Three months had passed since the King had left Edoras and the summer
heat had hit the city like never before. None could recall the air ever
being so thick and warm. The usual cool wind that stormed through the city
now bought in waves of thick dust and heat. Animals where dying from heat
and thirst, and some people, mostly elderly had died as well. Children who
usually ran about on warm summer days had become lethargic, and none could
work long in the heat.
It was late in the afternoon when Hathawyn returned to Meduseld from her errand for the Queen. She had been acquiring herbs from Mirdra the mid- wife for Lothiriel, and since the weather was so miserable Hathawyn refused to allow her Lady to walk so far. She hated her heavy dress at the moment and was very much in need of a drink. She nodded politely to the guards at the doors, who allowed her to pass without question. Hathawyn suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for these men, who must be buried alive under all that armor. She paused a moment studying the two. "May I bring you some water perhaps? You must be thirsty."
One of them turned to look at her, his face was covered with sweat under his helmet but he smiled kindly. "My thanks, but our watch shall soon be over. We have lesser shifts under this sun than normal, to keep us well."
Hathawyn nodded, "Well, should you need anything." She said softly, gathering up her skirts and pushing open the heavy door to the Golden Hall.
She quickly crossed to one of the passages that lead to her Lady's apartments when she noticed two men standing in a corner of the Golden Hall, whispering. She hid herself in the shadows and paused a moment to watch them. She could not see their faces, but they were whispering with great urgency, and seemed to be watchful, making sure they were alone. It was curious that they were so heavily cloaked, for the Hall was quite warm and most were attempting to wear as light and cool clothing as propriety would allow. She moved closer, attempting to see their faces, when one of the men looked up, seeing Hathawyn. She did not recognize the man, but she did not chance to see his companion, for as soon as she knew she had been observed she quickly turned and headed on her way, trying to make it seem as if she had not been watching them. She quickly went to the Queen's chambers and knocked sharply.
"Who is there?" Lothiriel called from within.
"It is Hathawyn, my Lady!" She replied, nervously glancing over her shoulder to see if the man followed her.
"Oh! Come Hathawyn, quickly!"
Hathawyn did just that, quickly pulling the door shut behind her. She found her Queen dressed merely in her shift, her heavy dress lay disregarded on a chair. "My Queen?" Hathawyn raised an eyebrow.
"Oh! I know it is most improper of me." Lothiriel smiled. "But it is so hot, and I am already most uncomfortable and feeling terribly fat. I was suffocating under there." She said, pointing to the dress, giving it an accusing glare. "I decided since it was only myself, and perhaps you, who has assisted dressing me many times, that there was no call for ceremony." She laughed, placing a hand on her rounded belly, which seemed even larger to Hathawyn in only the thin white shift. "The little one agrees also." She then noticed Hathawyn's worried expression and motioned for her to sit down. "Does something trouble you Hathawyn?"
Hathawyn set her bundle on a table and lowered herself into the chair. A curious expression crossed her face, as if she were trying to calculate something. "My Lady, I noticed two men in the Golden Hall whispering together, as if sharing a great secret. One, I did not recognize, and the other I saw not his face. It concerned me the urgency they seemed to whisper, my Lady."
Lothiriel studied the girl a moment before replying. She seemed to lower her voice, as if afraid of being over heard, and beckoned her closer. "I shall confide in you Hathawyn, I fear something is amiss here in Meduseld." Hathawyn, now kneeling beside her Queen's chair, stared at her, eyes widening. "What do you mean, my Lady?"
"This plague. Does it not seem odd to you that none now mention it, and when brought up, they seem to mutter excuses and change the subject. It is as if something is being hidden from me, and I do not find complete truths in all the advisors say." Lothiriel sighed, leaning her head back against the stone of the wall behind her. "Something is not right, I can sense it."
Hathawyn brow furrowed, she was young and trusting, but she was loyal to her Queen, and should anyone try to harm her Lady she would not stand for it. She bowed her head low, trying to think of eloquent words to give her oath. "My Queen, should any try to harm you, I would give my life to protect you." She vowed, stumbling over words, her voice tight with emotion.
Lothiriel looked down at the young woman, surprised by her fierce loyalty. "I believe you would Hathawyn." She said earnestly. "But let us hope it does not come to that." She gave her a brave smile. "Perhaps I am just over reacting with my suspicions, but keep an sharp eye and open ear, and report anything strange to me, and none other, just as a precaution."
Hathawyn nodded, getting to her feet. "Yes my Lady." She then retrieved her bundle, her eyes suddenly sparkling like an excited young girl. "I have something for your babe, my Lady. A gift I finished last night." She handed a small package to Lothiriel, grinning. She was planning on giving it to her after the babe was born, but she had sensed that her Queen's dark mood had been getting worse all week, and hoped to lighten the heavy worries by giving her gift. It was a simple of gesture of kindness, but one that would be appreciated nonetheless.
"Hathawyn, you should not have troubled-" But Lothiriel did not complete her sentence, she had pulled forth a warm green blanket, about half sized, with a white horse dancing in the center. "Hathawyn, this is beautiful." Hathawyn grinned peering over Lothiriel's shoulder. "Look closely at the horse, my Lady."
Lothiriel did so and her eyes widened in surprise. "This is not white! It is pale blue! The same as my old dress." She looked at the girl in wonder.
"The one you ripped beyond repair not long ago. You told me it was old, from when you were younger at Dol Amroth. It had been your mother's and you were grieved to be rid of it, so you kept it even through you could not wear it again. I hope you do not mind that I took a small portion for the blanket." Hathawyn explained, blushing slightly at the high praise of the Queen.
Lothiriel smiled, "Oh it is quite all right. It is wonderful. Does the green have a story as well?"
"When I saw you were making the King a new cloak, I took some cloth from the old. It was worn and stained at the edges, but I managed to find a good piece for the blanket." Hathawyn said.
"The child then will have a piece of their mother and father." Lothiriel said softly, touching the blue horse gingerly. Dol Amroth seemed so far away, like a distant memory, and yet, at this moment it seemed closer than ever. Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at the beautiful work done on the gift and her fingers drifted to the green from her husband's cloak and she held to her cheek as if to feel closer to him by doing so. "It is perfect." She whispered. "I give my thanks, on behalf of my husband as well. I am sure he will be grateful for such a fine gift as well."
Hathawyn bowed gracefully. She then met the tear filled eyes of her Queen and with a small pause, considering the boldness of her question, but going ahead. "You miss him terribly do you not?"
Lothiriel's face crumpled, and tears ran down her cheeks. "More than I ever thought possible." She whispered.
Hathawyn took her Lady's hands in her own, grasping them tightly. "He shall return soon, my Lady." She said, distraught that her gift had upset the Queen so.
Lothiriel returned the grip, attempting to calm herself, if only for Hathawyn's sake. She could tell the poor girl thought her gift was the cause of the Queen's distress. In truth Lothiriel suspected it was the mixture of worry as well as the heat and the child growing within her. "I pray you are correct, Hathawyn." She smiled kindly. "My thanks for the gift. You picked a wonderful time to give it to me, truly my friend."
Hathawyn smiled, "I also brought some herbs from Mirdra. She said you are to get plenty of rest and drink this concoction of hers."
Lothiriel made a face. "I remember that concoction. The taste is terrible."
Hathawyn laughed, "I shall prepare it, in the mean time, you must promise me you will rest."
"Very well." Lothiriel replied. She had been feeling rather tired, perhaps some sleep would be a good idea.
Satisfied with her Queen's response, Hathawyn left the room, closing the door behind her. Lothiriel got to her feet, and went to her bed. It was far too warm for the coverings, so Lothiriel merely stretched out on top of them, resting her head against the fine pillows. She sighed, closing her eyes, attempting to quiet her thoughts. This task was proving difficult. Her head spun with thoughts. Thoughts of what could be happening among the advisors, thoughts of her husband on a battlefield far away. There had been no word from him, even if he had sent word the messenger would have been turned away, but she had been told none had arrived. It seemed odd to her that Eomer would not send some word, if nothing else but to tell her of his health or her father's or some news from the battle. Of course, she had sent no messengers either. She could not with plague in the country. Suddenly, the thought came to her. What if the plague was only a story told to prevent her from communicating with Eomer? What if someone wanted her isolated here in Edoras? But why? And who?
Lothiriel pondered for a moment and then quickly came to a decision. She must send word to Eomer right away to show whoever was plotting that their scheme would not work. She knew it was risky, if she were wrong she could inadvertently aid the spread of the plague. However, she also strongly felt something was wrong, and she knew she had to trust her instincts. The messenger would have to be one she knew, and one who was loyal to her husband above all else. She immediately had one in mind and quickly pulled on her dress once more, checking her appearance in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, and hastily left before she changed her mind.
She soon found a guard in the Hall and called out to him.
He bowed low, "My Queen, how may I serve you?"
"Please bring the messenger Eothain to me at once." She ordered, he bowed and quickly left. Lothiriel made her way to her chair beside Eomer's throne, not wishing to stand the entire time she waited for Eothain to arrive.
Leodmund appeared, and glanced up surprised to see the Queen. "My Queen? How fare you?"
"Well. Thank you for inquiring." She replied. "What brings you to the Golden Hall at this time of day, Leodmund?" She asked, curiously.
"Ah. A small matter of mine own accord my Lady. No matter of real importance, but one I would rather like to have taken care of." He replied, brushing her question aside quickly with his usual kind smile.
Lothiriel nodded, and was about to reply when a guard announced young Eothain's arrival. The young man bowed to the Queen respectfully before coming forward. "Ah. Eothain, good of you to come so quickly." She greeted him.
"I shall always come at your summons, Lothiriel Queen." He answered. "How may I serve the Mark?"
Lothiriel held the papers out to him, beckoning him forward to take them rather than attempted to rise herself. She had found it increasingly difficult to rise with ease as the child grew within her and found it easier to stay seated. "You shall take these to my husband in Osgilith." She ordered.
Leodmund looked alarmed. "But my Lady! I must protest! The plague! Surely you would not risk spreading it further!"
Lothiriel gave him a sharp look. "I insist that my husband be informed of the happenings within his realm." She told him.
"But my Lady-" Leodmund started, only to be cut off.
"I am Queen. And my decision is final." She said firmly.
Leodmund bowed his head, "Yes my Queen." He said. "Forgive me, it is not my place to question your orders."
Lothiriel nodded her forgiveness. "Eothain, please leave as soon as you can. This is most urgent." She told the boy, who looked a bit worried by the reaction of Leodmund.
He bowed again, "I will my Lady." He promised. He then turned on his heels to prepare for his journey.
Lothiriel watched him go quietly, she felt as if all her hopes were going with him.
"Do you believe he will actually reach the King?" Leodmund asked, softly.
Lothiriel held back a sigh, her eyes still watching as Eothain left the Golden Hall. "Let us hope so." She said. "Let us all hope so."
* * * * * * * * * *
Eothain had been traveling for a whole day and was growing weary. He knew he would have to stop soon and rest, but this message appeared very important to the Queen, and he hated to fail her. He could ride a bit longer, while there was still some light. Suddenly, his horse stopped and refused to take another step. This was odd behavior displayed by the creature and he urged him to continue in some frustration, knowing that he was pushing the creature, but his horse had been on far more difficult runs.
"What is it friend?" He asked softly, scanning his surroundings for a possible disturbance. He never saw the arrow coming, it hit him in the back before he realized what it was. He gasped with sharp pain as his horse neighed in protest as his rider fell from the saddle. Eothain fought to keep his eyes open, darkness was fast closing upon him, he pushed himself to his knees, only to see the boots of someone approach. He lifted his head to meet the eyes of his attacker, to die with the honor of his fathers. Two men were standing in front of him, one with weapon drawn, and the other older man stood cloaked in the shadows. The second man lifted his hood to stare down at Eothain, a smirk clearly visible. Eothain's eyes widened in shock as he gazed open the older man. "You!" He stammered, then the knife fell, and Eothain gave in to darkness.
Without much concern, the older man stepped towards the killer with a smile. "Well done. Now, the time has come." He drew a sword and handed it to his companion. "See that the you deliver this to the King at the opportune moment."
Accepting the sword, the younger man bowed, and disappeared into the night, leaving the old man alone. Slowly, a sinister smile spread across his lips. Things were going exactly as he predicted. Soon, the throne of the Mark would be in his hands.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Firefoot stamped impatiently and Eomer suppressed a snicker. His wife was right; he and his horse were far too alike. After what seemed like a lifetime of holding the western shore of the city they were finally going to attack and rid Osgilith of evil once and for all. How long had it been since he had seen his wife and Edoras? Four months? It could not have been such a long time! He paused for a moment, calculating the days, yes, it would be four months, if not a bit more. He had almost lost track of time. It seemed a ridiculous amount of time to be away of course, but he supposed it was necessary to protect his kingdom. However, Eomer wanted nothing more than to turn Firefoot and go home to his wife. She must be getting quite large by now, he thought with a grin. Large and irritable, this thought caused Eomer to frown, perhaps he did not want to rush home so soon after all. Of course, that was not true, but Eomer recalled Lothiriel's last pregnancy as a time where the King often found objects being thrown at his head and many insults, both in Gondorian and Rohirric being muttered by his wife.
Eomer shook his head, it was no matter for soon the final battle would be over and he would immediately head for home. He had no real reason to stay in Gondor for any longer than necessary. Oh, he had told Faramir he would come and visit his sister, but seeing as the war was taking longer than expected and Lothiriel most likely soon be having the child, he was sure Eowyn would understand.
Eomer sighed, what could possibly be taking so long? It was a dark night, but a clear one. He was confident that the horses would be able to charge by the moonlight. If the signal was ever lit that is. He quickly went through the plan in his mind, making sure he had not forgotten some detail that would explain this delay. Erchirion and Imrahil were taking ships and landing them in darkness on the banks of the city, attacking from the central banks accompanied by men lead by Aragorn. Faramir was leading another force and when the ships landed and the orcs were occupied with Aragorn and the Knights of Dol Amroth, Faramir would lead his men across the south bridge and attack from there, allowing Eomer and his riders to cross the northern bridge and charge, finishing them off. It was a good plan. There was just one problem. Where was the signal?
Eomer drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword, impatiently, while his horse snorted and stamped. "We best not let Lothiriel see us like this old friend." He muttered to his horse with a grin. Suddenly, a horn blast rang through the air, followed by loud tumultuous cries of chaos from within the center of the city and fires lit along the river shores. This was it. Eomer drew his sword and raised it high. "For home men! Forth Eorlingas!" He cried out in a booming voice that echoed across the stone of the city.
The men rallied, and the sound of hooves on the stone bridge filled the air, deafening any who heard it. It was like a roar, a thunder shaking the very foundations of the city. Like so many battles before, Eomer was thrown into the vicious rhythm of war, never knowing just how many he killed, or exactly how. It was a euphoria that kept a soldier sane. Those who could not reach this state would have images of death and destruction burned into their minds forever. It was over soon, almost as soon as it began. The orcs, the few that were left, retreated into the hills, pursued by numbers from all ranks of men.
Eomer met Aragorn, Imrahil, and Faramir in the center of the remains of the battle. "Well met my friends." He greeted.
They all exchanged greetings and relief to see one another unharmed, before setting to the grisly task of stating their losses. The battle had been won, but there were always men lost. Fortunately, the day had been theirs, and the causalities were not too great. Eomer always felt a great deal of responsibility towards his men, as they all did, and so after exchanging a few words, he set out to sort the wounded from the dead along with the rest of his riders who had not pursued the orcs out of the city.
He paid no mind to the fact that he was soon alone down a dark narrow alley of the city. He had heard someone moaning in passing and had gone to investigate, as usual he did not pay heed to the risks of going about this task alone. Eomer often forgot that as King he had to be more cautious than he had in the past, even after several years on the throne.
He found the rider lying alone, groaning, his back to him, clutching his chest as if he had been shot by an arrow. Eomer knelt beside the man, recognizing him as a rider often used to run messages between Minas Tirith and Edoras. Having normally relied on young Eothain for important messages he regretted he did not know this man's name, feeling sympathy towards him as he did with any of his wounded. "Rest easy friend, we shall find you a healer." He assured the man.
He was not prepared when the man rolled over suddenly. Quick as a flash the rider's hand had gone to his sword, and before Eomer even had a chance to comprehend what was happened, he felt a sharp pain in his gut. He looked down, shocked to see that he had been stabbed, almost run through with a sword.
Eomer was still in shock as he fell back, he thought of Lothiriel, seeing her as she looked on their wedding day, Lothiriel holding the child he would never see. If a boy, the child would be King before he was even born. His mind then turned to the memory of his own parents. His father, killed in battle and his mother wasting away with grief. His last hopes were for Lothiriel, as he prayed she would take strength and not suffer as his mother did. His world went black and his mind blissfully blank, and Eomer thought no more.
The attacker came to his feet, removing his sword from the King with a cruel smirk. He then found the body of the orc he had killed earlier, placing a long knife in the dead monster's hand and laying it closer to the King's body. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and knelt beside the King. His expression changing from one of a triumph to concern as three riders from the King's own company approached. They stared at the body of Eomer in shock and turned to the man with questions in their eyes.
The man removed Eomer's helmet, his eyes glittering with tears. "I shall ride to Edoras immediately and bring word." He announced. "The King is dead."
* * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: Mwahahahaha! Death to all!!!! Is Eomer really dead you may ask? Well, I'm not telling right now :-P You will just have to wait and see! Hopefully I won't keep you waiting as long as I did with this chapter! Methinks this is a record for the longest pause between posts for me! Wow! Sorry you guys, and thanks for being patient!
Many much thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! It's been so long I've forgotten if anyone did... but if you did gold star for you!
Also many much thanks to my wonderful beta-reader for fixing all my mistakes because I'm too lazy to carefully proofread myself.... I wish I could have her read my research papers too! Hehe! :-)
Please review! And remind me to not take so long with the next chapter! Happy New Year everyone!
It was late in the afternoon when Hathawyn returned to Meduseld from her errand for the Queen. She had been acquiring herbs from Mirdra the mid- wife for Lothiriel, and since the weather was so miserable Hathawyn refused to allow her Lady to walk so far. She hated her heavy dress at the moment and was very much in need of a drink. She nodded politely to the guards at the doors, who allowed her to pass without question. Hathawyn suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for these men, who must be buried alive under all that armor. She paused a moment studying the two. "May I bring you some water perhaps? You must be thirsty."
One of them turned to look at her, his face was covered with sweat under his helmet but he smiled kindly. "My thanks, but our watch shall soon be over. We have lesser shifts under this sun than normal, to keep us well."
Hathawyn nodded, "Well, should you need anything." She said softly, gathering up her skirts and pushing open the heavy door to the Golden Hall.
She quickly crossed to one of the passages that lead to her Lady's apartments when she noticed two men standing in a corner of the Golden Hall, whispering. She hid herself in the shadows and paused a moment to watch them. She could not see their faces, but they were whispering with great urgency, and seemed to be watchful, making sure they were alone. It was curious that they were so heavily cloaked, for the Hall was quite warm and most were attempting to wear as light and cool clothing as propriety would allow. She moved closer, attempting to see their faces, when one of the men looked up, seeing Hathawyn. She did not recognize the man, but she did not chance to see his companion, for as soon as she knew she had been observed she quickly turned and headed on her way, trying to make it seem as if she had not been watching them. She quickly went to the Queen's chambers and knocked sharply.
"Who is there?" Lothiriel called from within.
"It is Hathawyn, my Lady!" She replied, nervously glancing over her shoulder to see if the man followed her.
"Oh! Come Hathawyn, quickly!"
Hathawyn did just that, quickly pulling the door shut behind her. She found her Queen dressed merely in her shift, her heavy dress lay disregarded on a chair. "My Queen?" Hathawyn raised an eyebrow.
"Oh! I know it is most improper of me." Lothiriel smiled. "But it is so hot, and I am already most uncomfortable and feeling terribly fat. I was suffocating under there." She said, pointing to the dress, giving it an accusing glare. "I decided since it was only myself, and perhaps you, who has assisted dressing me many times, that there was no call for ceremony." She laughed, placing a hand on her rounded belly, which seemed even larger to Hathawyn in only the thin white shift. "The little one agrees also." She then noticed Hathawyn's worried expression and motioned for her to sit down. "Does something trouble you Hathawyn?"
Hathawyn set her bundle on a table and lowered herself into the chair. A curious expression crossed her face, as if she were trying to calculate something. "My Lady, I noticed two men in the Golden Hall whispering together, as if sharing a great secret. One, I did not recognize, and the other I saw not his face. It concerned me the urgency they seemed to whisper, my Lady."
Lothiriel studied the girl a moment before replying. She seemed to lower her voice, as if afraid of being over heard, and beckoned her closer. "I shall confide in you Hathawyn, I fear something is amiss here in Meduseld." Hathawyn, now kneeling beside her Queen's chair, stared at her, eyes widening. "What do you mean, my Lady?"
"This plague. Does it not seem odd to you that none now mention it, and when brought up, they seem to mutter excuses and change the subject. It is as if something is being hidden from me, and I do not find complete truths in all the advisors say." Lothiriel sighed, leaning her head back against the stone of the wall behind her. "Something is not right, I can sense it."
Hathawyn brow furrowed, she was young and trusting, but she was loyal to her Queen, and should anyone try to harm her Lady she would not stand for it. She bowed her head low, trying to think of eloquent words to give her oath. "My Queen, should any try to harm you, I would give my life to protect you." She vowed, stumbling over words, her voice tight with emotion.
Lothiriel looked down at the young woman, surprised by her fierce loyalty. "I believe you would Hathawyn." She said earnestly. "But let us hope it does not come to that." She gave her a brave smile. "Perhaps I am just over reacting with my suspicions, but keep an sharp eye and open ear, and report anything strange to me, and none other, just as a precaution."
Hathawyn nodded, getting to her feet. "Yes my Lady." She then retrieved her bundle, her eyes suddenly sparkling like an excited young girl. "I have something for your babe, my Lady. A gift I finished last night." She handed a small package to Lothiriel, grinning. She was planning on giving it to her after the babe was born, but she had sensed that her Queen's dark mood had been getting worse all week, and hoped to lighten the heavy worries by giving her gift. It was a simple of gesture of kindness, but one that would be appreciated nonetheless.
"Hathawyn, you should not have troubled-" But Lothiriel did not complete her sentence, she had pulled forth a warm green blanket, about half sized, with a white horse dancing in the center. "Hathawyn, this is beautiful." Hathawyn grinned peering over Lothiriel's shoulder. "Look closely at the horse, my Lady."
Lothiriel did so and her eyes widened in surprise. "This is not white! It is pale blue! The same as my old dress." She looked at the girl in wonder.
"The one you ripped beyond repair not long ago. You told me it was old, from when you were younger at Dol Amroth. It had been your mother's and you were grieved to be rid of it, so you kept it even through you could not wear it again. I hope you do not mind that I took a small portion for the blanket." Hathawyn explained, blushing slightly at the high praise of the Queen.
Lothiriel smiled, "Oh it is quite all right. It is wonderful. Does the green have a story as well?"
"When I saw you were making the King a new cloak, I took some cloth from the old. It was worn and stained at the edges, but I managed to find a good piece for the blanket." Hathawyn said.
"The child then will have a piece of their mother and father." Lothiriel said softly, touching the blue horse gingerly. Dol Amroth seemed so far away, like a distant memory, and yet, at this moment it seemed closer than ever. Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at the beautiful work done on the gift and her fingers drifted to the green from her husband's cloak and she held to her cheek as if to feel closer to him by doing so. "It is perfect." She whispered. "I give my thanks, on behalf of my husband as well. I am sure he will be grateful for such a fine gift as well."
Hathawyn bowed gracefully. She then met the tear filled eyes of her Queen and with a small pause, considering the boldness of her question, but going ahead. "You miss him terribly do you not?"
Lothiriel's face crumpled, and tears ran down her cheeks. "More than I ever thought possible." She whispered.
Hathawyn took her Lady's hands in her own, grasping them tightly. "He shall return soon, my Lady." She said, distraught that her gift had upset the Queen so.
Lothiriel returned the grip, attempting to calm herself, if only for Hathawyn's sake. She could tell the poor girl thought her gift was the cause of the Queen's distress. In truth Lothiriel suspected it was the mixture of worry as well as the heat and the child growing within her. "I pray you are correct, Hathawyn." She smiled kindly. "My thanks for the gift. You picked a wonderful time to give it to me, truly my friend."
Hathawyn smiled, "I also brought some herbs from Mirdra. She said you are to get plenty of rest and drink this concoction of hers."
Lothiriel made a face. "I remember that concoction. The taste is terrible."
Hathawyn laughed, "I shall prepare it, in the mean time, you must promise me you will rest."
"Very well." Lothiriel replied. She had been feeling rather tired, perhaps some sleep would be a good idea.
Satisfied with her Queen's response, Hathawyn left the room, closing the door behind her. Lothiriel got to her feet, and went to her bed. It was far too warm for the coverings, so Lothiriel merely stretched out on top of them, resting her head against the fine pillows. She sighed, closing her eyes, attempting to quiet her thoughts. This task was proving difficult. Her head spun with thoughts. Thoughts of what could be happening among the advisors, thoughts of her husband on a battlefield far away. There had been no word from him, even if he had sent word the messenger would have been turned away, but she had been told none had arrived. It seemed odd to her that Eomer would not send some word, if nothing else but to tell her of his health or her father's or some news from the battle. Of course, she had sent no messengers either. She could not with plague in the country. Suddenly, the thought came to her. What if the plague was only a story told to prevent her from communicating with Eomer? What if someone wanted her isolated here in Edoras? But why? And who?
Lothiriel pondered for a moment and then quickly came to a decision. She must send word to Eomer right away to show whoever was plotting that their scheme would not work. She knew it was risky, if she were wrong she could inadvertently aid the spread of the plague. However, she also strongly felt something was wrong, and she knew she had to trust her instincts. The messenger would have to be one she knew, and one who was loyal to her husband above all else. She immediately had one in mind and quickly pulled on her dress once more, checking her appearance in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, and hastily left before she changed her mind.
She soon found a guard in the Hall and called out to him.
He bowed low, "My Queen, how may I serve you?"
"Please bring the messenger Eothain to me at once." She ordered, he bowed and quickly left. Lothiriel made her way to her chair beside Eomer's throne, not wishing to stand the entire time she waited for Eothain to arrive.
Leodmund appeared, and glanced up surprised to see the Queen. "My Queen? How fare you?"
"Well. Thank you for inquiring." She replied. "What brings you to the Golden Hall at this time of day, Leodmund?" She asked, curiously.
"Ah. A small matter of mine own accord my Lady. No matter of real importance, but one I would rather like to have taken care of." He replied, brushing her question aside quickly with his usual kind smile.
Lothiriel nodded, and was about to reply when a guard announced young Eothain's arrival. The young man bowed to the Queen respectfully before coming forward. "Ah. Eothain, good of you to come so quickly." She greeted him.
"I shall always come at your summons, Lothiriel Queen." He answered. "How may I serve the Mark?"
Lothiriel held the papers out to him, beckoning him forward to take them rather than attempted to rise herself. She had found it increasingly difficult to rise with ease as the child grew within her and found it easier to stay seated. "You shall take these to my husband in Osgilith." She ordered.
Leodmund looked alarmed. "But my Lady! I must protest! The plague! Surely you would not risk spreading it further!"
Lothiriel gave him a sharp look. "I insist that my husband be informed of the happenings within his realm." She told him.
"But my Lady-" Leodmund started, only to be cut off.
"I am Queen. And my decision is final." She said firmly.
Leodmund bowed his head, "Yes my Queen." He said. "Forgive me, it is not my place to question your orders."
Lothiriel nodded her forgiveness. "Eothain, please leave as soon as you can. This is most urgent." She told the boy, who looked a bit worried by the reaction of Leodmund.
He bowed again, "I will my Lady." He promised. He then turned on his heels to prepare for his journey.
Lothiriel watched him go quietly, she felt as if all her hopes were going with him.
"Do you believe he will actually reach the King?" Leodmund asked, softly.
Lothiriel held back a sigh, her eyes still watching as Eothain left the Golden Hall. "Let us hope so." She said. "Let us all hope so."
* * * * * * * * * *
Eothain had been traveling for a whole day and was growing weary. He knew he would have to stop soon and rest, but this message appeared very important to the Queen, and he hated to fail her. He could ride a bit longer, while there was still some light. Suddenly, his horse stopped and refused to take another step. This was odd behavior displayed by the creature and he urged him to continue in some frustration, knowing that he was pushing the creature, but his horse had been on far more difficult runs.
"What is it friend?" He asked softly, scanning his surroundings for a possible disturbance. He never saw the arrow coming, it hit him in the back before he realized what it was. He gasped with sharp pain as his horse neighed in protest as his rider fell from the saddle. Eothain fought to keep his eyes open, darkness was fast closing upon him, he pushed himself to his knees, only to see the boots of someone approach. He lifted his head to meet the eyes of his attacker, to die with the honor of his fathers. Two men were standing in front of him, one with weapon drawn, and the other older man stood cloaked in the shadows. The second man lifted his hood to stare down at Eothain, a smirk clearly visible. Eothain's eyes widened in shock as he gazed open the older man. "You!" He stammered, then the knife fell, and Eothain gave in to darkness.
Without much concern, the older man stepped towards the killer with a smile. "Well done. Now, the time has come." He drew a sword and handed it to his companion. "See that the you deliver this to the King at the opportune moment."
Accepting the sword, the younger man bowed, and disappeared into the night, leaving the old man alone. Slowly, a sinister smile spread across his lips. Things were going exactly as he predicted. Soon, the throne of the Mark would be in his hands.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Firefoot stamped impatiently and Eomer suppressed a snicker. His wife was right; he and his horse were far too alike. After what seemed like a lifetime of holding the western shore of the city they were finally going to attack and rid Osgilith of evil once and for all. How long had it been since he had seen his wife and Edoras? Four months? It could not have been such a long time! He paused for a moment, calculating the days, yes, it would be four months, if not a bit more. He had almost lost track of time. It seemed a ridiculous amount of time to be away of course, but he supposed it was necessary to protect his kingdom. However, Eomer wanted nothing more than to turn Firefoot and go home to his wife. She must be getting quite large by now, he thought with a grin. Large and irritable, this thought caused Eomer to frown, perhaps he did not want to rush home so soon after all. Of course, that was not true, but Eomer recalled Lothiriel's last pregnancy as a time where the King often found objects being thrown at his head and many insults, both in Gondorian and Rohirric being muttered by his wife.
Eomer shook his head, it was no matter for soon the final battle would be over and he would immediately head for home. He had no real reason to stay in Gondor for any longer than necessary. Oh, he had told Faramir he would come and visit his sister, but seeing as the war was taking longer than expected and Lothiriel most likely soon be having the child, he was sure Eowyn would understand.
Eomer sighed, what could possibly be taking so long? It was a dark night, but a clear one. He was confident that the horses would be able to charge by the moonlight. If the signal was ever lit that is. He quickly went through the plan in his mind, making sure he had not forgotten some detail that would explain this delay. Erchirion and Imrahil were taking ships and landing them in darkness on the banks of the city, attacking from the central banks accompanied by men lead by Aragorn. Faramir was leading another force and when the ships landed and the orcs were occupied with Aragorn and the Knights of Dol Amroth, Faramir would lead his men across the south bridge and attack from there, allowing Eomer and his riders to cross the northern bridge and charge, finishing them off. It was a good plan. There was just one problem. Where was the signal?
Eomer drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword, impatiently, while his horse snorted and stamped. "We best not let Lothiriel see us like this old friend." He muttered to his horse with a grin. Suddenly, a horn blast rang through the air, followed by loud tumultuous cries of chaos from within the center of the city and fires lit along the river shores. This was it. Eomer drew his sword and raised it high. "For home men! Forth Eorlingas!" He cried out in a booming voice that echoed across the stone of the city.
The men rallied, and the sound of hooves on the stone bridge filled the air, deafening any who heard it. It was like a roar, a thunder shaking the very foundations of the city. Like so many battles before, Eomer was thrown into the vicious rhythm of war, never knowing just how many he killed, or exactly how. It was a euphoria that kept a soldier sane. Those who could not reach this state would have images of death and destruction burned into their minds forever. It was over soon, almost as soon as it began. The orcs, the few that were left, retreated into the hills, pursued by numbers from all ranks of men.
Eomer met Aragorn, Imrahil, and Faramir in the center of the remains of the battle. "Well met my friends." He greeted.
They all exchanged greetings and relief to see one another unharmed, before setting to the grisly task of stating their losses. The battle had been won, but there were always men lost. Fortunately, the day had been theirs, and the causalities were not too great. Eomer always felt a great deal of responsibility towards his men, as they all did, and so after exchanging a few words, he set out to sort the wounded from the dead along with the rest of his riders who had not pursued the orcs out of the city.
He paid no mind to the fact that he was soon alone down a dark narrow alley of the city. He had heard someone moaning in passing and had gone to investigate, as usual he did not pay heed to the risks of going about this task alone. Eomer often forgot that as King he had to be more cautious than he had in the past, even after several years on the throne.
He found the rider lying alone, groaning, his back to him, clutching his chest as if he had been shot by an arrow. Eomer knelt beside the man, recognizing him as a rider often used to run messages between Minas Tirith and Edoras. Having normally relied on young Eothain for important messages he regretted he did not know this man's name, feeling sympathy towards him as he did with any of his wounded. "Rest easy friend, we shall find you a healer." He assured the man.
He was not prepared when the man rolled over suddenly. Quick as a flash the rider's hand had gone to his sword, and before Eomer even had a chance to comprehend what was happened, he felt a sharp pain in his gut. He looked down, shocked to see that he had been stabbed, almost run through with a sword.
Eomer was still in shock as he fell back, he thought of Lothiriel, seeing her as she looked on their wedding day, Lothiriel holding the child he would never see. If a boy, the child would be King before he was even born. His mind then turned to the memory of his own parents. His father, killed in battle and his mother wasting away with grief. His last hopes were for Lothiriel, as he prayed she would take strength and not suffer as his mother did. His world went black and his mind blissfully blank, and Eomer thought no more.
The attacker came to his feet, removing his sword from the King with a cruel smirk. He then found the body of the orc he had killed earlier, placing a long knife in the dead monster's hand and laying it closer to the King's body. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and knelt beside the King. His expression changing from one of a triumph to concern as three riders from the King's own company approached. They stared at the body of Eomer in shock and turned to the man with questions in their eyes.
The man removed Eomer's helmet, his eyes glittering with tears. "I shall ride to Edoras immediately and bring word." He announced. "The King is dead."
* * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: Mwahahahaha! Death to all!!!! Is Eomer really dead you may ask? Well, I'm not telling right now :-P You will just have to wait and see! Hopefully I won't keep you waiting as long as I did with this chapter! Methinks this is a record for the longest pause between posts for me! Wow! Sorry you guys, and thanks for being patient!
Many much thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! It's been so long I've forgotten if anyone did... but if you did gold star for you!
Also many much thanks to my wonderful beta-reader for fixing all my mistakes because I'm too lazy to carefully proofread myself.... I wish I could have her read my research papers too! Hehe! :-)
Please review! And remind me to not take so long with the next chapter! Happy New Year everyone!