Chapter 4
Éomer had to admit it: the sea was as beautiful as it was strange. This was only his third day in Dol Amroth, but he had already noticed that the sea never looked the same. It was in constant movement and its colour shifted in many subtle tones. Its voice was an ever-present hum behind all other sounds – perhaps it was this endless song that so called to the Elves. Now he watched how the morning's light danced on the waves, the push and pull of the tide against the shore, and the very brightness of the sky in this fine early summer's day. Still, he was happy to keep his distance and admire it from afar.
Amrothos, ever helpful in all works of mischief, had quickly agreed to distract Éothain. So Éomer had been able to slip away from breakfast, go to the stables, and take Firefoot out for a ride on the beach. It was not wise to let the spirited stallion sit still for too long and his Rider was equally in the need for an outing. Not to mention, after past few days' hubbub Éomer dearly wished for a peaceful moment.
The young king let Firefoot set the pace, and so they flew over the white sand, both taking delight in the speed and the sense of freedom it gave. Wind was in his hair but the air was warm and pleasant, and in sheer joy he let the reins drop from his hands; he knew he would not fall, so he spread his arms to the wind and laughed with such abandon as was so rare for him these days.
But soon enough he saw some cliffs rising ahead. The rise of them was gentle and low at first, but then they began to climb high and far, and he thought one could see the entire city from the top of them. Small bushes grew on the cliffs along with numberless other things. His curiosity was piqued. He had some time still before Éothain really became worried, so he might as well take this chance and explore a bit.
He left Firefoot down on the beach, knowing the stallion would not wander far. And if any horse thieves happened to be close by and get ideas, they would quickly realise they really did not want anything to do with this hell-beast.
Éomer began to climb the rocky slope. He moved without any haste, simply enjoying the fair morning and paying close care to all the small things he saw around himself. Almost it felt like he was the first Man to explore these cliffs at the Dawn of Days, seeing all things new and strange and delightful, and giving them names in whatever ancient tongue the first mortal Men had spoken. Many plants grew here that he did not recognise, thriving in the nearness of the sea and mild climate. He thought of his sister and what she might say, were she with him now. Certainly, he imagined there was a lot she could learn here, what with her newfound interest in green things of the earth.
Momentarily he halted to look around himself and to the sea. In the distance he could spot a few white sails, though he couldn't say if they were departing or returning. It was an early morning still, but the sun was climbing higher. He breathed in the salty air and momentarily closed his eyes. There was a strange feeling on him, of both relishing the solitude and wishing for company at the same time. A most curious sort of longing, he thought, and wondered if the sea was speaking to him after all.
He opened his eyes and turned, meaning to continue his climb. However as he raised his eyes, he saw that he was not alone.
There, some fifteen feet above him, stood a woman. She was dressed simply in a light, loose dress he had seen some of the women in the city wearing. It was sleeveless and bared half of her shins and slender ankles. Her shoes were sturdy, sensible kind – good for difficult terrain such as this. The dress was tied tight at waist with a long, colourful ribbon, on which her embroidered lady's purse was fastened. On her arm she carried a small basket.
He paid notice to her array only for a moment. For then his eyes fixed on her face and he felt like a jolt of something electric went through him – the start of recognition. There she was. Those bright grey eyes he would know anywhere, even though he had only seen them once. Even then, he was surprised to realise he had not remembered their depth, or how her eyebrows and eyes together gave her features a serious expression. And yet Éomer thought that the grave impression would vanish and be replaced by whatever mood would be reflected by those clear, thoughtful eyes. Her raven hair was pulled back from her face and it fell down one shoulder in a thick, messy braid, and her full, pink mouth was curved in the faintest of smiles.
He almost gasped out loud. How many times had he thought of this woman, and then reminded himself of how unlikely it was he would ever see her again? Yet here she stood in the flesh, staring back at him quietly, and showing not the smallest bit of the surprise he felt. Bizarrely he wondered if she had expected to see him.
"It's you", he blurted out at last, not even thinking of greeting her properly or apologising for staring at her like some kind of a dreadful brute who has never seen a woman before.
Her smile grew and a glimmer ignited in her eyes. He had been right: she did not look solemn at all anymore.
"It's me", she agreed pleasantly. He shook himself, feeling like an idiot. All this time he had spent wondering about her, and the unlikely moment they met once more, that was all he could say?
"Forgive me. I hadn't expected to meet anyone here. Least of all you", he said and was glad to hear his voice sounding more collected.
Her smile widened and he thought she looked like she was enjoying some kind of a private joke.
"We were always bound to meet again, Sire", she replied nonchalantly, puzzling him even further.
"Indeed?" he asked, hoping she would somehow explain, because there was nothing about this that he understood.
"I beg your pardon, Sire. I am being quite rude", she said and lightly descended so that they were standing face to face. The moment she moved, he realised she was the woman he had seen last night, walking away and then vanishing into the staircase. Of course. It made perfect sense, and it explained his own seemingly absurd reaction at the time. By some instinct he had known it was her, the woman who had so troubled him over the course of past year, making him so desperate to catch her and finally discover who she was.
Yet though she was arrayed as any Amrothian woman and wandering these cliffs all alone, she still curtsied with all the grace of a noble lady. The next words from her mouth explained how that was possible.
"Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, at your service. I am pleased to meet you."
Éomer felt like he might just fall down the cliff from sheer amazement. So, not only was the mysterious woman he had frequently obsessed over since last year here in Dol Amroth, but she was also none other than the daughter of Prince Imrahil himself? His head felt like bursting with new information, and bits and pieces of what he knew about her were falling apart and forming a picture that was against all his expectations.
"Lothíriel of Dol Amroth", he repeated slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm simply in awe at my own idiocy and blindness. I never realised..."
And he thought back to that night in the Houses of Healing, and if she had given some sign of who she was. But he could recall no such thing. She had simply passed in and out of his life for that brief moment.
"No need to be, my lord. How could you know who I was? I often keep to myself, and it didn't seem like the place or time for introductions", she said, shrugging slightly.
"I didn't know you are a healer", he said at length, trying to get a grip.
She shook her head and smiled.
"Actually, I'm not a healer. What I am is a student of herb-lore. Certainly it is a mighty ally of the healing arts, and I do have dealings with the master healers of the city, but my interest goes far beyond that", she explained. Then she lifted her basket and added, "Just before, I was collecting seaweed on the shore. The poor of the city sometimes use it as food, but I'm trying to find out if it can be used in other ways as well."
Éomer hardly knew what to say. He was still too much in the shock of discovering this woman again, and the way she spoke and looked at him… even with the basket on her arm, he had hard time imagining the Lady Lothíriel of Dol Amroth roaming the seaside in search of some slimy bit of weeds. He recalled Imrahil saying that his daughter was not what you might expect. Now he understood what his friend had meant by it.
He took a deep breath and regarded her keenly. There was this urge to reach his hand to touch her, just to make sure she was real and this was not some kind of a dream. It made no sense, it never had, the way he kept returning to her in his thoughts. They had only spoken for a few moments before she had left him again. She would think him odd for hanging on to it. And yet he felt the burning need to tell her how much and often he had thought of her.
"I am glad to meet you again, my lady. I confess that our meeting in the Houses of Healing has often been in my thoughts. I regretted not asking your name at the time", he said at length. There. That didn't sound too bad, did it?
Again that strange, knowing smile appeared on her features.
"I did say we were bound to meet again, didn't I? So it doesn't matter that I did not introduce myself then", she stated simply.
"You sound so certain. I was half convinced you were a commoner. I could hardly believe that a lady of Gondor would stay behind for the battle, even though your brothers told me afterwards that you were present", he said. His full focus and thought was on her and he had forgotten about Firefoot and the fact that he should get back to the palace eventually.
"I suppose it was unusual. But I told my father I needed to be there at the time… while I'm not a healer, there was still much that I could do to help. Some would say he is too indulging with me, although he is not the kind to agree to random whims and fancies", Lady Lothíriel spoke and her tone was light, like she really did not think much of the affair.
"Well, I am glad you were there", Éomer said, smiling broadly at her. A warm, happy sensation was glowing in the centre of his chest. At last the mystery was revealed. She was a real woman now, not just a memory that would eventually fade as years passed, but still leaving him with that tiny sliver of discontent. He couldn't have imagined the relief he would feel this moment.
"I must ask, Sire, though I know it is impudent. I saw you before when you were riding down the beach, your arms in the air and just letting your horse carry you away… what were you thinking of?" she asked him suddenly, searching his face with those keen eyes of hers.
"I was just… I was simply glad to be there. I don't normally get to sneak off like this", he replied, masking his surprise that she asked such a question. Once more, Imrahil's words returned to his mind. She was not Elven, but neither was she like most mortal women he knew.
"Then you are enjoying your stay here in Dol Amroth?" she asked him, and put her hand on his arm. At once he understood the gesture and began to lead the way down to the beach, choosing the easiest path but also offering his support as much as she needed it.
"It is very pleasant. I have not seen a more beautiful city ever in my life. And your family has not spared their efforts in keeping me comfortable and entertained", he answered with a smile.
"No wonder. I have never heard them speak anything but praises when they mention you or your sister, my lord. I had thought that if you didn't visit us by your own choice, Father would come and bring you here against your will", she commented lightly as they reached the beach. Éomer laughed.
"I don't think I would have fought back. It's been a difficult year in Rohan and I very much needed a holiday", he said, and as his thoughts returned to the struggles of past winter, he felt like a sudden dark cloud was passing over the face of the sun. But then her hand squeezed his arm gently before she withdrew it again, and the sensation dismissed all troubled memories from his mind.
"In that case, it's good you are here", she said and looked at him as though she knew exactly the burden he carried. It was strange. At the same time, it was so difficult to meet those deep, knowing eyes, and yet he felt like he never wanted to look away.
"Yes, it is", he agreed, and would probably have continued talking if Firefoot had not chosen that moment to push his head against him. The stallion chortled as though in reproach; Éomer knew he was lucky the beastly thing had not bitten him.
"What is it, old fellow? Have I been neglecting you?" he asked his stallion in Rohirric as he ran his hand over Firefoot's mighty head. The horse shook it and whinnied restlessly.
"He's beautiful. What's his name?" asked Lady Lothíriel. There was a look of admiration in her eyes, but she knew to keep her distance to the stallion.
"I call him Firefoot. Most people would tell you he's a veritable monster, but he's also the fastest, most loyal horse I've ever ridden", he answered with no small amount of pride. Training this horse had been difficult and time-consuming, but it had been worth it. That he was alive this day was at least in part thanks to his warhorse.
He glanced at her again and asked, "Do you ride?"
"Sometimes. I'm not as passionate about it as Elphir or Amrothos, but I like it well enough", she replied. Then she smiled at him slightly, "Shall we get going? I have been on the move since the dawn."
"Did you come here straight away?" Éomer inquired; she had not been at breakfast and while he had wondered about it, he had kept his thoughts to himself.
"Yes. I felt restless after our journey and could not sleep well last night. But a good, long walk always works miracles. Not to mention, you may find a few treasures on your path", she said and lifted her basket slightly. He smiled in agreement; he could well appreciate the idea, though for different reasons than her.
It did not even occur to Éomer to ride Firefoot back to the palace. Instead, he was happy to lead the horse and walk beside Lady Lothíriel. As they made their way back to her home, she told him more about her study of herbs and how she had sifted through libraries both here in Dol Amroth and Mundburg to get her hands on all the possible writings and lore on the subject. At the castle, she had a workshop where she studied, prepared and experimented on the specimen she had gleaned. She did not only prepare them for the healers in the service of her father but also for the kitchens, and she made soaps, oils, perfumes, incenses, ointments and balms – based on whatever was in season, or took her fancy. It sounded like there was no boundaries to her curiosity or the things she could make from smallest and meanest things that grew on earth.
She discriminated on no plant: whether it came from the palace's gardens, or the woods, or the cliffs by the sea, it was interesting to her. She praised even weeds such as nettles, and when he wondered at this, she smiled and told him she had found accounts on people using them to make thread and fabric for their clothes. She also spoke of an old fairy tale that was well known in Belfalas, a story of a noble maiden whose brothers were transformed into swans by a witch's curse. To help them turn back again, the maiden wove them shirts from fresh, untreated nettles, and though her hands burned with pain and agony, she was allowed to speak no word until all shirts were finished.
In quiet wonder Éomer listened to her speak. He interrupted her only to ask questions or clarifications. She had a pleasant voice, perhaps a bit deeper than a woman's voice normally was, but it had a clear, melodious quality to it. Before now, he had never much considered the study that went into growing things, but she had a way of talking about it that made him want to learn more, perhaps visit her workshop and see how she prepared her salves, ointments and remedies for the healers. Fancy that. At this rate, he and Éowyn both would be starting gardens.
They reached courtyard of the castle all too soon and he was a little bit disappointed to get there. Talking with her and listening to her talk about herb-lore had been so pleasant, he was sad to part ways so soon.
All the same, Éomer turned to face her. From the corner of his eye he could see Éothain fuming and glaring at him, but he could well listen to the man's lectures once he had taken his leave properly.
"I must thank you for walking with me, my lady. I enjoyed it very much. And your tales are most informative", he said to her, bowing his head briefly.
She smiled and curtsied.
"It was my pleasure, Sire. I had a good time, too. It is so rare to find anyone these days ready to listen to me talking about herbs", she said, eyes glittering like stars. Once again he marvelled at how their light and joy seemed to transform her very face, and for the first time, he thought she was fair.
"You may fill my ears with herb-lore any time you desire, my lady", Éomer said and smiled as well.
Lady Lothíriel laughed.
"I shall remember that, Sire, and you shall live to regret it", she said lightly. Ever so briefly, her fingers touched his sleeve. "I must get going now, but I believe I will be joining you and my family for the dinner tonight. Until then."
"Until then", Éomer echoed, suppressing all foolish ideas of trying to make her stay.
As he watched her go, it finally occurred to him then why he had enjoyed their conversation so much. She had treated him like an old friend, not like a young and unmarried king.
After his ride, Éomer was joined by Éothain, Elphir and Amrothos. His captain was not quite as wroth with him as he had expected, but perhaps he was saving the lecture for later. For, as they had agreed earlier at the breakfast, the two Rohirrim were about to receive a tour of Imrahil's stables and then go watch the Swan Knights training.
Normally, Éomer would have had no difficulty in giving his full attention to the matter at hand. He was curious about horse-breeding and training in these parts, and it was a great honour to be allowed into Imrahil's own stables. However, the chance meeting on the cliffs tempted his thoughts persistently and he had to focus hard in order not to think of the woman who had for so long puzzled him.
At least in his own mind, he was able to stay alert fairly well. Elphir and Amrothos did not seem to notice anything off, but Éothain's sharp eyes missed nothing; twice during their tour of the stables he gave Éomer a long, studious look as if to ask what was going on.
Imrahil's horses were of good stock, though they were smaller and more demure than the great Northern horses. At some point, one of his forefathers had bought some steeds from Southron lands and bred them here. It was generally agreed that some of the best mounted knights in Gondor came from Belfalas.
After the stables they were given a demonstration in that subject. While Éomer had seen them in battle at the Pelennor fields, it was different to watch them train. It was fascinating enough, even if he was not a neutral judge; no Rohir could ever be. There were multiple points he could have chimed in and corrected some manoeuvre, but he kept quiet. Thankfully, neither Elphir or Amrothos really expected him or Éothain to give their full, unembellished opinions.
Still, the King and his captain gave a few pointers as to how they might want to change their training sequences, and Elphir listened in rapt attention to every word they said. His wonder and excitement only grew when a couple of Rohirrim arrived with their horses to perform in the training ring, and to display a few of their tricks. One of them turned around in saddle while in full gallop, and the other showed how to pick up a spear from the ground without even stopping the horse. The tricks looked deceptively easy, but Éomer made sure Elphir understood how much training it took; he didn't want reckless Swan Knights getting serious injuries while trying to imitate Riders of the King's Guard, who were some of the most accomplished horsemen in the Mark.
All the same, they received enthusiastic applause from their audience. And perhaps even more than before there was talk on whether some horse-breeders could be persuaded to take a job here in Dol Amroth. Such a man would be treated like a king, Amrothos noted, and then he sighed in wistful longing.
Most of the afternoon passed in this way and it was closing on dinnertime when they returned from the training grounds to the palace. Elphir, Amrothos and Éothain were talking quickly, but Éomer was quiet. No longer required to pay attention, he let his mind wander freely back to the events of this morning. Going over his talk with the Lady Lothíriel once more, he realised that he had made an error when he had not asked her one important question.
On the night they had met, she had said to him: I see the sun shining down on your path. He had thought of that phrase so much during the past year, it was now etched in his memory. Almost as often he had wondered what she had meant. Why had she spoken those words?
He excused himself from the company of his captain and Imrahil's sons as soon as he could, and then made his way to his rooms. Truth was, he would have liked to go looking for her and ask all the questions that had bothered him ever since that strange, grim night. However, he had as much idea of how to find her in the castle as he had of discovering the road to moon.
But Lady Lothíriel had promised to join the company for dinner. Perhaps then he would have his chance.
That evening he bathed again and dressed with care. Some might have commented on how frequently he was bathing, or how much attention he was paying to his appearance. He told himself it was just good manners. This was the first actual dinner with Imrahil's own daughter and also his sister. It was no small honour to be allowed inside this family circle, and he could not appear there like some kind of a wild man from the woods.
There was a round looking glass in his rooms and despite himself, Éomer stepped before it. He had to bow down to actually see his face in it. There was the reflection of a blond, bearded man; eyes too sharp, brow too proud, features too strong – a shaggy, fearsome thing to behold. He didn't like it. Usually when he saw his reflection, he tried not to look himself in the eyes. There was something unsettling in them, something quite savage and raw. Or, perhaps he just imagined it.
He shook himself. This was foolish, for he was going among friends, and they didn't care what he looked like.
The three brothers and their aunt were already present when he arrived. The Lady Ivriniel reminded him a little bit of Imrahil himself, though her features were softer and more feminine. But she was tall and graceful, and she held herself proudly even with age upon her shoulders. She had the same eyes as her niece and the same mouth. Meeting this woman, he could now see the resemblance all too well. Of course she was a member of this family. Why hadn't he realised from the start that the woman he had met in the Houses of Healing was of the line of Imrahil of Dol Amroth? Well, in his defence, he had been more than just little distraught at the time.
As if summoned by his thought, Imrahil entered with his daughter by his arm. Now she truly looked like a lady. Her gown was blue with silver trimmings, pearls adorned her neck, and her dark hair was in elaborate braids around her head. When looking at her, Éomer wondered how had he ever thought her anything except a noble lady. As such, he was also quick to scold himself when his eye lingered a bit too long at the soft swell of her bosom and the gentle sway of her round hips. Thankfully, Imrahil did not seem to have noticed anything.
He rose to his feet to greet them and the lady smiled slightly at him, as though they shared some amusing secret that was only known to the two of them. He returned the smile, at ease once more, and felt like he was standing a bit taller.
"Éomer, my friend! Come meet my daughter", Imrahil spoke, smiling as only a proud father would.
"I must beg your pardon, Imrahil. We already met earlier today on the cliffs by the sea", Éomer replied as he stepped closer to the Prince and his daughter.
"You did? Well, I suppose I should not be surprised. Lothíriel often goes walking outside. During the past few years, it troubled me greatly. I was quite worried some pirate would snatch her from the beach", Imrahil said and he kept his tone light enough, but something told Éomer it had disturbed him very much.
"I have no such fate before me, Father", said the lady calmly, like she knew this thing for a fact. She glanced between their faces before adding in a lighter voice, "The King was most forthcoming. He let me talk about herbs all the way back to castle!"
"Indeed? Then you must know you have made fast friends, Éomer", Imrahil said with a soft laugh and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.
"It's always a pleasure to listen to someone talk about things they love. Not to mention, this morning I learnt more about herbs from her than in my whole life until now", Éomer said simply and nodded at the lady. She looked pleased and cast him a bright smile.
"My daughter is indeed very knowledgeable in the subject. I doubt there is anyone in Dol Amroth who is better informed than her", said Imrahil proudly. "But come now! Dinner is ready and I at least am quite famished."
The company made their way to the laden table, which was again full of every delicacy imaginable. Éomer was able to take seat next to Lothíriel and he tried not to appear too pleased with this development. But he was feeling restless, too, so that he could hardly sit still. He burned to ask her a good number of questions, and chief among them was what she had meant when she had promised him sunlight. Was it odd to fixate on one phrase like this? To think there was something behind it beyond an encouragement? One could think so. However, Éomer fancied himself a good judge of character and there was something about the memory of that encounter that would not leave him alone. Her words had a meaning behind them that he did not yet understand, and it haunted him even now. He needed to make sense of this – and of the question why the thought of her would not leave him alone.
He had one problem, though. How could he interrogate her in the middle of this company? Doing so would mean revealing that he had met her before this day, and then explanations would be requested. He did not want to give them. The memory belonged to him and her alone, and to share it with others, even friends such as Imrahil and sons were, would be to tarnish it.
Éomer glanced at the woman sitting next to him. If she felt the faintest bit of his anxiety, it did not show on her calm features. But she felt his eyes on herself and lifted up her face to smile at him. Something shifted in his chest, both eager and exasperated. If only he knew what was going through her mind!
He would have engaged her in a conversation, to try and make sense of this woman as much as propriety and etiquette allowed, but unfortunately he was not given that chance. The rest of her family were keeping up a general discussion around the table, directing questions at her as well. They wanted to know about her trip, or to tell her this or that thing which had occurred while she was gone. So he was left brewing in his frustration and curiosity. He hoped he didn't look too much like a man who has accidentally sat on a hedgehog and is now desperately trying to hide that fact.
The dinner was pleasant enough, even if he wasn't able to enjoy it as fully and sincerely as he had intended. Time and again, he became anxiously aware of how easy it would be to reach for her hand and pull her away, and take her some place private where he could interrogate her. But such bizarre behaviour would not be tolerated by Imrahil, even if Éomer had no foul intentions towards the Lady Lothíriel. So he suppressed his impulsive thoughts and tried to act like a completely sane, mild-mannered guest.
So Éomer did not get a chance to really talk to her in depth, except for some formal and superficial exchanges whenever the general conversation at the table allowed it. All too soon dessert was finished and chairs were pushed back. Both women bid them a good night and took their leave side by side.
Despite himself, he couldn't help but watch Lady Lothíriel go. Once more he was staring at her back as she moved away, leaving him dissatisfied and wondering. He consoled himself by thinking of how he still had many days left here in Dol Amroth; he would find his chance to find out the truth.
Later that night Éomer was sharing a drink with Éothain in his rooms. It was a warm night and the air was still. The moon was almost full as he rode high above the sea, a silver disk against the deepest, darkest blue. Stars were very bright as well and it was such a beautiful sight, this soft light upon the sea, that Éomer had come out to his balcony to admire it. He stood there leaning his elbows against the balustrade and enjoying the fair night.
Éothain came next to him with silver cups, filled with wine. With thanks Éomer accepted the drink and took a sip.
"So, what do we think of Dol Amorth?" he asked his friend after a moment.
"It's a marvel. Every bit as wonderful as I expected", said the captain. He cast a smile at his king, "Not to mention, Imrahil is a phenomenal host. He feeds us lads better even than you do."
Éomer laughed.
"I shall have words with him. Stern words, mind you. I can't have my own guard getting too comfortable", he quipped. Éothain laughed as well.
The young king cast then a more serious look at his friend.
"Though of course you and the lads deserve it. I'm not the only one who was working hard through last winter", he noted and briefly rested his hand on Éothain's shoulder. He knew how much his captain had taken upon his shoulders in an attempt to make things easier for Éomer. And truth was he was not the only one having to learn many new things: the mantle of the King's captain was a duty of great concern.
"You are our king", Éothain said plainly. "Each one of us would give our lives for you. And you have led us victorious through many storms – we will ride this one by your side, too."
Though Éomer had nothing but trust for his captain, and he knew his Riders to be loyal and devoted, Éothain's words still humbled him and made his throat feel tight. He swallowed hard and looked at his friend, not knowing how to respond to something so simple and yet so important.
But if his captain had a knack for handling his moods, however difficult. Éothain just smiled and lifted his cup, and in companionable silence they toasted their drinks. For a while, both stood leaning against the balustrade, drinking and watching the sea.
"I met Imrahil's daughter today", Éomer said after a moment. He wasn't sure why he did so – perhaps she just was such an overwhelming presence in his thoughts that he needed to put her into words. He didn't mind who listened to their voices, for they were using their own northern tongue. The only other people who would understand it in this city were staying at the barracks.
"You did? What is she like?" Éothain inquired.
"She's... unusual", said the young king, frowning slightly. That was quite the understatement for a lady so singular.
"Unusual as compared to maidens or Rohan, or – Béma forbid it – to ladies of Gondor?" Éothain wanted to know.
"Unusual compared to them all. She's wise in herb-lore, she walks the woods and the shores alone without an escort, and she seems to know something I don't", said Éomer.
His friend laughed softly.
"That last one isn't as unusual as you think, lad. At least, most women I've known in my time do know something I don't, or at least they believe so", Éothain said lightly and drank more of his wine.
Éomer thought of his sister and cast a lopsided smile at his friend, "... true."
Éothain glanced at him thoughtfully.
"Do you like her, then?" he asked tentatively. His blue eyes glinted like he was going through some kind of a calculation. Éomer refrained from snorting; he had all too good an idea of what idea had occurred to the man.
"She is gentle of mood, courteous and well-spoken. But there is also something strange and wild about her. And not wild as unrestrained, but like... like she has a path and purpose of her own that others can't comprehend", Éomer explained slowly, though even that did not pinpoint what was so unusual about her. He considered also telling his friend that this lady was none other than the strange maiden he had met in the Houses of Healing, but he suspected that would get Éothain going in a way that was just really unhelpful. Damned Éowyn, going behind his back and meddling!
"You didn't answer my question", Éothain pointed out.
"If I didn't, then you must recall I barely know her", said the young king and shook his head slightly.
"Imrahil's daughter, though. You must know what I'm thinking of right now", said the captain after a moment and cast a meaningful look over the rim of his cup at Éomer.
The younger of the two Rohirrim scoffed softly.
"Oh, I do. You've been having that thought ever since last summer, so forgive me if I'm not moved", he said sternly.
Now it was Éothain's turn to scoff.
"Right. But you did say you think she's unusual. I don't know if you noticed, but nobody else has got even that much from you this past year. Usually, when I ask you what you think about this or that lady, you just groan and glare at me", he persisted.
Éomer directed a sharp look at his captain.
"And you will get just that again, if you insist on going down this path once more", he informed the man. Then he let out a sigh, "The lady is a friend. Or, I think she could be. May I just have that, please?"
Éothain lifted his free hand up in a disarming gesture.
"Fine, fine. The lady is a friend", he said quickly and drained the rest of his wine. "And obviously you haven't had enough of time off yet, or you wouldn't be so touchy."
"That, my friend, isn't something a simple holiday will cure", Éomer said wryly and stretched. Lazily he made his way back inside.
"Truer words were never spoken. You are a wise fool, son of Éomund", said Éothain sagely as he followed his liege-lord.
It was not long that the captain took his leave, bidding good night as he went. Éomer thought of starting a letter for Éowyn, but it was getting late already. So he put out the lamps, undressed and washed, and then got to bed.
As he lay there in the darkness, he thought of the events of the day and the lady he had found again. Some mysteries he now had answered, but others still remained. And there was her, standing at the centre of them, puzzling his mind no less even when she had a name and lineage.
We were always bound to meet again.
To be continued.
A/N: Damn, you guys, this story is really living a life of its own at the moment! Granted, parts of this chapter were already drafted before, but I've been working on it like a maniac since publishing the last one. I very much enjoyed writing their first official meeting, and I do hope you liked it as well!
The story about the maiden and her cursed brothers is based on a fairy tale by Brothers Grimm, called The Six Swans, though I myself am more familiar with H. C. Andersen's version, called The Wild Swans. To me, it sounds like the type of fairy tale that might be told in Belfalas and especially in Dol Amroth, as the device of the ruling House of the region is a silver swan-ship.
Recently I was reading Annemarta Borgen's book (originally titled Urtehagen på Knatten), in which she writes about gardening and the usage of herbs and plants in Northern Europe, especially her homeland Norway. From her I learnt that in the Nordic countries, nettles were commonly used for making thread and fabric since the very ancient times. The fabric was a bit like cotton or linen, but it was replaced by cotton in the 19th century thanks to industrial revolution, which also revolutionised textile-making. Even afterwards, nettles were important fodder for the cattle. I'm not sure nettles would be used in Belfalas or the wealthy area of Dol Amroth, but perhaps in the harsher lands of Rhovanion and in the old settlements of Northmen, nettles might be an important material for making linens and such. To the Númenóreans settling in Gondor before and after the fall of Westernesse this might be so unusual that it became a plot point in one of their fairy tales.
Than you for reading and reviewing! If you got time, let me know what you think. All comments are very much appreciated.
EStrunk - I do hope you liked their meeting in this chapter! :) And I admit I'm rather fond of Leofrun already!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Here you go, then! :D
sploosh93 - And here we have a meeting! I hope you enjoyed it. :)
Serni - Thanks! I liked writing about the city as well. :)
JennyVDM - Thank you! It's fun to look at this unfamiliar city through his eyes. I do hope you liked their meeting.
sai19 - Thanks! That's a lovely picture you paint of Dol Amroth! And I do agree that it would be different from Minas Tirith, and not just because it's a coastal city.
Catspector - Hope you liked their meeting in this chapter! That young woman likes to take her time, I'm afraid! :D
Jo - Thanks! :)
Guest - I hope to live up to your expectations!
Rho67 - Thank you! I do love Éomer very much, so it's great to hear I'm doing him justice. Personally, I just hate it when I read a story that has him out of character.
Hopefully, Lothíriel can hold up to the expectation!
rossui - Thank you! I felt like it was important to set the scene properly and show the world she was born in. I hope you liked their meeting!
