In this hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure. - Faramir, Steward of Gondor
Chapter 51
Late January 1, the Riddermark
When they had first arrived in the Mark and found their sister, Amrothos had altogether felt very hopeful. There seemed to be great strive to fix things among the Rohirrim – or, at least those who followed the King of Rohan. The accounts he had heard had reassured him as well: though presently Feran might have a considerable force behind him, many among that company just needed to see their king for themselves, and know that the news about his return were not just lies.
The first moment of doubt he had when Legolas returned with orders from Éomer, but neither him or Lothíriel would speak what those orders might be. Surely they could and should share information so vital? And yet the two remained quiet and said they were following the King's requests by keeping their silence for the time being. Legolas was inscrutable by nature, but Lothíriel's refusal to reveal anything was less easily comprehended. Before now she had never really kept things from her brother, at least things that mattered, and Amrothos had rested confidently in the knowledge she trusted her siblings.
Now as he and Erchirion exited the royal tent on that mid-morning and mulled over the things he had just heard, he did not feel very hopeful. For scouts had returned bringing word of the great force they had seen approaching from the west; before them was carried a standard of two spears on blue-green. Feran was on his way and the doom of this struggle was growing nigh. However, his sister had not called up a war council – instead, she had given instructions that the entire force camped here was to stand down, but be prepared for the arrival of Feran and his riders. This had caused multiple questions and not the least important among them was if she meant there would be a fight – or if she expected them to just sit on their bottoms and let Feran make his appearance.
The Queen of the Riddermark had gazed about, her face revealing nothing that was going on in her mind. She had spoken: "These are the King's orders. I need all of you to trust me now. Or, if you cannot do that, then trust the Lord of the Mark."
But how Éomer was intending to overpower Feran with just two éoreds he had left with, Amrothos did not know. He said so to his brother as well.
"Do you think we will be making it through this cleanly?" he asked, frowning as he spoke. Erchirion, however, did not seem as troubled as he felt.
"Why shouldn't we? We are both fairly competent fighters, and no matter who this traitor thinks he is, he shouldn't be eager to invoke the wrath of our father. He will not dare to involve Gondor in this struggle, if he can somehow prevent it", said the older man firmly.
"Oh, I'm not really worried about ourselves. It's Lothíriel and... well, if Feran manages to beat Éomer, what do you suppose will happen in the Mark? If this realm goes down, then Gondor too will feel that loss very deeply", Amrothos pointed out. Yet even now his brother did not seem worried.
"Aren't you supposed to be the light-hearted one, Amrothos?" Erchirion asked, lifting his eyebrows.
"This is not a time to be light-hearted!" snapped the younger of the two, which made his brother's expression turn gentler.
"I know. But you heard her, brother. We must have faith in her. She deserves it, if you ask me... I distrusted her once, and lived to see how wrong I was. She does things in her own way but it tends to be effective", Erchirion said and patted Amrothos' shoulder. "Moreover, I am quite convinced that husband of hers knows exactly what he's doing – men don't get raised Marshals, especially in Rohan, at the age he was for being poor leaders on battlefield. If he has told her to keep quiet for now, then it must be for a good reason."
Amrothos considered Erchirion's words for a moment in quiet and he had to agree his brother had made a valid point. Even so, he didn't like knowing what was awaiting them.
"Well, if you say so", he said at length.
The older of the two princes smiled.
"I do say so. Have faith, brother. Our little sister is not a princess anymore. She is a true queen, and one worth following – one worth believing in."
After Ceolwen and Éothain had gone to prepare the riders, it was Éowyn who helped Lothíriel to don on the chain-mail and leather jerkin. As her sister-in-law worked over it, her face was set into an determined frown.
Lothíriel did not think about the question at all before she spoke it, and yet as soon as the words were out in the open she felt the necessity of it.
"Do you trust me, Éowyn?" she asked quietly. Somehow, if her sister-in-law trusted her, then nothing else mattered.
The fair-haired woman stopped with her task and turned so that she could meet Lothíriel's gaze. Her face was solemn and in her eyes there was a determined look.
"I do, Lothíriel. Though I may not understand why my brother has insisted you to keep your silence, I do trust you and him, and I know he would not idly give such order", she said in serious tones. Then briefly one corner of her mouth lifted, "After the journey south I would be a fool to doubt you."
Fighting back a choking feeling Lothíriel reached to hug Éowyn. She let out a trembling breath.
"Thank you, for supporting and believing in me. I don't think I would have got very far without you", she mumbled and pulled back. Her sister-in-law smiled gently.
"It was an honour to travel that road with you", said the blonde woman simply. "We shall pull through this as well."
"Yes, we will", agreed the young queen. She grinned sheepishly, "And I promise neither myself or Éomer are going to drag you into more adventures after this. Not only do you deserve some peace and quiet, but I'm also afraid otherwise Faramir might come after us with an axe."
Éowyn laughed at those words and patted Lothíriel's shoulder.
"Let us go then, sister, and see what we can do to end this woeful matter with the underking."
Ceolwen joined the Queen and Lady Éowyn as they emerged outside, both wearing similar faces of resolution. She did not know if the White Lady knew of the King's plans and why he insisted no one knew, but even if she did, she would not reveal it even to Ceolwen. Though Éowyn was married to a Gondorian and now lived as a Princess of Ithilien, she had not forgotten the land of Eorlingas, or the House of her birth. Perhaps Éowyn did not need to know in order to trust her brother. Éothain was also there, and from the strange look in his eyes Ceolwen had gathered he too was in on whatever the King had commanded. She could only guess it meant he was to play some role in events to come.
"My lady", Ceolwen called to the young queen, "the riders will be ready shortly. If it is war we face today, they will be prepared to meet it."
"Good. Thank you, Lady Ceolwen", said Lothíriel and nodded, looking like she was going through some elaborate plan in her mind.
"... they would be more motivated if they knew what the King is planning", Ceolwen said carefully.
"I know. All will be revealed in due time", said the Queen patiently and looked about; her eyes locked with those of Legolas, who had arrived so quietly he might as well have materialised there. Lothíriel spoke, "Prince Legolas, Éothain, may I have a word with you two?"
"Of course, my lady", he replied as Éothain nodded, and the three pulled back to the doorway of the tent, talking fast but quiet. Ceolwen could only wonder what was the topic of their hushed conversation.
"My lady?" asked a small and scared voice by her side. Ceolwen turned to see Arric there, fidgeting his hands anxiously.
"What is it, Arric?" she asked; Elfhelm had asked her to look after the lad, as there was no way he could have taken the boy along as he rode out with the King. She found she rather liked this young thing, and past days had showed he had great promise.
"I was just wondering if... if there's going to be a battle?" he asked, swallowing noticeably.
Gently she placed a hand on his thin shoulder.
"It seems like that, aye", Ceolwen said softly. "But don't worry. If you stay out of the way, no one will harm you."
"What should I do, Lady Ceolwen? Do you need me to fight?" he asked.
"No, of course not", she replied right away. "You will stay here in the camp. The healers will have a need of extra hands – I will arrange you to stay with them and help out with the wounded. Don't be scared, laddie. You will be safe with them."
Arric managed a small smile and he bowed at her, "Thank you, my lady. I will work hard and make you and Marshal Elfhelm proud."
"You already do, dear boy", she told him gently.
Once the lad was on his way with a word to the healers, she turned again to the Queen. She and the two males looked to just have finished their conversation; Ceolwen spied a hopeful look on Lothíriel's face and wondered what the they were planning. The Elf's face revealed nothing, and without a further delay he turned and made way from the site.
"What are you three scheming?" Ceolwen asked as she and Éowyn joined again Lothíriel.
"You will see later", the Queen merely said, which had the Shieldmaiden frowning. While she did understand this all had some purpose behind it, she still disliked being left in the shadow.
Éomer's wife saw her unease, for she gave her a small smile, "Don't worry. All is going as it should. I need to -"
She did not get to finish that sentence however, for it was then a loud voice called out.
"Lady Queen! I demand to have a word with you", said Higerof in sharp, cutting tones that instantly had Ceolwen's skin crawling. She had never particularly liked this man, who was a moderately powerful lord east of her own seat. Even so, it was said he was a very capable rider, and had served under the Marshals of Aldburg in his younger days.
"What is it, my lord?" Lothíriel asked calmly and turned to see the eastern lord, who was approaching with a few of his men behind himself.
"I demand to know what is going on. What is the King meaning to do? Why have you ordered the riders to make ready for a battle? Surely you don't mean to -" Higerof blathered on, shooting the questions like lightnings at the Lady of the Mark.
"Please, calm down. I can only answer so many questions at a time", said the Queen, her voice pleasant but firm.
"Well, I want you to explain yourself, my lady! For I surely am not riding to certain death with my men!" he barked. The scene was starting to attract audience now and Ceolwen regarded their faces. There were not a few who seemed to share Higerof's sentiment.
"As I have already told you, I am following the orders of the King", Lothíriel replied. Her voice betrayed no emotion but patience.
"And what would those orders be, if I may ask?" Higerof wanted to know. His words raised some agreeing mutters.
"This I also told you already. The King insists I hold my silence for now. I know it may be difficult to understand why he would give such orders, but you must trust him. He is on his way even now and he has means to challenge Feran the usurper", Lothíriel said. Just a hint of good-willing restraint had entered her voice, which rang clear and strong.
She's good at this, Ceolwen thought to herself... and somehow that instance she had a sense of overwhelming trust for the young dark-haired Gondorian who had become the Queen of the Mark. And she desperately wanted to see the day when this woman she had come to call her friend could be the Lady of the realm in peace and prosperity.
"That is not enough!" Higerof snapped and glared at the Queen.
His words were answered as though with a whiplash.
"Your king's word is not enough?" Lothíriel Queen asked sharply, which silenced the man in bewilderment. She then moved her gaze from Higerof to regard all who stood before her, "My lord husband told me another thing as well. I hoped I would not have to say it out loud, but I see I have no other choice. Éomer King says to oppose me now is to oppose his express command. You all know consequences for treason, and I ask you to remember it is the White Horse you follow, not the silver spears of the traitor. I ask for your trust and for your faith, and I swear your good faith will be rewarded soon enough."
Higerof stood back. Silence fell and all stood quiet, seemingly waiting for something to happen.
And something did happen indeed.
A guard pushed through the crowd, looking like he had sprinted through the camp head over heels.
"My lady! My lady!" he called in alarm. "Feran is coming. He will be here in quarter of an hour."
The company consisted of the Queen and several of her guards. There was Lady Éowyn, Lady Ceolwen and the two Gondorian princes, and Edelric himself. He insisted to come along, but a feeling of doubt came to him when the Queen ordered him to carry a white flag.
"Do you mean to surrender, my lady?" he asked worriedly. While he did believe her words that Éomer King had some plan in mind, he still felt the cold touch of fear of where this all was going. It grew stronger when he gazed to the hills beyond and saw them crawling with horsemen. It looked like the entire West-Mark was on the move, along with a great deal of Dunlendings.
A strange smile appeared on the Queen's face. He could but wonder what it meant.
"We will see who surrenders", she retorted calmly. She then looked at Éothain. He was to stay behind and keep the command of the men in the camp. She spoke, "Make sure the riders are ready, but do not move before you see the signal."
"Aye, my lady", said the captain and he bowed as much as his bad leg allowed.
"What signal?" Amrothos demanded to know, obviously displeased that she wouldn't reveal the plan even to him.
"Oh, you will know", Lothíriel Queen merely said and mounted her horse. Her company followed and at her sign, they began to make their way down and out of the relative safety of the camp and its fortifications. Edelric rode by the side of the Queen, bearing the white flag. What would Father have thought of all this?
Behind himself, he heard Prince Amrothos whispering to his brother: "But where is Legolas?"
There was this one terrible moment when Amrothos thought the entire sizeable force spread up above them might just come flooding down and swallow the tiny company like a tide. There they were, just a dozen riders against he did not care to know how many.
His sister sat horseback, her eyes narrowed as she regarded the sight before them. But if there was any doubt on her mind he couldn't tell. Either this was some clever ruse or she had lost her mind... and seeing there was no sign of Éomer anywhere, the latter possibility was growing more and more likely.
"Ah, there they come", she said suddenly and Amrothos looked ahead. Indeed, a band had disengaged from the traitor's force. They were bearing some pale garment as well.
"He actually means to talk first?" Edelric spoke out with some surprise.
"Oh, not talk. He means to gloat", Lothíriel said and grinned now. She was strangely pleased for someone caught in the middle of what could turn into a war any given moment.
Maybe she has lost her mind. Father will be so sad to hear.
"My lady, I can tell him -" Ceolwen started, but Lothíriel lifted up her hand.
"No. I will speak with him alone", she said firmly.
"Don't you think -" Éowyn said for her part, but again Amrothos' sister interrupted.
"Trust me", she said simply.
The company fell silent.
And then Feran arrived.
Erchirion supposed he had expected to see something far more formidable than the man before the company. Well, the infamous traitor was kind of tall and strong-looking, but there was nothing about him that really spoke usurper. Had this Rohir stood in the middle of other northmen, he wouldn't have distinguished himself in any discernible way. Perhaps he was more richly arrayed than those of his entourage, but either way Erchirion might have taken him for any ordinary Eorling.
Be it as may, the man was fast scanning with his eyes the crowd before himself. Erchirion stared at him hard and willed to know what the traitor made of this company which had arrived to meet him. But for a slight narrowing of his eyes and a faint smile on his face, Feran did not show any considerable reactions.
"Lady Lothíriel", said the traitor as his eyes fell on Erchirion's sister, "I am surprised to see you here."
Not a single muscle moved on her face, but the grey of her eyes glimmered bright and clear. And nothing he saw on her face prepared him for what she said next.
"I am here as the representative of my lord husband. He has asked me to treat with you for our surrender and relinquishing the throne of the Mark", Lothíriel announced in a steady voice.
Ceolwen hissed audibly, Éowyn appeared like she suddenly grew seven feet tall and was about to slay a Witch-king, Amrothos stared with his mouth open, and Edelric looked like he might just fall from the saddle. As for Erchirion, he was just... he couldn't think or feel, not even shock.
That show back in the camp... all that he had seen here...
Trust me.
Feran smiled. The expression on his face reminded Erchirion of a cat lapping cream from his whiskers.
"Very well, Lady of Gondor."
"Perhaps you would like to hear my terms right away? I see no sense in prolonging this much longer, now that you have decided to do the wise thing", Feran spoke. He wasn't even trying to hide how much he was enjoying the situation.
"I will hear your terms", said Lothíriel, smiling at the man before her so that it hurt her cheeks. She went on, "but I will do so in private. Without any weapons on either of us – as a show of good will on both our sides."
A brief frown appeared on the traitor's face. However he was already confident in his victory, and so he nodded.
"Aye, suppose we can afford that... I am on a generous mood today. But then, shouldn't a king be generous?" he said and smiled brightly at her. Lothíriel was able to guard her face, but she did not dare to look around for the fear of positively murderous faces she was sure to see if she did.
"I am glad to know the Mark will be in such good hands", she said demurely and turned towards Éowyn to give her sister-in-law her weapons. The older woman's face was absolutely motionless as she received the Elven bow, a short Rohirric blade, and two small daggers. Lothíriel could but wonder what Éowyn was thinking about. Probably it was for the better she didn't know.
She turned to look at the usurper again. He placed last of his own arms into the waiting hands of one of his men.
"Shall we then, Lady Lothíriel?" he asked pleasantly.
"Follow me", she said and urged her horse to move, and without a further word she rode with Feran westwards.
Now was a time to see what this man was truly made of.
"Can someone pinch me? Or kick me maybe? Because I don't believe that just happened", Amrothos said, breaking at last the mortified silence.
"Be quiet, brother. No one needs your comments now", Erchirion muttered darkly.
"I just... I can't believe this is it. It can't end like this", muttered the younger prince. He could only recall one time he had felt so beaten and hopeless before, and that had been during the darkest moments of the Battle of Pelennor fields.
"Everything ends sooner or later", Ceolwen said, her face stony. She was gazing ahead and her eyes glistened with tears she wouldn't let fall.
But it couldn't be like that, could it? That Éomer would just give up? And Lothíriel would give away the Mark like this? Ever since he and Erchirion had arrived in Rohan she had been so intent on fighting Feran and healing the realm...
It simply didn't make sense.
"I must say, I am most surprised to find your husband so compliant. I did not expect him to give up this easily", Feran said when they had stopped and she had suggested they dismount. He was apparently on a good mood and complied right away.
"He has his reasons", Lothíriel retorted calmly. The man before her glanced about, like he was expecting Éomer might appear suddenly from nowhere.
"Where is he, anyway? Was he too cowardly to meet me and give up his kingdom himself?" Feran tauntingly inquired. She bit her tongue from making any cutting remarks and fought to keep up her smile – she could not let him get to her now. If she hoped to succeed, she would have to stay focused.
"He simply wanted to send someone neutral to negotiate this. The men might not react so well if they saw him talking to you face to face", she answered and shrugged, hoping to convey indifference.
"Neutral? You are his wife, and that makes you everything but neutral", Feran pointed out.
"My lord Feran, I did not ask to talk with you about my position. Please do not waste our time. The sooner we can end this the better", she informed him stiffly.
Again the man smiled.
"I like the sound of that."
Good. I have him on the hook.
The quiet, defeated atmosphere weighed about the same as a mountain. Ceolwen had survived some rather grisly battles and she had often thought it had been for a reason. She had always thirsted for life and the fear of losing all she had fought for had long haunted her. As of late it had started to look like she could indeed have that life, once Éomer King had taken his realm back – living with Elfhelm, bearing his children, seeing many peaceful years...
But now she was lost and confused. Had she given her trust too soon? Had she overestimated the woman of Gondor with the bright and fierce eyes? Moreover, had the king who had returned from South truly been so changed as to just give up his throne and the legacy of his forebears?
Beside her, Éowyn was quiet as a grave. And in her grey-blue eyes was a look Ceolwen could not even begin to understand.
At first it was easy as child's play. Like Éomer had instructed, Lothíriel debated with the traitor several intricate matters, like a guarantee for her and Éomer's safe journey to Gondor, a return for some family heirlooms to keep as a memory of the Mark, the possible future relationship between Dol Amroth and Rohan, and so on. She made a point of grabbing at the smallest things and for some time he let it go on.
But eventually Feran began to grow restless, and she could see he truly didn't care about any of this – his only concern was to get rid of Éomer as soon as he could. However, she knew she had to keep his focus on herself still; she had yet to see the signal.
"This is quite enough, my lady", he snapped at last. "As of now you are but a brigand on my land and if you think you have any right on the throne's property, then you are seriously mistaken. You may leave, but only when your husband has sworn an oath to lay down his arms and never pursue war with me. I do not care where he goes from the Mark, as long as he does, and I am certain there is some nice little palace in your father's fiefdom where you can take yourself and your disgraced king."
He moved as to turn away and fast she tried to think of something. She couldn't let him leave, or allow the battle to start before Éomer's signal.
"There is the matter of heirs", she said quickly, which brought Feran's attention fully back to her.
"What of heirs?" he asked sharply, and she knew she must have hit some nerve. That was very good.
"I could be carrying his child right now. Even if my lord husband agrees to relinquish the throne, I will still bear him a son... that son will become a man and one day he will wish to claim his inheritance. And being the grandchild of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and nephew of Prince Faramir of Ithilien, he will have most if not all the resources of Gondor at his disposal", Lothíriel said, watching Feran's face very closely.
Feran's eyes flashed in anger and it was only with great effort she could keep her face guarded.
"If your husband swears the oath, it will bind him and his sons as well", he snapped.
"King Elessar of Arnor and Gondor may disagree."
For some time Lothíriel and the traitor had been talking in peace and quiet. Amrothos wondered what they were negotiating so avidly and what were the terms they were discussing. However, now from the distance he could see an angry expression on Feran's face and the agitation of his form – they were clearly arguing.
"What is that mad girl doing? Does she want to make him attack and kill everyone here?" he muttered to himself.
It was then he glanced about the company, as though they might know what was going on. His eyes fixed on Éowyn's face, mainly because her features did not bear the various mixtures of disappointment, anger and grief on other features.
The White Lady stared at Lothíriel and Feran with narrowed eyes. She looked like she was attempting to read their minds, so focused was her expression. Then suddenly she sucked in breath and the look on her face was that of someone who had just experienced a moment of revelation.
"Éowyn?" Ceolwen asked, her voice suspicious.
Éomer's sister turned to look at the company about her. And she was grinning!
"I am an idiot. We all are! Oh, that insane brother of mine! Of course!" she gushed in a fashion completely at odds with her dignity and reputation.
"What? What is it?!" Amrothos demanded to know. He was starting to feel like he'd go mad as well if he had to bear this situation a moment longer.
"Don't be afraid, my friends. She isn't giving up Rohan! She's just carrying out Éomer's plan!" Éowyn said triumphantly and relaxed on her seat. Her grin did not fade for a single moment as she regarded the two arguing figures, "She is playing time."
"This is a waste of my time", Feran growled. "You have my terms. Now go and get that so called king here. I want his oath and I want it now."
"Unfortunately you are in no position to command me, Feran", Lothíriel spoke up sharply. His eyes flashed back to her.
"Do you not see my force spread on that hillside? I have all the power in this situation!" he growled at her.
"Oh, I do see them. There is nothing wrong with my eyes, thank you very much. But you have not noticed one quite important thing", she said serenely, gazing off to the northern horizon... and there! There was the glimmer of metal – sunlight on one of two twin blades, like Legolas had promised. This was what she had been expecting. The next signal, the one that would set things into motion, was not far off now.
"And what would that be?" Feran asked, completely unaware of what she had been searching with her eyes. He was staring at her hard, confirming what she had thought. He was a man who couldn't bear curiosity.
"The force you have gathered up there means absolutely nothing now. It stopped mattering the moment you followed me here. Because if you try to leave, then you will have to find out whether you can kill me before I can kill you", she said, stern but calm. It had the hoped effect as well, for the man before her looked like he forgot about everything else and stared at her as though in an attempt to discern whether she was bluffing or not.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Feran asked, his frown deepening. She gave him a slow smile.
"In the first outcome you will have killed not only Éomer's own wife, but also the daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, cousin of Faramir of Cirion's line, and a friend of Lady Éowyn and King Elessar of Arnor and Gondor, in addition to several angry Eorlingas you know yourself. I imagine Lord Elfhelm should be first in line of those who want to give you a good thrashing. You will have declared war on the both western kingdoms. You will be hunted all over the face of the world like an animal, and if you believe there is any place on this Arda you could hide from those who wish to take you down, you are mistaken."
Her smile widened, "And the second outcome is I kill you, and even if your forces overpower us here today, you will still be dead. All Éomer will have to do is clean up the mess and go home."
"Sire", called the voice of Folcred; the tireless rider was returning from yet another scouting mission.
"Folcred", Éomer answered, straightening up on the back of Silfren, "How does it look like?"
"All is set. Legolas says Lothíriel has performed your plan just as you hoped. She is with the traitor even now", Folcred replied.
Something in Éomer's chest unclenched. He had known he could trust his wife, but even so he had spent the entire night worrying about all that could go wrong... and her death was not the smallest of those things. But she had done everything he had instructed her to do. Now the board was set and the pieces were in the very positions he had wanted them to be.
"Good. Go and tell him to signal her", he ordered. Folcred bowed his head and turned his horse again to race back to Legolas; the Elf was so positioned he could see the arrival of the King and his riders without Feran's folk noticing, and his cloak of Lórien concealed him just as it had on the day Éomer had first met him on these plains.
The King of the Mark looked at his Marshal, "Prepare for battle. At Legolas' signal we will go and take care of that bastard for good."
Elfhelm nodded. The two men shared a solemn glance and seeing the expression on the face of his friend, Éomer knew they were both thinking of the same thing.
"To Gamling."
Feran stood silent, gazing at her like he only now saw her for real. The man had apparently lost his ability to speak, or perhaps it was starting to dawn to him there was more going on here than he had thought – that she and Éomer had never had any intention to surrender anything to him.
It was then Lothíriel saw it at last: like a fire-golden shooting star, blazing heavenwards in the north, and signalling the moment had finally come. She imagined Éothain must have been peering northward, and was shouting commands to the riders even now.
The traitor saw her eyes fixed and he turned sharply to see what it was that had her eyes so transfixed.
"What?! What is that?! What is happening?" Feran demanded to know, following the arch of the fire arrow with his eyes; she could hear terrible doubt growing in his voice.
"I'm truly very sorry", she said, grinning at Feran unashamedly, "but we really need to finish this conversation. My husband is about to arrive and I imagine he has a thing or two he'd like to tell you."
His eyes flashed as the realisation hit him at last. Furiously he grabbed for the back of his armour plate and produced a small blade – she was not surprised to see he had not followed entirely with the agreement of bearing no arms. And she was not unprepared.
"You little demon!" he growled and tried to stab her, but the stroke was delivered with fury, while her mind was clear and cool as the surface of a forest pond, just as she had been taught on Captain Cairon's ship. It was easy to dodge his attack and deliver her own – which sadly wasn't quite as graceful as her mentor might have hoped.
She punched him in the face.
Éomer, King of the Mark, regarded the great field before himself – he had raced ahead with Silfren to take in the sight of what would be the site of battle today, and his eyes were fixed on two figures standing apart.
In the distance, he saw his wife, his Lothíriel, punching Feran. He grinned.
"Béma, I love that woman."
It worked even better she could have hoped for. The outbreak of violence had almost immediate effect: she heard the horns of battle, and then as Feran was still busy picking up himself, his forces came alive on the hillside. His captains would be shouting orders and preparing for the battle. And the fact that they did meant they had not perceived the meaning of Legolas' fire arrow.
She ran – faster than she ever had in all her years. Leaping like a hunted doe for her dear life, she sprinted to her horse. She flew into the saddle in one rather insane jump, greatly fuelled by a fiery rush in her blood, she was certain she wouldn't have been able to perform again if asked. The horse sensed the need of his rider and threw himself into a gallop.
"Get your arses moving!" she yelled at her company; others were holding back Feran's company, but Éowyn rode to her side and she received her arms, her irreplaceable bow, and she felt the urge for battle in her veins.
"You're mad! You're completely and utterly insane!" her sister-in-law exclaimed. The young queen could only laugh.
All seemed to happen at once now. What looked to be most of the West-Mark was preparing to to crash against them, and riders led by Éothain were emerging from the camp – he had seen the signal and known the moment was here. Lothíriel held tight to her reins with one hand and gripping her bow in the other, blinking her eyes against the wind and her mind racing... any moment now...
Then at last it came – the lone horn bright and strong even over the voices of men and horses galloping at full speed. And there on the hill northernmost she saw a pale shimmer that could only be Éomer riding Silfren.
The muster had now reached the hillside, all the men who were following him today, and Legolas had come as well – he was smiling in a stupidly smug Elven way.
"Thank you, my friend. You have done a great service to the Mark today", Éomer said solemnly to the Elf.
"It was my pleasure. I believe we can agree it is a high time this matter is cleared out for good. Meduseld is not what it should be without you", Legolas replied serenely.
But suddenly, when Éomer meant to spoke again, the Prince of the Woodland Realm turned to look at Elfhelm. It looked like some thought passed between them and the Marshal caught his king's eye.
"Sire, I believe now would be a good time to give you the second thing your wife sent you", he said in a strangely reverent voice.
Éomer had time to frown and wonder what this was now, but on that moment something was passed from behind, and Elfhelm took in his hand hand what Éomer recognised as a standard. And then, before he could feel puzzled or ask questions, the wind picked up and the banner unfurled. The rich green of it was painted against the blue sky, richer than he remembered it, and the White Horse leaped free, as if fleeing from long captivity.
A great cry rose: "It is the White Horse! White Horse of Eorl! Hail Éomer King!"
A/N: And here is a new chapter for Sunday! I hope you had a great weekend!
When I first started to write this chapter it was solely from Lothíriel's point of view, but I soon recognised it wasn't working so well. So I utilised a similar style as I once did in House of Sun. This way, I believe, the story conveys a greater variety of emotions and you get a better idea of what individual characters think and feel. Also, I originally did not mean to stop the chapter here, but when it hit 9000 words and I realised there was still stuff I wanted t include, I decided a cut was in order. So I'm afraid the outcome of these turns of events will have to wait until the next chapter! I imagine this chapter also left some questions, but those I intend to answer in the next one, so stay tuned.
I confess I could not resist he opportunity of Lothíriel punching Feran. As you may remember from the Part 1, she and her brothers should be happy she was taught how to hit properly! :D
This chapter was really a test of faith for many characters. You may already have figured out just why Lothíriel didn't say anything to her brothers and friends, and this I will discuss more in the next chapter. At any rate it was a test for her as well, but she seems to have managed just fine.
In case you're wondering how many more chapters there are still in store, after this I'd say four at most. But I've also got plenty of ideas for Flickers, and hopefully you will soon see just why!
As usual, thank you for reading and reviewing!
Inspiration for the chapter: Howard Shore - The Battle of the Pelennor Fields
Jo – Yes, things are moving pretty fast now! :) I always wanted to bring back more of Legolas, so it seemed the perfect way to include him more by having him helping out Lothíriel and Éomer by bringing the messages.
Simbelia – Thank you! I am very glad to hear you are so enjoying the story. As for the endings, I do have a thing for cliffhangery endings and I can't help that! :D
Talia119 – And now we are getting ever closer to that action! I'm thinking the next chapter may just see stuff going down. I don't know how much you made out of the plan based on this chapter, but I hope to clear out the matter wholly in the next one. :)
DanaFruit – I made such an ugly snort when I read your review! :D War it will be indeed. And I must say I very much enjoyed having Lothíriel punching Feran in the face.
Thalia – I admit I take pleasure in surprising my readers and giving them excitement, so it's good to hear I've been able to create such suspense. :) In case you didn't clearly get what was the plan, I will elaborate that more in the next chapter. As for the orange dress, of course she wasn't literally wearing it – it was more of an metaphor of what she'd have to do.
Bowmaiden – Yes, small kids are very much a handful!
It was good to reunite Lothíriel and her brothers. I'd imagine she misses her family a lot, and seeing at least some of them is a relief. As for Éothain, he certainly did not deserve what happened to him, but life is sometimes like that. Bad things happen to people who do not really deserve it.
Felion – As much as I'd like to go on forever, all stories need to come to an end eventually. And this has already been a very long one. Even so, a long story like this does indeed make it possible for the writer to refer to a lot of the story's own canon!
Anyway I'm glad to hear you liked the last chapter! I was hoping to convey this feeling of how things are really speeding up now and towards to a climax. And the helmet and the standard were definitely something I always meant to bring back at some point.
Also thanks for the compliment! I'm very flattered to hear you think so. :)
MairaElleth – Time will tell indeed! :) And if this chapter left you confused, more will be revealed in the next one.
And yes, Legolas does get around. It's good to have a friend like him.
The helmet and the standard do tie Éomer back with the man he used to be, perhaps even manage to resurrect his kingship to the fullest. We will see what effect that may have in the next chapter.
