Chapter Three: Halls of Healing

Quiet and solitude. Not a sound to be heard. Bright sunlight.

The Halls of Healing in Minas Tirith were terribly crowded. Eowyn had requested, upon awakening when Eomer found her, that she not be given a room of healing for herself, for it would have been selfish to have her own room despite her being nobility. Eomer had heeded to his sister's wishes, though she had been given only one roommate, and that was the severely injured Princess of Dol Amroth. The physicians had come to find, upon the young woman's arrival, that the right side of her body had suffered major injuries, including her broken leg, several cracked ribs, and a broken shoulder blade and arm. It was a miracle, they had told her brother, that her head, neck, and spine hadn't been harmed at all. Elphir hadn't left the young woman's side, save for when she had been undressed for the physicians. He sat by her bed day and night, hoping and praying that she would regain her consciousness and that all would be well for her.

Eowyn recovered swiftly in comparison to the Dol Amroth princess, and she was soon able to move about, visiting with Faramir, the deceased steward of Gondor's son, which often left Elphir and his unconscious sister to themselves. On one such occasion, Elphir was sitting at his sister's side, head bowed and hands clasped together in silent prayer, and there was a light knock on the door.

"Come in," Elphir answered, and the door opened and closed quietly, the prince never turning to see who had entered.

"How does your sister fare?" A deep voice questioned, and Elphir turned his head slightly to see Eomer taking a seat next to him.

"She has not awoken yet, and it has been days. I am greatly concerned."

"Only two days, my friend," Eomer said kindly, putting a hand on Elphir's shoulder. "Your sister had a most trying part in the battle."

"My father will be most upset when he hears what has happened to his only daughter," Elphir sighed.

"I highly doubt that, friend," Eomer chuckled. "There are men lining up outside this room even now wanting to speak to you about your sister's hand. She made quite the impression on the battle field."

"Is your sister healing well, Lord Eomer?" Elphir questioned.

"She is. I do believe the Steward of Gondor's son has his eye closely on her," Eomer nodded.

"I am sorry for the loss of your uncle."

"It was the way he would have wanted to go," Eomer said solemnly. "Your sister," he changed the subject, "has never ridden a horse before."

"The people of my country are not horsemen," Elphir spoke. "And Lothiriel is terrorized by them."

"Really? Why is that?" Eomer asked, shocked.

"The only interaction she has ever had with a horse was when a Dark Rider came into our country," Elphir said quietly. "He rode through one of our towns, causing destruction everywhere he went. He was about to gallop over one of the children when Lothiriel ran into the path and shoved the child out of the way. That left her standing before the demon horse, and it reared, making her fall back. She would have been crushed beneath its hooves, but for some reason the rider pulled the animal back and then they disappeared into the mist."

"That would be terrifying," Eomer mused. "I have a need to prepare for tomorrow's journey to Mordor, Prince Elphir, but here," he reached behind him and held out a small leather sack. "These are apples. If your sister can be brave and go to the stable, I am certain many a horse would appreciate the small gift."

"Thank you, Lord Eomer," Elphir nodded and then watched as the man left the room.

Lothiriel awoke less than an hour later, and great was Elphir's elation when he saw his sister sit up and ask for food. He would have stayed by her side, but as soon as she heard news of the upcoming attack on Mordor, she shooed him out of the room, telling him that he had to train for battle for the both of them. He left her with the sack of apples and Eomer's message, and then hurried out to prepare for another, and hopefully the last, war.

Lothiriel remained in bed for an hour more, sitting alone with her thoughts, and then she pushed her blanket away and shakily got to her feet. The healers had done well to her, mending her leg almost entirely back to the way it was before, though it still hurt to put weight on it, and Lothiriel grabbed her bed frame to keep from falling over. She was dressed only in a long shirt, and not wanting to walk about in such indecency, she reached out for Elphir's long overcoat and pulled it on over the thin material. Silently, she reached out her hand for the package of apples and then slowly made her way out of her room and in the direction that she hoped led to the stables.

"Princess Lothiriel, I had not expected to see you up and moving for some time," A kind voice spoke from a doorway, and Lothiriel glanced up to see Aragorn stepping out to greet her.

"I could not remain in bed," Lothiriel smiled politely. "You'll pardon me, sir. I had thought it was alright for me to walk amongst the great halls of Gondor?"

"But of course, only it wouldn't be right for you to go alone and in pain," Aragorn said gently, and he offered her his arm. "May I bring you to wherever it is you were going, Princess?"

"The stables, please," Lothiriel nodded slowly.

Aragorn smiled then and led her down one hall and then a next until they came to a great flight of stairs that led to the outside. Sunlight was streaming in from the bottom of the staircase, and Lothiriel's hand tightened on Aragorn's arm as he assisted her down the stairs. Every step felt like fire, but she bore the pain well and was greatly relieved when they arrived at the bottom of the stairs.

"I am afraid I missed the greatest parts of the battle, sir," Lothiriel spoke quietly as she was escorted through a vast courtyard. "What happened? Surely, we won?"

"Surely," Aragorn smiled, his whole face lighting up. "We had great victory, all thanks to the Riders of Rohan."

"There was a man, Eomer, he called himself. Was he greatly harmed?"

"No. Not greatly," Aragorn chuckled.

"You are to become king, are you not?" Lothiriel questioned as they stopped at the entranceway to the stables.

"Yes, my lady. And, I apologize for having to leave you here, but I must be moving on to my men. They have training more yet for a great battle."

"Of course, sir," Lothiriel said, curtsying slightly. "Thank you."

Aragorn bowed to her and then left her standing at the doorway.

The princess of Dol Amroth could fight many battles, those of the physical nature, and those of the emotional, but never had she thought that, in standing in such a peaceful place, she would find such terror. She could scent of earth that emanated from the horses within, and she was reminded of the smell of death. A light breeze swirled around her, like that of a gentle wisp of air from her homeland and the sea, but she could think of it only as the hot breath of the monstrous animal that had nearly killed her not so long ago. Her hands trembled as they clutched the sack of apples and she dared to take a step forward. She had to reach out and grab hold of a pillar as terror threatened to knock her to the ground. One of the horses snorted, and she jumped, trembles rippling through her body. She was embarrassed by her fright, and great it was for her that she didn't notice the shadow standing quietly in a corner of the stable, watching the princess with compassionate hazel eyes.

Lothiriel took a deep breath and then another step, and then she froze. She could hear hooves shuffling in the hay, and remembered the nails that spiked out of the dark horse's hooves. Big brown eyes looked up at her, and she recalled the fire that blazed in the evil animal that nearly caused her death. Her lips were trembling and her teeth chattering as she stood there in an aisle of the stable, trying to fight her own inner demons.

And then there was a movement in the corner of her eye, something brilliantly white, and tears of fear danced in the princess' eyes as a magnificent stallion began to move towards her. She couldn't understand why he wasn't in a stall like the other horses, but the animal was huge, magnificent, and terrifying, and it was moving steadily towards her with long strides. Lothiriel's lips parted, though whether to scream or cry out she didn't know, but no sound would come from the back of her throat.

Before she quite understood it, the horse was there, standing inches before her, big eyes scanning her scared features. She would have jumped, was she not frozen, when the animal stretched its nose forward, nuzzling her shoulder slightly, encouragingly. It then kept its head there, resting on her shoulder, letting its warm breath rustle her hair and whisper in her ear. Ever so gently, it nudged her shoulder and then dropped its nose to the package she had, ears perked up and a soft snort coming from its lips.

Lothiriel somehow found the courage to move then, and pulled out one of the apples, holding it out in her trembling hand to the majestic Shadowfax. Daintily, the stallion took the offered apple and then devoured it heartily before stepping forward and standing at her side. Where she found the courage, she could never tell, but Lothiriel put a hand to the snow white mane and let the horse guide her through the barn so that she was able to give each horse one of the small apples that Eomer had left with her.

Only when she came to the last horse did Shadowfax move away from Lothiriel and, with a soft nicker, he turned and made his way out of the stable. Lothiriel was left standing in front of a dapple gray stallion who poked his nose over the stall door and nuzzled her with it, searching for an apple.

"I know you," Lothiriel whispered, taking the last apple out of the sack and handing it to him. "You saved me. Thank you."

Firefoot sneezed, getting some of the apple on Lothiriel's hand, and she laughed lightly before reaching out and rubbing the horse's nose.

"He likes you," A familiar voice spoke, and Lothiriel turned her head to see Eomer approaching her, a serious expression on his face.

"I don't see why. I did not know how to ride him. Surely I gave him great pain," Lothiriel frowned slightly, moving her eyes back to the horse.

"That disappoints you?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I can fight with a sword, I can run countless miles, but I am afraid of a horse and I cannot ride one."

"You did not fall off," Eomer spoke. "That requires skill."

"You held me on. Thank you," Lothiriel whispered sincerely, daring to look up into Eomer's hazel eyes for a moment. "I have heard of the fate of your king. I am sorry. Are you to go to battle with the others in the morning?"

"I am," Eomer nodded. "I came to the stable for peace. The tranquility stills my soul."

"I wish that I could go, but my brothers simply will not let me for this last battle," Lothiriel smiled. "I suppose I understand their concerns."

Eomer was silent, and Lothiriel focused her attention on Firefoot before speaking again, breaking the awkward silence.

"What is to become of Rohan?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"My people were chased out of Dol Amroth," Lothiriel nearly whispered. "Our home was shattered. I do not know what I shall return to. What of you? Your king and your prince were violently taken away. I am certain your lands were spoiled as well. What is to become of your kingdom?"

"I suppose it shall be needing a new king."

"Will you be the king?" Lothiriel questioned.

"I do not know. It is yet to be discussed," Eomer smiled. "So concerned for a country that is not your own, Princess?"

"I am sorry," Lothiriel blushed slightly. "Politics are ever foremost on my mind. It is why my brothers bring me with them wherever they go. I can speak to leaders and dignitaries when they would often rather fight."

"That is a grand skill to possess," Eomer smiled. "Tell me, would you care to ride Firefoot for a few moments?" He gestured to his horse. "He is gentle and you would have no need to fear."

"I thank you, but no. I am afraid I am not quite dressed..." Lothiriel trailed off as she glanced down at her apparel, and then a bright blush spread across her cheeks. "I am not dressed appropriately at all."

One of Eomer's men entered the stable at that moment, his eyes set on his leader.

"Eomer, we have a meeting with the other leaders in a matter of minutes. We certainly need you there, sir."

"I will be there in a moment," Eomer nodded, waving his hand in dismissal. "It is good to see you have healed well, Princess Lothiriel."

He then bowed to the princess and made his way out of the stable.