Author: YES! I've done it! I know exactly what's going to happen and how this is going to end! Muahahahahahahaha….
Thank you to all my reviewers!! I love you guys. Whenever I don't put up a chapter before I go to sleep, I feel so guilty. Sad, but true ;)
Work on the King's Robe was progressing well. The red silk under-robe was nearly finished and all I had left was the embroidery around its hem. A green cloak/coat/tunic was to go over the red with more golden stitching. I had decided to embroider some of Rohan's native flowers along the neck and sleeves.
For the black leather, however, I had something entirely different in mind. This would be my personal gift to the King, to thank him indirectly for sheltering a runaway princess, though he would hopefully never find out. I was working on my second project without Calla's help, at night, so that it would be a complete surprise. Based off of some discussions my brothers had had about the difficulties of finding clothes they could practice comfortably in without wearing armor, I had designed a sleeveless jerkin of sorts made out of reinforced leather. It came almost to the knees, slit up the sides to the waist for ease of movement, and laced up the front. It was designed to be worm over a loose shirt and leggings, and to be light, but the leather would provide protection and warmth.
On the way to the stables to meet Eomer for our ride, I gave Calla the letter I wished to send to Eowyn. It didn't say much, merely that I was well and that I would be home soon. The letter she had sent me was securely hidden under my mattress along with her scroll. Briefly, I wondered if I should read it, but the thought was soon driven from my mind by other things. Namely, Eomer's arrival in the stables.
"Are you ready?" He asked with a smile. He looked so content and carefree that I determined then and there that this would be a normal ride. I would not bait or attack him in any way, nor would I respond with a sharp tongue to anything he said.
"Ready when you are." I replied. Eomer gallantly assisted me into the saddle and I, remembering my commitment to maintain diplomacy today, allowed him to do so.
"We have fine weather for a ride today." The King commented. Surely, I thought, weather isn't the only thing we can talk about peacefully!
"Indeed, my lord. But tell me, what is the purpose of your journey today? You mentioned inspecting some fields, I believe?"
"Yes. A few farmers have put in claims of bad crops this year and applied for aid from the King. I need to make sure they are truly in need before I grant them assistance." As we rode out of Edoras, Eomer signaled his usual guards not to follow. Evidently he desired privacy for us. I blushed slightly at the thought, but it could have been the sunshine.
"Why do you not appoint someone to do this task? It hardly seems kingly." I asked, trying desperately not to remember the kiss he had given me before.
Eomer considered the question. "I could delegate the job, I suppose. Yet it offers me an opportunity to meet and get to know some of the farmers of the land, which I enjoy. It seems much more personal this way."
And it was personal, I saw as I accompanied Eomer from farm to farm. Many of the families he knew already, and he greeted them with comments about the growth of their holdings or the prosperity of their livestock. He discussed horses with the men and women, examined the children's toys, allowed the youths to examine his sword and Wingfoot. Everywhere he went he found common ground to start from, and from there worked his way easily into the hearts of his people. Because I was with him, the families welcomed me as well, pressing me with compliments and questions about the South, and gifts that I tried not to accept.
After we visited the last farm and started back towards Edoras, I remarked on his ease and friendliness with the peasants.
"How can a King serve his people if he does not know them?"
"Many do."
"True. But there will come times when I must make decisions for the good of the country that hurt some of its inhabitants, and it will be easier for them to bear if they know that I am aware of their difficulties and have tried my hardest to help them." With those words, I was struck by the inherent nobility of this man whom fate had chosen to become a King. I gazed at him and I saw not the arrogant soldier's exterior, but the patient, kind heart that beat within. Gwen and Wingfoot were side by side. I leaned towards Eomer; he leaned towards me; and as much as I wanted to kiss him at that moment, I couldn't miss my opening.
I slapped him.
Eomer reeled back in his saddle and stared at me, looking confused. I started to apologize, but was cut off when Eomer suddenly leapt from his horse and knocked me to the ground. Trapped beneath him, I lay still in shock for a moment, catching my breath. Then he was gone as abruptly as he had tackled me, and only when I was looking up at him from the earth did I see the arrow shaft protruding from Eomer's left shoulder.
Before I could think, he had hauled me back to my feet and shoved me up onto Gwen.
"Run fast, Gwen. Take her to safety." He said in Rohirric to the horse. She appeared to understand, and I was instantly racing over the last mile to Edoras. Twisting in my seat, I peered back to watch for Eomer. With relief, I saw him remount Wingfoot. I thought he might make it back to the City until a mounted archer, clad all in black, rode over the crest of a low hill and fired another arrow at Eomer's back.
My mind separated from my body. By the time my mind realized that Eomer had fallen from his horse and might not get back up, I had reigned in Gwen and wheeled her around. When my brain confirmed that the approaching Guard, having seen the King's distress, would not reach Eomer before the archer did, I was already urging Gwen back towards Eomer. My mind saw Eomer stand clumsily up, and draw his sword, but my body had already noted that the assassin had notched another arrow. All I could think of was that he couldn't die until he had a better memory of me than a slap across the face. And so, reaching far back into my memory from the days when I had followed my brothers to their lessons in weaponry, I reached into my sleeve, pulled out my knife, and hurled it with a prayer at the figure in black.
I know not how, but it struck him in the neck. I had just killed a man, but I spared him not a glance. Instead, I dismounted and ran to Eomer, who was sitting in the grass looking perplexedly at his wounds.
"Eomer. Eomer! Are you all right? What should I do?" I knelt next to him and frantically tried to remember the proper care for someone with arrows sticking out of their shoulder and side.
"If I'm not dead by now…" He said faintly. "I probably won't die today. But I might…pass out….if you don't stop…the bleeding." He gave me a shaky, sad excuse for a smile that frightened me more than it reassured me.
"Eomer? I'm going to take the arrows out. Try to stay awake!" As if I had done it a hundred times before, I pulled the short knife from Eomer's belt and deftly sliced the shafts and protruding tips off the arrows. Wincing, I pulled the remaining bloody sticks out of Eomer's body. I ripped the kerchief from my head and tied it around his shoulder-wound, then pressed a piece of my skirt to the hole in his side.
Only after the Rohirrim Guards had arrived and taken over did I stop to wonder how, after not having done it for at least 8 years, I had managed to throw a knife accurately. Or removed two arrows and bandaged their wounds. It occurred to me that perhaps, in the necessity of the moment, some long-forgotten reflexes in my body had come to life and aided me. Whether it was that or the work of the Valar didn't matter: I was thankful either way.
I stayed by Eomer's side while the healers saw him. They cleaned his wounds and bandaged them properly with wholesome herbs. He was only half-conscious throughout the process until they gave him a horrible-smelling tonic to drink that put him to sleep. Afterwards, they happily told me that the arrows hadn't pierced anything delicate, and that aside from loss of blood and torn skin, and barring infection, the King would be just fine in several days. Then the healers left, and I finally relaxed into a chair next to Eomer's bed, leaning my head backwards and closing my eyes with relief. He wouldn't go to the afterlife with only the recollection of me slapping him after all. With a smile, I allowed myself to drift into sleep.
It was dark when I woke. Eomer was still asleep. I reached over and picked up his hand and held it in both of mine. He was a little pale, but otherwise peaceful. Slowly I moved to brush a lock of hair off of his face.
Someone cleared their throat. Hastily, I withdrew my hands and stood facing the doorway. Halathain stood in it, flanked by what appeared to be the entire staff of Meduseld. He bowed, then raised his head with a strangely worried look in his eyes.
Wait a moment…he bowed?
"My lady, we thank you. On behalf of this entire household, who knows your courage, and on behalf of those who still think you are just another servant, we thank you from the bottoms of our hearts."
I think my jaw dropped. "How…Halathain, what are you talking about?" I asked, trying to play dumb.
"Servants hear more gossip than anyone else, my lady, and we also notice things that some do not. We knew from the moment you arrived that you were not a seamstress, but we could also tell you posed no threat here, so we let you be. But when you rode back into danger to save a king who is not your own, and let loose your flaming hair, then we understood."
"Un…understood what?"
"You are not Ria, the seamstress and cook, but Lothiriel, princess of Dol Amroth."