Éomer winced as he paced the floor of the prison cell. Mustayo had paid him a visit the day before and the King of Rohan had the lash-marks to prove it. But he had not cried out, he felt that he almost had no right too since his pain was nothing compared to Faramir's. 'Thank the Valar that Pelatarn hasn't returned yet.' Éomer hoped that Arwen would get help from Gondor soon, that Lothiriel had conveyed the gravity of the situation.
'Lothiriel. It's a beautiful name, perfect for so lovely a maiden.' Éomer stopped in his tracks as he replayed his thoughts. 'Did I just call that dirt-covered, sharp-tongued woman 'lovely'?' He turned around as he heard a noise from the drain and watched Lothiriel squeeze out. She was just as dirty as she had been two days before, and he could see now that she was a head shorter than he was. But then she looked at Faramir, eyes full of concern and Éomer found that he didn't care. 'Yes I did, and I did not lie. She has a lovely heart. And lovely eyes.'
Eyes that were now looking at him in question. "Éomer, is there a reason you are just standing there?"
"What? Oh, forgive me, I was lost in thought."
"Well please find yourself again. I brought food for you and Faramir."
That caught his attention. They had not been given much and most of it he had given to Faramir, figuring the Steward needed it more. Lothiriel handed him a bundle, which he opened to find bread, cheese, and... 'I could kiss her!' He looked at the small sweet-cake and smiled. "Thank you deeply, Lothiriel."
She shrugged. "Éowyn made the cake, and the bread and cheese are from Hild and her children. I am just a deliverer."
He knew, of course, that Éowyn had made the cake. In Rohan, sweet-cakes were given only to members of one's family. But he did not want Lothiriel to feel unimportant. "You still deserve thanks, Lothiriel, because without the deliverer we would be without the food no matter who it is from."
Lothiriel surprised herself by blushing. 'Stop this, I have gotten compliments from many men, why should I blush from a semi-compliment from a man I barely know?' While Éomer ate, Lothiriel looked at Faramir. He was sound asleep from exhaustion, and she bit her lip at the sight of his torn back. 'Why do these things always happen to him? The scar on his cheek is bad enough, and Éowyn said that he still bears a long scar from when he nearly died from orc poison in Tumbar. It just isn't fair!'
Turning her head Lothiriel found that Éomer was no longer eating, two-thirds of the bread and cheese as well as the whole sweet-cake still left. "Is that all you are going to eat?"
Éomer smiled, but his eyes were sad. "Faramir needs the nourishment more than I."
The Lady of Dol Amroth gave him a smile. "He is lucky to have a friend like you. But be sure to keep up your strength, it will do Faramir no good if you starve." Éomer nodded in agreement. "You need to eat that cake, too."
He frowned. "I was going to give it to Faramir."
Even as he spoke, Lothiriel shook her head. "You said yourself that he cannot know that we are here. Do you mean to tell him that the guards were giving him cake?"
Though Éomer knew she was right, he didn't like it. "It does not feel right to eat the whole sweet-cake myself."
Lothiriel sighed. "Well, then share a bit with me and it will not be the whole sweet-cake."
Éomer's eye's widened so dramatically that Lothiriel wondered if she had done something wrong. But the look only lasted a moment before Éomer just smiled and handed her half of the cake. It was quite good and Lothiriel wondered if she could get the recipe for it from Éowyn.
The King of Rohan couldn't help but look at Lothiriel as they ate. Her request had nearly given him heart failure until he realized that she probably didn't know Rohirric customs. Asking to share a sweet-cake symbolized a request to begin a courtship, but obviously in the south they did things differently. Not wanting to embarrass her, Éomer hadn't said anything and against all traditions and customs had given her some of the cake. He smiled to himself. 'I am only breaking tradition if we don't court.'
Surprised at the thought, he quickly finished the cake and checked on Faramir. The Steward had recently begun muttering in his sleep, but Éomer could only make out one word, which he guessed, was in elvish. Suddenly, the King remembered Faramir talking about the elven blood of his mother's line. Maybe Lothiriel knew what the word meant. "Lothiriel?"
"Yes?" 'This cake is really good.'
"What does 'Ada' mean?"
Lothiriel looked up and Éomer was taken aback at her piercing stare. "Why do you ask?"
"Faramir has been mumbling in his sleep and the only word I can make out is 'Ada'. I thought perhaps it was elvish."
Lothiriel looked at Éomer a moment, looked into his eyes. "How much do you know of Faramir's past?"
The question startled him. "Very little. His father was Denethor, the Steward of Gondor and his brother was Boromir, Captain of Osgiliath, both of whom died in the War of the Ring. He was Captain of Ithilien and distinguished himself in battle. But what does that have to do with my question?"
Lothiriel blinked and looked away. "Nothing. I was just wondering." Standing up she walked to the drain. "Thank you for sharing the cake. I will be back in a few days."
"Wait!" She paused. "You did not answer me."
In the shadows he could not see her bite her lip. "You need to ask Faramir that. Farewell." She disappeared, leaving Éomer slightly stunned. 'What just happened here?'
'Of all the questions, he had to ask that one!' Lothiriel crept back to the house, unnerved. Of course she knew that 'Ada' meant 'daddy' and that Faramir called his foster father, Lord Elrond, 'Ada'. But if Éomer did not know Faramir's past, she could not tell him without raising more questions. Though she could have just told Éomer the definition, her heart would not allow her to let him assume Faramir meant Denethor. 'That monster does not deserve to be 'Father' let alone 'Ada'!'
Lothiriel was so distracted by her thoughts that she forgot to knock before entering the house, startling Hild who was making dinner. "Forgive me, Hild. I did not mean to startle you."
"That is all right. How are they?"
She decided to tell the truth, if not all of it. "Faramir was asleep, but Éomer was very thankful for the food." Hild smiled as she stirred the stew. "Do you think I could get a recipe for that sweet-cake? It was quite delicious."
Hild dropped the spoon into the stew, burning her fingers as she rescued it, before whirling around to face Lothiriel. "You ate it!"
Lothiriel leaned back in surprise. "Only a bit of it. Éomer shared it with me."
That got an even bigger reaction from Hild. "He shared it with you? Did he offer it to you or did you ask him?" For some reason Hild was grinning widely.
Before Lothiriel could answer, Éowyn walked in from outside carrying firewood. "What is all the commotion about?"
Hild answered. "Éomer shared the sweet-cake with Lothiriel!"
Éowyn almost dropped the firewood in shock. "What!" She turned on the Lady of Dol Amroth. "Did you ask him for it or did he offer it to you?"
Now Lothiriel was getting confused and annoyed. "Éomer did not feel right eating the whole thing himself since Faramir could not have any, so I offered to share it with him to lessen his guilt." As she said it, she winced realizing that she had just let out that Faramir wasn't well.
Luckily Éowyn didn't notice and visibly relaxed. "It is all right then, Hild. She would not know our customs."
"There are customs about sweet-cakes?"
Éowyn smiled at the confused woman. "Sweet-cakes are only shared with family members. It is a very old tradition, and a surprisingly strict one."
"Oh, I am so sorry! I did not know!"
Hild was still grinning gleefully. "That is not the only custom."
The White Lady of Ithilien glanced at her friend. "I was not going to tell her that one."
"But it is important!" Hild turned to Lothiriel. "If a maiden asks an unmarried man outside her family if she can share the sweet-cake and he agrees, it is an initiation of a courtship!"
Lothiriel's face paled, then turned crimson in embarrassment. "What! Éomer...he did not say anything!"
Éowyn took pity on her. "He knows you do not know the custom so he was just trying to save you from discomfort. Do not worry about it."
Hild couldn't resist a little more teasing. "Besides, the courtship is not official until the King asks your father for permission."
"Hild!" Éowyn admonished her friend.
Lothiriel blanched at the thought of her father even hearing about this incident. "I think... I think I am not hungry. I will be outside." She fled as Éowyn and Hild tried desperately to hold back their laughter.
Aragorn and Imrahil sat in grim silence as the recently arrived Arwen reported to them. It had been especially hard to hear how Faramir was being tortured. The King frowned. 'Trouble seems to plague him wherever he goes. Oh Tir!' To Aragorn, Faramir would always be Tir, his foster brother and friend. 'It is probably best that Ada is no longer in Middle Earth to see this. Yet at the same time I wish he were here.'
Arwen finished with her opinion. "My lords, Lady Lothiriel has said, and I agree, that you must set out at once. There is no time to waste."
Imrahil was in full agreement. "Your highness, the soldiers can be mustered in three days at the most. Captain Beregond will certainly return any time now with the Ithilien Company. I would suggest using them as your command group for they would do anything to save their Prince." He paused. "Even fight the undead."
The King of Gondor shivered. That was the fact that disturbed him the most. 'How can we fight our dead allies? Are they even able to be killed?' "Assemble the army. We leave as soon as possible."
