Lothiriel bit her lip anxiously as she looked out over the plain sprawling out in front of the crippled city. The light wind pulled at her hair and clothing, sending them in a dance to mirror that of the Rohirric standards still littering the quiet battlefield. She watched the way the images of horses seemed to gallop with the rippling. Yet they went nowhere, just like the men who had once held them proudly aloft.
She took a deep but shaky breath, clasping and unclasping her hands. She wanted something to do. But there was nothing she could do. Her only options were to hide away and pretend the war wasn't happening or remain where she was and watch the soldiers start to collect their dead and wounded.
At least the city had been saved, she reminded herself. But there was no feeling of success, victory or even relief. All she could think about was the number of lives destroyed in order to save it and wonder how many of the fallen were people she knew.
She heard footsteps behind her and the soft chink of chainmail against armour.
"What are you doing up here, little sister?" Amrothos said, stepping up beside her. "This isn't something you should see."
"There's no way to avoid seeing it. This is our world now" she said, looking at him.
His armour was dull and dirty, marked with dirt and smears of what she knew had to be blood. Not all of it was orc blood either. She knew immediately that the dark red patches were undoubtedly human. His long black hair had once been tied back neatly but now it was messy with strand hanging over his face. As best she could tell, his only injuries were a split lip and some grazing along the cheek and forehead.
"We're lucky the Rohirrim came when they did" Amrothos said, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. "The outcome would have been very different otherwise."
Lothiriel nodded slowly. "Have you seen Elphir and Erchirion since it all started?" she asked, referring to their two older brothers.
"They're both alive. Injured, but alive."
"And Adar?"
"He's helping collect the wounded."
"Have there been any-" Lothiriel started to say but then stopped. She had no idea how to ask the question.
"Any what?"
"I just knew some soldiers from Rohan. But you wouldn't know them so you wouldn't know if they'd been hurt."
She carefully avoided the possibility that they might be dead.
"You want to know if I saw Eomer" Amrothos said simply.
"How did you know?" she asked in surprise, making him smile despite the whole situation.
"Believe it or not, our brothers and I exchange information about you. You told Elphir about missing him after he was banished and he told me. Were you close?"
"I was close to his sister" Lothiriel said, not wanting to get into anything more yet. In the years she had spent in Theoden's court, she hadn't necessarily spent that much time with Eomer. She was a fair number of years younger and so spent more time with his sister. She definitely liked him though. He had always been kind to her. The thought of him being hurt or worse made her insides twist with fear and even pain.
"I saw him fighting but I don't know where he was by the end" Amrothos answered honestly. He was accustomed to fighting in battles now. False hope could be more painful than the death itself. He took hold of her arm. "Come with me. You should be inside."
"No, I'm going to go help."
"Help with what?"
Lothiriel stuck out her chin determinedly, anticipating the argument that would be coming. "I'm going to go help gather and treat the wounded."
"Lothiriel…"
"I want to help."
"I know you do, but-"
"It's not as though I'm asking to ride off to battle. I just want to help the injured. I've worked in the Healing Houses plenty, you know I am fully capable of this."
Amrothos sighed and ran a tired hand over his face. "You're going to do what you like regardless of what I say, aren't you?" She nodded wordlessly and he shook his head in fond exasperation. "Very well, but you have to promise that you will not go anywhere near any enemy even if they look entirely dead. Remember the rule. No risks."
She nodded obediently. "I remember. I promise I won't take any risks. I just want to help instead of hiding away expecting to be protected."
Amrothos nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Stay close to the walls. I'll come and help you once I've gone to see Naneth. She'll want to know everyone is all right."
"I'll see you later then" Lothiriel said. She took one last look over the battlefield that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. They definitely needed help finding everyone who could still be saved from their injuries. Taking a deep breath, she turned away to head for the stairs.
Lothiriel knew she would never forget the smell of the battlefield. She couldn't even isolate the different smells. All she knew is that they all meant death and damage. In her movements along the wall to help the injured who had gathered there, she had seen more torn flesh, crushed bone and mangled limb than she ever wanted to see again. She had seen so many that she felt incapable of being surprised by any injury.
It was all a haze of blood and bandages as she moved mechanically from one to the other. She kept her eyes down on the task and didn't speak to the wounded. None of them tried to start a conversation. Instead, the focus was on recovering from everything from the past few days.
Slowly, the insignia and colours of the soldiers changed from that of Gondor to the browns and rearing horse of Rohan. She had even less desire to recognise anyone. Or maybe she was more afraid that she wouldn't recognise a certain someone.
But keeping her eyes down didn't stop anyone from recognising her. Lothiriel was started out of her blank thoughts by a man calling her name. "My lady, Lothiriel?"
She looked up to see a young soldier. It took her a moment to place his face but quickly realised he had spent a lot of time around the Rohan royal house.
"I remember you" she said. "You helped me catch a horse when it got away from me."
He nodded. "That horse was an escape artist" he said. "I didn't know you were in Gondor."
"I haven't been here long."
He nodded, not having anything else to say. He simply allowed her to bandage his arm and move on. Lothiriel didn't recognise any other Rohan soldiers. Eomer didn't seem to be anywhere around and she was too nervous to ask. With every moment that passed, it seemed more and more likely that the response wouldn't be the one she wanted to hear.
Lothiriel looked up as one of the head healers approached her. "Lady Lothiriel, we need help further away from the walls. Some of the wounded can't be moved without treatment."
She hesitated, remembering that she had been instructed not to stray too far from the walls. But then she pushed it aside. There were no enemies on the battlefield except the dead and surviving soldiers were milling about. She wasn't in any danger.
"I'm coming" Lothiriel said, following the head healer away from the walls.
As she walked, Lothiriel tried not to look to closely at what was around her. She knew they were the remains of men, horses and other strange creatures she didn't recognise but she tried not to see them. Instead, she tried to only see grass and strange shaped rocks. That was all.
The head healer directed her towards where another healer was helping a wounded man writhing in pain. Lothiriel started towards them but was distracted by a horrible, guttural scream. Heart pounding in alarm and images of another orc attack in her mind, Lothiriel spun around to find the cause.
Her eyes found him immediately. Eomer.
He ran past, stumbling over the fallen bodies and equipment, tossing his helmet to one side. As she watched, his scream echoing over the plain, Eomer fell to his knees and pulled a small body up and close to his chest. The body hung limply, head lolling back and arms trailing. Long tresses of blonde hair hung loose and dirty – far longer than the hair of any Rohan man.
Lothiriel recognised her in the same moment as Eomer's second cry of grief and pain rang out. The body was Eowyn.
The halls were silent and lined with bodies being prepared for burial and burning. As the coldest part of the city, it was ideal for storage. The air was thick and heavy as Lothiriel walked between the rows. She didn't even register the smell of decay anymore. The whole city reeked of it now.
She walked as silently as she could out of respect for the dead. And the dying.
It was the dying the brought her to the Healing Houses again and again. Days had been passed since the battle and Eowyn still clung to life, though she had not woken once. Eomer refused to leave her side. Lothiriel could understand that. Eowyn was all the family he had left now that his uncle had fallen in battle.
She entered the room where she lay. Dozens of others were also being treated in the same area. People moved about, speaking in hushed tones but none went near where Eowyn was.
None except Lothiriel.
Quietly, she sat down beside her bed and looked at Eowyn's pale face.
"Has she stirred at all?" she asked.
Eomer looked up from leaning his chin against his hands. "No" he answered. "She hasn't moved."
"Aragorn says she will recover soon."
"She shouldn't have even been there" Eomer said, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. "I told her to stay with our people. She should not have come with us. She could have been killed."
"Luckily she wasn't."
"That doesn't change the risk she took."
Lothiriel didn't answer right away. She realised he was angry, but that was only because he was scared and upset. He was grieving for so many people, not only his family members but also the friends and fellow soldiers who had fallen in all the skirmishes and battles. It was a sentiment she had seen shared by all the surviving Rohirrim. She had heard many songs sung in honour of the dead.
"I know it doesn't. But in a way, it's lucky she was there though."
Eomer can her a sharp look. "How so?"
"The Witch-king could never be killed by a man. Eowyn was the only person in the battlefield who had even a chance at defeating him. She saved so many men" Lothiriel said. "The Witch-king's attacks could have been so much more devastating if he hadn't been defeated."
Eomer sighed and rested his chin back on his hands. "I suppose you're right. I never wanted her to experience this, though I don't think I ever could have stopped her. Sooner or later she would have found her way into a battle. You know how determined she was."
Lothiriel smiled wanly. "She definitely believed she was destined to be a warrior."
"And the more I opposed it, the more stubborn she became about it. I should have handled it differently."
"It doesn't help to wish to change the past. You can only change how you act in the future."
"Very wise" Eomer said, straightening up to stretch and getting to his feet. "And once again, I have to admit that you're right."
"My mother used to tell me that the most stubborn person is always right. I must just be more stubborn than you."
Eomer almost laughed at that. "Today you are, at least."
"You need to go get some sleep."
"No, I'm staying with Eowyn" he said. Lothiriel knew from the tone of his voice that there would be no arguing with him.
She nodded. "Just try to get some rest" she said, getting to her feet. "I should visit my cousin as well."
Eomer nodded, using a damp cloth to clean Eowyn's face. Sometimes, he almost thought she reacted to the cool touch. He wasn't sure how much was all in his mind though. He wanted so desperately to see some improvement that he might just be imagining it.
Lothiriel touched his shoulder lightly as she passed behind him in a gesture of comfort. She felt him tense slightly at the sudden touch but he quickly relaxed. Eomer glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge her. They shared a slight smile before she disappeared through the doorway.
Eomer turned back to Eowyn and smiled, though her state hadn't changed in the slightest.
"She's a sweet girl" he said softly, wiping her forehead again. "But I don't have to tell you that. You've been telling me for years."
Faramir looked up as Lothiriel came towards him and smiled. While confined to the Healing Houses, he tended to sit outside on the numerous benches overlooking the gardens with a book. It was much more peaceful than the crowded healing rooms.
"How are you this morning, dear cousin?" he asked as she sat down next to him. "You look very tired."
"I am" she admitted. It was always pointless to try to hide the truth from Faramir. He had always been able to see right through any lies or half-truths. "I've been busy."
"At least the wounded are beginning to recover. You can start to rest a bit more."
"That's the hope. What are you reading?"
Faramir turned over the cover so she could see. "One of the epics of the Rohirrim. I'm afraid the written translation is likely only a pale shadow of the true story."
Lothiriel nodded when she saw the title. "I've heard this one sung. It's beautiful" she said. "Eowyn sang it for me years ago. She did it in instalments for me each evening. And she always left it on a cliff-hanger every time. It always made me so mad."
"Perhaps one day I'll get to hear it. Do they always sing in the common tongue?"
"Oh no, they usually sing in their own language, but Eowyn translated for me. It can't have been easy for her to do that, none of them can write. She had to do it all from memory."
"An impressive achievement" Faramir said. "Did you ever learn any Rohirric?"
"A little bit. I was taught a bit but it was hard because I couldn't really write it down. I mostly remember phrases from the poems and songs they were always performing."
"Maybe I should get you to teach me."
"Why have me teach you when you could get someone from Rohan to do it?" Lothiriel asked. "They'd be much better teachers."
"And far less likely to stay around very long" Faramir pointed out.
"Eomer says that Eowyn won't be going anywhere for a long time. She'd be here long enough for you to learn."
Faramir only nodded in response. He had, of course, heard about Eowyn Shieldmaiden and her exploits on the battlefield. He also knew she was badly injured and had yet to wake from a deep unconsciousness. He was distracted from voicing those problems with Lothiriel's plan as the thrum of a new Rohan song drifted to them from within the Healing Houses. It was one Faramir had heard many times since the battle had finished.
They listened for a while before he spoke. "Do you know what this one is about?"
Lothiriel nodded. "Yes, it's one I heard many times in Rohan. Eowyn translated it for me."
"What does it mean?"
With the song in its original language as the low backdrop, Lothiriel began to recite the words she knew so well.
"They charged and rode, no hesitation in their hearts,
Eyes set on those fell ramparts.
Spears shining, helmets glinting, arrows whining.
Amid the roar of hooves and scream of the beast,
No rest until the battle has ceased.
Falling to and fighting those threats and wicked wrongs
Went willingly all those men of many songs."