember the heat, Lothíriel? The way it seeps into your very bones? Firefoot had been on an uneasy mood, and especially so when we entered that valley. We wanted to make haste, you see. I thought Éowyn was sick, and I had to... I was scared of losing her, and it was so easy to remember the despair and horror I had felt on the Fields of Pelennor, when I thought she was dead. I don't know if Sapat even realised just how perfect a way it was to use Éowyn in order to get me into his trap... if I close my eyes, I can still see that valley before me..."
It was not before midday that they moved again, riding ahead towards the unknown. The lateness of their departure was because of the last night: the sun had set and night had come, and then grown old... but the two travellers had not sought sleep.
For even as the hours had passed by they had sat by the fire, and Éomer had told Lothíriel what had happened in the south, from the fateful day he had been captured and all the way to the desperate stand he had made on the hill-top near Sapat's camp. And he hid no detail from her, but spoke plainly of all the evil things he had endured up until the hopeless moment he had resigned himself to death.
She did not interrupt him, not even once during the tale. Perhaps she felt it would somehow take away this moment of confidence... perhaps she had felt she just had to let him get it out, all of it.
Before, Éomer had doubted if he could ever speak of it out loud. But that night, seeing how she sought to lean on him, something had changed.
Maybe it was because looking at her, he understood at last, though in a way it felt like he was just seeing something that had been staring him in the face all along. He realised he could be like this, yet he could also trust it would not change her heart. She had told him that he was hers, and that was true. And so the truth of what had happened to him belonged to her as well.
But it went the other way around, too. As he was hers, so she was his. She'd love him anyway, would stand by him no matter what. And because it was her, it was all right. Before her he didn't have to hide or pretend anything.
He'd have hated to reveal the scars, this weakness, to anyone else. He'd have loathed to let anyone else to carry him the way she did.
But this was Lothíriel. This was his Lioness, and for her he'd do anything – be anything.
For her, he could be weak... for now. One day, he'd be strong for her as well.
One day he'd become again that man she had fallen in love with, for in her eyes he was made whole.
A/N: Here is a new chapter a bit early, because I'm about to have a holiday, and I'm not sure I'd have had time to update later. Hope you liked this chapter!
So, Imrahil now knows his daughter has left again, but I'm afraid we will have to wait until the next chapter to see what is his reaction to this development. Also we see Elfhelm being impatient and trying to rouse his friends, but I believe Erkenbrand and Gamling would be prudent about the matter - they don't want to give Feran an excuse to imprison them, because they believe they need to stay free and prepare for when Éomer returns so that they can help him and stand behind him, if Ferans decides to act difficult. However, they don't know that presently Éomer is not thinking of coming home.
Many of you have expressed your wish to see more of Ceolwen. I considered adding a bit with her to this chapter but it didn't seem to fit structurally, but I promise she'll be back in the next chapter!
From the reviews to the previous chapter I got the sense that people seemed to think this wandering road Éomer and Lothíriel have taken would not be a smooth one, but I felt that this unrestricted freedom, complete with the knowledge he doesn't have to go anywere or be anything would ease his anxiety. Moreover, it gives some time for the two of them all alone, and this further brings them closer - even to the point where he finally opens up to Lothíriel and tells her everything that happened in the south. But it is important for her as well. For one, she's now learning she doesn't have to bear all the burdens alone, but also that she needs to trust him and let him try out his wings again. At any rate I can say this is a direction I was meaning to go from the beginning.
Thank you for reading and reviewing!
Quote in the beginning originally by Albert Camus
Inspiration for the chapter: MONA - Stand By Me
MairaElleth - Oh, he is definitely thoughtless about the matter but that's because he's Lothíriel's brother. We don't always see things clearly when we are concerned about those we love. Rationally he may know she can handle herself, but on emotional level he still feels the duty of an older brother to look after his little sister.
Also glad to hear you approve of my writing choices! :) I knew it was bold move, so getting support is nice.
Thalia - Well, he doesn't act that way for the sake of being a jerk. His intentions are good, though he might not see the situation clearly. People are that way sometimes.
Maybe this sojourn is actually doing some good to both Éomer and Lothíriel, and whether the news from Rohan will find them soon... well, wait and see. :)
The Hare and the Otter - Booty-kicking times may have to wait for a bit still. ;)
Bowmaiden - In the end Lothíriel's own choice is what matters, but who doesn't have relatives who think it's their business as well? :D Of course a lot of what Erchirion said is nonsense, but he believes it's justified. As for what Imrahil will say to this, I'm thinking we'll see that in the next chapter!
Shadowstorm - I'm thinking on writing more on Éowyn's thoughts on the matter, maybe in the next chapter. We'll see what she'll do now. And Imrahil's reaction will indeed be revealed soon!
Starlight - Thank you for your compliments! Truly warms my heart. :)
Talia119 - Hopefully this chapter answers more to that wish, because presently I think our lovers are actually pretty happy. Plus now they're dealing with issues that the looming prospect of going home had prevented them from doing. Sorry to have made you drink!
Elealyon - Thank you for your comment! I must say I've missed your reviews, because they're always so insightful that they make me reconsider my writing from new point of views. Glad to have you back!
Of course your initial thoughts were justified, but I am very happy to hear that the story was able to explain itself to you. :) Also your comments on Opash even kind of make me wish I might have gone a different way about him.
I can't tell you how glad it makes me to hear that I have been able to create characters and choices and consequences that feel real. That has always been an important factor for me, and especially here in this story that makes use of so many bold devices and turns.
Indeed, if only the reality would take care of itself and we could concentrate on writing and reading only! :D
Wondereye - I would not say that making the decision to leave was neither really easy or hard for Éomer - it's just the decision he needs to make. In the place he presently is not many things make sense to him, but this one thing does. Of course, it's not a flawless choice, but choices rarely are so in my stories. And when you regard his decision you need to consider that he's not making it as an entirely stable person. As to what do lost people want to do... who can really say? I don't think it's so simple – especially when you take to consideration what it would mean to him. It would not be just a random guy going home, because he is the crowned King of Rohan and it is very likely someone would recognise him. That is an important factor in his choice. He does miss the Mark, as he thinks to himself during the riding trip, but he also believes that going home equals returning to the throne, and he doesn't think he can deal with that right now.
Emily - Oh, this story is everything but done yet! And the road of wandering might be smoother than one thinks. :) And yes, I must confess I have a thing for tormenting my characters and my readers. :D
As for Ceolwen, I can't really say anything without spoilers, but I promise she'll return in the next chapter! Here's more Elfhelm at least - I must say he's turning out rather enjoyable character to write.
Éothain remains still in the Wold, as he can't exactly leave without harming his family. Whether he'll see his family again will remain to be seen!