If the grief of losing him had felt like a hand pressing me down into a misery of inaction, the shock of his words was a force more galvanizing than I could have imagined. My mouth opened and my eyes were suddenly dry. Fear and terror had restarted the heart that so recently felt as though it would never beat again to a thunderous rate. "What in the name of Elbereth do you mean by that?" The words were out of my mouth without consideration.
The expression on his face as he spoke the words was the worst thing I could have imagined. He looked as he had that morning in the stables, a man readying himself for battle. But missing was the eagerness for engagement by which I had been so struck. For all the times that I had imagined his rejection never had I thought it would take this form. His jaw was set hard, like a man bracing for a blow he cannot stop, the silent anticipation of readying oneself for pain. "Lothiriel it cannot have escaped your notice that we have spent the night together... here... without a chaperone of any kind."
"Etan is..."
"Etan is an old soldier who many years ago acknowledged a bastard for love," he finished for me. "Hardly the most credible witness to your reputation even when he is in his proper wits, which he most certainly was not last night." His words were even, measured, everything that mine were not.
"No one will have to know that though! Who would tell them? Only Wídwine knows we're here and she would never..."
"Wídwine, two guards who accompanied me, anyone who saw me passing this way after you...It wouldn't take a great wit to guess where I was going in such a hurry, nor who I was chasing after."
"Please, Éomer... you don't have to do this! No one notices me, or thinks of my reputation! I promise you they won't!"
He shook his head. "How can you say that?" For the first time he sounded almost angry. "How can you pretend, even to yourself, that that is true? You are the Princess of Dol Amroth, your father's only daughter, and a maiden. You spent the night with an unmarried man, the king of a land where the people think of you as a great healer. That, Lothíriel, is a scandal by any definition.
I was shaking my head against his words. "No one will think that of you, not with... Éomer you can't...that is... you deserve the chance of a love match. It isn't fair!" I hated the way my voice shook and my words failed me.
He came and knelt before me, taking my hands in his. "No lass, it's not fair. To you least of all."
To contemplate what it would mean to marry him under these circumstances was unfathomable. Marriage to Éomer, if he did not love me, was too abysmal even to imagine. The pain of having such a farce of all that I most desired play out in front of me but with the core of all I wanted most removed, was a torment so dreadful that it seemed even fate could not have imagined it. How could I take his hand and let it be bound to mine, our blood mingling, knowing that his heart was not rightly my own? How could I greet him with the welcome chalice, welcome him into my bed when I knew I was taking from him the right marry the woman of his choosing?
"You leaped and I leaped after you, but please know, Lothíriel, I thought only to save your life." He hesitated, but did not look away from my face, though it seemed to cost him effort. "I hope you do not think it was my intention to..."
I was hardly listening to him though, my mind reeling. "You cannot make me do it," I murmured, almost to myself.
His face in the firelight was a portrait of sad resignation. "Oh, lass, there's no chasm for you to jump here, no brave action you can take to save yourself, I'm afraid. I will not drag you to the ceremony but I will tell your father what has happened, that I am willing to make any offer for your hand. The rest will be inevitable."
Frustration felt like being plunged into too hot water, an unbearable burning over my skin. No one would think that anything had passed between us. Not between the two of us. He was too noble and I was too insipid for anything scandalous to have happened. What he said was true, that it was beyond the bounds of propriety for us to have been alone in the house. But the story itself was poor soil for a scandal to grow. Besides, what use my reputation? I did not intend to marry after all so it was hardly imperative to keep my virtue free from question.
His voice grew softer still. "I would shed my own blood to spare you this. But there is no going back from here... and I will always rescue you, Lothiriel. No matter what the cost."
I glanced up, meeting his gaze. "Not this one, Éomer. I absolve you of your duty."
"You cannot." His face was implacable. "There is no force in the world that could."
He was right of course. I had known it the first day he'd said it to me, so many months ago on the morning of Éowyn's wedding ride: a vow from the King of Rohan. If I had thought I would brave anything for him, marvelled at the power he had over me, what power did I think he exerted over himself? This was a man who had lived through the darkest days of the war in a land where his king was mad and his people were massacred and his only thought had been to fight all out to save them. He had endured his king and uncle having his mind poisoned, his sister threatened and found within himself the courage to endure, to fight. What threat then would be a less than happy marriage?
"You are Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, a fine woman and healer. You are your father's daughter, Imrahil's daughter. I would not dishonour you at the price of my own life."
"But you have not dishonoured me!"
I was desperate to dissuade him. Nothing had passed between us and surely Etan's servants could be relied upon to vouch for that! There had been nothing untoward between us after all and I was still very much a maid. My honour and the honour of my house had not been encroached upon.
"I will if I do not offer for you."
"This is absolute madness, Éomer. How can you even think of it?"
"I know this is not what you wish for but..." His smile was sad. "Come now, Lothíriel, you cannot think that I will be a cruel husband. We are friends are we not? You said as much yourself. And believe me when I swear to you I will do all in my power to let this limit you as little as possible. As for your work, of course I will do all that I can to ensure you can continue. If you wish to travel to Gondor for much of the year I will make no qualms. I would ask that you return for ceremonies and festivals and official occasions that call for a queen but other than that I will do my best to respect your freedom. And as for my marriage rights..." He hesitated. "I would never force myself on you, Lothíriel."
I said nothing, feeling suddenly sick. Bile rose in my throat and my stomach threatened to revolt. A queen only in name then was how he imagined me. A mannequin of a woman who could be brought out for ceremonial occasions and then packed off back to Gondor, out of his way: a head to support a crown, hands to offer him mead, and then disappear. Perhaps he would lie with me enough to give me a son but then would he find to warm his bed when I was out late at a birth or off in Gondor?
I stopped short at the thought of a child. What would it be to have a son of Éomer's? Unbidden came the now familiar image of a soft blond head that might bury itself in my skirts, little fingers that might some day grip a toy sword and then still later a training dowel. I could imagine myself with perfect clarity hoisting an excited toddler onto a first pony and holding a firm little body on my lap to read a story book. What price would that be worth to me?
This might be my only chance to have children, his children. Was that not something I wanted more than almost anything in the world? Maybe I would feel as though I had stolen some precious jewel until the end of my days but I would never be strong enough to stop myself wanting as many children as he would give me. And perhaps he would grow to feel something like love for me over the years. He thought of me kindly, fondly even. He had asked to be friends even after he had known my feelings for him, despite the awkwardness it must have caused him. Why could that not grow into something more? If I were to give him sons, an heir to his throne might that not be enough to...
And could I not also grow to be happy in that kind of a marriage? Would not in some moments of joy, with our children around us, with his hand on my shoulder, I be able to forget this part? Moments where it wouldn't feel as if I had stolen him from another, taken from him the woman he truly desired? Perhaps as the years went by and his affection for me grew I would be able to let my own wane slightly and this sordid beginning would fade away, become less painful. If I let time and routine wear away at it like water over a stone perhaps my feelings for him would begin to lessen their hold on me. Could I not allow myself even the trappings of happiness?
No. The answer came back with perfect clarity.
Slowly, I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. "I will not marry you."
He said nothing but he stood and let go of my hands. He walked back to the hearth and picked up his own mead.
"I will not marry you. I will not submit to this." I repeated, almost as if to reassure myself.
He turned his head away, looking into the fire. He swallowed deep in his throat and then said, "You cannot prevent me from doing what I believe to be right, Lothíriel. I will have to trust your goodness, that you will forgive me for it."
"I will write to my father as well," I said, voice hoarse. "I do not think he will see things the way that you do. And even if he does not... I will not submit to this plan."
Ivriniel, surely she would help me convince my father. She would understand that it was impossible for me to marry Éomer... my mind reached in a thousand directions, searching for anything that seemed solid, actionable, something to help me reason my way out of this.
"You must do as you see fit, Lothíriel," he said quietly. "I will return to Edoras tomorrow morning and then come back to fetch you in a few days when Etan is healed. You will send word when you're ready. I can wait to write to your father until you return and then we will send the letters by the same horse if it is your wish."
I nodded. "Thank you."
It would give me a few days to think best how to phrase my intentions. I'm not asking for your permission father. I'm telling you what I intend to do. I will not submit to that. Again I had found in myself some part of me that could not be transgressed, a bedrock truth that I would never betray. I will not marry you. At the cost of all I had fought to save first Alwil, then Etan. Now it was myself I intended to pay any price to preserve. Marriage to him in these circumstances would be the end of me, of all that I had fought to become in the last year.
Perhaps a nobler woman would have thought more of Éomer, the love match I was taking from him. He was a good man, one who had lived through dark times and fought bravely to end them. He deserved a wife that loved him and that he loved in return. But if I am to be truthful in this account, it was myself alone I thought of in that moment. Not Éomer, not Nibeneth. Only myself. I would not allow myself to be destroyed, not without doing all that I could to prevent it.
He hesitated. "For tonight, Lothíriel, I hope you can bring yourself not to treat me as your enemy."
I took a deep drink of mead and shook my head. "I will never see you as my enemy, Éomer."
"I never shall be."
The next day Éomer left before I was out of bed. I woke before dawn but waited until I heard the sound of his horse clattering out of the gate before I rose and dressed. Etan was awake when I found him, out of bed in a chair and taking tea. I knew from his face that Éomer had spoken to him after I had gone to bed the night before.
"You should never have come, lass. The life of an old codger like me is hardly worth your suffering."
I smiled and shook my head. "Etan don't say such things. Not even in jest. Now come let me tend to your bandages."
And so I passed several quiet and relatively peaceful days. I woke in the morning and took breakfast with Etan, then often went for a walk in the woods. The snowstorm had died away and there was a blanket of thick snow on the ground. I walked for hours with the company of two guards Etan sent with me whenever I was outside of the walls of the keep. I found it strange that I was sent with guards, no one had ever bothered with them before. Did they think they were protecting the future Queen of Rohan? But those were the kinds of thoughts I carefully kept away with the help of books during the day and a glass or two of mead at night.
I was almost loathed to admit how well Etan was healing. The suture line was holding perfectly with nary a sign of inflammation or suppuration. But the more quickly the wound closed the more quickly I would need to return down the mountain and face the reality that waited for me there. How long I would have stayed a coward, pretending Etan still needed my tending remained unknown, for on the third day reality came up the mountain to find me.
Just as I was sitting down to take breakfast the housekeeper opened the door. "Lady Alwil of Gondor and Rohan is here to see you, Lady Lothíriel," she announced.
I stood as Alwil strode through the door, pulling off her gloves. "Westu hal, Lothi." Her tone was as crisp as the puff of winter air that clung to her coat, her jaw set in a tight line.
"Westu hal, Alwil."
"Good," she said sharply, surveying my breakfast. "You'll need your strength. It will be a cold ride back to Edoras and we'll start directly after breakfast." She sat and began helping herself to some toast and a boiled egg. "I've had one breakfast already but I shall have to take more to fortify myself as well."
I did not bother to argue. Her tone let me know that there would be no use in trying to find an excuse for delay.
After breakfast I said my goodbyes to Etan and left instructions on how to clean the wound and change the bandage with one of the maids. The housekeeper promised to send word early if the wound showed any signs of infection again and said they were making plans to transport him down the mountain to Edoras in a few days when he was stronger. I embraced the old man and then went to go meet Alwil. I donned a cloak borrowed from Hema, as were all my clothes there, and Alwil put hers back on, along with her best winter boots. "Where is Dorn?" I asked. "Is he not missing you?"
"I've found a wet nurse for him for the day. He will be fine between Gallen and Widwine."
She had brought two of Wídwine's men with her as companions to escort her up to Etan's residence plus a spare horse for me. They rode with us as we left the keep. She didn't speak as we walked our horses out of the gates cutting a path through the snow. But once we were far enough down the lane that we could be sure we would not be overheard by any of the servants of Etan's, she turned to the guards.
"You may keep us in sight if you must, but ride behind us by enough that we may speak in private," she instructed them.
With a nod the two of them fell back, leaving us to ride ahead.
"You're a bloody idiot," she said when they were out of earshot. "Has anyone ever told you that?" She spoke with calm precision and real anger.
"Alwil I..."
"I was content enough to watch without interference up to this point, but I will not stand idle while you do yourself real damage, Lothíriel, in the face of all reason," she hissed. "You cannot expect me to do so."
"There's nothing to be done, Alwil. The worst has come to pass after all. What damage can I spare myself?" To my surprise the words came quickly, snapping out into the cold air and matching her harsh, brittle tone.
"The worst has come to pass?" Her voice was incredulous and angry. "The man you love asked you to marry him. And you are doing everything you can so as not to allow him to do so. What kind of twisted logic you've dreamed up to justify that to yourself hardly interests me anymore, Lothi."
I didn't try to deny her accusation. "How long have you known I loved him?"
"Long enough. You were not very subtle about it, in your own way."
"Does everyone know?"
"Widwine does of course. And your aunt. I'll doubt if many others will have guessed though. Your signs are clear enough, but you have to know what you're looking for to see them. Your brother and Fraca certainly haven't guessed to be sure, neither has Elinior even or most of the other women of Edoras I'd wager."
"How did you see it?"
"You stop yourself from looking at him, you shrink back when he reaches for you. As if you're afraid of what will happen when he touches you, that something will break inside." She frowned. "But even for you this is extreme. You do as much as you can to deny what goes on inside your mind, to present the world with the opposite of who you are and hide as much as possible. But the woman you are shines through, Lothíriel, and she always will."
"Alwil... you know I cannot live as I wish. What I want... it's impossible for me to obtain."
"Why? Because you think you're still that same little dutiful girl in the shadow of your aunt and clinging to your brother's elbow at any function? Unsure of how to act or what to say and terrified that someone will speak to you? You think you're still friendless and vulnerable?" she spat the words out. "If you still think all that is true, despite all the evidence to the contrary... then maybe you are still a coward."
Tears were trickling down my face now, freezing in the cold air. "He doesn't love me, Alwil."
She regarded my tears coldly, offering no comfort. "Have you asked him?"
"Asked him what?"
"If he loves you?"
I stopped short, a little sob hiccupping in my throat. "Alwil it's plain to see..."
"It is not plain to see! You only imagine it to be so!" Her voice would have been a shout if she had spoken above a furious whisper. "You are your only impediment left, Lothíriel. You are the only one who still sees the little mouse of a thing you were when you arrived. There is no one left standing in your way—not me, not Amrothos, not your father and not Ivriniel—and still you tell me the door is barred, that you cannot move forward." Her body seemed to radiate the tense anger of her words. "I will always love you, Lothíriel, but I'll not be proud of you if this is the path you choose."
I opened my mouth but the lump in my throat prevented words. The only sound that came out was a pathetic little stuttering whine of misery. "I can't..." I managed. "I cannot marry him if he doesn't love me. Don't you see what torture that would be?" The words came out in bursts.
Her mouth was a hard line. "You cannot know Éomer's mind. Nor his heart. Not until you've told him your own."
I shook my head against the tears and the memory. The sick shame made it impossible for me to meet her gaze as I forced the words out between clenched teeth. "In Pelennor... at the party... I wrote him a letter, told him what I felt. And then I heard him telling Éowyn he was to marry Nibeneth."
"You wrote him a letter?"
The sobs rose again and I could only nod. This time she was more tender. She took me reached over and grabbed my hand as hot salty tears dropped down over my cloak.
"Oh Lothi... I'm so sorry."
She let me cry until my throat was raw and my tears had faded on their own to little dry sobs. I felt better once the wave had passed, strangely calm and at peace. I had cried and shamed myself all that I could, there was nothing left to fear from this conversation.
. "You're alright my girl," she said comfortingly. "It's no shame to cry."
I tried to smile. "Ivriniel says that tears are wasted if they don't fall on the dead."
"Your aunt knows many things, which means she's bound to be wrong about some of them. The effort it takes to hold tears in is the only thing that's wasted."
I wiped my cheeks with one sleeve. "I think you might be right."
"Of course I am. But I am sorry, Lothíriel. I didn't know what happened between the two of you in Minas Tirith. I'm... I am proud of you for telling him how you feel. But you should ask him too... what he feels for you."
"Alwil I don't want to know the answer to that question."
"Why not?"
"Because I already know what it is. To hear him say that he is fond of me, that he respects my brothers and my family, that he feels kindness and admires the healing work I can do... it would be unbearable. I love him. I want to warm his bed and bear him children." I blushed at that but got the words out without too much hesitation. "I do not want to hear he is fond of me in return. Can you not understand that?"
"He does not look at you like a man who is thinking of your brothers or your work. Certainly I wouldn't call it fondness that I see in his gaze."
"What do you mean?"
"When he dances with you, Lothíriel, takes your waist in his hand he looks like a starving man sitting in front of a feast he knows he hasn't the right to taste. Even if you will not admit to that, you cannot deny it seemed plain enough that Éowyn considered you already her sister in everything but name at Pelennor."
I shook my head. It was Nibeneth whom she'd been overjoyed to hear would be her sister.
"He did not offer for my hand until he was obligated to." I bit my lip. "I... I would have said yes to him the day I met him and he did not offer for me until it would have cost him his honour not to."
She shook her head. "What did your letter say exactly? What were the words you used?"
I grimaced. "I was not ambiguous. I told him what I felt... that I loved... that I love him." In some strange way it was a relief to say the words aloud, to have another human know the truth after so many months of containing it inside me. "I love him," I repeated.
She bit her lip. "You wrote those words to him?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure he received the letter?"
"He came to me after to let me down afterward." That morning in the stable before I had left Minas Tirith I had stopped him before he could tell me my feelings were not returned but still I winced at the memory of it. "He would not have known he needed to rebuff me had he not received the letter."
She considered for a long moment. "I can't make sense of his actions. There is something that you are missing, Lothíriel. Can you not see that?"
"Alwil I told a man I loved him and he told me that my feelings were not returned. He now offers for my hand but only out of a sense of honour. Éomer is both honest and honourable—all of this is in keeping with his character. There is nothing inconsistent in his actions." I said. "Even if you do not wish to believe his motivations."
She considered for a moment and then suddenly frowned. "Did you say you overheard him tell Éowyn he was to marry Nibeneth?"
"Yes."
"Well he hasn't done that now has he?"
I blinked. How had that detail escaped my notice? In the months I had been in Dol Amroth studiously trying not to think of him it hadn't seemed important that the wedding had never been announced. And as time had worn on I had almost forgotten that he hadn't. The compulsion I felt not even to think of the letter, the feelings I had avowed to him, the shame of it all had kept me from examining that particular aspect of the story with much scrutiny.
"I suppose he hasn't. But still... I... I wrote him a letter to spell out all that I felt, that I feel for him and when he came to speak to me he said he understood why I would want to leave Edoras given his plans to marry."
She tapped her chin in thought. "I never heard anything about an engagement between the two of them being formed, much less broken. And Nibeneth would hardly be likely to keep it secret, far less for this long."
"Maybe he changed his mind in the end."
Her frown deepened. "It seems unlike him, to set his cap at a lass and then back out at the last second. A tenacious man is our Lion of Rohan once he gets his teeth into something."
I shrugged. "He must not have asked her though." I finally reasoned out. "Because otherwise how could he be free to offer for me?"
"How indeed?"
The fallen away bridge I had jumped had been rebuilt with a few logs over the gap. No doubt in spring a more permanent solution would be arranged. We wound our way in silence down the mountain and to Edoras, taking our time on the dangerous path. In the sun I could appreciate the little streams flooding down to Edoras to feed it's ponds and pools even in the depths of winter. They were beautiful, delighting the eyes and the ears as they splashed over hidden rocks beneath the frozen canopies they made.
It was already turning to dusk as we had left only after the noon meal having so many things to arrange for Etan's care. The purple blue of the sky against the mountains was like a painting, the torches of Meduseld were lit and the standard hung limply indicating that her King was in residence. The hall looked like a flaming crown upon the brow of the city.
"I will not threaten to tell him myself, Lothíriel that you love him. The decision is yours to make. But you are a fool if you do not. I tell you so with all the love I bear you," she said as we came to the gate.
I did not reply as we came through the gate and then turned up the hill, towards her residence. The guards took our horses and when we entered the house it was blessedly warm and already I could smell dinner. Wídwine was waiting for us with cups of hot tea and to bustle us to the table to take our fill of mead and warm food. She cupped my face once and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Wash your face before dinner, Lothíriel. You've salt on your face beloved one."
She put Dorn on my lap and encouraged me to eat but I only picked at my food, having no appetite despite the long ride. Inside me there seemed to be a buzzing energy that would not relent. I could barely sit down through dinner and paced the parlour when we took drinks afterward. I bounced Dorn some but could not sit down for a game of Hazard with Fraca. Wídwine and Alwil did not remark on my pacing but watched out of the corner of their eyes with concern they couldn't entirely hide. Even Fraca couldn't help but notice my restlessness and tried to tempt me to various games to no avail.
Finally though I could not contain myself. "I'm going out for a walk," I announced to no one in particular.
"Would you like company?" Fraca asked. "I can walk with you if you like."
"No!" Wídwine and Alwil answered in unison.
I barely had thought for the puzzled look on Fraca's face. I went to get my cloak and boots and I was out in the cool night air. I walked with determination up the hill without my pace slowing. I mounted the steps of Meduseld and the guard greeted me. "Is the King in the hall tonight?"
"No, my lady he's at the stables."
I nodded and turned back down the hill again.
The stables were so quiet and dark that for a moment I thought the guard had been mistaken. The only sound I heard at first was the snuffling breath of the many horses as I slipped in through the darkened door. But then I saw that there was a lantern burning down at the other end, near where Firefoot's box would be. My footsteps were nearly silent on the packed earth as I walked down the line of boxes. With all the horses in residence the stables were as warm as if a crackling fire was burning and I pushed my cloak back off my shoulders. At the door of the box I hesitated only a moment to gather my courage before I pushed the door open.
Éomer stood in the centre of the box, brushing Firefoot absentmindedly. The horse's coat already held a high and glossy sheen but he continued to run the brush over it. He must have heard me coming for he did not register surprise when the door opened. He was dressed simply, in a clean white shirt with no tunic and britches and boots appropriate for riding. His hair was tied back simply and he wore nothing else but the sword at his side. He looked tired. Even in the dim light of the lantern I could see the hint of shadows beneath his eyes. He tried for a smile though when he saw me, managing a worn but kind expression. "I thought those might be your footsteps. Westu hal, Lothiriel."
"Westu hal, Éomer."
I slipped in and drew the door back closed behind me, leaning on it.
"I would have liked to fetch you myself, Lothíriel, the road down is treacherous."
"Alwil came to escort me down. We were careful."
"I'm glad to hear that but still... If... That is to say if you are to be Queen I would ask that you take more..." He bit off his words. "But we can speak of that another time. I don't wish to argue with you now about your safekeeping. I am only glad that you arrived safely in Edoras. I shall thank Alwil for escorting you."
He came around Firefoot, ducking under the great horses neck and putting up the brush. "Have you come to give me the letter to your father? I have not yet composed my own so it may be a day or so before I send it."
I shook my head.
"What then?" He asked, looking quizzical.
My hands clenched together behind my back as if I was trying to encourage myself, or pull myself up against the wave of fear and dread that was washing over me. The question that had been burning in my mind and bones since Alwil had asked it finally came bubbling up.
"Éomer, why did you not marry Nibeneth?"
AN: Another cliffhanger! Sorry I didn't get this out in time for Christmas but please leave me a review anyway? It's all I want for Christmas after all. Huge thanks as ever to LBJ and all those who reviewed the last chapter! You should obviously know by now I read your reviews obsessively and I love, love, love to hear from you! Next chapter should be... explosive! XXO Jess