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By the Sea.
Chapter Ten: King's Return.
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The Golden Hall had been in a uproar at the news of Éomer's death. The death of another King was a hard blow to the country of Rohan and the only comfort that the people could embrace, was the babe that grew within Lothíriel—the rightful heir to the throne of Rohan. Two weeks had passed since Gamling had delivered the news... Two weeks. And those two weeks had been the longest of her life. The period of mourning would last for another week, before she finally had to claim the deceased King's throne on behalf of her son.
Éomer's advisers had insisted that she become Regent of the country until her son came of age and was able to take the throne. How could she refuse? She had a duty to her husband's people... Her people. She could not leave them without a monarch, for they would surely flounder and drown without one. The Rohirrim were proud people—a warrior race. They were in need of a figure-head, but Lothíriel was unsure that she was the right person to lead the country. She was certain that her husband's loyal advisers would wish to see her child take the throne, which was why they had insisted that she claim it on her unborn child's behalf.
Lothíriel also learned that Éomer had written a decree months before his departure. It stated that if anything should happen to him, he wished for her to rule in his stead until their child came of age.
But Lothíriel was worried. She was fearful of the upcoming birth of her child. The months had flown by and in those months she had learnt that pregnancy and birthing was immensely difficult and dangerous for women. She was terrified that she would not survive her the birthing of her son or daughter, and that she would leave her child orphaned and alone... Who then would rule the country? She knew that she would have to write her own decree and, if anything should happen to her, she needed to find another person to rule the realm... But who? That was another problem that she had not yet solved.
And if she were perfectly honest, she was was still in the process of grieving. Lothíriel had no wish to continue her duties, for she felt that her heart was breaking and shattering at the mere thought of her husband's death... The halls of Meduseld felt empty and barren without his presence and the nights were cold in the lonely chambers she had shared with Éomer.
At night, she lay awake and thought of the happier times she had spent in her husband's presence. Of the laughter they shared and the tender moments that now caused her heart to ache so deeply. She had thought that she did not love him... Had she been wrong? To think that he had suffered before his death pained her greatly. Numerous questions remained unanswered in her mind; how did he perish? Did he suffer greatly? Was his death quick, or had it been prolonged? And why had his body not been found? Surely she could still cling on to that one piece of hope...
"Your majesty?"
Lothíriel turned from the high windows of the library that overlooked the rolling plains in the distance, "Yes Feger?"
"It is time," Feger curtsied, waiting patiently for Lothíriel to ready herself.
"Has my father arrived?" She asked absently, rubbing away the faded tears from her pale cheeks.
"Nay, your highness. Word was received that he will arrive at the end of the week, perhaps sooner... Weather permitting."
Lothíriel nodded with a frown, "I understand. The weather has been growing treacherous..."
"Aye," Feger agreed, "The storms of Rohan are dangerous for inexperienced travellers. It is best that Prince Imrahil avoids the roads, for they will surely be flooded."
The Queen of Rohan sighed, biting back the tears that brimmed within her sea-blue eyes. After Gamling had given her the news, she had immediately dispatched a notice to her father, informing him about the tragedy. She desperately wished that he would have been here before the burial was to take place... Even though there was no body to bury.
With trembling hands, she smoothed out the lines of the black dress that draped comfortably around her swollen form. She quietly held out her hand and allowed the older woman to guide her out of Meduseld, so that she could lead the funeral procession to the ancient tombs of Rohan's former Kings.
In those tombs, she would finally lay her husband's sword to rest. Though she knew that she would never be able to lay her heart to rest.
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"Prince Imrahil?"
The Prince of Dol Amroth raised his head from the parchment his grey eyes had been focused on.
The continuous downpour of torrential rain upon the roof of the tent alerted him to the terrible conditions that they would still have to face as they continued their journey towards Edoras. He sighed, wishing with all his heart that the weather would clear so that he could see his daughter. His beautiful, widowed daughter. A dull ache tugged at the strings of his heart at the thought of his daughter; alone in the expansive halls of Meduseld.
"What is it, Hinluin?" He asked the guard that had been posted by the opening of the tent. The Prince had insisted that he did not need guards at his tent, but the advisor travelling with him had insisted on it. Imrahil was sure that his advisor wished to protect him at all costs, but he found such customs ridiculous and time-consuming for the guards that were ordered to carry out the nightly vigils in front of the tent.
"Two of your Knights wish an audience with you."
He put the parchment away, the letter his daughter had written, and beckoned the guard to let the Knights enter.
Soon enough, two strong-looking Swan Knights entered the tent and bowed low. "Well met Fimalen, Faervel," he looked at the two known Knights with curiosity.
They were good men, proud and noble—worthy of being Swan Knights. He distinctly remembered that Faervel had asked for his daughter's hand in marriage, when she had only been nineteen years of age. Faervel had been nearing thirty and of course, Imrahil refused his proposal but he knew that Faervel and his brother Fimalen were both trust-worthy warriors, as well as friends. The Prince of Dol Amroth had received many marriage proposals for his daughter, but he had always declined... Until his sworn son, Éomer, had asked for his daughter's hand in marriage.
The man had been like a dog with a bone and every occasion that would crop up, he would pursue Imrahil about his decision. Imrahil had made his decision from the very first moment that Éomer had come to him about their betrothal. He was a King, a strong man, a good man and he could see that the Rohan lord cared deeply for his daughter. And so, he had accepted the proposal. What he had not been ready for, was his daughter's refusal. After all, the King cared for her and so Imrahil had assumed that she too secretly cared for the King. But alas, his beloved child held no such intentions towards Éomer and had not even thought about the Rohan King since their first meeting in Minas Tirith, at King Elessar's wedding. Suffice to say that he had been a little vexed by his daughter's flat out refusal. But soon, she had seen the light and agreed and all had been well.
The news of Lothíriel's pregnancy had been a blessing in disguise. The messenger that had given him the news had almost been frightened to death when Imrahil slapped him jovially on the back.
But now... He did not even wish to think of the grief his daughter was experiencing. He should have known that as a warrior-king, Éomer would have a duty towards his people. But his duty had left Lothíriel widowed and his unborn grandchild fatherless.
Imrahil blinked away the thoughts and focused on the concerned faces of the two Knights.
"Well met, my lord-prince," Faervel, the older of the two brothers, stepped forward. The orange glow of the tent room warmed his chilled skin considerably.
"You wished to speak with me?" Imrahil stood from his seat, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Aye," Faervel continued, "My brother and I were sent out as scouts by our Captain four days prior." Imrahil nodded from him to go on.
The tall, broad-shouldered man inhaled deeply, "We came upon a village half a league from our camp; the weather was far too dangerous for us to return sooner but the people were kind enough to let us stay in an Inn until the storm had cleared... My lord, whilst we were there we learned that an injured man had been found wandering the plains of West Emnet a week ago. He was brought to this village and cared for by a member of staff at the Inn we were staying at. We heard whisperings that he was one of the King's éored and that he had been in the battle of East Emnet days before he had been found. How he was found in West Emnet is unknown, but we heard that his injuries are still severe and it is not known if he would survive. I asked about this man and told them that we were journeying towards Edoras, and that we would take him with us so that he could live his remaining days within the city, with his family. My brother and I were taken to him and I was most shocked to find that it was not one of the King's soldiers, but King Éomer himself!"
Imrahil bit back a gasp at the words, "What? Is he still alive? Where is he now?"
His sworn son had been found!
The Prince of Dol Amroth began pacing as Faervel informed him that as soon as there had been a break in the weather, he and his brother had ridden back to the camp post-haste, along with the injured King and a young healer that had been tending to him for the past week. It had been dangerous to travel as his wounds had been extensive, but they had managed it fairly well as the King had not awoken since his ailments had been tended to .
Imrahil ordered them to bring his Éomer to his own tent. He then spoke with Fimalen and told the Knight to inform his oldest son that the King of Rohan had been found and though Éomer was still alive, he was in great need of healing hands...
The Prince of Dol Amroth prayed to the Valar that his daughter's husband would fight his life-threatening wounds and that the weather would brighten so that they could continue on to the final leg of their journey towards Edoras and inform his daughter and the people that their King had been found! He prayed with his heart that the Rohan King had enough strength to survive.
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"You highness!" Feger burst through the doors of the silent library with surprising force.
Lothíriel started and dropped the precious scroll in her hands, "What is it Feger?"
"Your father has arrived!" She cried breathlessly, curtseying awkwardly in her excitement.
Lothíriel's stomach dropped at the news. It was three days after her husband's funeral and Lothíriel had much to do in his stead. She knew that starting tomorrow, her time would be filled with endless meetings where she would take counsel with her husband's advisors... Her advisors now, about the ruling of the realm. But her father was here! She hurriedly picked up the scroll and saw that Feger was almost bursting from some unspoken news.
"What is it?"
The older woman bit back a grin, "On their journey towards Edoras, the Prince's men came upon a village... There, they found the King!"
Lothíriel blinked, "They found his body?" She whispered the question, afraid to speak out loud for fear of this conversation becoming a reality.
Feger shook her head, "No, my Queen. He lives! The King is grievously wounded, but he still lives! They have brought him to Edoras; he currently is in the Healing Halls with your father and brother, Lord Elphir."
Lothíriel's face grew ashen. He was alive! Her husband was alive! "How bad are his wounds Feger?" She asked fearfully.
"I know not," Feger shook her head sadly, "He remains in a deep sleep; he was awake when he was found but once his wounds had been dealt with, he fell into slumber and has not awoken since. That was over a week ago."
"What happens if he does not awaken?" Lothíriel bit her lip, her eyes darting about the room as her heart pounded wildly against her ribcage.
"My lord-king is strong," Feger said adamantly. "He will survive!" She paused, unsure if she should say her next words.
"Speak, Feger," Lothíriel commanded, seeing the look of hesitation upon the older woman's face.
The flaxen-haired woman sighed, "I heard rumours that King had been taken and tortured by the orcs; the deep wounds he received will forever mar his body. Though somehow, the King managed to escape before he could be killed by them."
"How do you know this?"
"It is what some of the Knights have been saying. There was news that your father and his company came upon a band of roaming orcs searching for something; they slaughtered the fell creatures before any harm could be done but it has been said that the Prince is certain that the orcs were looking for the King."
"You say he was found in a village?"
Feger nodded.
"Why didn't the people of the village inform us that he was in their care?"
"They did not know he was the King... They thought him to be one of the King's soldiers."
The Queen of Rohan was baffled, "How could they not know that he is their King?" She cried sternly.
"Peace, your highness," Feger soothed, "Many of the Rohirrim people do not know what their lord-king looks like. Either they have not made the pilgrimage to Edoras to see him, or they cannot because they are too poor to afford to travel to the city. The King is but a faceless name they cling to—he is their hope and their saving grace; though some may never know what he looks like, he is still respected and revered."
"I see," Lothíriel's eyes grew stormy. If only the people of the village had known! They could have sent messengers to Edoras and she would have dispatched Riders to bring her husband home. Instead, she had mourned his passing and had placed his sword in the tomb of his forefathers! "Take me to him," she demanded finally, almost forgetting that her father had arrived and had been the one to bring her husband home.
Feger curtseyed once more and led her Queen towards the Healing Halls of Meduseld.
A deep seed of relief blossomed within Lothíriel's heart as every step she took, led her to her husband's side.
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Added Notes: This was a filler chapter. Next one, the drama begins. Oh and she loves him. She's just being ignorant and stupid for a little while longer. Éomer's POV will come soon, hang in there for a while and I'm sure you'll be surprised at our king's state of health ;evil laugh;
Also, I am sorry for the wait, my daughter thought that it would be a fun idea to bring her drink near the keyboard of our computer... Her father was supposed to be 'watching' her and not only did he give her the wrong cup, but he also left her alone in our study for (his excuse:) only a few minutes. Men! They don't realise that a child only needs a few minutes to do some heavy-duty damage. They are such incompetent fools, but we still love them ;sigh; And yes, I forgave him after an hour of verbal tongue-lashing.
Thanks to everyone for reviewing!