Autumn blazed along the banks of the river Isen. There was a part of Éomer that could only ever be satisfied when he was riding, and at present that part of him was at peace. The wind was crisp and invigorating. The sparkling water dappled the colors of the trees, old and young, that drank from the waters' edge.
This peace did much to sooth the more agitated parts of Éomer's spirit, resulting from painful memories he'd already faced on this journey, and those he was about to relive as well. The water was becoming increasingly shallow the further they rode upstream, more frothing as it tumbled over rocks and was prodded here and there by sandbars. His men became more sober the more they progressed, and beneath him, he also sensed a slowing in Firefoot's step.
Someday, Éomer hoped, his people would find joy in this place as well as beauty, but for the new king of Rohan and his men, the Fords of Isen would ever be a place of sorrow. Great and noble valor, yes, worthy of song, but mostly of sadness and loss.
He glanced sidelong at Lothíriel, riding silently beside him, slightly behind, looking about her with somber curiosity. She seemed to sense his gaze, for she turned back to him, her eyes full of questions. Thankfully, she did not demand answers. She would have them soon enough.
She had been withdrawn since their discussion of Wormtongue and Théoden, but for once Éomer did not feel uncomfortable in the silence. It was clear Lothíriel had much to think on, and Éomer's mind was no less full. How he had come to love her so fully was still unclear to him. The hot-blooded part of him was impatient with her. After the painful evening of her rejection, he had been angry. Angrier than he'd been in a very long time. He'd ridden out that night— many miles beyond the city, his mind racing with frustration. He wanted her to be healed of the sorrow that held her spirit captive. It wasn't until after many hours' musings, as the sun showed first signs of stirring, that Éomer realized she might in fact need some help. Help he had never given because he'd not thought it his place to intrude.
But he'd long since gone beyond that place of polite indifference that had marked their early months of marriage. He could no longer be a mere spectator to her pain. Perhaps his actions would be more hurtful to her in the beginning, but there were certain kinds of pain that, once endured, were healing and wholesome. and he could ensure that she did not face them alone. Éomer Eadig was a fighter, and he now recognized that his wife was strong enough to fight, as well. She only needed realize it for herself.
It seemed to Éomer that even the singing of the birds softened as they rounded the last familiar bend. The stream was now so shallow that he led his riders straight into the water with no resistance to speak of. Veteran horse and rider were as surefooted in the Fords as they were on any plain. No one was really thinking about the water, though, Éomer knew, for the sunlight streaming into the clearing drew all eyes to the island in the middle of the broad, sparkling expanse.
It would now always be a hallowed place, Éomer reflected as he slowly guided Firefoot to the small sanctuary of land and dismounted. Wordlessly, he reached out to halt Tillion's progress as well, and reached up to help Lothíriel out of the saddle. She accepted his assistance mutely, her eyes transfixed upon the sight before her— a bier, overgrown now with wild grasses. Planted firmly upon the mound was a standard of Théodred, faded from sunlight, but nevertheless a proud sentinel. All around the bier, a circle of spears stood silent and watchful, each a testament to love and honor. Éomer stepped forward to straighten a solitary one that nature's forces had knocked slightly askew since his last visit here.
Lothíriel looked around at the silent and reverent riders, then turned back to Éomer with sorrow in her eyes. "What is this place?" she asked at last.
Let me lie here— to keep the Fords till Éomer comes.
Éomer did not answer her at first, lost as he was to the past. "I am sorry I did not come more quickly, brother," he murmured to the grave of his fallen kinsman, his voice raw. He turned to Lothíriel with pained eyes. "These are the Fords of Isen. Here lies Théodred, son of Théoden, for here it was he fell.
"Here it was he commanded he remain."
Year 3016 of the Third Age
Théodred took leave of his bride in private, in the fountained courtyard of Imrahil's palace. Lothíriel's heart ached at the parting, but she was not without hope.
"I know not when I shall return," Théodred said, clasping her hands strongly between his. He faltered. "I know not if I—"
She shook her head to halt his words. "Do not speak it, Théodred. Your skill in battle is very great. You will live and become a great king of men, and I will be at your side."
Théodred's eyes were both joyful and sad as he reached out to brush her face with his fingertips. "That is what I live for, my love. But you must hear me. If I do not survive this darkness, know that my love for you will last beyond the stars, and that I rejoice in what little happiness we've already had together. Remember that."
"I will," she promised.
He kissed her farewell with a fullness of spirit, yet tinged with the bittersweet tang of uncertain longing. The memory of it burned on Lothíriel's lips as, from the pinnacle of her father's stronghold, she watched his company of riders become smaller and smaller in the distance north of Dol Amroth.
She never saw him again.
"Saruman held a position of great strategic value in Isenguard," Éomer said, his voice weary. Lothíriel heard the words as he spoke, but knew if she ever truly wanted to understand the particulars of what had happened that day, she would probably have to ask him to retell them on a later occasion. For now, she simply let him speak. Her heart and mind were consumed by the resting place of her lost love. "He had the capability to send forces south on either side of the river, as his pleasure suited him, but the Fords were the only place any force approaching from the West would be able to cross into Rohan.
"When Saruman began his invasion, Théodred's men could never have been adequately prepared for the onslaught. We simply had no idea the number of forces Saruman had secretly amassed."
Éomer stopped speaking. Mutely, Lothíriel stepped away from him and proceeded to the bier. Something piercing and painful was rising within her. She sank to her knees before Théodred's resting place, her vision wavering with increasing intensity the harder she tried to resist. It wasn't until her shoulders began trembling with repressed sobs that she finally surrendered.
"Go," she heard Éomer quietly command his men behind her. She heard the rustling, clinking sounds of the retreating armored men, the pawing of hooves, and splashing of water, and briefly wondered if she oughtn't wait until they were gone completely, but decorum was no longer relevant. The torrent had been released, and there was no more holding back.
She could smell the pungent earth near her face as she wept like a child. But she did not merely weep. Shee beat the ground with her fists, and screamed and railed. She had shed tears for Théodred before, but never had she let her anger be known. Anger and hatred at the ambitions of men and wizards that had stolen so good a man from the world before his time. She grieved for Théodred, for Théoden-king, for Éomer, for Éowyn, for all those held captive for so long by poisonous fear. For her fallen countrymen, both of Gondor and Rohan.
She wept until all her strength was gone. All the while, Éomer stood silently looking on, just on the edge of her pain, supportive but non-intrusive. She could sense his empathy and welcomed it. She didn't have to explain a word. He understood every facet.
Exhausted and spent, she finally lay quiet for a while on the earth, until she found the courage to open her eyes. They fell upon the circle of Rohirrim spears that flanked the grave, and that, from her prostrate perspective, seemed all the more imposing. A thought crossed her mind— what was it that Éomer had said?
You are not the only one who loved my cousin.
She thought of the reverence Éomer's men had shown for this place, and realized now what it was that Éomer had wanted her to see. Not just Théodred's final resting place, which was in itself a welcome reprieve, but to witness the sanctity of this place, the beautiful monument Théodred's people had made it. Truly they had cherished him, possibly more than she had, for they had known him far longer.
Know that my love for you will last beyond the stars. Remember.
Yes, there was still love in the world. Nay, she reflected as she trembled slowly to an upright position, not only was it still to be found, but it had been victorious. Lothíriel, Éomer— all those who had survived— they now enjoyed a prosperous peace that men such as Théodred— willing to sacrifice everything— had granted them. The evil men would be forgotten and fade away to mere names in history books, but the mighty men who had fought and died so bravely had achieved immortality.
I will remember, Théodred. You will live on in my love for you. In Éomer and Éowyn's love for you. In all those who remember how brilliantly you shone.
When Lothíriel finally regained her feet, all she wanted to do was sleep, the deep sleep that melted away all lingering aches after recovery from a long sickness. She turned at last back to Éomer, uncertain of what to say, of how to convey her gratitude.
He said nothing, but stepped within her sanctum and wrapped her in his arms. He kissed her softly on the forehead. "All will be well," he said.
For a moment they stood there, a strange new peace overcoming them. At last, Lothíriel found the strength to speak.
"Let's go home," she said.
It was time to face the world again.
Replies:
Moryan- Dang, since my last update, Darth Vader has taken on a new meaning for all of us, hasn't he? Lol. Oy, it's really been too long.
Jazzcat- Well, I have to confess, sometimes I am impatient. Impatient that I can't write (or usually post) the good parts of the story right away. But it's finally nearing that time with this story, so I'm happy! Still making fanvids, but I must take this opportunity to clarify. I'm not filming anything, merely making music video edits of clips from the show/ movie I happen to be vidding. I'm hoping to have a website of my own up soon.
Ramarama - Well, they got where they were going. Hope you enjoyed. LOL
Linnath- Elfwine, good question. One I take the author's privilege not to answer. Hehe. Although, I still have trouble with his name. It seems such a very silly name to me.
Peachy Papayas- Many of my readers guessed rightly where Éomer was taking her.
smor- Éomer's frustration at his helplessness and Lothíriel's frustration in her ignorance are good ways to sum up their various… frustrations. LOL. I'm glad I was able to convey them to your satisfaction.
EruntaleofRohan- Things weren't quite cleared at the end of the last chapter, as you can see, but I think it's safe to say that they pretty much are now. ;-)
Dark-Sylph- It's not that I don't like Legomances, I've just not encountered many that felt true to character or were creatively written. Believe me, I'm as red-blooded as any other girl. I'm not immune to the charms of the elf! LOL. I apologize, I have been so busy that I honestly forgot about your request after first reading your review. I shall see how well I remember this time around. As for the cleanliness of this story, I'm certainly thrilled that you appreciate it. And w00t! Long live Austen!
CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur- Thanks! More forthcoming!
Elijahcat- My version of Grima's resentment was exactly that. Mine. It just felt believeable to me. I confess in this case I didn't go searching for any sort of canon motivation.
fandun- My, what a flowery style of reviewing you have. LOL. Well, thanks. It's nice to know that Théodred and Éomer feel distinct. Sometimes, I must confess, the paragon men of LotR seem too similar in my mind.
starnat- Thank you for your review, though I must argue that Lothíriel very much would choose Théodred if he were alive. It's precisely the loss of Théodred and the scars of the war that have made Lothíriel and Éomer the people that they have become. Their love (as it grows) is of a particular sort. No less powerful, but not as common, and not as easy to step into.
lsoa- I hope you enjoyed today's flashback, despite the brevity. I certainly hadn't planned on it being so short, but somehow, when I actually started writing, the shortness seemed to emphasize it rather than drawing it out. At any rate, it's the next to last flashback, so enjoy! I think the next one might come as a surprise.
Elwen of Lorien- Thank you! Your review was likewise short, but sincere and very much welcome.
anonymous- What gap? The Gap of Rohan? Haha- sorry, really couldn't resist. My bad. But patience, please. Thank you for you review.
wondereye - I hadn't really thought of it, but I suppose the sort of sentiment he left her with at their parting could be construed as a 'message.' What do you think?
Estel de Rodeuse- Yes, this one is short as well, but when it's done, it's done. Each chapter accomplishes specifically what I intend it to accomplish. I hope the overall length satisfies you, however.
Tracey- Well, I think I just got through the ultimate in emotionally trying for Lothíriel. Hopefully, she's faced the last of her uphill demons. Thanks for your fabulous review(s), as always. LOL
Raider-K- I'm surprised and pleased that my expounding on Grima was such a hit! I honestly expected it to bore everybody. It's not like we don't know the story. LOL. Thanks.
Eokat- What sort of meltdown, exactly? ;-)
Faerchithiel- Another flashback fan. They have been very fun.
Blue Eyes at Night- Wow, I wish I were brave enough to command Éomer that way! ;-)
Ciel di Azul- I think they have been making progress, it's just that progress isn't always very easy.
Sarah- Thank you and welcome!
A/N: Yes, yes. Okay. I was gone too long, I know. But now my play is over and I have more time for writing. And now I finally have the ability to promise you a quick update after this one. Please give me feedback on this chapter, because the next is very nearly written already (has been for some time— it was the first thing I ever actually wrote for this story). Anyway, I'm going to post it on Wednesday, after I tweak it to match the rest of the story that came before it. I think you guys will finally be happy with me. ;-)
Until then! Review, review, review!
Saché