Chapter 3
Lothìriel stood by Boromir's stirrup looking up at him as the sun beat down on him, the busy hum of the summer insects and whistles of the birds seemed out of place for such a solemn occasion. "Well, I'm off. You did well today, Bregion." He reached down to ruffle her hair, and for the first time she felt no impatience with him for it. She wanted to grab his hand and keep him from leaving, his future was so grey that it scared her. She stiffened as she felt Éomer step closer to grasp Boromir's arm in farewell. "Take care of him, Éomer." She heard his voice turn husky and bit back her own tears.
"I will, Boromir, like he's my own brother." Lothìriel glanced up in time to see Boromir's grin flash and answered it with one of her own.
"Be well, Boromir," she said, reaching out she clasped his hand briefly, before stepping back. Éomer moved back also and Boromir lifted a hand in farewell as he moved his horse up and into a trot, heading down the causeway towards the gate. As he disappeared from sight, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Come, lad. I've been gone for weeks and have much paperwork today. You read?" She nodded. "Good, you can help me get it all sorted and then after lunch I'll take you to the training grounds to meet the èored and the other lads." She nodded again and followed him into the hall, and down the corridor to his study, which was adjacent to his room, but on the other side of it, away from hers.
He sat down at the desk waving her into another wooden chair that sat before it.
"I need the reports sorted, reports of conditions of our herds and crops in one pile, reports of the condition of the towns garrisons and accounts in another, the latest scouting reports in another, then one for the missives from Edoras or the Second Marshal." Lothìriel eyed the papers, if father had been away two weeks he'd have at least triple the amount of paperwork. Éomer looked at her quizzically, "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head, "No, my Lord," she hesitated a moment, but curiosity pushed her on, "It just seems that, for being away as you have, there is not so much to be done here."
"The Eorlingas still give most of their reports orally. That gets turned into short reports by a scribe appointed to the town. It makes for brevity, only what is truly important for me to know is passed on, or kept in our records." His gaze turned assessing, and he started a question, "How would a lad like-" She felt herself stiffen and her eyes narrow and was surprised when the question stopped abruptly and he just looked at her, the unasked question hanging in the air as he searched her eyes.
Flushing, she muttered, "I'll get to sorting then." He nodded absentmindedly.
It didn't take her long, and she sighed in satisfaction as she laid the last letter into the right pile. All the missives had been folded open, been given a cursory glance, then laid with strict precision facing Éomer all the edges lined up neatly, and in the order he had given her. Father would be pleased. He glanced up as she finished, then eyed the piles with a surprised look. "You work efficiently. Well done. Why don't you work at ordering my bookshelves while I look through these."
"Yes, my Lord." The bookshelves were floor to ceiling along the wall facing the door, and they were in sore need of some dusting and straightening. Books were haphazardly leaning with papers shoved on top of them, various carvings were scattered in front of them. Lothìriel grimaced as she swiped a finger along the shelf and collected a small dust mouse. "My Lord, if I may, I will go get some dust rags so that I can do the job properly?" He hummed a noncommittal answer and waved a hand. She took that for assent and left the room to find the housekeeper or a maid. As she turned to go down the hall she saw that the door to Éomer's room was opened and poked her head in, hoping that her search would be short lived. A maid was in there, fingering the letters that Boromir had given Éomer.
"What are you doing!" Lothìriel's voice was sharp and in her anger she forgot to speak Rhohirric.
The maid dropped the letters with a guilty start and turned, casting a glare at Lothìriel, "I was just cleaning Lord Éomer's room, boy. What's it to you." She answered in perfect Westron.
Lothìriel frowned, discomfited, and tilted her head with a haughty air, "I am sure that cleaning his room does not involve poking through his private correspondence. And you may not refer to me as 'boy'." She stepped over and picked up the letters herself, silently cursing Éomer for leaving them out.
The maid glared at her, "What do you think you are doing with them!"
"I am taking them to my Lord," She raised an eyebrow at the girl, "What were you doing with them?" The maid's eyes dropped and she muttered something indecipherable under her breath. "I shall have to tell him, you know," Lothìriel continued. The maid's belligerence faded away.
"Oh, please don't! You don't know how much I need to be here, he would throw me out, I know he would." Tears filled her eyes, and Lothìriel hesitated. What odd phrasing…I need to be here. Perhaps it is a translation error?
"What's your name?"
"Elin, my Lord."
Lothìriel snorted, "While my Lord is preferable to boy, it's just Bregion, Elin." One of the positives of being a squire instead of a princess, she thought with a hidden satisfaction. "I'll think about this. But I would like to talk more with you about it later this evening. Could we meet in my room after supper?"
Elin startled and Lothìriel was mystified for a moment by her odd expression, the reason soon came to her and her cheeks flushed instantly hot red. "Right," she cleared her throat, "definitely better that it not be my room. The library, perhaps instead?"
Elin nodded looking relieved and Lothìriel blew out a breath and remembered why she entered in the first place, "Right, I need a dust rag. I don't suppose you'd have one I can borrow?"
"Whatever do you need a dust rag for?"
"Lord Éomer has asked me to straighten up his bookshelves and the dust is so thick on them it's a wonder you can even see the books." Elin giggled shortly, then looked surprised that she had.
"It's a wonder that he will let you touch them. No one is allowed into his study to clean. He even keeps the doors locked at all times."
Lothìriel's eyes narrowed, but she said casually, "Well, it's probably because he wants to keep an eye on me until he knows whether or not he can trust me, and," here she grinned a little, "he was not overfond of the idea of having to do it himself."
Elin giggled again, before handing Lothìriel a couple of the rags that rested in her apron, "Well, here's a couple to start you off." Lothìriel nodded her thanks, then headed back into the study.
Stepping in through the door, she walked over to the desk and set the letters down on the top of it. Éomer looked up from his reports, and as his eyes caught on the letters his brow furrowed. "What were you doing in my room."
She shrugged. "The maid was in there, I got the rags from her."
"Then why were you handling my letters?" His tone was angry, and she felt her posture straighten, shoulders back and stiff, chin snapped up, hands clasped behind her back, eyes fixed on the wall above him. Her formal mask fell into place even as irritation rose up. You need kindling to keep a fire going. Be water.
"My Lord-"
"Look at me when you answer." Her eyes automatically dropped to his, irritation flaring again.
"My Lord, I am aware of much of the contents of these letters. I do not mean to be forward, but even having an illiterate maid alone in the room with them scares me." And one that can read scares me more.
He leaned back and rested his chin on his fist as he considered her, the anger faded out to be replaced by a narrow eyed considering look, as if she was a puzzle he was trying to solve and pieces kept on changing shape on him. Slowly he pulled the letters toward him.
"Boromir said that I am only to open them in the event of his death, something happening to you, or," and here he paused to regard her again, "upon your request. Why?" She flushed, fighting the desire to look above him again, I never realized how much easier that made my conversations with father.
"I would think it obvious, my Lord. Boromir has placed me under his protection, if he dies, that responsibility no longer lies with him so he will let you know how to discharge me. If something happens to me while Boromir is still away, my family will need to be informed." Here she stopped.
He raised an eyebrow at her, "A bit impertinent and you left off the last reason."
She flushed again, father would have scolded me worse, "Sorry, my Lord," she said stiffly, "If I learn that circumstances have changed…enough…then the contents of the letters will not need to be secret."
He nodded as he unlocked a small drawer on the front of his desk, then slid the letters in before relocking it. "You spoke of fighting corsairs, and Boromir freely uses limpets to describe you. You grew up by the sea?"
She swallowed, "That was one of the things that I truly did want Boromir's permission before saying. I did grow up by the sea. But Bregion did not. He is from Lossarnach."
Éomer nodded again, "Son of a minor noble. Is there actually a Bregion?"
"Yes. And we look similar. His father is friends with Boromir, and he is currently on an extended hunting trip in the mountains with his own assumed name."
Éomer dropped his eyes back to the paperwork that was left on his desk. "That will be all for now. You can go back to work." Lothìriel relaxed her posture, and breathed a silent sigh of relief as she turned.
This is going to be more difficult that I thought.
_OOOO_
Lothìriel walked into the library rubbing tiredly at her neck. It had been a long day. And her arms were tired from swinging the sword. It's a good thing I showed him my skills with the bow this morning, for if I were to try that now I'd barely hit the target. She wandered among the bookshelves as she waited for Elin, the low roof in Meduseld meant that every book in here would be accessible without using more than a stool. It was so different in Dol Amroth or Minas Tirith. There the shelves could go up a full three stories in some places, and you needed a ladder and a librarian to get a book down. This made browsing much easier…even if there weren't as many books. Running a finger along the spines as she walked, she stopped as she saw one labeled, Laws, Customs, and Traditions of the Riddermark. "This looks interesting." She pulled it out and settled herself at a table in the corner of the room. She had just started to read when Elin entered the room.
"Over here." She waved as Elin looked around for her. Elin walked over to her slowly, as if she were dreading what was coming.
"Have a seat." Lothìriel motioned to the chair opposite her and Elin sat down, sitting stiff and straight.
Lothìriel leaned back a bit, running her fingers over the cover of the book.
"It is rare here in the Riddermark for servants to read. But you do."
Elin nodded, "Aye."
"And you speak Westron. It is interesting." Lothìriel looked at her questioningly, inviting her to say more.
"Aye," Elin said cautiously then added, "My mother was the daughter of a Gondorian trader."
Lothìriel grinned, "And that explains the accent. For you sound like you are from Minas Tirith itself when you speak. Your parents married, and you grew up here?"
"Aye."
"Have you ever visited the City?"
Elin looked surprised at the turn of conversation, "I did once. When I was but ten my mother took me to visit her family."
"Her family in Minas Tirith, are they traders still? Do you or does she keep in touch with them?"
Elin's face dropped, "My mother passed three years ago, so no, she doesn't. I would, but letters are expensive and coin is dear."
"I am sorry. About your mother's death. Mine died when I was twelve, so I understand your grief." She started to reach out to pat Elin's hand, but pulled back at the last minute, frustrated by remembering the role she played. I cannot comfort her as I want. What a pain that is.
"I am sorry for your loss as well, my Lord."
Lothìriel twitched a bit, "It's just Bregion, Elin. Really." She rubbed a hand through her hair, brushing it out of her eyes again. "How old are you?"
"Seven and ten."
"You live here, don't you?" Elin nodded. "Why? If you don't mind my asking…"
"My father works in Edoras in the stables and now that I'm of age we thought that it would be a good position for me to have."
Lothìriel watched Elin's cheeks flush as she turned her head away. She's lying. Why?
"Do you know anyone here?" Elin shook her head. "How long have you been a maid?"
"Half a year." Lothìriel eyed her consideringly, snippets of conversations overheard flickered through her mind.
"Were you in service before this?"
"No. I kept the house for my father." The girl was drywashing her hands in her apron now.
Lothìriel sat back. If she weren't in Rohan she'd think that she was talking to one of the spies her father…a small smile crossed her lips and she stated, "You weren't just looking at Lord Éomer's letters for gossip. Someone got you this job so you could keep an eye on him." Elin looked about ready to run. Lothìriel stood and moved between her and the door.
"They probably threatened your father if you refused. And," she thought of what was said of Rhohirric men, "he probably doesn't know." Elin's mouth dropped open.
"Now the question is who. Will you tell me?" Elin's mouth open and closed a couple times soundlessly. Lothìriel leaned in a bit, "No. You probably shouldn't. After all, if you tell, you'll be breaking whatever contract you have with…him…but if I tell you who it is?" Lothìriel brushed at her hair again, and narrowed her eyes, considering everything Boromir and Faramir had told her about politics in Rohan and Edoras as well as the whispers she'd heard around Aldburg the last couple days.
"Grìma," she guessed at last, there was only one other that she had heard of that might have had the motivation for this, but she figured her chances of being right were high, "the king's councillor." Elin did bolt then, pushing straight through Lothìriel. Lothìriel grabbed her arm as she passed and spun her around, shoving her back into the chair.
"Yes. Definitely him. Thank you for admitting it." Lothìriel grinned in triumph. Elin's face took on such a look of terror that guilt over the poor girl's fear tempered the feeling. "You don't really want to spy for him, do you." Elin shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "What have you been told to look for?"
"Nothing, my Lord," her voice was shaky.
Lothìriel sighed, "Really, it's just Bregion. You won't run again?" Elin shook her head, and Lothìriel sat back down. "We will come up with something, Elin. You can't get out of this mess yet. There's no help for that until your father has a different place to go. But-"
"You think you could help my father?" Lothìriel thought for a moment, then nodded.
"I think we can, but you won't like the first step of this."
"What is it?"
"Telling Lord Éomer."
Elin's face whitened, "He wouldn't….he-" Lothìriel held up her hand and Elin stopped.
"Boromir trusts him," she stopped as Elin shook her head violently. Right-why would she have regard for Boromir's trust.
"I can't, I can't," Elin gasped it out. Lothìriel sat back again, absently toying with the handle of her dagger.
"Well…for now then, could you promise to show me or tell me, anything you plan on sending? How often do you report?"
A look of relief flooded Elin's face, "Yes, my Lord. I can do that. And once a month. I just sent a report before you came." Lothìriel felt relief herself. This would give her time to figure out what to say about herself.
"Good. That's good then. We'll talk more later…and Elin?" She looked up questioningly. "Really. It's Bregion. The next time you call me 'my Lord' I'll go straight to Éomer myself." Elin's face whitened again, and Lothìriel laughed, "It was a jest. But only half a one. Please. Unless it would be completely improper for you to call a lad three years younger than you by his given name?" Elin looked surprised at this.
"I though you at least six and ten, my-Bregion. I suppose around here it's not so improper, but my mother drilled into me propriety when speaking Westron, and especially around nobility."
Lothìriel nodded, "And if we were in Gondor or if you were in front of another minor noble who was just visiting, it would stand you in good stead." Lothìriel paused as a thought that had flitted through her mind earlier came back and lodged there. "Elin, we'll need an excuse to be seen together more. Would you mind tutoring me in Rhohirric? I have a good grasp on the basics, but to be able to speak of it with one who is native in both languages would be a boon indeed."
Elin nodded, "Aye, we could meet here after supper a couple times a week. When you're not on patrol?"
"It is a plan then." Lothìriel stood, picking up the book as she did so, "I will bid you goodnight then, Elin. And look forward you tutoring me." She sketched a half bow and walked out, heading immediately back to her room.
_OOOO_
Lothìriel padded back to the hall on quiet feet muttering to herself, "Must be about midnight now. I can't believe I forgot to check on Nightfall befo-"
"Where do you think you're going?" The harsh voice startled her, and with a small cry she swung about, pulling out her dagger as she did so.
"Oh, Eothain. It's just you," She took a breath to steady her nerves, "It's darker than the halls of Mandos out here, why'd you have to sneak up on me?"
"Bregion. I'm on guard duty tonight. It's my duty to scare intruders. Even puny ones." The undeniable edge in his voice had Lothìriel's hackles raising.
"What is it with you and my stature? The èored could use a half-witted overgrown rockfish as much as it can you, but I don't hear them complaining." There was a muffled snort from the darkness then an indecipherable muttering.
"Well, lad, what're you about?" The tone had changed a bit.
Still angry and ready to defend herself Lothìriel answered sharply, "I was checking on Nightfall, I wanted to make sure the cut he got wasn't looking infected. Is it not-"
"Easy, lad. You know I have to ask. Going back to your room now then?"
"Yes."
"I'll let you be off then."
Lothìriel frowned before stalking back to her room. Irritating Rhohirrim.