Eomer watched his wife from across the room. He did not know whether
she was even aware of he was there, for she should no sign of recognition
to his presence. She was rocking the empty cradle, staring at the invisible
baby with an expression of ignorant happiness. She sung softly, her gentle
voice and the small pops from the fire seemed to be the only sounds that
echoed through the Golden Hall.
He had spent as much time as he possibly could these past five days. Only when important matters of State that only the King could handle came up would he leave her side. Eomer would rush through these matters, leaving much of the work for others to handle. His advisors would scowl with disapproval, but were hesitant to say anything. However, he knew what they were thinking. What they were plotting amongst themselves.
Should Lothiriel remain lost in madness what would become of the Third Line of Kings? Rohan would still need an heir. Preferably, one sired by Eomer. However, a child with a mad wife was not the future King Rohan desired. There were legal ways to set Lothiriel aside, leaving Eomer free to marry another woman. But none would dare mention this to the King. It hovered uncomfortably in the air amongst them. Eomer knew they had a point. He was no ordinary man. Kings needed heirs, that was all there was to it. It was a cold truth that had been understood by rulers for centuries. Eomer had been lucky to find a woman of acceptable rank that he loved more deeply than he ever thought possible. And now, he may lose her to her own mind.
He could not let that happen. Two more days were left of the week he until it would be decided if she would be taken to Dol Amroth with her brothers and it seemed hopeless that Lothiriel would make any progress. He had no idea what he could do. Her brothers were at a loss as well. Mirdra provided support, giving what little care she could to Lothiriel. She had no advice for the King, she could merely attempt to calm the Queen when she was out of control, and see to it that she ate.
Lothiriel suddenly stopped her singing and turned her face to the fire for an instant. She seemed transfixed by the hypnotic dancing of the flames. Eomer observed her with the eye of a soldier determining the best method to defeat an enemy. This was a battle with something he could not see, nor understand. This was an invisible enemy that held his beloved wife captive, locking her away from him and destroying her, piece by piece, until he almost could not recognize her as his Lothiriel anymore.
He had tried everything he could think of to help his wife. He had told her countless times that the child was dead. Lothiriel would simply stare at him blankly and brush off these words and go back to rocking the cradle, not hearing his words. Eomer had tried to take her to the small grave where their son now lay, but Lothiriel had protested, violently. Her cries and shouting had started the he tried to guide her out of the Golden Hall into the cool sunlight. She had shouted that she could not leave the baby inside and jerked out of Eomer's grasp, running back to the cradle. He could not bring himself to use force with her so there was no way to make her come with him.
He sighed, watching as Lothiriel's gaze once more turned to the empty cradle and she went back to her gentle rocking. Never in his life had he felt so uncertain as to what should be done. He found himself missing the dark days of the War of the Ring. At least then his enemies were something that could be seen. Something that he could kill. Lothiriel was her own enemy. Her own mind held her captive. If only he could free her. If only he could make her see that the cradle she now rocked was empty.
Suddenly his thoughts ceased to wander and focused on one idea. The cradle. It was a reminder of the child and she seemed transfixed by it, always returned to its side.
Eomer nodded to himself, making up his mind quickly. He strode across the room to his wife and knelt beside her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.
She didn't even look up, her eyes never left the cradle. Eomer reached down and stopped the rocking to get her attention. She looked up, surprised by his presence, and pulled away slightly with the shock of what she saw as his suddenly appearance.
Eomer took advantage of her surprise, wasting no time he left the small cradle and without a word, cast it into the fire.
Lothiriel's shriek filled the air and she quickly rushed forward to the fire, attempting to pull the cradle out of the bright flames. "What have you done?" She shouted, trying to reach into the fire, but pulling back reflexively from the intense heat.
Eomer, seeing that she was hurting herself, pulled her back, ignoring her struggling against him. "Lothiriel!" He shouted, gripping her wrist tightly to keep her from harming herself further. "Lothiriel, he is dead! Our son is dead." He told her harshly. "You must see this."
Lothiriel stopped struggling she stared at the flames as the cradle burned, filling the room with a strange warmth. "Dead?" She whispered.
"Yes Lothiriel." He said studying her face with caution. "He has died."
Her face showed no emotion as she turned away from her husband, gazing into the dancing flames. "Our son is dead." She said, her voice empty and cold.
Eomer moved to stand beside her, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. "Lothiriel, are you all right?"
She made no reply to his inquiry. "I am tired. I believe I shall rest now." Her voice was flat, as if all the feelings had been sucked out of her.
Eomer nodded, guiding her to the bed, watching as she lay down. He felt shaken by this whole ordeal, and was made nervous by her lack of emotion. "I'll have your meal sent here if you'd like." He offered.
"Yes, that would be pleasant." She said flatly, closing her eyes to sleep.
Eomer watched her a moment and then turned to leave the room to find Mirdra and Lothiriel's brothers. Although she was still not fully healed, there had been a change in her condition. Eomer just hoped that he had done the right thing, and that this change was for the better. He did however breathe a sigh of relief. With this change there would be no reason to send his wife to Dol Amroth with Erchirion and Amrothos. Perhaps soon she would recover and their life together could continue. After such long nights thinking of only death, it felt good to think of life once more.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Dead. Her son was dead. Lothiriel lay on her bed, her face registered no emotion, and her eyes remained wide open, staring at nothing. She felt no pain, no sadness, no anger. She simply felt numb, as the events around her were not real, and she was merely a shell, her spirit detached and not present in her body. Everything around her seemed so cold and empty. Without her son, how could the world hold any joy for her?
Lothiriel felt her arms ache. Ache to hold her child. She wrapped them around her and rolled over to stare across the room into the fire. She supposed she should feel sadness and grief over the death of her son, and she found herself wishing she did, but instead there was only a void of empty emotion in a sea of swirling thoughts.
'Were you such a cold and horrible mother that you cannot grieve your own son?' She heard a voice inside her head ask her, and she knew it was her own mind tormenting her. She wanted to rage against its implications, but the voice had a point.
Perhaps she was not fit to be a mother. After all, her only child was dead. Perhaps he had cried out in the night and she did not hear? Perhaps she did not give it enough care? Perhaps her milk lacked what was needed to keep her son alive?
Lothiriel bit her lip, finally feeling something. But it was not sadness or grief; it was guilt that engulfed her. It was her fault the babe was dead. It had to be her fault. There was no other explanation for the child's sudden death.
She should not have been blessed with a child, she was unfit to care for it. She did not deserve to have a husband like Eomer. He was such a wonderful man, he ought to have children, and not to mention he needed heirs to continue his line. He ought to set her aside as Kings and take a new wife as some noble men had been known to do when their wives were unable to produce heirs. She would agree to it whole-heartedly, as much as she loved him, in order to ensure Rohan's continued royal line. However, she knew Eomer would never agree to such terms. The man was stubborn to the end, and would continue to sire children within Lothiriel, and she was certain that none of these would survive with such a cold and unloving mother as she had proven to be with her dear Theomund.
Lothiriel closed her eyes for a moment. There was only one way Eomer would consider marrying another. In order to save him from his own stubborn pride she had to take matters into her own hands.
She stood, feeling the cold stone beneath her bare feet, and crossed the room to a trunk kept against the wall. She searched until she came upon what she was looking for. A long knife, its deadly steel blade seemed to shimmer in the firelight. Her eyes gleamed with quiet determination as she studied the weapon in her hand for a moment. She had no idea how she knew it was there, perhaps it was fate's blessing for the actions she was soon to take. Lothiriel paused, considering how this should be done. Raising the knife, she carefully cut into the flesh of her arm, gently, and not deep enough to kill. She merely wanted to see what it felt like, to test the knife's sharpness and determine how deep she would have to go on her next cut.
Red, warm liquid ran down her arm and pooled onto the cold stone floor. She stared at it a moment, before realizing it was her own blood she was watching spill into pools which would soon become sticky and difficult to clean. She considered finding a washing basin to do this over, but then chuckled to herself, realizing how silly it was for her to worry about the state of the floor when she was about to take her own life. None of this seemed real yet, and watching her blood run from her arm to the ground was strange, leaving her with an almost giddy feeling as she summoned the courage to take the next cut.
She wondered what Eomer would say when he found her. He should be happy to be rid of such a wife. She was doing this for him after all. She wondered it he would understand. Perhaps she should write a note explaining herself?
Lothiriel shook the thought from her head. There was no time for that. She was merely stalling her task. She chided herself for lacking the courage to do this, and her determination grew. Taking a deep breath, that she assumed would be one of her last, she raised the knife, watching its glittering blade dance in the firelight. Perhaps in death she could look after her son better than she had in life.
"For you Eomer." She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut for she lacked the conviction to watch herself do this deed, and lowering the knife to meet her flesh.
* * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- BUM BUM BUM!!!! I know, I know, how could I do that to you? Well, I'm evil, what can I say? I can promise you that the other chapter should be up soon. I'd say two weeks at the latest. But don't hold me to that. I may drop dead and then the story won't be finished at all. Last week taught me that I should expect the unexpected. I had planned to have this done last week but circumstances prevented it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Note that I raised the rating. I decided to throw in suicide at the last minute (shrug). Just goes to show how much I actually plan things ;-) Happy reading! Lady of Legolas: Well, no change of scenery for her :-) Hope you liked the chapter! Thanks for reviewing!
Auror198: Hehe, well I'm glad you forgive me! Although you may be unhappy with the way I left this chapter. I gave hope, and then I took it away!! Mwahahahaha!! Thanks for the review!!
Lady of Imladris: Oh wow! Thank you! You're review was so nice :-) It's okay you haven't reviewed :-) The important thing is you did eventually! You made my day :-) Thanks for the review! Hope you liked the chapter :-)
Kat: How could I have forgotten you last time? That was extremely rude of me :-) You're review was so nice too! I'm glad you liked the story and I hope you still do. I hope I haven't become stereo-typical in how my characters are acting or anything. Thanks for the review! You made me smile :-D See? Doesn't that guy look happy?
Okay people, your mission if you chose to accept it is to review my story! If not, you're computer will self-destruct in five minutes. I can do that you know. I have powers. Scary powers! Besides, what will a review hurt? Nothing! It'll take like five seconds and will make my day! So go on! Review! Make this poor wannabe author's day by sending a review!
He had spent as much time as he possibly could these past five days. Only when important matters of State that only the King could handle came up would he leave her side. Eomer would rush through these matters, leaving much of the work for others to handle. His advisors would scowl with disapproval, but were hesitant to say anything. However, he knew what they were thinking. What they were plotting amongst themselves.
Should Lothiriel remain lost in madness what would become of the Third Line of Kings? Rohan would still need an heir. Preferably, one sired by Eomer. However, a child with a mad wife was not the future King Rohan desired. There were legal ways to set Lothiriel aside, leaving Eomer free to marry another woman. But none would dare mention this to the King. It hovered uncomfortably in the air amongst them. Eomer knew they had a point. He was no ordinary man. Kings needed heirs, that was all there was to it. It was a cold truth that had been understood by rulers for centuries. Eomer had been lucky to find a woman of acceptable rank that he loved more deeply than he ever thought possible. And now, he may lose her to her own mind.
He could not let that happen. Two more days were left of the week he until it would be decided if she would be taken to Dol Amroth with her brothers and it seemed hopeless that Lothiriel would make any progress. He had no idea what he could do. Her brothers were at a loss as well. Mirdra provided support, giving what little care she could to Lothiriel. She had no advice for the King, she could merely attempt to calm the Queen when she was out of control, and see to it that she ate.
Lothiriel suddenly stopped her singing and turned her face to the fire for an instant. She seemed transfixed by the hypnotic dancing of the flames. Eomer observed her with the eye of a soldier determining the best method to defeat an enemy. This was a battle with something he could not see, nor understand. This was an invisible enemy that held his beloved wife captive, locking her away from him and destroying her, piece by piece, until he almost could not recognize her as his Lothiriel anymore.
He had tried everything he could think of to help his wife. He had told her countless times that the child was dead. Lothiriel would simply stare at him blankly and brush off these words and go back to rocking the cradle, not hearing his words. Eomer had tried to take her to the small grave where their son now lay, but Lothiriel had protested, violently. Her cries and shouting had started the he tried to guide her out of the Golden Hall into the cool sunlight. She had shouted that she could not leave the baby inside and jerked out of Eomer's grasp, running back to the cradle. He could not bring himself to use force with her so there was no way to make her come with him.
He sighed, watching as Lothiriel's gaze once more turned to the empty cradle and she went back to her gentle rocking. Never in his life had he felt so uncertain as to what should be done. He found himself missing the dark days of the War of the Ring. At least then his enemies were something that could be seen. Something that he could kill. Lothiriel was her own enemy. Her own mind held her captive. If only he could free her. If only he could make her see that the cradle she now rocked was empty.
Suddenly his thoughts ceased to wander and focused on one idea. The cradle. It was a reminder of the child and she seemed transfixed by it, always returned to its side.
Eomer nodded to himself, making up his mind quickly. He strode across the room to his wife and knelt beside her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.
She didn't even look up, her eyes never left the cradle. Eomer reached down and stopped the rocking to get her attention. She looked up, surprised by his presence, and pulled away slightly with the shock of what she saw as his suddenly appearance.
Eomer took advantage of her surprise, wasting no time he left the small cradle and without a word, cast it into the fire.
Lothiriel's shriek filled the air and she quickly rushed forward to the fire, attempting to pull the cradle out of the bright flames. "What have you done?" She shouted, trying to reach into the fire, but pulling back reflexively from the intense heat.
Eomer, seeing that she was hurting herself, pulled her back, ignoring her struggling against him. "Lothiriel!" He shouted, gripping her wrist tightly to keep her from harming herself further. "Lothiriel, he is dead! Our son is dead." He told her harshly. "You must see this."
Lothiriel stopped struggling she stared at the flames as the cradle burned, filling the room with a strange warmth. "Dead?" She whispered.
"Yes Lothiriel." He said studying her face with caution. "He has died."
Her face showed no emotion as she turned away from her husband, gazing into the dancing flames. "Our son is dead." She said, her voice empty and cold.
Eomer moved to stand beside her, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. "Lothiriel, are you all right?"
She made no reply to his inquiry. "I am tired. I believe I shall rest now." Her voice was flat, as if all the feelings had been sucked out of her.
Eomer nodded, guiding her to the bed, watching as she lay down. He felt shaken by this whole ordeal, and was made nervous by her lack of emotion. "I'll have your meal sent here if you'd like." He offered.
"Yes, that would be pleasant." She said flatly, closing her eyes to sleep.
Eomer watched her a moment and then turned to leave the room to find Mirdra and Lothiriel's brothers. Although she was still not fully healed, there had been a change in her condition. Eomer just hoped that he had done the right thing, and that this change was for the better. He did however breathe a sigh of relief. With this change there would be no reason to send his wife to Dol Amroth with Erchirion and Amrothos. Perhaps soon she would recover and their life together could continue. After such long nights thinking of only death, it felt good to think of life once more.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Dead. Her son was dead. Lothiriel lay on her bed, her face registered no emotion, and her eyes remained wide open, staring at nothing. She felt no pain, no sadness, no anger. She simply felt numb, as the events around her were not real, and she was merely a shell, her spirit detached and not present in her body. Everything around her seemed so cold and empty. Without her son, how could the world hold any joy for her?
Lothiriel felt her arms ache. Ache to hold her child. She wrapped them around her and rolled over to stare across the room into the fire. She supposed she should feel sadness and grief over the death of her son, and she found herself wishing she did, but instead there was only a void of empty emotion in a sea of swirling thoughts.
'Were you such a cold and horrible mother that you cannot grieve your own son?' She heard a voice inside her head ask her, and she knew it was her own mind tormenting her. She wanted to rage against its implications, but the voice had a point.
Perhaps she was not fit to be a mother. After all, her only child was dead. Perhaps he had cried out in the night and she did not hear? Perhaps she did not give it enough care? Perhaps her milk lacked what was needed to keep her son alive?
Lothiriel bit her lip, finally feeling something. But it was not sadness or grief; it was guilt that engulfed her. It was her fault the babe was dead. It had to be her fault. There was no other explanation for the child's sudden death.
She should not have been blessed with a child, she was unfit to care for it. She did not deserve to have a husband like Eomer. He was such a wonderful man, he ought to have children, and not to mention he needed heirs to continue his line. He ought to set her aside as Kings and take a new wife as some noble men had been known to do when their wives were unable to produce heirs. She would agree to it whole-heartedly, as much as she loved him, in order to ensure Rohan's continued royal line. However, she knew Eomer would never agree to such terms. The man was stubborn to the end, and would continue to sire children within Lothiriel, and she was certain that none of these would survive with such a cold and unloving mother as she had proven to be with her dear Theomund.
Lothiriel closed her eyes for a moment. There was only one way Eomer would consider marrying another. In order to save him from his own stubborn pride she had to take matters into her own hands.
She stood, feeling the cold stone beneath her bare feet, and crossed the room to a trunk kept against the wall. She searched until she came upon what she was looking for. A long knife, its deadly steel blade seemed to shimmer in the firelight. Her eyes gleamed with quiet determination as she studied the weapon in her hand for a moment. She had no idea how she knew it was there, perhaps it was fate's blessing for the actions she was soon to take. Lothiriel paused, considering how this should be done. Raising the knife, she carefully cut into the flesh of her arm, gently, and not deep enough to kill. She merely wanted to see what it felt like, to test the knife's sharpness and determine how deep she would have to go on her next cut.
Red, warm liquid ran down her arm and pooled onto the cold stone floor. She stared at it a moment, before realizing it was her own blood she was watching spill into pools which would soon become sticky and difficult to clean. She considered finding a washing basin to do this over, but then chuckled to herself, realizing how silly it was for her to worry about the state of the floor when she was about to take her own life. None of this seemed real yet, and watching her blood run from her arm to the ground was strange, leaving her with an almost giddy feeling as she summoned the courage to take the next cut.
She wondered what Eomer would say when he found her. He should be happy to be rid of such a wife. She was doing this for him after all. She wondered it he would understand. Perhaps she should write a note explaining herself?
Lothiriel shook the thought from her head. There was no time for that. She was merely stalling her task. She chided herself for lacking the courage to do this, and her determination grew. Taking a deep breath, that she assumed would be one of her last, she raised the knife, watching its glittering blade dance in the firelight. Perhaps in death she could look after her son better than she had in life.
"For you Eomer." She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut for she lacked the conviction to watch herself do this deed, and lowering the knife to meet her flesh.
* * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- BUM BUM BUM!!!! I know, I know, how could I do that to you? Well, I'm evil, what can I say? I can promise you that the other chapter should be up soon. I'd say two weeks at the latest. But don't hold me to that. I may drop dead and then the story won't be finished at all. Last week taught me that I should expect the unexpected. I had planned to have this done last week but circumstances prevented it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Note that I raised the rating. I decided to throw in suicide at the last minute (shrug). Just goes to show how much I actually plan things ;-) Happy reading! Lady of Legolas: Well, no change of scenery for her :-) Hope you liked the chapter! Thanks for reviewing!
Auror198: Hehe, well I'm glad you forgive me! Although you may be unhappy with the way I left this chapter. I gave hope, and then I took it away!! Mwahahahaha!! Thanks for the review!!
Lady of Imladris: Oh wow! Thank you! You're review was so nice :-) It's okay you haven't reviewed :-) The important thing is you did eventually! You made my day :-) Thanks for the review! Hope you liked the chapter :-)
Kat: How could I have forgotten you last time? That was extremely rude of me :-) You're review was so nice too! I'm glad you liked the story and I hope you still do. I hope I haven't become stereo-typical in how my characters are acting or anything. Thanks for the review! You made me smile :-D See? Doesn't that guy look happy?
Okay people, your mission if you chose to accept it is to review my story! If not, you're computer will self-destruct in five minutes. I can do that you know. I have powers. Scary powers! Besides, what will a review hurt? Nothing! It'll take like five seconds and will make my day! So go on! Review! Make this poor wannabe author's day by sending a review!
