72. Shock

I never knew how we made it back to Dol Amroth and the castle. But I know we must have, because suddenly I found myself sitting in an easy chair in the great hall, my shaking hands wrapped around a cup of hot tea. I was staring at Imrahil and Míri.

"How is Elladan?" I heard my voice from far away, and I was wondering how I came to be here.

When someone entered the hall, I jumped, spilling the hot tea all over me.

It was the Lady Elaine of Tarnost. I had not even known that she had come to Dol Amroth with the royal progress.

"Lord Elladan will be fine. The poison would have killed any human being, but it is not potent enough to depose of a firstborn. I have removed the arrow and stitched the wound. In two or three weeks Lord Elladan should be fine."

"Eru be praised," Míri said relieved. "Would you take a look at Lothíriel, please? I think it's only the shock."

Elaine sat down next to me. I turned my head very slowly. It was an effort to turn my head.

Elaine took the cup from my hands and put it on the table. She felt my hands, my pulse, and then she touched her cool, slender fingers to my forehead.

"Lothíriel, do you know what day it is?"

"Yes, of course, it's the fourth of November 3019." My voice was a little breathless. Somehow I could not concentrate as I should, with someone out there intent on murder.

"Can you tell me what happened today?" Elaine asked, her voice calm and soothing. "You don't have to, but it would be better."

I nodded slowly. "We went for a ride. Arwen did not like to ride along the cliffs. We turned to the hills. The guards, and Elladan and Elrohir did not like the hills. But I thought what could happen here. There are no orcs near. It's too late in the year for corsairs. I think Elrohir saw something. Then Elladan was suddenly in front of me and then there was this hissing sound, and then he collapsed with a black arrow sticking out of his shoulder. I thought it must be orcs. I was waiting for them to come running down from the hills. But nothing happened. And then Rhawion said it was me the arrow was aimed at."

I turned my head and looked at Míri and Imrahil. Suddenly my mind was clearer. I still felt dazed, but I remembered again what had happened, and how we had raced back to Dol Amroth, how we had ridden right up to the castle, how they had carried Elladan up the stairs, his head lolling, his clothes drenched in blood. The black arrow standing out against the red in stark relief. And the smell of the blood, faintly metallic, but already like raw meat, because there had been such a lot of blood.

I ran from the hall. I'd never make it to the privies. I hurried out into the inner courtyard. I vomited on a bed of flowers. Then I sank down on the cold stones of the yard.

Someone had tried to kill me.

Someone had almost killed Elladan, because they wanted to kill me.

Why should anyone want to kill me?

Who should want to kill me?

Suddenly I felt myself drawn up by strong arms. I was surprised to find myself facing the Lady Elaine. She supported me back into the entrance hall and made me sit down on a high backed chair. "Can I leave you for a moment?"

I nodded.

"I will watch her," Míri promised, sitting down next to me. "Lothíriel, please, calm down. Elladan will recover. You are safe here. Nothing will happen to you here."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. Why did this get to me so much?

"Why do I feel so awful?" I asked. I did not remember having felt so bad even…

"That's only the shock, the surprise," Elaine said and held out a cup filled with a dark steaming liquid to me. "You felt safe, riding with the Lords Elladan and Elrohir and your guards, so close to Dol Amroth, with no enemy to expect nearby. What you are feeling is perfectly normal. A little shock, that's all. Now, please drink this tea. It will be bitter, but I want you to drink all of it. It will make you sleepy and relaxed. After a good night's sleep you will be right as rain."

I accepted the cup and drained it in one long swallow. It was so bitter that it made me gag again. But I drank it all and willed it to stay down.

"I'll take you to your room," Míri said and held out her arm to me. I allowed her to lead me up to my room. I kept hearing the hissing sound of the arrow. It echoed and echoed in my ears. Míri put me to bed as if I was a small child. When she had tugged me in, she squeezed my hand softly. "Don't worry about a thing, Lothíriel. You are safe here. Now sleep."

I wanted to laugh.

Don't worry about a thing!

Someone is out there and wants to kill me. Why should I worry?

But I was too tired to reply. My eyelids were drooping heavily. I could only mumble and affirmative and let my head sink down on my pillow.

When I woke in the morning, my head was clear again, but the memory of the day before was strangely distant and unreal.

Someone had tried to kill me.

Someone had tried to kill me.

Why in hell would anyone want to kill me?

I went down to the dining room. I had dressed in my faded jeans, a blue silk shirt and a black vest. I knew that it was not really appropriate. But I needed the comfort of the faded blue denim. The pants had made it with me from Erlangen to Edoras; they reminded me of the things I had made through. That gave me some measure of comfort and courage.

Míri and Elaine were in the dining room. I looked at them, as they sat at the head of the table, black hair, and grey eyes. They looked like sisters, only Elaine had now impish widow's peak and a more solemn expression in her clear grey eyes. It was strange how much they looked alike, as the Lady Elaine was actually Imrahil's niece. She was the oldest daughter of his older sister, who had married a dark Númenorean. It had taken me some time to understand the significance of being a white or a dark Númenorean. As it is the phenomenon is confined to the area of Belfalas. At the shores of the Bay of Belfalas some Sindarin elves intermarried with the faithful who had fled from the drowning of Númenor. Their descendants are of light hair and eyes, the white Númenoreans. The Númenoreans families who married only amongst themselves or with lesser men retained their dark hair and grey eyes, the dark Númenoreans. It's a bit of a dispute which line is the nobler. People are silly. But that's why Imrahil is blond and Míri and Elaine are black-haired. Elaine's parents, the Lord Cristion and the Lady Iûlieth live in Linhir, but their daughter had chosen to live where she had been born, pledging her calling to her brother and his fiefdom.

I entered the room and inclined my head politely to the women. "Good morning, Míri, Lady Elaine."

Elaine gave me a small smile. "I thought you should be down any moment. How do you feel?"

I slid down on a chair round the corner from the ladies. "I'm fine. Thank you. I feel pretty embarrassed that I was so… out of it yesterday."

"Don't worry about that. It was only a little shock, perfectly normal." Elaine reassured me.

Míri nodded. "I was not in a good shape last night either, Lothy. All of us thought that we are safe at the moment. And I have not your memories of black arrows."

The thought of arrows made me shiver. The memories of Boromir falling to the ground and Elladan collapsing mingled in cold horror.

"She should eat now, before we discuss anything else. And I think your husband wants this discussion to take place in his library, with the king and queen present." Elaine interrupted.

"You are right, Ely." Míri picked up a small brass bell. A small, dark haired maid appeared, Asa, if I remembered her name correctly.

"Would you please prepare some breakfast for Lothíriel, Asa? And I think another pot of tea for us, what do you think, Elaine?" The healer nodded.

Míri smiled at the maid. "And another pot of tea, please."

"Very well, my lady." The girl curtsied prettily and noiselessly left the dining room.

"A cup of tea, while we wait, Lothy?" Míri asked.

I nodded mutely, holding my cup out to her. I would have preferred tírithel, but the strong green tea Míri liked was not bad either.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "Is there a way… should Eomer be told about what happened?"

"The messenger left yesterday evening. The message will be carried in relay. It should reach Edoras in three days." Míri said calmly.

I bit down on my lip. If the message was carried by relay riders, what had happened was really serious. Relaying is the quickest way to pass a message with horses. I think I read somewhere that the Mongols of Dhingis Khan covered 375 km, almost 235 miles, in one day with relay riders. The speed is determined by the distance between the relay stations and the condition of the ground. If the ground is level and the relay stations are close enough together for the horses to race in full gallop, such distances are possible. The two hundred miles between Minas Tirith and the border of Rohan is not covered by horse but by the signal beacons on the peaks of the foothills of the Ered Nimrais. Therefore a message can get from Dol Amroth to Edoras in three days.

Of course, these kinds of messages are fairly short and simple, and sent in come obscure code. Passing a message on with signal beacons is tricky.

Asa came back with a huge tray filled with plates and bowls of food.

Looking at the eggs, the fresh bread, cheese and cold meat I promptly lost my appetite. When I am busy brooding and worrying I can't eat. A stern look from Míri made me reconsider.

I took a piece of bread, a piece of cheese and a cooked egg. You can't argue with Míri. She's always right.

After breakfast we went to the library.

Imrahil was seated in front of the fire place with Aragorn and Elrohir. Húrin of the Keyes was standing with Arwen at the window. They were talking in low voices completely oblivious of the beautiful view of Dol Amroth's flower garden.

Imrahil rose from his seat and kissed Míri, before motioning her to the easy chair next to him. Aragorn drew up a chair for me.

"How are you?" The King of Gondor asked in a serious voice. There was a hint of steel in his voice.

"Nothing happened to me," I said feeling slightly irritated. They had to think I was an awful sissy after yesterday. "How is Elladan?"

Elrohir smiled reassuringly. "He will be fine. Neither the wound nor the poison on that arrow will do an elf real harm. In a week or two he will be back at work, drilling you with those runes you like so much."

I exhaled deeply, feeling relief wash over me. If Elrohir could joke about this, Elladan would be alright.

"Then we can talk about the matter at hand," Imrahil interrupted. "Lothíriel, do you have any idea why someone would want to kill you?"

I stared at Imrahil. "How should I know that? I have no idea! I never did anything that should make it interesting for someone to kill me."

"Perhaps it is not something she has done, but something she will do," Míriël suggested.

Aragorn bent forwards, his eyes piercing. "What are you implying, my lady?"

Míriël arched a thin black eyebrow at her king. "There was a certain amount of tension between the high lords of Rohan, your highness. I cannot imagine you missed that."

My thoughts raced. "Are you…" I had to swallow, because my throat was suddenly very dry. "Do you think that someone killed me because of Eomer?"

My heart was suddenly beating very fast. Did Lord Grimsir have a daughter who was old enough to get married? I remembered his chilling gaze and the unspoken words at the coronation.

I felt that I could see my thoughts mirrored in Aragorn's eyes. The king thoughtfully stroked his beard. Imrahil was frowning.

I tried to imagine what they were thinking, forcing myself to analyze the situation logically.

The political situation in Gondor and Rohan was far from stable. If I was killed, it would not only be a bad omen for Eomer's kingship, but the alliance between Rohan and Gondor would be weakened. The race for more influence at the court of Edoras would resume again and at the moment there was no other marriageable woman of suitable family in Gondor. Therefore it could be assumed that there were people both in Rohan and Gondor as well as in the eastern and southern realms who could profit from killing the betrothed of the king of Rohan.

I felt the beginning of a headache at the center of my forehead. I rubbed my head with my fingertips. Politics was a dangerous enough game back on earth. I had never considered how much more dangerous it could be here.

Finally Imrahil said in tense voice. "At the moment it the likeliest explanation is that someone wants to kill you because you are betrothed to Eomer. Aragorn, do you have any idea who would profit most among the Rohirric nobility?"

Aragorn's eyes were dark, his expression serious. "Húrin?"

The dark haired lord approached the table and bowed to his king. I realized that Húrin of the Keyes was the chief of intelligence in Gondor. How could I have missed that? It was probably intentional, but come to think of it, it was fairly logical.

"Your highness. My ladies, my lord Prince, lord Elrohir. If we narrow down the possible instigators to the high lords of Rohan – who are the ones closest to the throne, it is the Lords Berig and Eutharich who would profit most. Both have daughters not yet married. The Lady Basina is twenty-three, the Lady Eugilin is fifteen."

Míri nodded. She had known this as a matter of course. Her husband was looking thoughtful.

But it was Aragorn who spoke first. "I thought Berig was in favor of an alliance with Gondor. And I thought Eutharich too volatile to be so cunning."

"Nevertheless we should watch them closely," Imrahil suggested. "Politics by marriage is an old tradition in Gondor and Rohan. But there are others, further off that could just as easily think that this might be an opportunity to prevent a strengthening of Gondor."

"What about the Dunlendings? The clans of the empty lands between Gondor and Rohan care nothing for well patrolled borders," Arwen put in.

"There's too much choice in enemies for my taste," Elrohir said.

Yes, I could agree to that sentiment, I thought, sitting quietly in my chair listening to the others. This was supposed to be a time of peace, for heaven's sake!

But somewhere at the back of my mind a memory stirred.

"For though Sauron had passed, the hatreds and evils that he bred had not died, and the King of the West had many enemies to subdue before the White Tree could grow in peace."

I wished that I had never taken a look at those damn appendices of those damn books.

Why did this memory have to come back to haunt me now?

Damn.

"So what should we do now? Suggestions, my lords? My ladies?" Aragorn looked in turn at the faces of the assembled.

"Lothíriel should stay in the castle for the time being," Míri suggested.

Brilliant idea, I thought. A golden cage. Nor iron bars a prison make… But I had to admit that she had a point. And I did not want Helmichis to catch an arrow for me. I gulped. The thought that someone had actually been severely wounded by an arrow that had been aimed at me, was sickening.

"I have already sent a message to Eomer. He needs to increase his personal vigilance, too." Imrahil said.

"Was that wise?" Aragorn asked. "Won't he simply drop everything and come here? Just to make sure that nothing has happened to Lothíriel?"

I had to close my eyes. Aragorn's words had rekindled my longing for Eomer. Gods, how I would love to be in his arms now.

Arwen shook her head at her husband. "I do not think so. Just as you do, Eomer holds his duty above all concerns of his private life. And he has to know what has happened. They may not dare to attack you or me, but that may not necessarily be true of Eomer. Especially with two high lords who would have loved to claim the throne for themselves."

I wanted to cover my ears with my hands. I did not want to know that. I did not want to spend a long winter confined to the castle of Dol Amroth being afraid what might happen to Eomer, far away in Edoras.

Aragorn nodded. "You are wise as well as beautiful." He smiled at Arwen and reached out for her. She allowed herself to be drawn close to Aragorn's chair, but remained standing, her slender white hand held by his strong, tanned one. "Very well. The message to Eomer is on its way. Lothíriel is to stay in the castle. And no more riding for you, either, meleth-nîn."

Arwen sighed. "I agree."

"And I will send out my men. It will take time, but they should be able to discover what is behind this." Húrin added.

"I expect them to," Aragorn told his spymaster sternly.

I sat hunched down in my chair. I had felt happy and safe. I had thought the worst to endure for the foreseeable future would be waiting for spring to come, when I could see Eomer again, and figuring out those damn runes.

Now I was frightened and the peace we had enjoyed for only such a short time was suddenly filled with unknown foes.

I did not sigh. I drew a shaky breath and turned to Elrohir. "If this discussion is over for the time being, could I visit Elladan? I would like to know how he is. And thank him."

Elrohir smiled at me, but it was a serious, small smile. "Not today, Lothíriel. But soon."

Oh, Gods. How bad can "not seriously harmed" be?

"Elrohir, there is the matter of Lothíriel's guard. Would you please accompany me?" Imrahil asked.

"What matter of my guard?" I looked inquiringly at Imrahil.

Imrahil shrugged. "Rhawion wants to be released from my service. He thinks he should have seen the attackers or at least caught that arrow."

"But…" I had wanted to say, 'I like Rhawion'. Now I thought this sounded stupid. Should he have seen it?

Elrohir shook his head. "They were too far away and well hidden for a mere human to notice them. It was more chance and a faint smell of wax that alerted me. Elvish eyes, ears and nose are keener than the faculties of humans. We are also a little bit faster. There was nothing he could have done. And had he caught the arrow, he'd be dead now."

Imrahil turned his palms up in a gesture of 'I told him so'. The elf smiled faintly. "Very well, I will talk to him. But afterwards I need a moment of your time. There is still the matter to attend to that my father sent us here for. And at the moment my care has to be for Elladan."

"Of course," Imrahil nodded and rose from his chair. Elrohir followed suit, moving lithely as a cat. "If you will excuse us?" Imrahil bowed to the king and queen, Elrohir gave only a small nod. The elves are lucky. They are above mortal etiquette.

They left the room to go and talk to Rhawion. I hoped they could convince him to stay. I trusted the old, hardy soldier. I was glad that he was not dead.

That thought brought back that icy weight in the pit of my stomach.

Someone had tried to kill me.

How do you live with the knowledge that someone has tried to kill you?

I can tell you. You simply go on as if nothing has happened.

In the afternoon of that day an embassy from the town of Dol Amroth came to the castle with the traditional gift of welcome for the king. This was a great golden goblet filled with golden and silver coins. The treasury of the king could always do with an addition to his funds.

After the goblet had been received by the king the mayors of Dol Amroth town and harbor pledged fealty to the King.

In the evening a dinner and dance was held at the castle to honor the king and queen. Apart from the nobles that traveled with the entourage of the king the most prosperous and influential citizens of Dol Amroth town and village attended.

In Eomer's company and without the threat of murder hanging over my head, I would probably have enjoyed myself. As it was, I counted the hours until I was able to excuse myself and go to bed.

In the end I was relieved when Aragorn and Arwen finally left Dol Amroth two days later.

The visit had not been how I had wanted it to be. Not only because of attempt on my life. There had been little time for talking, or spending time together, being at ease the way we had been on the road, or at Minas Tirith, when the fellowship had still been together.

The King and the Queen had visited Dol Amroth. Of Aragorn and Arwen I had seen almost nothing.

Would it be like that between Eomer and me, too?

I stared down at the parchment of tengwar runes before me. I actually could decipher them quite easily by now. But this success did not fill me with any sense of accomplishment now.

The text I had just written down was an account of old Gondorian history. An essay about a marriage treaty, in fact.

How would it be, I wondered, to be queen in these dangerous times?

How long would I last?

A/N: The description of the reception of the king at Dol Amroth in the last two chapters follows accounts of the reception of European kings of the Middle Ages in free cities.