Chapter 19
In the dream, Éomer was back on the Pelennor fields.
He stood and saw again the devastation, the trampled green cloaks in the ground, countless bodies of both friends and enemies, and the air was thick with blood and smoke. All around him, voices rose, and battle cries seamlessly shifted into screaming.
He was stumbling, stumbling towards something – he didn't want to, because he knew what he would see, and yet he could not stop or change his direction. Smoke burned in his eyes and he could taste iron in his mouth. Was it his blood, or somebody else's? At this point, it was impossible to tell.
And then he saw them again. On the ground lay Théoden and Éowyn, pale and broken. He knew they were dead, and all that grief and wrath came on him once more, and he wished nothing as he wished death and end.
But even as the battle rage was coming over him a voice pierced through the shadow and blood. It was clear and bright, and with a gasp, he startled awake. Around him was dark still, but he saw enough to make out the face of his wife above him. She was looking at him so concerned, and eventually he realised she had woken him up. There was hissing somewhere at the foot-end of the bed; he guessed he had been trashing and so disturbed the little beast.
"It's all right, love. You were just having a dream", Lothíriel spoke softly. With gentle fingers she brushed his face, wiping away the cold sweat on his brow. His heart was still hammering in his chest and he felt an almost overpowering need to rush to get his sword. But what could a blade do against nightmares?
Heavily he sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with both hands as he tried to banish the images that still flashed before his eyes. Éowyn's face was almost glowing white in the seeming death, and the memory of it was powerful even though he knew she was alive and well.
Lothíriel's hands pressed against the back of his neck and shoulders, and then began to massage the tenseness she must have felt there.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked after a moment.
"What's the use? These dreams will come no matter what I do", he muttered, leaning his face against his hands. It was some time since he had last dreamed of the Pelennor fields, and in his newly married bliss had half forgotten about these nightmares. But maybe this wound could never fully heal.
Lothíriel wrapped her arms around his body and put her chin on his shoulder.
"You were calling for your sister. Were you dreaming of when she was injured?" she asked.
He shuddered and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, but the image persisted; Éowyn lying broken on trampled grass and Théoden taking his last...
"She's fine, love. She's whole and happy", Lothíriel's voice whispered, and for a moment these two, the image and the words, battled inside his head. He took several deep breaths, focused on the light pressure of her body against his, and slowly the echoes of battle faded away. He sighed heavily and let his wife pull him back into the bed.
"Do you think I will always have these dreams?" he asked after a while. He thought it was getting a bit lighter outside; dawn could not be far off now.
"Maybe, maybe not. Some evils can't be forgotten, but their weight can become easier to bear. I suppose the best you can do is make new memories of better things", she replied at length, her breath softly brushing the skin of his neck.
"Hmm. I think we have that covered", he muttered, turned to face her fully, and kissed her. In her arms, dark memories seemed so small and far away.
One of the many things he appreciated about his wife was the way she didn't fuss. Or she did it so discreetly, it did not make him feel like he was some broken thing that shouldn't be disturbed for the fear of more damage. So it was this time, too. They got up after sunrise and took breakfast in her room, and she spoke to him as though there was nothing different about this morning. She smiled as she poured them some tea, looked at him hopefully when she told him it was her own blend, and looked earnestly happy when he complimented it. In moments like these, it was easy to forget the night's shadows.
"I was thinking", he said when they both had cleared their plates she was about to stand up. "What would you say if I suggested a visit to Aldburg some time soon? We didn't have time to see it properly before the wedding. It's where I was born, and I'd like to go there with you. Not to mention, it's close to the lands of your morning gift."
Lothíriel smiled brightly.
"Sounds like a lovely idea. I was wondering when you would bring it up", she said and in her eyes, there was a teasing glint. He snorted softly, and she continued, "Will your council let you travel so soon after the wedding?"
"I believe so. Things are fairly quiet, and Aldburg is near enough even if something should happen. And I would like to have some words with Elfhelm", he replied. The Marshal had not sent any particular news concerning Lord Eadwig, but the issue was delicate and Elfhelm might want to talk in person.
"Then I would be glad to go. I will talk with Leofrun today about preparations", said Lothíriel and drank the last of her tea. She got up from her seat and took a few steps, and then faltered. He gasped softly under her breath and took support of the wall.
Éomer got up in a flash, his arms reaching out ready to catch her.
"What is it? Are you unwell?" he asked in concern, while she was still pressing one hand against her face, and his hands hovered near her mid-section. Her eyes were closed and it looked like a violent shiver went through her.
Doubt crept over him, and he continued, "Do you see something?"
"I… I don't know. It's fine", she said after a long while and lifted up her face, smiling again.
He frowned, and searched her eyes, but they were clear and calm. And he knew she didn't always tell him everything, and he didn't expect her to; some visions were meant only for her.
"Are you sure?" he asked her all the same.
"I am, love. Don't worry about me", said Lothíriel as she picked up the small jug of milk and walked over to pour some in Cúran's little plate on the floor. The cat materialised as though he had been lying in wait for such a treat, and purred loudly as he circled around his mistress' feet and pushed against her.
"You spoil that thing something awful", Éomer commented.
"As I do all things that I love", she said lightly.
"Aye, that you do. Though I still think you treat that beast of yours much better than your poor husband", he said in a low, warm voice as he caught her by the waist and lifted her in the air. She had just barely enough time to return the jug on the table, and not spill milk over them both.
"Put me down at once, Sire!" she exclaimed, but the laughter in her eyes betrayed her.
"Not before you give me a reason to", he told her sweetly.
"In that case, I expect we will never get out of this room again."
"How is that a problem?"
"... I have married a madman."
Before marriage, nightmares had often impacted his mood much of the day, as though a shadow was always lingering at the edge of his vision. But today there was no such trouble. Éomer was still smiling when he left the royal apartment and made his way through the Hall. He greeted cheerfully the guards and servants he met on the way, and Éothain earned a bright grin. The Captain raised an eyebrow.
"What's with you today?" he asked.
The young king shrugged.
"Nothing, my friend. It's just such a fine day", he replied.
Éothain shook his head.
"That woman and her impact on you is nothing short of fey", he muttered, but Éomer laughed.
"We are just well-matched. Nothing fey about it", he said, his mind already moving to other matters.
It happened that he came upon Leofrun near the doors of the Hall, probably on her way to see the Queen. She curtsied, as she ever did before him in public, and Éomer nodded his head at the trusted housekeeper. It occurred to him he hadn't spoken much with her as of late, at least not alone. So he gestured at his captain, who immediately stood back to allow them some privacy.
"Good morning, Leofrun. I hope you are in good health? And your husband, too?" he asked her with a smile.
"Morning, Sire. Thank you for asking – we are both quite well", she replied.
"I'm glad to hear it. Bring him my regards, will you?"
"Of course, Sire", she said, smiling faintly.
Éomer cleared his throat, and glanced around. Lowering his voice, he spoke to her again.
"I hope you don't mind me asking how you are getting along with the Queen. You and her stand at the heart of this Hall", he said and watched her face keenly for a reaction.
"She is nice enough, my lord, and as graceful as one might expect of a daughter of Prince Imrahil's line", Leofrun replied slowly. She met his gaze, but he had a sudden feeling she'd rather look away.
"But do you like her?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too anxious. Perhaps he was being unfair by making Leofrun answer, but he so dearly wished her to get along with his wife. After Théodwyn had died, Leofrun was the closest thing to a mother he had known. Moreover, she was a link to Théoden and Théodred and Éowyn, and to the days past. She was now the knot between his old life and the new one.
Leofrun looked uneasy, and he knew she gave her answer only because he was the one asking.
"I mean no disrespect, but... your lady wife is strange. She is kind and courteous towards us Rohirrim, but she keeps talking about these matters of distant lore, often her mind seems to be somewhere faraway, and sometimes it seems like she knows things before they happen. Only yesterday, she asked me if my husband was all right. I did not understand the question, but later I learned he was nearly trampled in the stables by a warhorse of particularly nasty temper", she said at length.
He breathed in and out. No, he wasn't particularly surprised; he had heard too many variations of this response at this point. It wasn't easy for Lothíriel to hide her nature, and Leofrun's old eyes saw behind feints sooner or later. He had thought about what to tell his housekeeper when this moment came, but no answer was adequate. And the truth was not his to share.
"I hope the Queen will confide in you one day, as she has confided in me", he eventually said. He reached his hand to her shoulder and continued in a low, grave voice, "But however strange she may seem, you must know there is no evil in her. She is a good woman with a loving heart. She's eager to find her own place and thrive in it."
"Oh, I know that, Sire. You wouldn't marry a malicious or spiteful woman and so soil the throne of Eorl; if you did, then you wouldn't be our Éomer King. But I haven't known a lady like the Queen before. I suppose it will take some time to get used to her", Leofrun replied.
"So do you think you can approve of my choice for queen?"
"It's not my business to approve of anything, dear lad", she answered gently and touched his hand. "But if you must know, then do not think I don't have eyes. You smiled so little and rarely before she came. Now you do all the time. That's all I wanted to see."
He almost grasped her in a mighty hug right there, but he suppressed the urge, and simply grinned at the woman.
"I appreciate it, Leofrun. Your support means a lot to me, and to her. But what of the servants? Do they share your sentiment?" he asked quietly.
"I suppose most have similar notions. But as far as I can see, they think she is charming. A Gondorian-born queen would be strange in our standards no matter what she does, but Lothíriel Queen's way is not forbidding or troublesome. More important than some odd characteristics is whether she respects our way of life. And since her presence has so clearly improved your mood, who can complain?" Leofrun explained, even smiling slightly as she spoke.
That was something others had not said to him until now. And perhaps Leofrun understood the thing as it really was: a commoner might not think twice of their queen's strange behaviour, but shrug it off as some southern peculiarity. Indeed, what truly mattered in the end was how well she adjusted, and how she treated her new people. If she showed interest in their lives, good. If she learned their tongue, even better. Lothíriel had already done these things and it was clear her commitment did not end there.
"Thank you, Leofrun. Your counsel is as sensible as ever", he said and gave her a broad smile.
"Somebody needs to be in this house of madmen", she said pleasantly and nodded her head.
"That is very true."
The day was bright and warm with a promise of summer as Éomer stood in the training grounds of Edoras. His master at arms was busy training the newest recruits to the King's Guard, shouting them commands as they went through drills under the watchful eyes of their king and his captain. Éothain was pivotal in this process. He was a seasoned captain, and knew the Knights of the royal household in a way Éomer himself did not. Granted, most of his Riders he had known for many years, but as a king he had less time to train them and simply spend the hours in their company like when he was the Third Marshal.
On the other hand, there was another significant change. Married life meant that new, different things became important, and the hours he might have spent with these men in ale-houses or playing games were rather given to his wife.
Be that as it may, he still liked to know what shape his Riders were in, and what to expect from the new additions to the first éored of the Mark. Quietly he spoke with his captain of their strengths and where improvements and training were needed, when their talk was suddenly interrupted by one of the guards standing by.
"Sire, there's a man here who wishes to speak with you", said the guard, a Knight of the name of Déormund. He had come with Éomer from Aldburg and was a trusty man both in peace and battle.
Éomer turned to see a man standing behind the green-cloaked Knights. Blond, bearded, and wearing sturdy clothes that the common folk preferred, he looked as any man of Rohan.
"Let him approach", said Éomer and gestured at the man, who bowed his head and took a few hesitant steps towards the King of Rohan. "What is it, stranger? How may I be of help?"
"Lord, forgive me for coming to you like this. Ceorl is my name, and come here from the village of Snowbourne by the river, close to Edoras. I know a man who has business with the King should seek him out in the Golden Hall, but my concern is of a private nature, and out of respect for you, I'd like to speak of it alone", said the man, still seemingly unsure if he should meet his lord's eyes or not.
"Very well. What troubles you?" Éomer inquired as he gestured his guards and Éothain to stand back. The man took another hesitant step closer.
"It is about my wife, lord. After the war, I married a woman living near Snowbourne. Her elder brother had died in the great battles of the south, and she had become the sole heir of her family's lands. Her father wished to secure her a good marriage, and so reached out to me. We were happy for a time, but recently her discontent has grown very great, and I'm afraid she will soon contrive to divorce me", Ceorl explained urgently, at last raising his eyes. His look was sincere and keen.
"I am sorry to hear this, but I'm not sure what I can do about it", Éomer said at length, trying not to frown. He would like to help this man, but there was little one could do when an ailing marriage was in question. Not to mention, common issues like divorce were usually handled between families or chieftains; the dispute would have to be very serious to reach the ears of the King.
"Well, I do hope there is something, lord. For in a way, you have a connection to this issue. My wife, mistress Eadhild, has recently made several trips to Edoras. At first I thought maybe she was meeting a lover and already plotting a life after divorce. So I followed her in secret the last time she came. I was surprised to find her visiting the Queen at her workshop near Meduseld. I went back to our home, and when Eadhild returned, I confronted her. She could not lie. She told me she had been meeting the Queen for counsel and aid – in a most unpleasant matter. Lord, the Queen has been giving my wife some concoction that keeps her from conceiving. I expect she has also advised Eadhild to get a divorce", Ceorl answered. Once again he lowered his eyes as though to signal how ashamed he was to share these news with Éomer – and as if it was all his own fault.
Now the young king sighed heavily. Suddenly he understood why the other night, Lothíriel had asked him whether a woman should always love and respect her husband. Her disquietude that evening was most likely due to the troubles of this Ceorl and his wife Eadhild. Why hadn't she said anything? If she was advising divorce and even helping the woman to keep from conceiving, it had to be serious.
"And what is it you would have me do, Ceorl?" he asked at length. He couldn't show his own thoughts, no matter what they were. He was this man's king, and Eadhild's too; he couldn't take sides just like that.
"I would ask you to talk to your lady wife. Ask why she meddles in this business, and causes such grief to those who have never sought to offend her", Ceorl said vehemently, and now Éomer could see a dark look in his eyes. Something about it unsettled him.
"I will talk to my wife about this matter", he said evenly.
"Please do, lord. A wife must listen to her husband, does she not?"
"As he must listen to her", Éomer answered. When he saw a slight twitch in Ceorl's face, he continued, "Like I said, I will talk to her. If there are no true reasons for a divorce, I'm sure this issue will be soon sorted out."
"I leave it to your wisdom, lord", said Ceorl. He more or less walked backwards, bowing at the young king as he went. Éomer watched him go, keeping his face as blank as he possibly could. What to make of this encounter? Was Lothíriel meddling in others' marriages, as Ceorl thought? Did Eadhild think so, too? And why did he get the sense Ceorl had wanted him to take his side right away? All good questions, but for now he would have to keep them to himself.
Éothain returned to his side again, glancing curiously between Éomer and the man who had just spoken to him.
"What did he want?" asked the Captain.
"Just some domestic problems, but there could be more to it. I'm not sure what to make of it, myself", said Éomer in a quiet voice.
Éothain raised an eyebrow.
"Must be quite a problem to trouble you with it. Anything I should be worried about?"
"I wouldn't say so, yet. But I'll let you know when I have a better idea of what is going on", Éomer replied and let out a sigh.
Lothíriel had not sought out power in the court, but she had it at least over this one family, and this one woman. She was starting to mean something in Rohan. To this man Ceorl, she was apparently a dividing force, but what did his wife think of it? Why had she sought out the Queen of Rohan of all people, and was it indeed Lothíriel who had planted the idea of divorce in her head?
Éomer would have to find out.
Having finished the inspection, Éomer made his way back to Meduseld with quick, long strides. He moved with such purpose, Éothain and the guards had to make haste to keep up with him.
Once inside, he made quick inquiries to the whereabouts of his queen, and was told she was in the garden just now – "elbow deep in the soil, as usual." So he headed there straight away. Lord Ormar would be waiting for him at the royal study with a pile of work, but Éomer knew he wasn't going to be able to focus on anything before he had talked with Lothíriel. Something about the encounter with Ceorl made him uneasy. He guessed it was the things left unsaid, rather than what had been spoken out loud.
Lothíriel was indeed digging and weeding her orchard. She was kneeling on the ground, her straw-hat in place, and she was humming softly to herself as she worked. Her unburdened mind seemingly travelled its usual, singular paths.
She heard him approach and raised her eyes. A smile lit her face and she got up on her feet, arms already open. But then she looked at her stained hands and lowered them.
"I would hug you, but I don't want to soil you", she said apologetically. He almost smiled. As if he cared whether her hands stained him or not.
"But I can still kiss you", he informed her, cupped her face between his hands and bent his head to her. She made a soft, contented sound, and her eyes were bright as stars when he pulled back. His wife looked so light and glad, he regretted having to bring up something unpleasant. Rather, he'd like to sit down with her, ask about her garden, and enjoy the sunlight by her side. Sadly it was not possible.
"I am sorry to disturb you, but there is something I need to know", he began slowly, watching her face the whole time. "Is it true you have had dealings with a woman named Eadhild, who hails from the small village of Snowbourne?"
Lothíriel's features became grave and the light of her eyes dimmed.
"That is correct. Eadhild came to me a couple of weeks ago and asked for help", she replied warily and folded her hands before her.
"Her husband seemed to think this is an ill thing. He approached me only today. He thinks you have planted the idea of divorce in his wife's head – and that you are helping her to keep from conceiving", Éomer said. He kept his tone neutral, as he did not want her to feel like he accused her of anything.
Lothíriel scoffed.
"Eadhild needed no help in that! If she thinks of divorce, it's that cur's own fault. And if she doesn't want to have his child, then that's her business, and I am glad to aid her", she said sharply, half turning away.
"And why is that?"
She did not answer first, but looked away, regarding her garden. Her posture was straight and rigid, and there was such a tension about her that he absurdly thought it might cut him if he approached.
Suddenly she spoke and her voice was like a knife striking.
"He's a bad husband. He beats her and speaks in cruel words, and makes sure she has no friends or allies in Snowbourne, that could help her. Do you think I would stay with you for one day, if you treated me in such a way? Can you blame this woman for not wanting to have a child by this man?" she asked him fiercely, eyes shining with a cold light.
"No, I can not", Éomer said softly. Surely, if Eadhild's story was true, then he knew surely which side he would choose in this dispute. How anyone could treat their spouse so monstrously and still call himself a man, he didn't know. However, he still had no more than second-hand stories of what had happened, and Lothíriel clearly had already decided which side she stood on.
So he asked, "What proof do you have of Ceorl's behaviour?"
"I have seen her distress, her tears, and her bruises. These would be enough for me even if I didn't see into her heart and witness the pain and fear she feels", she replied sharply.
"Why hasn't she sought justice in Snowbourne with her chieftain?"
"How could she? Ceorl has all his neighbours, even the chieftain, on his side. They will say whatever he wants – declare her a raving madwoman, if he asks them to. She has no allies to support her. Even you paid heed to her husband first. This is how you men are, listening to women's voices only when it's convenient for you", Lothíriel answered. Her voice was quiet now, but her frame was almost shaking with anger. And her sea-grey eyes – they were piercing as ice, or thunder over the waves. There was something inexplicably perilous about her; another gift of the blood of Mithrellas, he guessed.
"If I have acted poorly and made you feel like your voice doesn't matter, then I'm sorry. It was never my intention, but I admit my perspective may sometimes be narrow; I've spent probably too much time on battlefields, worrying more about our immediate survival than deeper everyday needs of those we protect. But now I have a wife to remind me, and I will try to do better", he said seriously.
Lothíriel nodded. Her face reflected something like grim satisfaction.
"What made Eadhild approach you?" he asked her.
"A local midwife had been helping her before and giving her some herbs to keep from conceiving. Ceorl found out and threatened the poor woman, so she did not dare to help Eadhild anymore. But the midwife did tell her of me. Somehow she had heard of my learning in herb-lore and thought I could help. And perhaps she also thought I was someone Ceorl would not be able to intimidate", Lothíriel answered. Now she looked a bit calmer, though the storm still flashed in her eyes.
"I would like to see him try", Éomer muttered. He felt something fierce and protective surge through him at the thought of any threat on her, but it probably would not come to that. This Ceorl might be comfortable terrorising defenceless women, but in Meduseld he would find his usual methods quite useless.
He shook his head and tried to rid himself of such notions for the time being.
He continued, "So Eadhild came to you and asked for help. What did you tell her?"
"Nothing that she hadn't herself thought already. She wants to divorce her husband, she just hasn't had the courage to say it out loud until now", Lothíriel answered.
He watched her face, so full of tightly coiled anger at this Ceorl of Snowbourne. There was a sharpness to her features and a deadly light in her eyes. Not once before now had Éomer thought her capable of such fury, but now he understood there were still many things about his wife that he did not know. Yet perhaps the fury of a gentle heart was always more chilling because it took real effort to invoke.
"Why didn't you talk to me about it? I might have been able to help somehow", he offered at length, but Lothíriel shook her head.
"You have your troubles and I have mine. When Eadhild first came to me, she was very fragile and afraid. I needed to win her trust, and I doubt I could have done it with any man by my side – even if that man were you. You would have tried to get involved, because you want to help. But at that time, it might have done more ill than good", she said quietly and let out a deep sigh.
He considered her words for a moment and knew she was right. He probably would have handled it badly, and done something to upset Eadhild even further.
"Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to get involved now. Like I said, Ceorl came to talk to me. I believe he was expecting me to order you around like he does his own wife, and was disappointed when the only thing I promised to do was talk to you", Éomer said.
The scoff she made was full of contempt.
"The pitiless are always so surprised to find decency in others", she muttered and shook her head angrily.
"So they are. But I doubt this will be a pleasant confrontation. Are you up to facing him before the court?" Éomer asked his wife. It would be first such challenge for her as the Queen, and while she surely was invested in Eadhild's troubles, it might not be easy.
But Lothíriel showed no uncertainty. Her face was grim and hard.
"I will have to be, for Eadhild's sake", she replied and let out a sigh.
He pressed his hand against her back and rubbed it gently.
"You'll be fine. And I will be right next to you the whole time."
The corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile.
"That is an uplifting thought, isn't it? What is there to fear when the King of Rohan himself is with you?"
He harrumphed, and though her apron was tainted and so were her hands, he pulled her against himself.
So Éomer sent summons to Eadhild and Ceorl to appear before him and his queen in three days' time, and then the issue of their marriage would be investigated. Usually, marital disputes were not handled in the royal court of Edoras, but when Eadhild had gone to the Queen for help and Ceorl had asked the King to intervene, the nature of this matter had changed. Because of this, the curiosity of Eorlingas in Edoras grew quite intense.
As such, he decided to make some special effort while getting ready for the event. He spoke with Lord Ormar lengthily; few people understood Rohirric law as he did. A more visible statement seemed to be in order, too, and he had his weapons and his circlet polished, and chose to wear the rich green and gold of his House. But Lothíriel was wearing a silver-grey gown, which was simple in style, but the fabric's colour and shine lent her eyes a strange quality. She looked cold and perilous. For the first time, Éomer realised that in another life, she might have been exactly like Denethor. Perhaps she might even have surpassed her doomed uncle.
Still, a small smile lit her face when he took her hand, but it was long gone by the time they got to the hall.
Meduseld was full today and he guessed many of those present had come because of Eadhild and Ceorl. Even so, there were a few other issues for his attention before that. As Lord Ormar announced this or that name, and introduced disputes that required the King's decree, Éomer could feel a restlessness and impatience in his folk. Murmurs rose at times in the crowd, necks were straining as those further back tried to see over the heads before them, and eyes flickered in his direction in growing curiosity. Éomer could see many faces he knew from Edoras, but there were one or two surprises, too: he spotted Guthild's face among the crowd, and briefly wondered at her presence in the capital – to say nothing of her attending the court at this time. But now was not the time to be pondering it, for his attention was needed elsewhere.
He kept his face as blank as he could. He was presiding over his court, not a mummer's play. Next to him, Lothíriel was quiet and motionless, but her eyes were alive as she listened closely to all that was said.
At long last, the moment came. Lord Ormar stepped forward once more and called forward Eadhild and Ceorl.
Eadhild came alone, pale and uncertain, looking very small and fragile. But Ceorl had no less than six men following behind, and his face was beaming with confidence. He seemed to have no doubts as to how today would end. Éomer gritted his teeth and fought to keep his face as still as ever. The man's attitude was less than appealing, but he deserved fair treatment nevertheless. Although, as he suspected, Lothíriel might disagree.
Ormar's face was stern as she introduced the matter at hand. A soft murmur went through the crowd. Then the King's adviser spoke: "Since it was Mistress Eadhild who brought this issue forth, let her speak first, and call upon witnesses."
Éomer felt immense pity for the woman. She looked like she wanted to sink through the floor and never be seen again. Her eyes flickered to Lothíriel, and seemingly found some resolve there, for at last she took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak.
"My lord, my lady, I've come here today so that I may be freed from this man Ceorl. Our time together has brought me nothing but grief and unhappiness. He has constantly mistreated me, used his fists against me, and called me in foul names. Despite my many entreaties, he has never sought to better himself or make things easier for me. Our life together has been utterly miserable and I have no wish for reconciliation. I only want to leave this place as a free woman, so that I may look for happiness elsewhere", Eadhild said. First her voice was small and frail, and often she glanced at Lothíriel, like she was looking for strength in her Queen's face. And perhaps it worked, for her voice grew stronger and steadier, and she looked a little less terrified of standing before the King and Queen and their whole court. Among Ceorl's supporters there were some who appeared like they would have liked to contradict her, but Éomer cast them a stern glare, and so they held their silence.
When Eadhild had finished, she seemed to shrink again. She glanced nervously at her husband and wrapped arms around her middle-section, as though to keep herself from falling apart. Éomer felt another surge of sympathy for the woman. How alone she must feel in this court, so close to her dreaded husband, and having no certainty that anyone would take her side except the Queen. Yet, perhaps, that was enough.
Ceorl's confidence was very much in contrast to Eadhild's trembling insecurity. He stepped forward in a broad swagger and smiled at his king and queen, but Éomer thought it paled when the man regarded Lothíriel. From the corner of his eye, Éomer risked a glance at her.
No wonder Ceorl seemed to lose a bit of his colour when looking at her. Lothíriel's face was hard and cold, her features as though carven in stone or ice. No muscle moved in her face but in her eyes there was a burning light that was difficult to meet even for him. Even the air around her felt perilous, as though you might cut yourself if you went too close. This was a side of her Éomer had never seen before and it unsettled him just slightly. Denethor would've been proud.
"My lord, my lady", began Ceorl, perhaps with less certainty than he had first shown. "I am very sad to be here today on this unhappy business and bother our great king and his queen with our small disputes. I believe they are small indeed, and could be easily talked through between me and my wife. But if she desires the aid and wisdom of Éomer King, then I am more than happy to oblige."
Then he went on a tirade that essentially boiled down to how good a husband he was, and how sad he felt for his wife's dissatisfaction with him. He called on his witnesses, and all their statements were almost identical in content, if not in words. Apparently Ceorl of Snowbourne was a good, fair man and Eadhild had no grounds for her complaints. Yet from the start, Éomer felt a lack of sincerity in most of them. The longer it went on, the more impatient and displeased he grew, and it became a true challenge to sit still and hide his feelings.
When his witnesses had spoken, Ceorl stepped forward again.
"There you have it, my lord", he said, addressing only the King at this point – a grave mistake, and Éomer just knew he was soon to pay the price for it. But Ceorl was still unaware as he continued, "All my witnesses agree that this is but a small disagreement, and it could be easily resolved in our own household without bothering you, who have so many more important concerns."
There were some mutters in agreement among the crowd; Ceorl's presentation had not gone fully unheeded. But then one clear voice rose above all others.
"That is not it, though, is it? You've made quite the case on your own behalf, and spoken many words before us. Too many. It is time this 'small dispute' was given the light it ought to have."
It was Lothíriel speaking. And the voice coming out of her was cold and strong and piercing, and even Éomer could not help but turn sharply to look at her. She had risen from her seat and stood there on the dais like a cold flame, staring down at Ceorl. A wave of murmurs went through the crowd and everyone seemed to be craning their necks to see this scene better.
Éomer could practically see the wheels turning inside Ceorl's head, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Lothíriel did before he could.
"I step before you as a witness for Eadhild, and I have my own statement to give", said Lothíriel loudly. In the light of what I've learned from her, it seems that every word from the mouth of her husband and of his witnesses is a lie."
"That is not true!" Ceorl exclaimed, and looked like he might have taken a step towards the Queen, but Éomer saw Alfwen shift next to Lothíriel. Ceorl observed that movement too, and held back.
"I will remind you, Ceorl, every witness has a right to speak uninterrupted in this court – if the mistress Eadhild accepts my lady wife as such. And even if it were not so, I would think twice before disrespecting the Lady of the Mark", Éomer said sternly, but the quizzical look he gave Eadhild was not so.
"Y-yes, Sire. The Queen knows my complaints like no other", Eadhild said, swallowing visibly and not looking at her husband.
"Then let us continue", he stated and prepared to observe something not previously seen in this hall.
And he was not disappointed. Lothíriel faced Ceorl with all the poise and dignity one might expect from the daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Her voice was steady and clear as she spoke, her calm never faltered, and her mood seemed to encourage Eadhild, too. The woman no longer seemed so nervous and scared, but she watched her queen with wide, bright eyes. Meanwhile, Ceorl looked like he had grown smaller – and much less certain of his success today. From the corner of his eye, Éomer saw two of his witnesses melt away into the crowd. So that was the level and integrity of their statements. He almost scoffed out loud, but managed to keep it in by biting the inside of his lower lip.
But Lothíriel went on, not caring about the growing discomfort of Ceorl, or the vanishing of his two companions. She spoke of his cruel treatment of his wife, both in words and deeds, and how he had essentially isolated her from all who might help and stand up for her. She explained how she herself had seen the bruises on Eadhild's skin, and recognised them for what they were.
"And all this, for what? You married a good woman, Ceorl, but never once did you pay heed to her virtues, or her desire to build a lasting marriage. The only thing you wanted were the lands that come with her name, and yet you were unwilling to earn the right to it. Instead, you tried to break her body and soul, and then forge the final link in the chain: having a child by her", said Lothíriel, delivering each line like a whiplash.
"But doesn't a man have such a right?" Ceorl asked, but his voice was thin and unsteady - he couldn't keep his calm the way she did, even though both were obviously furious. Perhaps, if his delivery had been her match, some might have agreed with him.
"One who first refuses duty has no such right. You had a duty to your wife, and you have broken it in every single way. So you have yourself given up whatever rights you think you have. And even so, every child deserves parents who want them, parents who are consenting – parents who are not held in terror for every day of their lives. Who is to say where your cruelty with Eadhild or a child borne by her might end, if not here and today? Once you had her child, you might as well choke her to death", Lothíriel shot back, so sharp and piercing that Éomer was starting to wonder how far she was intending to go.
Ceorl stood silent, and so did the rest of the court. The air was so thick with suspense and amazement that one might cut it with a knife. It felt like just about anything might happen next.
Perhaps it was only fitting what happened was him breaking down and confessing.
"It's not my fault she's weak! I lost my patience! What was I supposed to do? She's the one who made me do it!" he exclaimed, throwing half-crazed looks between Eadhild and Lothíriel. One was covering her mouth, seemingly torn between shock and incredulosity, the other perfectly calm and fearless.
"I beg your pardon, but in your excuse of a marriage, I do not think Eadhild is the weak one", Lothíriel replied curtly. Once more she took a seat and looked around her, knowing her victory when she saw it.
And with that, somewhere among the crowd someone began to clap their hands. Then they whooped – a high, female voice. No surprise there.
"Divorce that pig! Divorce that pig!"
Other voices joined the shout very quickly, And then the whole of the Hall seemed to be roaring, and Eadhild looked around herself like one who has gone to sleep in their bed and woken up in the Immortal Lands, while Ceorl seemed to shrink so small and insignificant it was a wonder he didn't just turn invisible. But Lothíriel sat still, as cold and remote as from the beginning.
Éomer stood up and raised his hand. The shouting died, but all around himself he saw flushed, eager faces. This had now become the chief drama of the entire season.
"The case could not be more clear", he said at last. "This man Ceorl of Snowbourne has mistreated and abused his wedded wife, Eadhild of Snowbourne. His cruelty only would be grounds for a divorce, but he has also held his own king and queen in contempt, and lied to us with a straight face. He has also misled other people to aid in his scheme. For this offence he will be made to pay the appropriate fines. As for the issue of dissolving the marriage between Eadhild and Ceorl, I hereby declare it void and null. This is my decree as the King of Rohan", he announced, loud and clear.
Hearing these words, Eadhild sobbed audibly and buried her face in her hands. Lothíriel stood again and went straight to her, wrapping her arms around the shaking shoulders of the woman whose life she had just turned around.
A buzz of voices rose in the crowd. Éomer listened to it for a moment to determine the tone. This did not take long: the overall sensation was positive and satisfied. Justice had been served.
But one person obviously did not think so. Ceorl was standing still and staring at Lothíriel. His face was white, but his eyes held such hatred that it made Éomer's blood run cold. And yet he couldn't help but wonder: was it fear he saw in the middle of that hatred?
Then he noticed how tightly Ceorl's fists were knotted on his sides, and how his right arm twitched just slightly. Eyes still fixed on the Queen, he took a step toward her.
This time, it was not Alfwen who moved. Éomer himself stepped down the dais, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Ceorl's gaze moved sharply to him.
The man's eyes widened. Now there was no mistaking the fear in them.
"Go now when you still can", Éomer said in a low voice, so that only Ceorl would hear him. The words came out harsh, for fury coursed through his veins and urged him to pounce. Any threat to Lothíriel, even implied, was a maddening thought.
Ceorl turned around and fled. The crowd parted as though everyone were loath to be associated with him after this complete defeat and humiliation before the court. Éomer followed him with his eyes the whole way, and only when Ceorl had flown through the doors did he return to his throne.
Eadhild was free, and he was glad for her and for Lothíriel, whose shining victory this was. However, he knew better than to expect this was the last he would hear of it.
When night had come and Meduseld had quieted down for the day, Éomer was in his bed and his wife was by his side. He lay against some pillows and watched the play of fire's light and shadow on the wall, and she was comfortably nestled in the crook of his arm. They had been quiet for a while, both lost in their thoughts. But at last, he felt the need to speak some of those thoughts aloud.
"You were very impressive today, love. Rohirrim have not seen a similar display in a long time", he said softly.
"Was I really? I didn't feel like it. In the beginning, I was positively terrified. I was so scared I was going to say the wrong thing, and ruin Eadhild's chance of freedom", she murmured.
"Terrified? You didn't look like it at all. Quite the opposite, actually", he said with some surprise.
"I was just thinking of my father, and what he would do if he were there. He'd never be scared of injustice. And the longer it went on, the easier it became", Lothíriel replied and let out a small sigh. "I'm glad it's over, though. Now Eadhild can resume her life again and be free. And if I never hear Ceorl's name again, it won't be too soon."
"I wondered about that", Éomer said quietly. "Today, he faced a great humiliation before the court of his king and queen. That will be a grievous wound to his pride."
"But what else could you do? He's the one who asked you to intervene. His pride and overconfidence were his downfall, not the King's justice. And Ceorl did not just wrong Eadhild, but he also lied to your face. There's no way you could have softened the blow", Lothíriel pointed out.
"You're not wrong. Still, I do not rest easy tonight. I don't like the way he looked at you... like you were the most hateful thing he had ever seen. For a moment I thought he was going to attack you right there before everyone's eyes. Maybe I should have acted as Eadhild witness instead of you", he said and held her against his side a bit tighter.
"What can he do to his queen? Today he has learned a valuable lesson, and I hope others have, too", Lothíriel said and kissed his cheek. "As for you standing there in my place, I don't agree. Only truth could prevail for Eadhild, and you being her witness would have been no less a lie than Ceorl's so called witnesses were."
He groaned, and would have objected, but now her kiss reached his mouth. When she pulled back, she hovered over him and met his eyes calmly.
"I appreciate your concern – it's lovely that you care so much about me. But sometimes you get so excessively protective", she said softly, and she must see something grim in his eyes, for her own look became grave. She laid a gentle hand on his cheek. "You're not going to lose me. I promise."
Of course she knew. Of course she'd see that terrible dread which ran so deep: that death was not yet done taking away those he loved.
He swallowed the deep groan that tried to make its way out. Instead, he grasped her tightly, turned her on her back, and kissed her fiercely.
In the middle of his kisses, she panted out, "You know... you can't always – oh! – just seduce me... to avoid a serious, ahh, conversation!"
"But it's working out so well", he growled against the tender skin of her neck.
"Don't think I'll forget it", she told him before succumbing to his kiss, and no more was said of these issues that night.
Spring blossomed into a bright summer at last, and an entire month of marriage was now behind Éomer and his lady. Days had flown by swiftly and happily, and the weight of duty had felt lighter than it ever had before. For the first time, he had started to feel, well, not comfortable maybe, but less like he was about to choke. There was a hand on his back, steadying him, ready to step forward and offer another pair of shoulders if the burden became too much to bear alone.
For every day of this first month he had seen his wife and spent at least some time in her presence. Yet of course, a time would eventually come they would not be together.
That event came in the form of a trip to Westfold to see how the rebuilding of that part of the realm was going, and to meet with Erkenbrand and other western lords. Before his departure, Éomer asked her many times if she'd be all right, whether she would manage in his absence, and if she knew who to turn to if something happened. But Lothíriel smiled, and asked him gently which one he was trying to reassure, himself or her. As ever, she saw right through him.
Their parting was a fond one, as it usually is with new couples, and Edoras was already far behind when he was still battling the urge of turning around and going back for one more kiss. Even if he knew that such a foolish thing would confirm he was quite mad indeed.
Still, he couldn't hide his backward glances from his Riders, and they grinned and snickered until he glared and barked, "Eyes front!"
He knew it was well-meant, and they were just happy for him, but enough is enough.
His trip lasted for a week and a half, and though days were busy with meetings and inspections and councils, his mind was with Lothíriel. He thought of her back in Edoras, really trying her wings now that he wasn't nearby, and whether it was very scary for her. Probably not. She might be scared of some things, as she had once told him, but he didn't think those things were often what one would expect. And except for a few self-interested exceptions like Lord Eadwig or Ceorl, Eorlingas seemed to be thrilled with her.
All the same, he was glad when he could head back home again. Anxious to see his new wife, he insisted on keeping a fast pace while on the road. His Riders endured this without complaints, although there was some more grinning and snickering.
So it was that he reached home a day early. It was raining that evening, but it was a gentle summer rain that he rather enjoyed – although, his squire Guthlaf probably did not look forward to having to clean and oil his armour. Still, it was a happy prospect for the whole of the King's Guard to get to Edoras at the end of the day instead of camping in the rain.
Once he had left Firefoot with a stable-hand, Éomer hurried up to Meduseld, leaping three stairs at a time. The Doorwards greeted him and opened the twin doors of the Golden Hall – and there was she, framed in the warm light of their home, waiting for him. In her hand she brought the cup of welcome and he knew she had seen his arrival perhaps even before he himself had guessed the exact hour they'd meet again.
Lothíriel smiled as he took the cup from her, drained it in one go, and then caught her in his arms. However, as happy as he was to see her, he wasn't completely oblivious. He noticed there was something drawn about her eyes, and their light was not the same as usual. Something was amiss.
"Well met, love. I trust everything is well – yourself included?" he asked her, arms still around her. She didn't seem to mind the rainwater dripping on her.
"Indeed. Your home still stands despite my many attempts to burn it down in your absence", she replied, and her tone was as light as ever, but her eyes did not deceive him.
Éomer opened his mouth to speak, but she continued before he could say a word.
"Go and get changed. I need to make sure supper is ready soon", she told him, quickly kissed his cheek, and was gone before he could object.
He watched her retreating back and wondered. What could have happened? Surely not much could go wrong in a mere week and a half?
Éomer took some steps to enter the hall and looked around himself. Almost immediately his eyes locked with those of Lord Ormar, who stood near the great hearth of the hall, warming his hands. But as soon as their gazes met, the elderly adviser seemed to perk up. Swiftly he came to Éomer, and the young king realised he had just been waiting for his turn to talk to him.
"Lord Ormar", he greeted him. "I hope everything is in order?"
"Sire", said Ormar, bowing his head in deference. "I wish that I could say so. But there has been some trouble in your absence."
"What is it, then?" Éomer asked, almost groaning out loud. He had much hoped for a quiet, peaceful night with his wife, but apparently he would not be granted this.
Ormar looked uneasy. Usually, he was quite gifted with words and was rarely left speechless, but now he stood silent much too long for Éomer's tastes.
"There was an unfortunate event only a couple of days ago at your own estates, my lord. It has quite upset the Queen, or so I'm told. You see, someone had left a certain object leaning against the door of the workshop you built for her. It must have happened some time during the night, for it was found in the morning; none of the night guards could say who left it. There was some talk among your council why the workshop itself was not touched, but I expect it's because you built it. Whoever did this had enough sense not to defile anything of your making, Sire. But I'm afraid others might say it is now tainted by the sheer existence of this thing", Lord Ormar explained slowly and at some moments incomprehensibly. Éomer stared at the man in impatience and frustration – and with a growing sense of foreboding.
"I'm not following. What is this certain object? Why would it defile anything I had made for her?" he asked vehemently. In his mind's eye he saw the face of his wife and felt his anxiety mount unbearably.
"Well, I suppose it is better if I just show it to you", said Ormar, and from under his cloak he produced what at first looked like a wooden stick. But then Éomer realised it was not a stick, but a rune stave, some three feet high and crudely made. Rune staves were the closest thing Eorlingas had got to literacy so far and their uses were diverse from marking borders to passing messages. They could be very beautiful, for some people put much effort in their carving and craftsmanship.
This stave was not meant or made for beauty. The wood was untended and only the barest work had been done to prepare it. It was harshly made, but the message couldn't be clearer, or the insult more biting. It was sheer, malicious violence both on the material and on the person who it was meant for. The carving was crude, but the slashes went deep into the wood, as though the maker of these runes had been angry. Only a single word was carved there, glaring out like a wound.
Wicce.
To be continued.
A/N: Phew! I have been waiting to get to this part for like twelve chapters now - it was an event I planned at a fairly early stage - but the way to get here was unexpectedly winding. It was fun to write this chapter, showing Lothíriel in the centre of attention and truly seizing the authority of her position. Like she tells Éomer, it's not as effortless for her as he first perceives. But knowing she's the only person defending this abused woman, she finds the resolve she needs. On the other hand, I wanted her taking action in this way having some sort of a consequence even she hasn't foreseen - both to show she's not all-knowing, and that others may have a very different reaction to her when she is not trying to hide her abilities. But there's another point, too: she's not yet fully grown into her position as a queen.
Wicce is Old English and signifies 'a witch'.
I'll be leaving for holidays soon, and I expect I won't be able to update before some time next January. In the meantime, I wish a Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate, and Happy Holidays for all who have some free time towards the end of the year. Let's hope the new year will bring a turn for the better! Stay safe out there.
Thank you for reading and reviewing!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thanks! Same here - it's always nice to plunge into a long story. :)
Jo - Sounds lovely! I do hope he's not so possessive of you as Cúran is of Lothíriel! :D
Tibblets - I'm glad to hear it!
Boramir - Thank you! It's certainly not a smooth relationship between those two! :D But it's fun to imagine their little feud.
You are correct: it's much more difficult to hide her gifts from those she interacts closely every day.
EStrunk - It was my favourite bit about the previous chapter, too! And yes, this story is far from over.
sailor68 - In their relationship between one another, they're definitely very strong and supportive. We'll see how that will aid them in events to come...
Simplegurl4u - To tell you the truth, I also wanted to show some of their everyday life because of this chapter. After their long waiting for one another, I wanted to give them a little bit of happiness before s*it hits the fan, so to speak.
I think they are both passionate as far as physical love goes, but at the same time, I want to keep it tasteful. So I'm glad to hear if that's the sense you get from this side of their relationship!
There are also certain, significant issues to be resolved yet, so we're far from being done!
All the best to you and yours as well, and stay safe!
Katia0203 - Yes, I rather wanted to give them some happiness before things get difficult!
On Éomer's part, I think there's also a fair deal of his fear of losing yet another person he loves - and of course he's quite deeply in love with her.
elvinscarf - Thank you! :)
Catspector - It's always calm before the storm. ;) But that's of course the reason I did want to spend some time showing the calm.
Congrats - you got it right! There are indeed one or more persons who are ready to make that accusation. I was so glad that one of my readers had picked up the hints. :)
1bookfan - He very much is! Mutual respect and love are important, but people shouldn't take them for granted.
No, the story is far from over!
coffeebookchiller - I have to admit, I have enjoyed this one particularly, and am glad to hear others feel the same! I guess writing this story has been as much a needed escape from the reality for me as it has been for you, but I'm glad (and flattered) if it has brought some relief into the middle of the madness that is 2020.
And so happy to hear you like Alfwen so much! She's been in such a small role, but if I can, I hope to give her some more spotlight. :)
sai19 - It does create some hilarious mental images, doesn't it? :D It's fun to imagine them grudgingly tolerating one another because of Lothíriel, and her standing in between.
Glad you liked the chapter!
Wonderete - Thanks, I intend to! :)
