Chapter 11
"The Life and History of Lady Haleth[1]. Is it any good?"
The voiced startled the woman, and she bolted up from where she was sitting.
"Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to frighten you."
Éomer was looking at her curiously from over her book. He was standing before her, a little off to the side, his head cocked slightly, as if studying the book in her hand.
"It is fine," she answered quickly, closing the book, as she tried to use one hand to smooth her dress. She had been curled up in the seat, in the most unlady-like of seated positions, with her back against one armrest, her feet over the other, and the book in her lap.
She remembered, suddenly, that she was in the library, though she was not sure how long she had been there. A good book could always do that to her. "I am sorry, my lord. I did not see you," she said stupidly. She paused. "What time is it?"
Éomer gave a small laugh. "So it was a good book."
She smiled sheepishly. "Yes. One of my favorites. She was a great Chieftan among men in the First Age and led her people through many lands. Her story is one of valor and courage."
The man raised his eyebrow. "A woman as a leader of men?"
The disbelief and tinge of scorn in his voice was all it took to raise the woman's hackles. "Yes, and she was a great one at that," she stated defiantly. "Unfortunately for both women and men, there are not enough stories like hers in the history books." She pushed past the man, clutching the book to her chest and walking as quickly as possible.
She marched through to the front tables, waved the book at the bewildered clerk there to indicate she was borrowing it, and walked through the streets, directly to her room.
It took everything in her not to slam the door behind her, and she flung the book onto her bed. Pacing around her quarters, she clenched her fists and gave a frustrated cry.
Of course he would find Lady Haleth an object of scorn. Of course he would think a woman as Chieftain to be something laughable. Why would he think any differently than everyone else around her?
Why, indeed, would he think differently than she just did a short while ago?
And yet, she wished, irrationally, that he did, because he had been so easy to talk to, so receptive to the other things she had said to him.
Why did it make her so angry?
"Ugh!" she cried in frustration again and flopped onto her bed, covering her eyes with one arm.
She lay like that for a good while, seething under herself, willing herself to stop being angry. When she finally felt more civilized, she remembered to check the time, and found that she had been reading for so long, she had missed her noon meal. She was in no way hungry, but she realized that was was nearly due to go to the Houses of Healing.
She changed into a plainer dress of white cotton and put her hair beneath a white cap.
She looked down once more at the book. Perhaps she would never lead her people like Lady Haleth, but at least she could make some changes in the lives of men, albeit small. She would work as a healer and try to serve her people that way. But still, in the back of her mind, she continued to think, "Why can I not do more?"
She spent the next few days as far away from Éomer as she could. She spent most of her time in the Houses of Healing, and when she was not there, she took her meals in her room and read there. She hoped that by not seeing the king of Rohan for a while, she would forget about him, but she found herself stuck in daydreams of the man.
On the third evening of her trying to avoid the world, Éowyn and Arwen were at her door, and with them was a good bottle of red wine[2].
"Well, hello Lady Hermit," Éowyn greeted her as soon as she opened the door. "We were wondering where you had been." She did not wait for Lothíriel to invite her in but pushed past the woman and sat on her bed, setting the bottle of wine on the bedside table.
Arwen entered behind the woman and took a more dignified seat in the armchair next to the bed. She leaned over and set down three glasses, which she had been holding. "The entire court has, in fact," she added to Éowyn's statement. "Especially a certain Rohirrim." She gave the other woman and small smile the annoyed her to no end.
When Lothíriel merely rolled her eyes at the queen's statement, Éowyn raised an eyebrow at the elf. Lothíriel tried to busy herself by trying to find something to uncork the bottle.
"I am sorry, I have been busy," she said as she popped the cork off the bottle. "There are the Houses of Healing, and I have been managing the books for Dol Amroth. We have not yet found a suitable steward since before the War, and I have been managing the books for so long, that my father seems to have forgotten about a need for one. Unfortunately, I cannot always be up to date on my social calendar."
She poured out three healthy glasses before siting down on the bed with Éowyn and taking a large gulp from her glass.
"Ho there, that is not water," Éowyn commented, seeing her friend.
"Is there something wrong, Lothíriel?" Arwen asked, furrowing her smooth brow.
The woman took in a deep breath. "Nothing," she said, putting a smile on her face before standing up to be away from her suffocating friends. She walked toward her desk with her wine glass. " 'Wyn, what about you? How are you and the child? How is Faramir taking it all?"
"Fine and fine," the Rohir said dismissively. "But something is wrong, Lothi. What is going on with this … thing … between you and my brother?"
Lothíriel set the wine glass down forcefully on her desk before closing her eyes briefly. "There is not a … thing… between your brother and me."
She looked up and saw that the other woman's mouth was a thin line. "Then you must let my brother know, for Éomer is under quite another impression." That only made Lothíriel scowl, and she made a conscious effort to leave her wine glass alone. She was not doing well at controlling her temper recently, and she knew the wine would only make her more volatile.
Arwen, however was more sympathetic. "Come now, Éowyn. If Lothi does not wish to speak about her feelings, then we should let her be."
The Gondorian breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Arwen." But she had spoken too soon.
"She is obviously not interested in what the king of Rohan has to say about her," the queen continued and smiled placidly at the princess.
Despite the obvious bate, Lothíriel could not help herself. "He has been speaking of me?"
Arwen and Éowyn exchanged a glance that the other woman could not read, and Éowyn cocked her head to once side in an all too familiar fashion. It was clear she and Éomer were related. "Oh, only to myself and at times Éothain. You know how those two to are as thick as thieves." She paused, basking in the agonizing silence as Lothíriel waited for her to continue.
"But you are not interested, after all," Arwen said, waving away the other woman. "Éowyn, how goes your pregnancy?"
Lothíriel threw up her hands and almost cursed out loud, but her training as a princess would not allow her descend to such a low point. "Alright, stop it!" she cried. "What has he said?"
The grin on Éowyn's face resembled that of a cat who had just drunk cream. "Are you sure? I mean I may have felt a quickening last night. It is still early, but –"
"Éowyn!" the princess looked as if she were about to strangle the other woman. Arwen and Éowyn burst into laughter.
"We are just teasing, Lothi," the Queen said good-humoredly.
"We were going to tell you regardless," the Rohirrim woman said. She moved over from her place on the bed and patted the space next to her. "Now come sit and let us be friends again." Reluctantly, the princess sat next to her, her face still a storm cloud of annoyance.
"He has said to me that you are a remarkable woman," Éowyn continued. "And that, unlike many Gondorian woman, you have some mettle."
Lothíriel paused, but the other woman said no more. After another moment, she blinked. "That was it?"
Éowyn snorted in a very un-lady-like manner. "Impatient, are we not?" she chided. "He also spoke of your wit, and a book you introduced to him. He has found The Life and History of Lady Haleth both interesting and educational."
That stopped the other woman in her thoughts. "He is reading The Life and History of Lady Haleth?" She raised an eyebrow.
Éowyn nodded. "More like devouring. I have never seen my brother go through a tome of that size so quickly." At the unreadable expression on her friend's face, she sobered. "What that book, Lothi?"
The princess looked down at her hands and then from Arwen to Éowyn. She was not sure how to feel. To hear that Éomer had read the book make her heartbeat quicken. "Have you realized that in all the histories and legends of Middle-Earth, Lady Haleth is one of the only women that is spoken about outside of her husband?"
Arwen's gave her a small smile. "If I remember correctly, that is because Lady Haleth never took a husband."
However, Lothíriel did not smile back. "Exactly!" she said, throwing up her hands. She bit her lip as she tried to explain the thoughts that were swirling through her mind. "I have been thinking these past few days about our role as women. Other than mothers and wives, what are we?"
Neither of her friends answered her, but looked on with sober expressions, realizing that they were no longer jesting.
"Éowyn, I spoke of this with you before. We are 'and wife.' That is it. That is how men see us. I want more!" Lothíriel cried. She realized that she had somehow gone from sitting to standing once more. "I do not want a husband who will see me as nothing but a vessel for his children!"
When her outburst was over, she realized that her friends were staring at her. Had they not been well-trained, Lothíriel suspected they would have been open-mouthed, but she did not care. She realized, now, why she had been so resistant to her father's proposed matches for herself – all those men, Lord Belegorn included, only saw her as an "and wife," never for who she truly was.
"What is it you wish, Lothi?" Arwen asked kindly. However, her expression belied her disconcertion with what the princess had just said.
Lothíriel took a deep breath. "I want to be my own person." These were the words that had been inside of her all along, words she had dared not utter as the daughter of Prince Imrahil. "I want to pursue my won dreams, to become a healer. And… and if I do marry, I want to do it on my terms, to someone who will not object to me doing what I will."
She stopped to see how her words would affect her friends. Both of them still appeared stunned. Éowyn was sitting on her bed, her hand grasping her wine glass tightly. Arwen was still sitting before her in her armchair, and to those that did not know the Queen, they would have thought her expression rather placid. However, Lothíriel could read in her eyes that she was bothered by what she had said.
Too well she remembered Erchirion telling her that it would be impossible for her to become a healer, that it was not something royal women did. Was that what her friends were thinking as well?
"Have you told this to your father?" Éowyn finally asked.
It was not the response that Lothíriel wanted. "How can I?" she thundered, beginning to pace the length of her room once more. "He knows I want to be a healer, but how can I possibly ask that? He wants me married, and strategically, to benefit Dol Amroth. How would he take it if I told him this?"
Her rage made her friends silence again, and she realized that they had probably never expected anything like this from her. Lothíriel, who until this day had been poised, quiet, and dutiful.
But where was this all coming from? Had her bout with the Orcs really given her the courage of a warrior?
"You could still be a healer and married, Lothi," Éowyn finally said. "The Houses need you."
The other woman ground her teeth. "I do not want to remain as a nurse, helping when I can," she stated emphatically. She knew, now, the deep seat of her discontent. " I want to head the Houses. I want to pronounce and diagnose ailments, not just follow the orders of others."
She sat suddenly on her bed, tired, as if deflated from all the effort she had just put into speaking her mind. The silence in the room was enough to tell her what her friends thought of her desires, and slowly, she could feel tears welling in the corners of her eyes. The room blurred around her, and she pulled out her handkerchief from her pocket to dab at the tears.
"Oh, Lothíriel," the elf said, standing and coming to her. She placed her hands on the other woman's cheeks, and wiped away her tears with her thumbs. Her dark eyes bore into Lothíriel's. "Is this really what you want?"
The woman nodded silently. How many times had she envied the position of the healers? To be listened to by her charges instead of dismissed? How many times had she made the correct diagnosis only to have the credit be given to one of the arrogant healers' apprentices?
"Then send them an application," Arwen said softly.
"What?" the woman could not believe what the elf was saying. It had actually been her plan all along.
"Every healers' apprentice must apply for the position," the queen said. "With a letter of recommendation. Only then can they enter into the five-year apprenticeship."
By this time, Éowyn, too, had come up to where the other two were standing. "But, Arwen, a woman has never been accepted as a healers' apprentice. The master healers are all men, and the only women in the Houses serve as helpers."
Lothíriel could have sworn she saw Arwen purse her lips. "You of all women must understand what it means to be the first, Éowyn," she said calmly. "No woman before you had slain a Nazgûl." She turned back to face Lothíriel, her expression serious. "If you write an application, Lothíriel, I would be more than happy to write your letter of recommendation. They cannot deny the Queen of Gondor."
The other woman's heart leaped in her chest and she gave Arwen a warm embrace at these words. But her soul was only free for a moment before reality again began to set back in.
"I cannot apply, Arwen," she said, reining in her moment of happiness. "If I send the Houses an application, the first thing they will do is ask my father, if he finds out, he will be livid." She bit her lower lip and turned away from the elf. "It is a silly dream."
But the queen was persistent. She stepped around to face the princess once more. Her normal placid expression was replaced by one of determination. The stone walls behind her only offset her black hair, and Lothíriel was struck by her beauty.
"It is not silly," she said, her voice firm. "We are in a new age, Lothíriel. Change is upon us. Things are not as the used to be. Submit your application. We shall speak to your father together."
Slowly, Lothíriel nodded before turning to face Éowyn. A small smile was playing on her lips.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I was just thinking," Éowyn said. "Perhaps you will be writing your name in the history books after all. And it will be much more than just 'And Wife.'"
[1] From The Silmarillion. Lady Haleth (FA 341 – FA420) was the daughter of Haldad and twin sister of Haldar. After her father and twin brother were slain in an Orc raid, Haleth became Cheiftain of the Haladin. She kept her people alive for seven days while the Orcs laid siege to the encampment, until Lord Caranthir arrived with reinforcements.
She then led her people o the Forest of Brethil to dwell in safety.
[2] Obviously, it was not yet known that drinking alcohol during pregnancy can lead to fetal deformities.