By the Sea Chapter 15: Midnight Madness, a lord of the rings fanfic

By the Sea.

Chapter Fifteen: Midnight Madness.

The flame of the candle in her hand flickered to an unsung melody. Lothíriel found herself sighing wearily as her footsteps fell lightly onto the cold stone floor of Meduseld. The darkened hallway was silent and oppressive but it fit her black mood perfectly. Days had passed and she found that she still could not sleep, even after she had mustered her courage to visit Éomer. She thought that by visiting him, she would at least be comforted from the restless nights that pursued her relentlessly. But it was not so. As before, she could not find a reprieve from the taunting dreams that seemed to haunt her sleep. And so, she was reduced to roaming the halls of her home for the many hours of the night, until she could no longer keep her eyes open and had to return to her chambers.

It was a blessing that her days, when the sun rose, were busy with the constant demands for her attention that she had no time to ponder the nightmares that assaulted her.

Luckily, she was kept even more busy by fulfilling her husband's wish and carrying out the travelling arrangements for their trip to Gondor.

The same evening of Éomer's request, she had sent out a dispatch to her father and informed him that it was time for the King and Queen of Rohan's state visit to Gondor. She knew that her father would decipher the true meaning of the letter; that she and Éomer would be visiting for far more informal reasons.

Lothíriel had not realised, until her husband made his request, that she missed her home by the sea dreadfully. Her home had now become a place of healing, a haven in which she could retreat from the tiresome duties of the court in Rohan. It would prove to be the perfect getaway for her and her husband and she knew that Éomer would enjoy his time there. His excitement for going to Dol Amroth had been blatantly obvious. She still could not think of him as anything more than a child but due to Elfhelm, she held onto her hope that one day he would return to her. Her husband had been growing increasingly agitated at being confined in the Golden Hall. The time they would spend in Dol Amroth would be good for him. And her.

But there was also a question of visiting Minas Tirith. Lothíriel understood that no state visit to Gondor could occur without going to the White City. It was the seat of power in Gondor and to enter the country without paying respects to the King and Queen would prove most remiss of them. The only other people that knew of her husband's condition outside of Meduseld was King Elessar and his wife Arwen Úndomiel, because she knew that he and her husband were very good friends. And though they would understand why she chose not to greet them in their city, she knew that the King's advisors and court lords and ladies would not be so forgiving.

So Lothíriel resigned herself to sending a notice to the King of Gondor, informing him about their upcoming trip and expressing her wish to keep their arrival in the White City as quiet as possible. Her party would be making a round trip to Minas Tirith from Dol Amroth. They would be travelling to Dol Amroth through a secret pass in the mountains, one that only her advisors knew was present; it would cut the time of their journey in half. From Dol Amroth, they would journey to Minas Tirith and return to Rohan via the White Mountains once they had paid their respects. Only a handful of people would know that the King and Queen of Rohan were coming to call upon Gondor's King. It would not do to draw unnecessary attention towards her husband's... delicate condition.

Again, Lothíriel found herself sighing.

There was so much that needed to be done for this impromptu trip! Documents had to be signed and stamped, food for the journey had to be arranged with the cooks of Meduseld, the trunks for clothing needed to be excavated as well as the carriages and guards that needed to be employed to escort the Royal party; Éomer would not be fit to ride upon his beloved horse, Firefoot. She had spent the day arguing about this particular problem with him. He was adamant on journeying to Gondor upon a horse, but Lothíriel had flatly refused. She would not put him in danger by exploiting his ignorance. No. He would ride with her in a carriage led by horses and he would not usurp her decision.

A ghostly smiled flitted across her face as she recalled his pouting composure at the finality of her stern words. Valar, he had been so cross that he did nothing but stamp his foot and throw a tantrum for over an hour, making her late for an important meeting with his advisors. Only when Éomer realised that Lothíriel was not paying him any mind or attention, as she continued her embroidering, did he cease his childish antics. He huffed and puffed, fumed silently, but she was proud that she had not given in, if only to appease his outrageous behaviour. She now knew how her childhood nanny felt by caring for her and her brothers; exhausted and mentally drained!

Lothíriel squeaked suddenly with surprise as she felt her body collide with something hard. It was almost as if a stone wall was barricading the centre of the hallway. She froze, stiffening, as gentle arms caught her before she fell backwards onto the floor. The rush of sudden air caused the flame of the candle in her hand to extinguish before she could find out who was standing before her. Her eyes searched frantically for the face belonging to the hands that gently held her. The hallway had become shrouded in an ebony blanket that not even the light of the stars could pierce through it, making it all the more difficult for her to identify the strong, lean figure that was pressed tightly against her.

At least she knew it was a man.

She shivered slightly as the shadowed figure hunched down to her height, his breath caressing her cheek innocently. It seemed that they too were trying to make out her form.

"My lady? Lothíriel?"

Lothíriel breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes as she recognised the quietly toned masculine voice. "It is I, Elfhelm," she assured him through her whisperings.

His hands lingered upon her arms for the barest of moments before they were abruptly removed with silent embarrassment. He did not step away from her as she thought he would, for it seemed that with his nearness he could almost see her through the darkness. Not for the first time, Lothíriel wondered why the torches of the halls were not continually lit and watched throughout the night. It would be so much easier for her if she did not have to carry around a candle on her nightly vigils.

"Why are you not asleep, my lady?" Elfhelm asked softly, his breath still near quivering against her cheek.

For some reason, whether it was because of the pitch black surroundings or her unending weariness, Lothíriel answered truthfully. "I could not; I am plagued with nightmares and I found it difficult to sleep. But why are you not at rest, my lord, Elfhelm?"

There was a brief silence that seemed to speak volumes, though Lothíriel did not know what it could mean. "... I find no peace in the Golden Hall this night." Elfhelm's hushed voice sent a shiver tingling up her spine. Her tiny shoulders shuddered and the slight movement sent the Marshal into action. "You are cold?" She was about to answer but she felt a heavy cloak settle upon her shoulders. There was no time to give her thanks as Elfhelm continued to speak, "This should keep you warm, my lady. But perhaps it would be best for you if I returned you to your chambers? They are considerably far from here..."

Lothíriel frowned, flustered by Elfhelm's words. "Nay, I am quite near my chambers, I assure you."

"But the Royal rooms are not in this wing?" He sounded surprised.

"I have acquired rooms beside Éomer in the Healing Halls. Until he does not recover, I will remain there. The Royal chambers hold no appeal for me. at present."

"Ah..."

A moment passed where both Marshal and Queen were lost in their own thoughts. Lothíriel fingered the cloak around her shoulders and smiled at Elfhelm's consideration. "Thank you for the cloak." Though she was not cold by any means, his gesture had been thoughtful and kind.

"You are most welcome."

She could hear the gentle smile in his voice and it warmed her heart more than any cloak could. "You must forgive me Elfhelm. I asked you to remain in Edoras but I have been unable to call upon you these last few days; most remiss of a host, don't you think?"

He chuckled quietly. "The people of Meduseld have been more than attentive, my lady. I will not hold it against you."

"That is good. I would be disappointed to learn that they were not." Deftly, she took a step back from his sturdy frame and offered a shallow curtsey, feeling less troubled at having spoken with Elfhelm. "Perhaps you are correct," she said teasingly, "I should return to my rooms and try to rest."

"Then allow me to escort you there." Gallantly, Elfhelm took her arm and began to lead her down the hallway.

After a few steps, he stopped and looked down at her shadowy frame with a wry grin that she could not see but knew was there. "It seems that I do not know the way to your chambers, my lady. The Healing Halls are long and incomprehensible in their twisting corridors and numerous rooms."

Lothíriel laughed at him. Through the darkness, she could see the glint of bashfulness within his eyes. "You would have me lead you instead, Marshal? Really. In all my life, I have never heard of a lady escorting a man! Perhaps I should take you to your rooms and save you the trouble of becoming lost in these halls," she mocked jokingly.

The slight movement in the air indicated that he had lowered his head shamefully. "Ai," he sighed sadly, "I see that you will not let me live this down if I agree. Very well; please escort me, my lady, as it seems that I am not man enough nor capable to lead you to your required destination. These eyes are getting old and cannot see as well as they used to in the dark."

Lothíriel bit her lip, suppressing the bought of giggles that were dangerously close to spilling from her lips. "Hush," she reprimanded softly as she patted his arm. "You are barely forty and yet you still think that you are as ancient as an Ent!"

"I would make a good Ent," Elfhelm surmised thoughtfully. "I am tall enough."

His words were enough to finally make Lothíriel burst out into quiet laughter as she lead them down the halls of Meduseld, towards the guest quarters where Elfhelm's chambers stood. "Yes, you would," she agreed with amusement. "But I am afraid you are not quite so leafy as you need to be, if you wish to become an Ent."

"Mayhap you will do me the honour of sewing leaves to my person and planting me in the soil of Fangorn?"

Lothíriel shook her head, feeling giddy and delighted at the ridiculousness of the conversation. It had been so long since she had such a... silly conversation.

She had no time to answer him as they were rapidly approaching Elfhelm's rooms. They halted in front of the doorway and Lothíriel moved to curtsey again. But this time, she was stopped by his hands upon her shoulders, holding her in place. She stilled, feeling her heart begin to pound as she moved to peer up at his face through the obsidian night. The air around them grew tense and quiet for the first time since they had collided in the hallway. She did not like the sickening sensation it was causing within her stomach.

"Did I forget to mention that it is not becoming for a Queen to lower herself before a soldier?" Elfhelm finally murmured to her.

Why did it feel like his words were masking something that Lothíriel could not decipher?

"Can she not lower herself before a friend that she respects and admires greatly?" She asked bravely.

"What am I to you?"

"A friend. A most beloved friend."

He gazed at her intently... silently.

Lothíriel tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed within the column her throat. His hands seemed to burn into the cloth of the evening gown that rested at her shoulders and she dare not move. Never before had she felt this... this coiling in her abdomen, this tightening in her body. It was frightening, but she did not show it. She did not show how his touch could affect her so deeply. It was not right; this strange, wonderful and new feeling.

She knew that she must find the strength to hold back. But she was finding it extremely difficult as Elfhelm gazed down at her through misted eyes of need. No one had looked at her like that before. No one.

The starlight from the window opposite the doorway seemed to illuminate the green stones of his eyes, casting an eerie glow upon them that seemed to beckon her closer.

Unaware of her actions, Lothíriel stepped forward, into his arms and into his life. His hands tapered down to her waist, lightly holding her slight frame against the massive structure of his tall, fiercely muscled body.

Their eyes held one another in a silent dance of emotions that was heartbreaking to witness. And before Lothíriel could protest, Elfhelm's head lowered to hers of its own accord. The gentle insistence of his lips impressed upon her own, forced her to relax into his soft embrace as he moved to press her back against the doorway of his chambers. She sighed, her knees trembling whilst his tongue parted her lips, drawing out a low and appreciative moan from deep within her throat.

Gods, it felt so wonderful that Lothíriel did not even realise the severity of her actions as Elfhelm drew her deeper into his arms, still pressing her further back against the wooden door.

His lips were causing her body to sing in response and gradually, the gentle ministrations of his tongue grew more heated.

All too soon, Lothíriel felt her eyes flutter open in horror as Elfhelm froze and pulled away slightly at the sound of a throat clearing. She blinked for several moments, staring up at the collar of his tunic as the Marshal stiffened. It was then that Lothíriel realised the cause of this.

The figure of a man standing behind, to the right of Elfhelm, looking at them with obvious shock and disapproval even though she could not make out his face. He was carrying a flickering torch and Lothíriel grew worried that he had seen her. What had she done? Foolish girl! She was jeopardising everything with this slip in her character. How could she be so reckless? How could she allow him to kiss her so? She was dismayed at the thought of what she had done and what she could have gone on to do... Forcing the bile back, Lothíriel lowered her head in shame as a barrage of tears came to her eyes. She cursed her folly.

"May I have a word with you, Marshal Elfhelm?... Alone."

Lothíriel's bruised lips parted with shock as she recognised the voice. It was cold and deep, utterly unforgiving. The voice belonged to Gamling; the Captain of the King's Royal Guard.

She prayed that he had not seen her tiny frame behind Elfhelm's.

The Marshal of the East-mark turned slowly towards the voice, shielding her from Gamling's view. Without preamble, without a word, Lothíriel scurried out from behind Elfhelm and quickly made her way back to her chambers with a lowered head, praying that the Captain had not recognised her.

Unfortunately for the Queen, Gamling had recognised her all too well. He frowned to himself as he noted the shame and tears glistening upon her face as she hurried away from his stern countenance. He could not blame her for making a hasty retreat. Though he was older by half a decade than the Marshal before him, he was still a formidable force to be reckoned with. Tall, broad-shouldered and fair-haired, as was the will of their race, Gamling was no different in stature and command to Elfhelm. And he felt that it was his duty to intervene a national disaster, out of loyalty to the throne and loyalty towards Elfhelm's house. He would put an end to this dalliance once and for all, swiftly and quietly, without the interference of any other.

The young Queen was impressionable; she could easily be swayed by kind and gentle words in her delicate condition.

Elfhelm, however, should have known better.

And Gamling was clearly disappointed that the Marshal had taken advantage of the Queen's vulnerable state. Though he did not deny she was at fault as well, being older and wiser, Elfhelm was more suited to bear the brunt of Gamling's reprimanding words.

He waited patiently for the Marshal to open the doors of his chamber, his blue eyes flashing dangerously against the flame of the torch in his hand. Neither noticed the lingering, feminine shadow that had hidden itself between an arched doorway further down the hall. As silently as he had appeared, they both entered the room. Deftly, Gamling placed his torch into the holder of the wall and turned quietly towards the agitated Marshal that was now pacing the width of the room.

At his stare, Elfhelm ceased pacing and turned to face the Captain with a baleful glance.

Gamling returned the look with a shrewd snort. "How long?" His voice was quiet and menacing as he stared at his old friend and acquaintance. Their fathers had been comrades in-arms and even due to the age gap, both Marshal and Captain had grown to become quite close friends in the years they had known one another.

Had he caught another man in Elfhelm's situation, Gamling was sure he would not have been so lenient in his choice of words. With hawk eyes, he watched as Elfhelm sighed morosely. It irked him to no end that Elfhelm chose not to reply. "How long have you been bedding her?" He reiterated coldly, when no answer came to fruition.

An appalled look crossed Elfhelm's face, and Gamling was relieved to see it, though he did not show it. "I have never—!" Elfhelm almost shouted, "I mean, we have not..." He trailed away in defeat.

"Good," Gamling hissed, "And it shall not go any further. Am I understood, Marshal?"

Elfhelm nodded in shame but could not help whispering, "I did not mean to... It happened without my realising it. If I had been aware—I would not have." He sighed heavily and brought the pads of his hands to his eyes. "Béma, Gamling, what is wrong with me? It seems that she brings out the worst in me... I cannot help it! Everything about her... Her eyes, her hair, her scent—"

"Have you gone mad, man?" Gamling interrupted furiously. He had heard enough. "This is insanity! If you wish for a good tumble in the hay then I suggest you visit a damn brothel."

"I do not want a whore, Gamling," Elfhelm snarled threateningly. "I want her! I need her."

"She is the King's wife, you fool! Do not do this to yourself Elfhelm, you are setting yourself up for disaster."

"Do you think I do not know?" Elfhelm growled. "Do you honestly think I would be so foolish as to put my position, my house, my title in jeopardy if I could prevent it?" His breathing grew heavy and deep as he forced out his next words desperately, "But I have fallen for her. Against my will, against my reason and against my better judgement—I have come love her, Gamling. I love her." His voice cracked and along with it, his heart.

There. He had said it. Gamling felt his heart grow cold at the admission. "A fool in love, is still a fool in life, Elfhelm!" He snapped ruthlessly. "She will be your death if you continue in this manner!"

"Then so be it," Elfhelm concluded stoutly.

"Stop it! Stop this nonsense, at once!" The Captain was on the verge of shouting out at this madness. He marched up to the younger man and pushed him roughly into the wall, as though he was trying to push some sense into him. His fiercely glittering blue eyes were level with the defeated jade orbs that stared back at him. "I cannot allow you to do this. Not to yourself; nor to her. She does not belong to you," he added, his tone softening. "She belongs to the one we serve, the man we call our King and saviour! Will you betray him? Can you betray your friend and brother in such a manner?"

Elfhelm's shoulders sagged slightly as realisation sunk deeply into the cracks of his wounded heart. "What am I to do?"

Gamling stepped back, his face blank, but he could not help the pity that stemmed from his eyes. "Go to Aldburg; be a true Marshal of the East-mark and do your duty to your King. That is all you can do."

The Marshal closed his eyes briefly at the truth of Gamling's words. "I must leave this place. I must leave her."

"Aye," the flaxen-haired man agreed solemnly. Gamling's expression grew distant and remorseful as he thought about a forgotten story that may help his friend to realise the brutal truth. "You know... I loved a woman once, before I wed Éadnes."

Elfhelm's eyes snapped towards the Captain. He regarded the older man with a thoughtful expression. "You never mentioned that."

Gamling frowned. "Nay, for it was not a love to be proud of, according to my father."

"Why?"

"She was of lower station," he replied flatly. "You know my father, as you know your own; you understand their dispositions and views regarding lesser folk. They were good men, but their minds were too clouded with their own importance."

Elfhelm made a sound of agreement. He motioned to the two chairs at the far end of the room, interested to hear Gamling's tale.

Once seated, Gamling accepted the mug of port that was offered to him. His raised his glass and saluted the Marshall before speaking again. "She was the daughter of a scullery maid in our home. Her name was Byrde. Béma, she was as the sun! Fair and proud and... glorious. I fell in love with her, much as you claim to love our lady-queen. For a time, our love grew and we were content to keep it from the eyes of others, unknowing of the consequences. Until the day my father caught wind of it. You should have seen him; the shame in his eyes knew no bounds. And for the first time in my life, I had done the one thing I swore never to do. I disappointed him. I brought shame to our family."

"What did he do?" Elfhelm leaned forward, knowing that this would be a tale of heartache.

"The only thing a father of his standing can do. He sent the maid and her daughter to another house and I never saw her again. Willingly, I married the woman he chose for me and though I grew to love Éadnes with every breath in my body, it will never be the same love I felt... The love I feel for Byrde. Love comes in many forms, Elfhelm, and the love I have for Byrde shall not fade until the ending of days. But it is in the past and I have left her there as I left her love."

"That is indeed a sad tale, my friend. Why did you never tell me? I must admit, I was surprised when you wed Éadnes. I never thought your father would choose a match for you but she is a good woman."

Gamling shrugged. "It was his way to atone for my indiscretion. But you are right. Éadnes has my love now and with it, I paid my dues to my father. And now, so must you."

Elfhelm sighed before lowering his head. "I cannot leave without her blessing. She has asked me to remain here..."

The Captain of the Royal Guard shook his head, snorting indelicately. "After this eve of madness, she will let you go. She must."

"I was asked to escort them to Gondor. I cannot do so now..."

"No, you cannot."

Breathing in deeply, Elfhelm exhaled longingly. At length, he whispered, "It will never disappear, will it?"

"What won't?"

"This ache in my chest; it hurts more than the poisoned blade of an orc."

A fleeting, pained smile creased Gamling's lips before it disappeared like the dwindling wind outside. "No, it won't. I will not lie to you Elfhelm. It will be with you, always. It will hurt like no weapon on this earth and fester inside you if you do not learn to care for it. Take it from one who knows..."

For a few moments, they looked at one another without speaking. And in the end, the ironic laughter that fell from their lips was inescapable.

Added Notes: ;;squee;; I love Gamling... This in-between chapter came to me after I read Zee's story 'Rider of the Mark' for the first time. It is amazing and I apologise to her for being unable to review, but I will do so as soon as I can! It's an amazing piece of work and I am honoured that she even reviewed this story, so I thought it would be nice to deviate slightly and add in this extra chapter to the plot for her and honour good ol' Gamling. I hope you all liked it and please do not be so hard on our dear Lothíriel, she needs a little bit of loving! Our favourite King will be making an appearance in the next chapter and can you just imagine a child on a long journey? It's not going to be pretty.

Thanks once again to everyone that reviewed, your comments are so kind and generous!

Translations of Rohirric Names:-

Byrde — Noble.

Éadnes — Inner Peace.