I have named you queen
There are taller than you, taller
There are purer than you, purer
There are lovelier than you, lovelier
But you are the queen
- Skalkisham of Umbar


Chapter 49

If the situation in the realm had been any other, Éothain was quite certain he'd easily have sat entire weeks with Elva on his good knee and little Getrúwian resting in the crook of his arm, and he'd be watching Scýne at all hours of day. His daughter clung on him in a way that implied she too would have been entirely happy with this arrangement, just as his wife. After their long separation he felt like he could not get enough of the presence of his family. Far as he could see, Elva wasn't frightened of the maimed thing he had become; the sad truth was she had seen men crippled in war before, and did not seem to mind it had happened to her father as well – her only complaint was he couldn't chase after her anymore like he used to. Scýne spoke no word of the matter either, as she too knew the horrors of war all too well. Altogether Éothain could almost pretend the world had returned to its right path.

But this was a dream for a peaceful time, and the realm had nothing of the sort. Not long after his arrival in Astdun a trickle of news had come from the western parts of the realm, until the trickle had become a river and a flood. Now each day saw more men taking a stop at Astdun and then riding westwards. Out there his king was in the middle of what worryingly looked like a civil strife. And Éothain was not a man to quietly sit through it: one could cut a leg but they couldn't cut responsibility, or his duty to his lord and king.

When he talked to Scýne about it and said he should head back and join again his king, she frowned and shook her head.

"What more does the man require of you? Surely you have earned the right to stay with your family?" she asked him, sounding dismayed.

"I've been riding with Éomer since we were both young lads. And I've been his second in command since the day he was made captain", Éothain replied solemnly. "Even as I came here I did not do it relinquishing my duty, nor have I been relieved of it by the King. I must go and do what I can to help him."

Scýne pursed her lips and looked unhappy, but she didn't say more. She had been with him too long to try and argue him on this... and just like any Rider's woman, she knew the meaning of the oaths they had taken.

Fate is a strange thing however, and even as he planned returning to the service of his friend and king, his daughter ran into the room. Elva's eyes were ablaze with excitement.

"Da! Da! I saw an Elf coming! A real Elf! And there are princes and the White Lady!"

"What?!"


The night was dark, for the Moon and stars were behind a veil of clouds whispering of more snow. Lothíriel was hoping against it – waging war was not ideal in such conditions, and she knew everyone were thinking of their own warm homes and beds. The overall mood in the muster of the King was hopeful and determined, but there were moments when all of them had to deal with homesickness.

The quiet was tangible. Even the horses were completely silent, awaiting their masters' command. These were Rohirric warhorses and she had spent enough time with Eorlingas not to feel much wonder, but she still considered years to come – if they survived this strife, that was – would be full of learning about the Mark, her people, and her horses.

At last a sound pierced the silence. A horse in full gallop was coming from the western side, descending into the dale below. Alger was the one riding, seeing he was lighter and faster than most of the company. She could see him pressed against the neck of his horse, his hair flowing behind him as he raced before his pursuers. She shifted anxiously in her saddle and her horse tossed his head, but a gentle touch of her hand calmed him down. It wasn't the time yet.

"Wait for it..." Éomer whispered, resting hands on the neck of Silfren; the stallion stood absolutely still, but his form emanated explosive power that would be unleashed any moment now.

Then they came, flooding down the hill Alger had only just descended. Quickly she counted ten riders and was reassured. The same amount were in hiding here, and Elfhelm had ten more on the next hill, between which the dale fell. It was only minutes now.

But then she saw one of the riders reaching for his bow. In seconds she had her own drawn and ready.

"Sire", she spoke softly – this was a site of war and he was the leader, and tender closeness of first names did not belong here. "May I release?"

Alger's life could just depend on it, if the pursuer was a decent archer. And to her knowledge Rohirrim often were, having trained to use their bows horseback and shoot at moving targets.

"Very well", Éomer said grudgingly. Alger's life was indeed more valuable than any edge they might acquire by waiting a minute or two more. Wasting no time she released her arrow, which flew swift and precise; there was a scream in the night as Alger's would-be killer dropped his bow and gripped his injured hand. She had not aimed to kill, as this was not meant to be slaughter. Her king wanted to spare as many lives as he could.

"Forþ Eorlingas!" called Éomer – it was a sign not only to the men with him, but also to Elfhelm on the next hill.

Silfren leaped. It seemed to Lothíriel his coat gathered what light there was in the night and reflected it, glimmering like a silver flame in the darkness. And the horses of the riders immediately followed the stallion's lead, galloping after him down the hill. To Silfren it looked effortless, almost like he was holding back his true speed and power. Indeed, it was well-fitting that the King of the Mark should ride this stallion. Like he lead the people, his steed lead the horses.

As they fell upon the foes Lothíriel let her bow sing. The rush of battle was on her, flooding through her veins like fire. But her arrows were not meant to kill. Éomer had insisted they give the enemies they would encounter a chance to repent. Like the men Feran had sent to look for them and those under Colborn's command, these might just as well want to join him when they saw the living proof of their King's return.

Elfhelm came from the other side and the underking's patrol was crushed as though between hammer and anvil. The timing, however, had not been perfect as she had surmised when shooting her arrow to save Alger's life. One rider shot out from the skirmish and sped into the night.

"Sire! Do we pursue?" Elfhelm yelled to his king as they met in the middle.

"No. Let the traitor know what is waiting for him", Éomer answered, looking about the scene of battle. Feran's riders were already defeated; some moaned and groaned with their injuries, and several had effectively dropped their weapons as they stared at the Lord of the Mark in dread and wonder. As she collected her arrows, Lothíriel heard one of them whispering to his friend: "It's true! The stories are true!"

There were, however, two men lying dead on the ground. They could very well hope to do this with as little bloodshed as possible, but even so she knew it was a vain hope to think no one would get killed.

"Riders", her husband spoke up then, his voice stark and strong, "I do not know what reason might have lead you into following the man called Feran. I don't care either, as long as you are willing to repent and swear your allegiance to the throne of the Mark. However if you reject, know that I will not hesitate to treat you as I would treat any traitor of the realm."

His words had the lot immediately falling on their knees, and Lothíriel witnessed the now familiar oath of allegiance: To the Riddermark I pledge my life and to the King I give my sword, to fight and to defend, to serve and to follow, until my dying day...


Soon after sunrise they arrived in a the village of Cwengifu some ten leagues east of Edoras. The sky had cleared during the late hours of the night and it looked like they would be averting snow indeed, for which she at least was happy.

There were already people out, going about their labours, but at the arrival of the band all of them seemed to forget everything else. It seemed each pair of eyes were now on the group of riders – and especially on the Rider in the front.

Silence reigned, at least until they were half-way to the well of the village, located in the middle clearing, where they hoped to water their horses after the long ride. For a bright child's voice called out: "Look, Ma! Eorl is riding!"

There was the little girl, pointing finger at the tall man on the silver horse. But Éomer took off his helmet – plain compared to the shining horsetail helmet he had lost – and smiled down at the child.

"I'm not Eorl, lass", he spoke, strong but friendly. Voices rose, some in wonder, some in joy, and some in fear. One lad actually flew from the scene, probably thinking he was seeing a ghost. But a few dared to come closer, and one old woman reached to touch Éomer's hand, like she was checking if he truly were there in the flesh. He reached for her hand in turn. "Peace, mistress. You behold a living man."

"Éomer King!" she sputtered and tears filled her eyes, "Éomer King!"

It did not take long for the word to reach every ear in the village, and as the King's Company was busy watering the horses, Éomer himself was surrounded by a crowd of his people. All of them seemed to want to touch him to make sure he was really here, and others were asking many questions. But what surprised Lothíriel were the mothers of young babes; they offered their children to the King, asking him to put his hands on them.

Elfhelm, who had been standing close to her, noticed the puzzled look on her face. He offered her a water-skin he had filled, which she accepted, though if she was thirsty she couldn't really tell. She was far too busy watching her husband finally be among the common folk of his land. They still loved him and regarded him their lord, that she could see. Yet there was something bewildering about the scene as well.

"They think he died indeed", he said quietly to Lothíriel, glancing at her briefly, "but rose again to fight the usurper. They believe there is a blessing in his hands, carried into this world from beyond."

"They actually think that?" she asked with some surprise. Now the Marshal turned to look at her properly.

"What would you think if you didn't know better?" he asked back. "It is not every day those taken for dead come back."

That was quite a valid point and she fell quiet. Elfhelm smiled and patted her shoulder. He turned to look at the King of the Mark again. Silfren had come to him and people had made him way; there was laughter as the horse nuzzled the head of one young girl with his sensitive lips.

"This is only the beginning", he said, his voice soft and light. "The Mark will know... and the Mark will remember."

Alger called to him then, and Elfhelm went to speak with the young rider. Soon as he was gone Lothíriel became aware of a pair of eyes staring at her. She turned to see a young girl some feet away from her and felt surprised. She'd have thought all attention of the villagers would solely be on the King returned.

"Hello there", she greeted the girl, who boldly met her gaze.

"Are you a Shieldmaiden?" the little one asked. The question made Lothíriel smile.

"I never saw any in Gondor, so I don't know if I qualify", she replied good-humouredly. The girl frowned at this and was quiet for a while, looking like she was trying to comprehend why there wouldn't be any Shieldmaidens in the south.

"What are you then?" she asked. Lothíriel showed her the Elven bow.

"I am an archer", said the young queen. The girl nodded, her face showing her satisfaction with the answer. Apparently being an archer was as good as being a Shieldmaiden.

It was then Alger arrived.

"Lady Queen, your horse has been watered", he informed her, and she gave him thanks with a smile. But then as she turned back towards the girl she had been talking with, she noticed the wide-eyed look on the lass' face.

"Are you really the Queen?" she asked in wonder.

"Aye, I am. Éomer King is my husband", Lothíriel replied. Hearing that, the girl made a clumsy little curtsy at her.

"Honour to meet you, milady", said the girl with more grace one might have expected from a little village-born thing like her. She gave Lothíriel a hopeful look, "Could you show me your archery, milady?"

"I would like that, but I'm afraid our company must soon leave again", said the young queen apologetically. Indeed, there was a bustle about the riders indicating they were nearly done. Nevertheless she offered a smile to the girl, "When times are more convenient, you must come visit me in Edoras. Then I will show you."

The lass beamed happily and curtsied again. Then a nod from Elfhelm alarmed her it was time to move.

The Marshal pushed through the crowd to his king.

"My lord, we must depart", he spoke and his words roused some disappointed groans and protests among the people of the village. However Lothíriel knew it was crucial they did not linger for too long. After the battle of last night Feran could very well send riders after them, and though she had faith most of the men serving him would repent when seeing Éomer, she also knew they had to be careful. There was always a chance Feran's folk would not abandon the false lord, even if they were given the most tangible proof that the true king was very much alive.

So the company took their horses again, rising to their saddles, and taking their positions. The villagers knew to make way but they remained on sides, watching the company make ready, and asking them to be back again soon. Then at Éomer's command Silfren started forward and the rest followed, riding in pairs after the Lord of the Mark. Lothíriel smiled to the young girl she had been talking to and she grinned as she waved at the Queen. And as they rode, many voices sent them on their way: "Ferthu Éomer hal, Árisen and Éadig!"


They returned to the camp by late afternoon, passing through an opening in the between of rows of tall, sharpened stakes which should make sure no riding assault could be made upon this place so easily. On the way they had met a band of scouts and another battle had commenced, and so by the time they reached their destination, all the company was tired and yearning for a hot meal. It was a sizeable settlement by now, and remained still untouched by Feran and his folk, which Lothíriel thought was a sign the traitor was not yet ready for a confrontation. On the other hand she didn't know for sure if her King's company was ready either. But soon they would have to be.

At their arrival Ceolwen came to greet them, having returned from her errand while the King's Company had been away. Arric came with her - poor lad had been very disappointed to be left behind in the camp. She cast a smile to Elfhelm but then concentrated on the Lord of the Mark.

"My lord, welcome back. I trust all went well?" she asked, glancing about the new faces in the group. Those were men who had given up Feran and sworn to follow their rightful king instead.

"Aye. The traitor should soon grow very nervous", Éomer commented wryly, dismounting Silfren and patting the stallion's neck. "What of your trip?"

"It was very successful, my lord", Ceolwen replied. "I was able to persuade the eastern lords I visited. Most of them were suspicious towards the rumours of your return, but they took my word for it and rode here with the Riders of their own households. Sire, they are expecting to see you, and I thought maybe you'd like to meet them all together?"

Lothíriel spied the tired look on her husband's face. She knew the most he'd have liked to do was look after Silfren, have something to eat, and soon as he had seen to the running matters and received reports from scouts and of the camp's comings and goings, he'd have asked her to come to bed with him for a couple of hours of rest.

However, he voiced none of that.

"Very well. But first I must take care of Silfren and get cleaned up. The lords must wait for a while", Éomer said. Ceolwen bowed.

"Of course, Sire", she said and looked at Arric, "Laddie, go and tell the lords waiting that the King will soon be seeing them."

"Aye, my lady!" Arric said as he bowed, and Lothíriel smiled hearing the "milady" replaced; either someone had been teaching the lad or he had been picking up things himself. The latter would not have surprised her at all.

The boy sped away and Ceolwen turned to greet Elfhelm, who was grinning at her like there was some joke he couldn't wait to tell her. The sight made Lothíriel smile - it was good to see them both so happy.

Soon as Éomer had given orders to his riders, Lothíriel moved to his side and tiptoed to kiss him.

"Everything fine, beloved?" she asked.

"Aye. It has simply been a very long day", he told her quietly and returned the kiss. She gave him a wry smile.

"Oh, I know. I'm simply going on willpower by now", she said, making him smile as well. "It will be a wonder if I don't fall asleep at the meeting."

"I hope not at least. I do not think they are expecting their new queen to snore her way through it... especially since it is the first time you will appear before the lords of the realm as the Queen of the Mark", he told her, cupping her face with his hand. The thought made her shiver slightly.

"I'll have to ask if Ceolwen can lend me anything more proper than a chain-mail", she muttered.

"Hmm. I'm not opposed to you appearing in chain-mail..." said her husband, capturing her lips with his one more time. These public shows of affection roused no more curiosity among the riders as holding his hand would have. Ceolwen had said the most they might think or say was it was good their king had a wife he loved. It was truly a different world here in the Mark.

"You should be. It's much easier to undress me of a tunic than a chain-mail", she told him sweetly, winked at him, and then made way back to her own horse, to collect her gear from the saddlebags. Even so, she couldn't help but glance at her beloved over her shoulder, and feel self-satisfaction at the way he watched her.

Who would have known being so possessed by a simple gaze could feel so good?


The sunset was at hand when Éomer was at last ready to meet his lords. Both him and his wife had quickly eaten and washed, and Ceolwen had been able to find for Lothíriel nothing less than a split skirt and a bodice, which garments were not a commodity in the camp. The Shieldmaiden had also worked some magic on his Queen's hair by making it into an elaborate work of braids. Lothíriel wore no jewellery, not beyond her betrothal ring which she had carried with her through all the dangers, but then again her smile was the only adornment she really needed, and he thought the shine of her eyes surpassed all Elven jewels.

They met the Eorling nobles in a pavilion prepared for this very purpose; he had been rather surprised to hear such a thing had been brought from Aldburg. But then, a camp that kept growing also appeared to be collecting all sorts of objects. The arrival of the eastern lords had certainly swollen the site and required many changes to the outlay of it.

The crowd inside stood up on their feet when the King and Queen of the Mark stepped in. As they entered trailed by Elfhelm, Ceolwen, Arric acting as a page, and several guards, Éomer saw a few doubtful faces turn into wonder. He was rather used to that reaction already and was hoping he would soon see the last of it. One could understand the surprise but at this point he wondered how much longer it would take for the news to spread and to convince his people.

Side by side with Lothíriel he made for the end of the pavilion, where two chairs waited for them. Those were not quite the thrones as the one in Meduseld, but they would do for now. Once he was seated Lothíriel sat down as well beside him – a picture of regal grace. He had never before seen her assuming such grace and dignity but he did not wonder. These past days he had witnessed her truly becoming the Queen of the Riddermark.

A deep hush still remained over the scene, and Éomer glanced about to take a silent note of which lords had come. He was rather happy to see most of the noblemen from the East-Mark with only few faces missing. The curious, expectant looks revealed they were waiting for him to talk, and he briefly cleared his throat for a speech.

"My lords", he spoke up at last, "I thank you for paying heed to Lady Ceolwen's words and riding here to meet me. It is good to see so many familiar faces here. Sadly it is not Meduseld we are in now, but for the reasons you probably know, this will have to do for the time being."

He looked around again, "I trust Lady Ceolwen has already explained you the events of late, so I will not repeat the story here. Even so, I would like to introduce you to my lady wife, Lothíriel Queen, who sits tonight beside me. In time you will learn the tale of how her bravery allowed me to come back, but for now I would have you know she is the reason the Riddermark still has a living king. I expect my people to show her respect accordingly."

His words raised a soft murmur among the lords and many of their gazes fell on Lothíriel. Her smile did not falter at the looks and she met the stares calmly.

"Now, before things may go back to normal and the realm can be at peace once more, there remains still the matter of Feran the traitor", Éomer spoke, which roused some agreeing mutters. "Lady Ceolwen has told me of the unlawful way the usurper tried to take her inheritance from her. I am certain many of you have similar stories, or have been offered land in turn for your support. It is quite clear what this means. If Feran is not dealt with he will only continue this way, and soon it will be your homes and holdings he is giving to any who might agree to follow him – worse yet, in the light of news from the West-Mark I fear he may be promising your lands, those you inherited from your fathers and forefathers and were won by the blood of the Éothéod, to the Dunlendings he has allied with."

The words roused the outrage he had expected, but those words were more than just an instigation to righteous fury. The amount of land was not endless, and the traitor must have promised something to persuade the Dunlending warriors into breaking their oath of never crossing the Isen again. After all, the hostilities between Eorlingas and Dunlendings had always centred on the fertile land which had once been a part of Gondor.

"We can't let that happen! We must protect our homes and our families!" exclaimed one of the lords, which roused many voices in agreement. Éomer rose, and so did his wife. He regarded the men about the tent, knowing he could count on them.

"Then we must make ready for war. It is high time things were put right again."

With those words, he knew he had them.

When drinks were served, the atmosphere was calmed somewhat but Éomer knew his lords well; though they may be quiet now, there was no doubt they would ride with him. Eorlingas, no matter how great or small their home might be, loved their hearths and hills of their birth. And they would fight for these fiercely.

Soon, however, he learned they might be ready to fight for even more than just their own homes. For as he was conversing with an elderly lord from the East-Mark – a distant relative from his father's side – several of the nobles approached Éomer suddenly. He turned to face them inquisitively, wondering what was on their mind.

"Sire", began the one who was apparently their spokesman. "There is something we would like to speak of with you, if you will."

"Of course", he replied, regarding the bunch of three before him. They shared a glance between themselves, and then their leader cleared his throat.

"My lord, we were wondering if you had yet given thought to the ordering of the realm. After the traitor has been dealt with, that is. You see, there should be a lot of land and goods remaining after him and his crows", he started, his tone appealing. "Myself, and these two laddies here, happen to have some kin in the West-Mark, so perhaps it would be right if we were given -"

"Higerof!" called another voice suddenly, and Éomer was slightly surprised to notice just how closely the conversation was being followed: "You and your holdings have grown quite fat enough! I on the other hand -"

It was a downhill from there. Shouting and arguing started immediately, and never had he felt quite so disappointed as when watching the chaos unfold before him. Who were these people? What had happened to them while he had been gone?

"ENOUGH!"

The silence fell almost as quickly as the quarrel had started. Deep it felt, and when a glass dropped somewhere, the noise was as though swallowed by the quiet following his roar. Every single pair of eyes in the pavilion was on him and not a few of them regarded him in alarm. Éomer met those stares as firmly and coldly as he possibly could. When he spoke again, it was not in such mighty bellows, but his voice did not lack in sternness.

"This is not a question for tonight. Distribution of lands, horses and other goods will not be discussed before the day Feran the traitor has been dealt with and I am in Meduseld with my queen. The traitor will receive what is due, but before the crown detains and redistributes a single square of land, I am going to investigate each case separately, and those who are serving him but are willing to repent shall not be treated like him. Tonight I will not hear more of this."

The silence remained in the pavilion and all eyes were on Éomer. He guarded his face but let several of those faces before him feel the force of his gaze, and many were the eyes that turned away. Then Lothíriel came to his side again but she spoke no word as she lay a hand on his arm... it wasn't to calm, but to console.

It was then, as this silence continued, that there was movement at the entrance of the tent, and a guard came in, escorted by Arric. Speedily they made way through the crowd towards Éomer, and the look of alarm had the King gritting his teeth to brace for the news.

"What is it, Rider?" he asked, somehow managing to keep the weariness from his voice.

"My lord, the scouts just returned. They say there have been orc attacks in the East-Mark."


Things proceeded fast from the arrival of those tidings. Lothíriel knew her husband well enough to recognise the shadow as it appeared in his eyes before he veiled it. But then he was in control again and he began to bark orders, and the effect was immediate. The crowd electrified and all petty concerns were put aside. In an hour from now the King and two éoreds would ride out.

It was in their tent, when he was readying for yet another sortie and donning on his gear, that she had an opportunity to speak with him.

"Do you think it is very serious? I thought orcs were finished", she said worriedly as she worked over the buckles of the chest plate brought to him from Aldburg. It did not fit him quite as well as the old one and it had been necessary for an armour smith to loosen it up for him somewhat, but it was the best these conditions could offer.

"It's going to be many years still before they are finished for good", Éomer muttered darkly. "Many of them have fled into the wild places... they are perhaps not strong, but right now they don't need to be. They must have heard rumours of what is going on in the Mark. If we were in our usual strength, orcs would not dare to make an appearance. It is no wonder they have seized the opportunity when we are quarrelling among ourselves, and they will keep on pecking at our wounds if our answer is not swift and merciless. This must be taken care of before we have a two-front war before us."

He sighed heavily and his shoulders fell, as did his head.

"This is all my fault. The realm is falling apart..." he mumbled, but even as he spoke she cradled his face with her hands and lifted his face to meet hers.

"There is still a chance to mend it. You mustn't give up now, beloved", Lothíriel told him forcibly. Now a ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"The day I give up is the day you will have to bury me", Éomer said gravely. A chill ran down her spine and to chase it away she reached to kiss him. Gently she murmured those words she had told him before: "Day shall come again."

When she pulled back, she frowned slightly, "I should come with you."

"No. Stay here, dear one. I will have Elfhelm and Deorwine with me... more riders should be arriving and I need you here to receive them in my absence, and I would have someone keeping an eye on those lords before they come up with more ideas about redistribution of land. Lead them, my Lady Lioness", he said quietly. Lothíriel would have liked to argue back but held her silence – she had a feeling he was right.

"Just be careful", she told him and kissed him again.

"Of course", he replied, pulling her close against himself. He rested his head against hers and she clung to him, dreading the moment of his departure.

"Once all this is over", Éomer said in soft tones, "I intend to sleep for an entire week, and I will not be letting you out of our bedchamber."

"You'd better keep that promise", she told him, trying to sound stern but not quite succeeding. "I love you, my King."

"As I love you, my Queen... my hope", he said, kissed her for one last time, and then turned to stride outside. She accompanied him there, ordering her face into a sufficiently determined expression.

Outside his men were already waiting. Silfren was there as well, obviously unbothered by the long ride last night. Briefly she met the stallion's dark eyes, and though she didn't speak the words keep him safe aloud, she felt like Silfren knew what was on her mind.

Then the Lord of the Mark mounted his great silver horse and in the camp around there was something she could only call a stir – she wondered if that was because Rohirrim still weren't used to the sight of the King and the mearas stallion. With Éomer's command the company started for the road, and in an orderly fashion pairs of riders joined it.

Ceolwen halted her by her side, and in silence the two women watched as their men rode out, both sending their hearts with those tall golden-haired riders, and praying for their safe return.

She did not sleep very well that night, and the reason was not lost to Lothíriel. Ever since leaving Pelargir she had not slept without Éomer by her side – she had grown so accustomed to his presence that it had become almost essential to her own rest. Moreover she could not help worrying over him, even though rationally she knew the band of orcs could not be so large as to pose a true threat to such an experienced orc-killer as he was.

After a restless night she joined Ceolwen and Arric for breakfast. She judged her new friend had not slept much better than herself, but the lad had apparently got used to the comings and goings of the camp very quickly. They did not speak of the two men they were missing, however – instead, Lothíriel entertained Ceolwen and Arric with a tale of how Aragorn had got her and Éowyn on board of a smuggler ship. Elfhelm's squire looked like he wasn't sure if he should believe the tale or not.

"Now, laddie, I understand that husband of mine had promised to train you to become a Rider, did he not?" Ceolwen asked then, when they were almost finished eating.

"Aye, my lady. But he has been so busy, there has been no time for any training", said Arric and he frowned.

"The King needs him indeed", Ceolwen said. "But now that they are away, it's not like we can do much else than to wait them. So perhaps you would like to show me and Lothíriel Queen what you can do?"

The boy's face lit up and he nodded eagerly.

"I would love that, my lady!" he said happily.

Soon they were outside and had a ring cleared for some practice. Ceolwen took the first turn with Arric while Lothíriel watched – she wasn't the only observer, as in addition to her guards several other riders stopped by to watch. It didn't take long for her to determine Ceolwen was very gifted with the blade, even if she was just training with a young lad. It looked like Arric wasn't holding a sword for the first time either – his late father must have taught him.

After the first round came Lothíriel's turn. More spectators had arrived to see their Queen wield a sword. As she picked up the blade and its steel kissed Arric's weapon, she was strangely reminded of some afternoons in Minas Tirith... the face of Boromir, the smile dancing on his lips, and his voice as he instructed her. Suddenly there was a burning in her eyes and she had to swallow hard. She hadn't thought of her cousin in some time, as her mind had been bent on other things entirely, but now the memory of him came to her clear as day.

That memory of Boromir shaded her mind, and so when Arric yelled the warning in alarm, she nearly did not turn in time. But perhaps Boromir was there with her in good and ill, for before she could even think she had already jumped around, and the strike of the dagger meant for her neck collided instead with the steel of her blade. She received a kick to her stomach and she stumbled back, but even as she was gasping for air, Ceolwen made her move.

The knife flew, its blade flashed in the sun, and hit the Queen's would-be killer in the middle of his face.

"My lady! Are you all right?" Ceolwen asked, leaping to Lothíriel's side while Arric appeared on the other. One hand she had steadying her queen, but in the other she gripped her sword.

"I'm fine", Lothíriel coughed weakly, still gasping for her breath.

"Protect the Queen!" Ceolwen barked, her ice blue eyes scanning the crowd in search of more murderous villains. Guards fell on them, sheltering the two women and the boy from all sides. Alger was already searching the assassin's pockets – the man had been dead before he fell. Nothing of significance could be found, but the two women were not fooled.

"That usurper must be getting desperate", she growled and glanced about the guards, "I want four men guarding the Queen all times. No one approaches unannounced and unexamined. Is that understood?"

"Aye, my lady", replied the guards in one voice.

"I'm quite all right. You needn't mollycoddle me", Lothíriel said, having at last regained her voice. Her words earned her a glare from the Shieldmaiden.

"Oh, I will mollycoddle you if that's what it takes to keep you safe. Do you have any idea of what the King would do to the lot of us if anything happened to you?" she asked. The young queen groaned.

"I do", she muttered. "I do have some idea."

She searched about with her eyes until she saw Arric, standing close and looking quite startled. The boy had some fast reflexes, seeing how he had jumped to protect her. And he was but a small lad! Elfhelm had truly known what he was doing when he had decided to train this young one.

"Thank you, laddie. I believe you may have just saved my life", she said, which brought a slightly mad grin to the boy's face as he bowed clumsily at her.

"My lady, if I could ask you to come with me. I don't like having you surrounded by so many people just now", Ceolwen said briskly. Lothíriel sighed to herself but did not try to protest. After all, her friend was not wrong to worry. She didn't want to imagine what Éomer would say once he'd hear of this. Be it as may, she wasn't surprised by this event – perhaps it had been only a matter of time some of Feran's ilk would sneak into the camp and try to take her life, or her King's. She could only wonder if Feran even understood how completely it would cripple his opponent if the Queen of the Mark was taken down.

Later that evening Ceolwen reported the incident with the assassin had raised a bout of righteous fury among the riders in the camp. Needless to say they did not like the idea of losing their new queen when they had barely started to get to know her. In the worst case, they might grow suspicious towards each other, and wonder which one of the faces around were those secretly serving the usurper.

"I tried to tell them to calm down, and ordered the captains to keep close watch on the men. We don't need our forces to fall apart fighting each other", she said, shaking her head.

Lothíriel worried her lip as she considered Ceolwen's words, and thought of all the things that had gone wrong since they had taken on this undertaking. Their flight from Harrow, Gamling's death, the orcs raiding the land, and now this... was their attempt to take back Rohan doomed from the start? True, there had been success, but Feran appeared to know just which strings to pull. But she couldn't believe all of it had been for nothing. She couldn't allow herself to think she had made the journey just to see everything fall apart.

Éomer had told her to lead. And lead she would, no matter how difficult.

"Would you like to come with me and make a walk through the camp?" she asked then, standing up. "I shouldn't be hiding here. I think it would help if the men saw me."

Ceolwen sighed and looked somewhat unhappy, but she didn't try to argue with her.

"Very well. It could do them good to see their Queen and know you are all right", she agreed. Nevertheless, she would not hear any objections when she ordered several men to come along.

It did look like the Queen's presence was appreciated in the camp, and wherever they went Riders, both men and women, stoop up to their feet to greet her and smiling at the sight of her. Lothíriel mused she shouldn't perhaps be surprised, but she did feel wonder at seeing many Shieldmaidens had come to the aid of the King. Most were young women who had not yet families of their own, but she did spot a few older as well – widows of the Great War, no doubt.

She shared her smiles readily, asking of this or that matter, and receiving such an amount of introductions and names that she knew she'd not remember even half of them afterwards. Not a single face showed suspicion or aversion towards her, though she was a foreigner; she wondered how much these men and women had heard of what had happened to their king and how he had been able to return. Perhaps it was that in part, but maybe it was also the fact she was dressed just as any of them would be, and she talked to them in their own tongue.

Around sunset it was, when suddenly the walk through the camp was interrupted: a man in guard duty at the gateway of the camp approached the company of the young queen. Her guards all tensed at first, as did Ceolwen.

"My lady", he called her, his voice bearing some great wonder, "there are some guests asking to see you."

"Guests? Who could those possibly be?" Lothíriel asked out loud.

Her question was swiftly answered.

First limped Éothain. He looked better than the last time she had seen him – it seemed he had got a few proper meals and he had tidied up his hair and beard. His advance was not swift and smooth as it had once been, but he held himself straight and proud and he carried a sword on his hip.

Then there was Legolas, graceful and light-footed as ever. A gentle smile played on his face and she could only stare at him and marvel what had brought him in the Mark at this time.

But then she took note of the three remaining people, and it was all she could do from squealing in delight. For there came none else than Amrothos, Erchirion, and Éowyn. Her brothers were here! Her sister-in-law!

Lothíriel wasted no more time as she rushed to meet the guests, pushing past her not so appreciative guards. There was an abundance of kisses and hugs and laughter mixing with crying, until at last Erchirion reached for her... he pulled her into a tight embrace, and only then did she notice how he was trembling.

"I saw a woman standing tall and proud. She looked queenly even as she just stood there speaking to someone, dressed in chain-mail and breeches... I wondered who she was, as I didn't know any Rohirrim who had such raven-dark hair... but then she turned, and I saw my own sister looking at me. My own sister! That little beast who thought it the best game to jump into tide pools and pull me down with her!" Erchirion murmured softly into her hair, his voice full of tears he was holding back. He pulled back then and smiled as he continued, "You were right all along, sister. And Father would be so proud of you, if he saw you now."

Her tears came once more and she hugged him again, fighting hard to get back her calm. Briefly she remembered the argument back in Pelargir, when he had told her he was going to try and persuade Father to change his mind about his consent to her marriage... it meant nothing now and she felt like a weight was gone from her heart, though she had not known she was carrying it. Two of her brothers were here and all was forgiven.

"Thank you for coming", she mumbled and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I suppose I should be angry, though. It is abysmal behaviour to make a queen cry on the front of her people!"

"We're really sorry", Amrothos said and on his face was that grin she knew so well, "we promise we won't tell anybody."

She had to laugh at that and gave her brother another hug.

"It is good to see you all. You too, Éowyn. I'm really sorry about the way we left... there just wasn't time to explain", Lothíriel said, looking at the White Lady. Éowyn waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, it is all right. I admit I was angry with you and my brother at first, but I see now why you had to do it", she said firmly. Then she smiled, "It is good to see you, too. You look very well, sister."

She then glanced about inquisitively, "Is my brother around?"

"He rode out last night. There were some orc sightings... I will explain you everything once we are more comfortable", Lothíriel promised. Éowyn nodded and patted her shoulder, and then turned to greet Ceolwen, as the two women were acquainted with each other.

Lothíriel turned to look at her brothers again. She asked: "Did Father send you? Or Aragorn?"

But Erchirion and Amrothos were both shaking their heads.

"We didn't come here because of Gondor or Dol Amroth. We came here for our little sister."

Hearing that, there was really nothing more she could do than hug them again.


The rest of the night Lothíriel spent with the newly arrived company. They sat in her and Éomer's tent, and soon as they all were comfortably settled down with drinks of tea or ale, she asked the question she had been wondering about the moment she had seen them.

"But please tell me, how are you all here now?" she asked, glancing from one face to the other.

"We all had our own reasons, but decided to travel together for safety", Erchirion started.

"Father was worried about you, so I suppose he'd either have begged or ordered us to come and see if there was anything we could do to help", Amrothos continued. "But we also have a bit more official reason to be here as well."

"Yes. When Aragorn heard Father was planning to send us here, he asked us to come as his emissaries – to show the support of Gondor to the King of the Mark", Erchirion said. He rested his chin on his propped up hand, "He said Éomer would not ask his help, but I suspect he may just have a notable force ready to march anyway."

"He was very right about that. If I know my brother at all, he'd never involve Aragorn in this thing", Éowyn agreed. She straightened and took a sip of her tea, and then went on, "As for why I am here, it is because of my brother. It was our mission to bring him home, and when he and you, Lothíriel, left Pelargir... well, I admit I felt like something was left incomplete. So one could say I came to look for a conclusion and make sure we did not travel all that way for nothing. Faramir wasn't too happy about it, but eventually he agreed to my reasoning."

She shook her head and frowned, but then conjured a smile again, "But my timing is so pitch perfect only because of Legolas."

"Indeed. I was visiting Éowyn and Faramir in Emyn Arnen when Aragorn sent for me. She asked to come along, and you know very well one does not just tell her no. As for the reason for my being here, I am on something of a mission as well..." Legolas said, his voice falling. Lothíriel almost asked what that mission was, but there was something about his brilliant blue eyes that kept her quiet.

Then Erchirion asked how she and Éomer had come back to Rohan, and she told them of their journeys after leaving Pelargir. In turn, her brothers and Éowyn brought news from Gondor, as did Legolas. When her sister-in-law said Arwen was expecting, Lothíriel grinned happily, knowing how overjoyed it must have made Aragorn and his wife. Yet there also was a pang of envy, but this she quickly smothered. Legolas regarded her and tilted his head slightly but said nothing.

It was very late when the company dispersed. The Elf was perhaps the only one not wearied by the long journey from Gondor – apparently they had met some rather unpleasant weathers, and Amrothos said after it sleeping in a tent sounded like a luxury unparalleled. So, after Lothíriel had kissed and hugged her brothers and Éowyn for several times, she let them go and seek some rest.

Legolas, however, stayed behind.

"I know it is very late, but there is something I would like to speak of with you", he said softly when they were alone.

"Of course", she said right away. "What is it?"

Now a smile dawned on his face. He returned to the doorway and there he picked up two objects: one neatly wrapped package and the other a wooden box. So in the middle of her delight she had been that Lothíriel had not seen him carrying such objects, nor bringing them in.

"I have something for you", he said in quiet tones, offering her his presents. She frowned and wondered what this could be about as she received the objects. The wooden box was surprisingly heavy, but the package was lighter than its size would have implied and her curiosity grew even more.

She lay them on the table and started with the wooden box. Once she had undone the latches she opened it and looked in... the metal glimmered in candlelight and she let out a small gasp. Quickly she turned to the second object and opened it hastily, her heart hammering in her chest... when the fastenings were open, she unfolded it with trembling hands.

From inside the grey nondescript cloth emerged rich green fabric. Even before seeing the white emblem she knew what it was, and holding her breath Lothíriel spread it before her. She had seen this standard many times before, but never had the colours been so strong or shined so brightly, and for a moment she was certain her eyes were deceiving her. It was there, she was touching it, and yet she didn't dare to believe what she held in her hands. She had thought it lost forever, either in the hands of Chieftain Sapat or Feran, both trying to bury the memory of a man who had refused to die.

"How?" she asked in a stifled voice and looked up at the Elf. He smiled gently at her.

"These were given to Aragorn when the news first came to him. He sent both to his wife, and by the arts of Queen Arwen it was made clean again. They said a time had come for these to return to their rightful owner, and asked me to bring them to you when the moment was right."

"To me?" Lothíriel wondered out loud.

"Yes. You are the Queen of the Riddermark, after all, and you have been with Éomer all this time. You are the one who truly brought him back. We agreed perhaps you could decide when he would most need these things", Legolas replied, his voice solemn.

She could not respond, not in words at least. So she did the only thing she really could, and hugged the Elf tight and long. When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes once more. But more importantly she felt hope stronger than she had even once during this arduous journey.


A/N: The board is set and the pieces are moving, to quote certain wizard. I hope you enjoyed this new chapter of A Light that Endures!

Here we see a great deal of stuff going on. I know I included a great many things in this chapter but pace-wise this all really needed to happen here and now for the sake of the next update.

For one, I wanted to show Éomer encountering some of the common folk of the land. They certainly have not forgotten about him and I have a feeling he is starting to turn into this figure of hope for them. I believe at this point his person would be shrouded in much mystery and wonder, because all these people had taken him for dead, and puff! Suddenly he appears quite alive and riding nothing less than a mearas horse.

Lothíriel has more or less taken her place among her husband's people, and I'd think her riding to a battle with him will also have its effect. Ceolwen and Arric at least are very protective of her!

Erchirion and Amrothos have also arrived, and I hope I was able to convey this feeling of reconciliation between Lothíriel and her second oldest brother. After the way they argued back in Pelargir, before she ran away with Éomer, I thought things were left in a bad imbalance between them. I believe it would be important for them both to settle the matter.

As for Legolas, he has his own mission obviously, but it also seemed to me that Éowyn could not be left out of the picture. Like she says, she needs to see that her brother really is well and things will get back to normal in her old homeland. Faramir is probably quite unhappy having to see her gone once more, but he also knows she needs to do this. Most likely he'd have come along if he could!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


Ferthu Éomer hal, Árisen and Éadig = Fare well/Goodbye and good luck Éomer, Arisen and Blessed!


Quote in the beginning originally by Pablo Neruda.

Inspiration for the chapter: Avicii – Hey Brother


Kiiimberly – Éomer does not forget for a single moment it is because of her abilities that he still lives. I'd imagine he feels he owes her this trust.

almythea - It was not easy to kill him, but it was necessary!

RemaSofiRuin - She has certainly grown into something stronger and braver than she herself would ever have guessed! But seeing the way Lothíriel has travelled I'd think it would toughen her up. Also I am glad to hear you liked my choices as far as the pacing goes! :)

Jo - Thank you! Glad you liked it. :)

Thalia - I could have spent more time on their reunion, but I felt it would have robbed the focus from the main story, and I really need to be working this into a close.

I felt right away Lothíriel and Ceolwen would get along well. They're both something of odd birds, because I don't think there are many other ladies in such a powerful position as Ceolwen, and Lothíriel has acquired a great deal of personal power during her journey. And you are right - the writer has to make sacrifices every now and then.

I hadn't realised the ending of the chapter would be unexpected, but I hope it was a good unexpected!

Felion - This chapter at least comes a bit sooner than the last one! Hope you liked it. :)

Also big thanks for your review! I am glad to hear I have managed to create realistic and compelling human behaviour and interactions. I also believe people are affected and sometimes changed by things that happen to them, and especially traumatic events should have a lasting impact. And it is good to hear I am still capable of surprising my readers every now and then!

I am afraid the Éothain of my other stories may be lost in this one. His own experiences have been quite traumatic as well, and the loss of his leg was bound to have some serious impact on him. He has been a warrior for so long, it has strongly shaped his personality, and losing a leg is not the best thing to happen for a man of war.

brandibuckeye - Hope you like this chapter! :)

Talia119 - This chapter should see a bit more movement I hope! The last one was really needed to usher in what happens in this chapter and the following ones.

To me it was always obvious sooner or later Lothíriel and Ceolwen's paths would meet and they would make fast friends. And Lothíriel needs more Rohirric friends! We'll see how her brothers will affect the events, and when and if Gimli will appear. :)

Glad to have you back again!

MairaElleth - As always, the writer in me rubs her hands gleefully when I hear I have jerked some tears. :D Sadly, Éothain could not stay with them for too long...

Aragorn does indeed have to stay out of this battle, though I'm sure he'd be more than happy to join it if Éomer asked him. The poor man must be fighting an urge of donning on his Ranger's gear again and speeding to help his friend! :D