First let me thank all my reviewers. Your kind words are much appreciated. Just to answer a couple of comments:

Lady scribe of avandell: I don't think it's too much of a spoiler to say that Lothiriel has a significant part to play in this story. :-) Especially in later chapters.

Athelas63: Oh dear, I fear you may have a great deal more to worry about in upcoming chapters. Sorry!

And now... on with chapter 4

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It was light when Eomer opened his eyes again. He climbed painfully to his feet, stood for a long moment as he wrestled with nausea and dizziness. When his body finally succumbed to his control, he moved to the bars of his cell. Although he knew it would be pointless, he tried the door. The lock was as sturdy as he had suspected. The only way he was going to get out of his cell was if someone unlocked it for him.

At least now he could see that he was indeed in a cave, the narrow entrance of which was a hundred paces from the door of his cell. The interior seemed equipped as a hide-out rather than a permanent dwelling. On the other side of his bars were the bare essentials for living – the table and benches he'd noticed before, a storage chest, lanterns and candles, and a dozen barrels that no doubt held supplies of dried food. His belly rumbled at that thought, and he wondered how long he would have to wait for the promised healer.

Not long was the answer. Galwyn arrived within a few minutes. With her was a young girl of perhaps seventeen summers in age. The girl studied him, her face devoid of expression.

"Move to the back wall," Galwyn commanded, drawing a small dagger from its sheath at her side. In full health, he would've found it amusing that she considered such a weapon sufficient to defend herself against him. In his current state, he knew she could probably knock him down with a well-placed slap. He therefore did as he was told, watching intently as she took a heavy key from a pocket in her gown and then unlocked the door. Galwyn gestured to the girl to enter the cell, and for a brief moment Eomer thought he saw anger flash in the girl's eyes. Then the emotion was gone again. She passively stepped inside, her back to the door as Galwyn locked the cell again.

"This is the healer?" Eomer asked, painfully conscious he was naked beneath the blanket. Wrapped around his shoulders it covered him to his knees, but patches of it were threadbare, and he had no way to fasten it other than to hold the ends together with one hand.

Galwyn ignored him, instead addressing the girl. "Do not have pity for this man. There is a great deal of blood on his hands. Blood that he will pay for when the time is right." She turned away, calling over her shoulder. "I will be back soon. Ensure that his injuries will not cause his death, but do not waste your time treating trivial hurts."

Apparently unconcerned that she was now locked in a cell with a strange man, the girl stepped forward and removed the two bags that were slung over her shoulder. Setting them carefully on the floor, she glanced at him. "Come. I need to examine you."

He was surprised at the authority in her voice. "How old are you?" he asked.

"Old enough to know how to mix potions and set broken bones." She knelt next to her bags and began to lay out a number of leather pouches. She glanced up at him again. "Well? Do you intend to stand in the shadows all day, clutching that blanket like a child with a comforter?"

Heat burned his cheeks. He knew it was foolish, but given the choice between facing a hundred orcs bare-handed and being naked in front of a young girl, he'd choose the orcs every time. She looked up again and made an exasperated noise.

"I may be young but I have seen the male form before. You need not fear that I will swoon at the sight of you. Come."

He felt even more foolish that she had read him so easily, and he reluctantly he moved away from the wall. "What is your name?" he asked.

She gave him a sharp look, the question apparently not welcome. "Erika," she said, climbing to her feet. "Tell me what hurts."

It would have been simple to say everything, but remembering Galwyn's parting comment, he concentrated on the worst of his injuries. "My left arm. I think it's broken. My upper back and shoulders. And I have a headache worst than any midsummer hangover." He resisted the urge to add his pride to the list.

"Are any of your injuries below your waist?"

"No," he said immediately. She gave him a look that said she knew he wouldn't confess to such hurt. "Really," he added defensively.

She turned her attention back to her medicines. "Then perhaps you could wrap the blanket around your lower body so that I can take a look at your back."

He turned away from her and dropped the blanket down to his waist. It wrapped around his hips twice and actually felt quite secure when he'd finished tucking it in. Nevertheless, he still cursed Galwyn for sending a female healer, and a young one at that. His embarrassment deepened as Erika walked around him as though studying a stallion about to be put to stud.

"Please kneel," she said. "You are too tall for me to check for head injuries."

Feeling more than a bit self-conscious, he did as she asked. Slowly she reached forward and pushed his hair back from his face. Her fingers were gentle as she moved them over his scalp, starting at his temples and working her way slowly up and back.

"Ouch!" He sucked in a breath as she found a tender spot not far from his right ear.

"You were knocked unconscious?"

"Yes."

She moved behind him now, and he jumped again as her cold hands touched his bare skin. "Sorry. I will try not to hurt you," she said. "But I must be sure your injuries are not serious. Tell me how you came to be hurt so."

He suspected the question was designed to distract him from her probing fingers, rather than because she wanted to know. However, he was glad of the conversation. He had no idea what story Galwyn had used to explain his imprisonment or what Erika's relationship was to the woman, but he desperately needed an ally and this might be his one chance to draw the young girl onto his side. "My horse threw me." He hesitated and then added. "I was trying to escape Galwyn's henchmen. Erika, do you know who I am?"

"It is better that I do not know," she said quickly. Her fingers pressed hard against the bruises on his shoulder blades, making him gasp. She didn't apologise, and he wondered if she done it deliberately to punish him for his attempt to direct the conversation. Or perhaps it was a warning?

"What made your horse throw you?" she asked casually, her fingers once again light against his skin.

Eomer frowned at the memory. "Something startled it. A dark, shadowy creature that I could give no name to."

For a moment, Erika's fingers were motionless. "Galwyn," she said contemptuously.

"What?" Eomer twisted to look at her. Regretted the move as it pulled at his abused muscles. She pressed her hands against his shoulders, the gentle pressure instruction enough to turn him back to the iron bars.

"Galwyn uses the dark arts," she said quietly. She leaned closer, her breath warm against his skin as she whispered hurriedly. "It is said she can conjure up flames of farsight. Even now she may be watching us." She pulled away again, her fingers now working over his ribs. "Have you any difficulty breathing?" she asked, her voice normal again.

"No." Flames of farsight? He had heard tales of such magic as a youth, but he had not believed them to be true. However, he had learnt the hard way that there were unnatural powers waiting to be tapped by those who were twisted enough to give themselves up to them. And yes, Galwyn dabbling in the dark arts explained much about the way his horse had behaved. It also meant he did not dare say more. Frustrated he blew out a long breath, wondering how he could possibly turn the situation to his advantage.

Erika moved round in front of him again, and gently took his left arm in her hands. "Well, the good news is that your shoulders and back are merely bruised. It is bad bruising. Some of the worst I have seen, but it will heal of its own accord. Your headache too will pass, but I can give you something to ease the pain." She ran her fingers firmly up his arm from wrist to elbow, then turned his arm so his hand was palm up, and did it again.

"Broken?" he asked between clenched teeth, although the pain already told him that it was.

"Yes. However, you are fortunate that it is a simple break that will heal well. I will bind it for you. Galwyn may not care about trivial hurts, but I am a healer and I will not leave you in pain for no good reason." She turned to her bags and retrieved a long strip of cloth and two narrow splints. Her expression was compassionate when she looked at him. "I am sorry that I have no brandy. I would normally allow a man to numb the pain before setting a bone – even a simple break such as this."

He grimaced at her words. "I am sorry too," he said. "Let's just get it over with, shall we?"

She nodded and once again took his arm in her hands. "Tell me when you are ready."

"Just – arrrggghhh!" Pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder as she suddenly grasped his elbow firmly with one hand and yanked his wrist sharply towards her. For a moment he thought he was going to throw up. Or pass out. Or maybe just embarrass himself and sob like a baby.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Sometimes it is better to not be prepared."

"Really?" he ground out.

"Really." She was already binding the splints to his arm.

He closed his eyes and forced the agony down to a tolerable level through sheer stubbornness of will. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself looking at Galwyn. Her eyes were glittering with pleasure at the sight of his pain. With grim determination he wiped his face clean of all expression, and saw the disappointment on her face. It wasn't much of a victory, but it made him feel better.

"Are you done?" she snarled at Erika.

The young woman started at the sound of Galwyn's voice. She glanced over her shoulder, her face once again turning passive. "A few more moments," she said. Turning back to Eomer, she tied the last of the cloth tightly around his arm, and then handed him a pouch from the floor. "Chew one of these leaves whenever you feel the need. They will numb the pain of both your arm and your head, and prevent the sickness that comes with the headache."

"Thank you." He climbed to his feet, and deliberately turned his back on Galwyn. Holding Erika's gaze, he mouthed two words at her, putting as much appeal into his expression as he could. 'Help me.' Her gaze darted past him to Galwyn, then without giving him any response to his desperate appeal she moved to gather up her medicines. He stepped out of her way, despair gnawing at him. He had no idea when he might come into contact with another potential ally. This girl with her youthful face, but adult manner could be his only hope of escape.

Galwyn opened the cell door, and beckoned her out. Erika still didn't look at him as she stepped back into the cave, however as the door clanged shut behind her, she spoke.

"I will do what I can," she said softly. She paused, then glanced up at Galwyn as though that was who she was addressing, and added, "Should he need me again."

Galwyn snorted contemptuously. "The only thing he will need is a grave." She thrust her hand into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small loaf of bread, barely larger than a man's fist, which she threw to the ground at his feet. The way it bounced told him it was hard and stale. She also set a jug just inside the door.

"I don't suppose that's brandy," he said wistfully.

She glared at him as she turned the key in the lock. Then she strode away, guiding Erika towards the cave mouth. He was alone again.

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Lothiriel did her best to keep Eowyn distracted by entertaining her with memories of Faramir from her childhood. However, despite the fact they both laughed at the right places, she knew the humour of her most recent tale had touched neither of them. Even though she had not witnessed it in person, she knew of the deep love between Eowyn and her brother. And she could empathise with Eowyn's distress over his disappearance. In fact, even though she had yet to meet the king, she felt his absence keenly. The whole of Edoras seemed to be holding its breath, waiting, watching, and she was surprised at how deeply she found herself hoping he would suddenly ride through the gate, fit and well.

"Let's take a walk," she said, as she watched Eowyn stabbing a needle in and out of a piece of supposedly delicate embroidery. Fortunately Faramir was unlikely to care if his bride was clad in silk or sackcloth, but for the sake of the dress it was clearly time to take a break. Eowyn was a woman of action. Sitting around the halls of Meduseld sewing and embroidering was clearly not her favourite task at any time, even if the garment she was stitching was her wedding gown. And it didn't help that Lothiriel felt uncomfortable in the role she'd taken upon herself. Having grown up with three brothers, she too was more inclined to action than talk.

"Good idea," Eowyn said, throwing her sewing onto a footstool. "This room seems so oppressive today." She glanced at her cousin, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to imply that your company..."

"You do not need to apologise," Lothiriel interrupted. "I know you are worried about Eomer." Eowyn's face clouded again, and Lothiriel hurriedly changed the subject. "I would very much like to see the herb garden. I believe you have plants here that will not grow in the soil of Dol Amroth."

"Yes," Eowyn said absent-mindedly. "Let's take a walk."

It was windy on the steps on the Golden Hall. Lothiriel suspected a calm day was a rarity. There were hills to either side of Edoras – ideal for defensive purposes. Unfortunately it meant even the lightest of breezes was forced along the valley between, and that meant directly over the hill that the Rohirrim had chosen to build on. However, the view was spectacular, and given a chance she would've stood and appreciated it. Not today, though. Eowyn was already half-way down the steps. Then, suddenly she stopped. Lothiriel assumed it was to give her chance to catch-up, but when she reached her side, she was horrified to see that Eowyn's pale skin was now ashen.

"What is it?" she asked, following her gaze to the fortified gateway.

"No." Eowyn breathed the word out in a soft denial. "It cannot be." And with that she took off, racing down the steps with reckless speed.

"Eowyn! What is it?" Lothiriel called. When she got no reply, she hitched up her skirt and gave pursuit.

A few yards ahead, Eowyn drew to a halt in front of a tall rider who was leading a saddled grey horse. "Why was I not told of this?" she demanded.

His body language shouting his emotional discomfort, the rider bowed his head to Eowyn, and then turned and gave the horse a pat. "He only just trotted through the gate, my lady. I was about to send word to you."

"He was alone?" Eowyn's voice was taut.

"Yes, my lady."

"Is he hurt?" Eowyn moved to the horse and expertly ran her hands over its body. The horse huffed impatiently.

"I suspect he is hungry and thirsty, but otherwise he seems well." The rider stared at the ground, and then added quietly. "I am sorry."

"Eowyn?" Lothiriel drew level with them. Now her breath caught in her throat – not because of the run, but because of the anguish in Eowyn's eyes as the young woman turned to her. She had heard the conversation and she feared she already knew the answer to her next question. Nevertheless she had to ask it. "Whose horse is this?"

"This is Firefoot," Eowyn said quietly. "He belongs to Eomer." She turned away and walked to the gate. Lothiriel joined her as she gazed across the empty plain. "Oh Lothiriel. What am I going to do? How am I going to bear this?"

Desperately Lothiriel tried to find some comforting words. "Perhaps Eomer was separated from his horse in a fight. It does not have to mean..." She hesitated, not wanting to put that thought into words. "He could perhaps return on another mount, could he not?"

Eowyn shook her head. "You do not understand the bond between a Rohirrim and his horse." Firefoot would never return to Edoras alone unless..." A single tear tracked down her pale cheek.

"Unless what?"

"Unless Eomer was incapable of returning with him."