Morning dawned as Aragorn looked out over the plains of Rohan. His brothers rode beside him as did Prince Imrahil and the éored commander Elfhelm. Before them lay Edoras, the jewel of the Mark. The men stood silently behind them, grim-faced and determined.
Aragorn kept his eyes forward, but spoke to Elfhelm. "Can you and your men attack your own city and fight the undead men that were once your friends and brothers?"
The Rider of Rohan set his jaw and lifted his chin. "We will fight the dead to protect the living. If we have to burn the city to free our country, we will do so."
The king nodded. "Then it is time." The rising sun glistened off Andúril as Aragorn unsheathed his sword. The army of Gondor and Rohan followed suit as they watched black-clad soldiers march out of Edoras like ants. Aragorn's eyes narrowed. "Attack!"
"Éowyn, wake up!" The Lady of Ithilien blinked back sleep and swatted at Lothiriel who was excitedly shaking her awake.
"What is it?" yawned Éowyn.
Hild appeared next to Lothiriel. "We must move quickly. The army of Gondor is here, now is the time to free King Éomer and Faramir."
That woke Éowyn up completely. Hurriedly dressing, she met Hild and Lothiriel in the kitchen. Lothiriel was already dressed in her usual clothes for climbing through the drain. She was ready with the lock-picks to head back to the dungeon. Éowyn placed a hand over her queasy stomach. Now was not the time to deal with her now daily nausea. "Lothiriel, are you ready?"
Lothiriel nodded. "It will not take me long to pick the locks, though I do not know how fast we can move through the Hall. Pelatarn and Mustayo are certain to have guards at the doors."
Acknowledging this, Éowyn turned to Hild. "And the people?"
"Ready and willing to fight. We will rid ourselves of those monsters and fight to free the bodies of our loved ones."
Éowyn smiled, proud of her people and her friend. "We give Lothiriel time to free Éomer and Faramir, then we attack."
The moment she left the drain, Lothiriel knew something was wrong. The now familiar figure of Éomer sat with his back against the wall, not even noticing her. Moving quickly she opened the cell she was in and hurriedly began picking the lock to Éomer and Faramir's cell. The only response from the king was a slight shift. With a click, the door opened and Lothiriel stepped inside. With a sinking feeling she realized that Éomer was alone in the prison. "Éomer, where is Faramir?" Instead of looking at her, the king turned his head away. Kneeling by his side, Lothiriel touched his shoulder. "Éomer?"
The king of Rohan looked at her and she stiffened at the grief that filled his chocolate eyes. "It is too late. He has fallen to the darkness."
Lothiriel's eyes widened in horror. "No. No, he could not."
"He did. He is…" Éomer's voice choked on the word. "He is dead to us now. His soul is dead." Suddenly a hard determination crossed the king's face and he stood. "But now, at least, I can fulfill my promise. He will not bePelatarn's slave."
Rising to stand next to him, Lothiriel realized what he meant. With a heavy heart, she knew it was the only way. "We will need weapons. The King may be attacking, but there are sure to still be guards."
Éomer took the lead. "The armory is this way."
While Lothiriel was freeing Éomer, Éowyn was arguing with Hild. "I am not staying here, Hild! It is my husband and brother who are captive, as well as my people being oppressed."
Hild stood between Éowyn and the door of her home with her hands on her hips. "Lothiriel said I was to keep you here for your own safety."
Éowyn glared at her friend. "Lothiriel is a foreign princess. I am the king's sister!"
"Well, I think that someday Lothiriel may be queen so I am not taking any chances."
Ignoring Hild's comment, Éowyn opened her mouth to argue more…only to turn and quickly relieve herself of her breakfast in a basket by the table. Hild knelt next to her friend and gently rubbed her back. Éowyn groaned. "I am sorry, the stress is getting to me. I have been feeling nauseous for weeks now and this has just made it worse."
Hild, though, only looked thoughtful. "It is alright. I have gone through this before as well. Twice, actually. Do not worry, it will only last a few months." Éowyn was only half listening, however. The path to the door was now free and in a sudden bust of energy, she threw off Hild and ran out. Hild dashed after her, stopping in the doorway. "Éowyn!" The woman sighed in frustration, knowing she couldn't catch her fleet friend. Hild turned to her children who stood behind her. "Fréaláf, stay here with your sister. Do not leave the house, understood?" Fréaláf and Sigel nodded and Hild kissed them both. "Be good." With one last hug each, Hild left her children to join in the rebellion in the city that was quickly growing.
Éomer quickly walked through the armory, picking out sword and shield from the many weapons available. He ignored the armor for not only was there no time to put it on but it would only agitate his injured back. Lothiriel picked up a spear and followed Éomer out into the halls.
The pair silently crept towards the main hall, hoping to find Pelatarn or Faramir there. Unfortunately they did not get far before Mustayo, sword drawn, stepped out of the shadows, blocking their path. "Where do you think you are going, King Éomer." The man then took notice of Lothiriel who stood slightly behind and to the side of Éomer. His eyes took on a hungry glint. "And who is this delightful creature?''
Éomer glared and stepped forward, lifting his sword. "Move out of my way, Mustayo."
Mustayo sneered. "I do not think so." Without warning, he attacked the king who only just managed to bring up his sword in time to counter the blow. "Is that the best you can do?"
Lothiriel found that she was holding her breath as she watched the two men fight. She ached to help Éomer, but knew it was not her place to interfere with the king's vengeance on his captor. 'Unless of course, things go wrong. I am not standing by and watching that flea-bitten dog kill him.'
Both men were getting tired, but finally Éomer got the upper hand and disarmed Mustayo. The king's sword at his throat, Mustayo felt the first tendrils of fear in his heart. "Mercy!"
Éomer narrowed his eyes. "Why should I show you mercy after what you have done?" he demanded.
"Because I saved your life from Pelatarn. You owe me."
The king of Rohan grimaced, but lowered his weapon. The man was right, honor demanded that he spare his life. "Leave my country and never return, for when I see you again, debt or no, I will kill you."
Mustayo scrambled to his feet and turned as if to do exactly that. Satisfied, Éomer turned around and began walking towards Lothiriel. As he did so, however, Lothiriel saw Mustayo move behind him, saw the glint of a hidden dagger. "Éomer, down!" Instinctively following her desperate command, Éomer dropped to the ground and rolled to the side, just as a spear passed over him.
Standing, Éomer watched Mustayo drop the dagger and slump to the ground, Lothiriel's spear through his heart. The king quickly made it to her side. "Thank you, Lothiriel. I owe you my life now." Frowning, Éomer noticed that Lothiriel was pale and shaking. "What is wrong."
Lothiriel looked up at him with sad eyes. "I…I killed him. I killed a man. He was going to hurt you…I had to kill him."
Realizing that she was about to collapse, Éomer quickly wrapped his arms around her, holding her upright yet still trying to comfort her. "This is the first time you have killed then." Lothiriel nodded, then buried her face in his shoulder to hide her tears. For a moment, Éomer just stood there, stroking her hair. His mouth curved slightly as he thought how well she fit in his arms. The moment passed, though, and his mission came full force to his mind. Gently releasing Lothiriel, he cupped her face with his hand and brought her eyes up to meet his. "Will you be alright?"
"Yes," she whispered. Éomer nodded and began walking again towards the main hall. Lothiriel followed in a slight daze. The short embrace raised a torrent of feelings in her. 'Distracting feelings. I need to focus on Faramir.' With a new determination, Lothiriel walked faster, not knowing what would meet her in the end.
