Chapter 27
Finding middle ground still took some negotiation, although both men knew it was delaying them from making plans to save Guthild and her companions. Even so, Éomer was adamant on seeing his wife and talking to her, and Eadwig insisted that the Muster of Edoras would not get any closer to the town, and that the Riders would keep their distance unless absolutely needed in combat. He would only surrender himself once his daughter was safe again. Until that moment, he expected to be treated as an ally, not as a criminal.
Éomer had guessed right: Eadwig wouldn't give in without bargaining some dignity for himself.
Once they had agreed on these things, Eadwig seemed anxious to get started, but grudgingly he yielded to his king's demands to see the Queen. So with a small company of his Riders, Éomer rode through the gates of Healding.
A large crowd was gathered at the immediate vicinity of the gates. There were warriors but also local folk, all impatient to know whether there would be a fight or not. Even the event of Éomer entering the town didn't seem to wholly console them.
Eadwig went immediately to speak with his own advisers, but Éomer sought the crowd with his eyes, his heart beating fast. There was only one face he wanted to find.
Then he saw her. There she was, standing as proud and straight as though she was in Meduseld and not kept as a prisoner, and her features held nothing but cool calm. His throat felt tight; was that small moment just before, when their gazes had locked, just his imagination? Maybe she was angry that he hadn't got to her sooner. Two guards stood by her, and they shifted when Lothíriel began to move, but Éomer's glare pinned them where they stood.
She began to walk with the appropriate slow pace and dignity while Éomer dismounted, but before the last steps, her self-control budged, the cool mask fell from her face, and she flew into his arms with a small cry. He pulled her tight to himself and nearly sobbed out loud. Then he knew all was well and she wasn't angry; if she had looked cold or distant, it wasn't because of him.
The relief he felt then could not be described in words. He had been so afraid that he wouldn't find her before it was too late, that they would hurt her beyond all healing... all the pain of past few weeks melted away because she was in his arms again, she was holding on to him as though nothing else in the world mattered to her, and he knew then how very stupid and meaningless their fight was. And she was whispering her apologies fervently in Sindarin, while he replied in Rohirric how it was all fine... ever since the moment he had realised she was gone he had been frantically praying that he might hold her again, and here she was now, safe and sound. Béma, even if this was the last grace given to him in life, he would still consider himself the most fortunate of men.
For the longest time, holding one another was the only thing they could do. His hands shook just a little bit when he cupped her face between his hands. Her eyes were bright with tears and joy, and if past couple days had been an ordeal for her, it didn't show. She looked strong and whole.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" he asked her in a low, shaky voice.
"I'm fine. I'm not injured", she told him quietly. "I knew you would come."
"I had to get my wife", he murmured and kissed her brow. "I cannot tell you how worried I was."
"All is well now. I'm so sorry for putting you through this. I felt so... I was so confused and tired and I needed Wulfrun's counsel..." she said quietly, and the joy in her eyes made way to something dark.
"It's all right. I know you were between stone and a hard place. What happened is not just your fault. I should have taken better care of you... I should have talked to you sooner", he said to her firmly, and she smiled a bit. He returned the smile and gently brushed his thumb across her cheek. "Thank you for the letter. It was painful and lovely at the same time and you were brave to write it."
"I'm glad to hear it. I was scared I had already managed to push you away to the point where you didn't even want to reconcile... but I know now I should always trust you. Sometimes I think your strength and resilience is not of this world", she told him with a strange light in her eyes.
"Lothíriel..." he grunted and pulled her in once more. His head buzzed with thoughts and emotions; it was nearly too overwhelming to process. This was absolutely the worst place for his next question, but there might not be another chance for it any time soon, and he had to know the truth. The suspicion and not knowing for sure were partly what had made his dread so bad.
"Lothíriel, did you go to Wulfrun because you needed a midwife?" he asked her in a quiet voice and watched her face with keen eyes.
"... yes", she replied half-audibly.
He swallowed hard and breathed deeply. So it was true, then. She was with child. It explained so much: her delicate health, her volatile moods, maybe even why she had felt so strongly about helping Sighard's son... and not having her husband's support must have made things twice as bad.
She was staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes, as if she didn't know how he'd take the news. Even without explanations, he could understand her doubt.
And though they were before many watching eyes, he could not help it – he lifted her in the air and spun her around, because he was holding his family, his very future, in the circle of his arms. In the middle of this struggle and danger, a ray of brightest light had fallen.
"We'll talk later about it", he whispered into her air in a voice as shaky as when she had first run to him, "but I'm happier than I could ever tell you."
She made a soft, small noise in agreement and trembled in relief.
Béma, what a day! It was not even afternoon yet and already his world had shifted. As wonderful as her news was, and as much as he practically ached to take her some place quiet and calm where they could sit down and talk through everything, properly appreciate the wonderful news, there was no time for it. His attention was needed desperately elsewhere.
"How is Alfwen?"
"Unharmed but angrier than a wild boar. They had to tie her down", she said and looked quite proud of her sworn shield.
"I'll tell Eadwig to free her, but you must make sure she stays calm. I don't want him suddenly deciding this is a bad idea", he told her and glanced at where the old lord was still talking to his own people. He knew they would have to move soon, but there were still some things he needed to say to his wife.
So he directed his eyes to her again.
"You know about Guthild?" he asked her. This much he had guessed from the question she had made to Eadwig earlier: Where is Guthild? Where is your daughter?
"I do. She has been taken. I saw it earlier – tried to tell Lord Eadwig, but he wouldn't listen. He threatened to gag me if I didn't keep silent", she said with some sudden steel in her voice. She must have felt humiliated at being treated so, and he threw a glare at the back of Eadwig's head, his hand twitching near the hilt of his sword. But frustrating as it was, retribution would have to wait for a more convenient time; for the time being, he had a promise to keep. If he felt a sense of irony over this development, he would have to entertain it in silence.
"We will talk more later. Now I need to speak with Eadwig and make plans for tracking down the people who took his daughter. Stay close to me – I will not trust these people with you again", he said to her, touched again her cheek and turned with the intention of approaching the Lord of Healding.
But Lothíriel caught his hand before he could move.
"You will need me if you mean to find her before it's too late. I know the path they will take and I can lead you to them", she told him in earnest.
He startled at her words, although maybe it shouldn't have surprised him. Béma, of course it was going to be like this.
"You should stay here and get some rest. I can't let you come with us."
"And I would love to do so, but we have no choice. Only I can show you the way quickly enough. If I don't come with you, then you won't reach them in time, and Guthild shall die. Eadwig will blame you of her death, claim that you didn't keep your word, and this will cause a rift more serious than anything you've seen so far. It will undo all that you have worked for and send Rohan into a period of uncertainty and strife. Even your own name... even that is in danger. But if you save his daughter, then you have a chance of healing this enmity between the two Houses, and peace will return to Rohan. You must take this risk."
"You're not feeling well –"
"I feel well enough for this."
"The baby –"
"Will be fine. He's very strong, just like his father, or haven't you realised that already?"
Éomer very nearly fell on his knees before his wife, his pregnant wife, the mother of the Prince of Rohan.
"... he?"
"Yes. Your son and heir."
It took a moment for him to simply fathom this fact. It was ludicrous. All this was completely absurd, she couldn't seriously be saying any of this, and he didn't know whether he should be mad with joy or frustration or shock.
"Lothíriel, I can't risk you and the child", he growled under his breath. His pregnant wife, chasing after dangerous villains in the wild! The mere idea made him sick. After the past few days, he desperately wanted her somewhere safe and sound – even if he didn't think it would be a particularly difficult or dangerous task to overcome a few rag-tag outlaws who didn't have weapons or horses to match the King's Company.
But she was staring at him in that familiar, frustrating way, so serious and confident and determined as only one who has seen future can be.
"Then Guthild will die."
This she stated as a fact which, he supposed with a sinking heart, it was.
"Are you sure?" he asked anyway. As if at this point he needed reassurances.
"Absolutely", she said softly. She gripped his hand a little tighter, and continued in a gentler tone, "I know you want me to be safe, and I'd like nothing better than going home right now. I wish to go there and see Leofrun and Cúran and my friends, and then maybe sleep for a week. But you must fix this problem and bring Eadwig to justice, and if Guthild is gone, then you have small hope for it. Please, let me help you. Let me do this – for you, and for Rohan."
He closed his eyes briefly and struggled with himself. After all that had happened, he was more keen than ever to make sure she was kept from harm's way. And yet... her sight could be strange, even uncontrollable, but he had yet to see it being wrong. He couldn't take the risk of Guthild dying, of making it look like he hadn't kept his word. Lothíriel had just said that she should always trust him, admitted where she had gone wrong – how could he do anything less? Recent experience had shown how poorly she reacted to being ordered and patronised, and forcing her to remain behind lock and key would only take them back where they had started.
This time, he had to trust that she knew what she was doing and he needed to show it to her, too. Otherwise, they might forever be caught in this imbalance, and she would never grow to her full potential.
"Will you promise to do as I say? If I tell you to run or hide, you will?" he asked her at length.
She met his eyes evenly. There was no defiance in her look; she understood his position, too. This was how it should be, he suddenly realised. If they truly wanted to make this work, it meant both of them laying aside their stubbornness and pride for the sake of each other even when it was hard – or sometimes especially when it was hard.
"You lead and I follow", she replied.
And somehow, though he didn't know why, he felt like they had just crossed a mountain.
Eadwig's expression was tight when Éomer approached him again, and the young king guessed the old lord thought he had wasted too much time talking to his wife. Or maybe he just didn't like the fact that he had not dismissed her; she was walking by his side as he made his way to Eadwig.
"My apologies for the delay. My lady wife and I had quite a bit to talk about", said Éomer calmly, as if he hadn't noticed the expression on the old lord's face.
"I can see that", Eadwig said coolly and he glanced at Lothíriel. That brief look held intense but essentially impotent fury. He still hated her, or what she stood for, but seemed to have accepted she was the price he was going to have to pay for his daughter's life.
Eadwig directed his eyes at Éomer once again, and continued, "Though I do not see how the lady's presence is required for our planning."
"The Queen stays with me. Anything you wish to say to me, you can also say to her", Éomer said steadily. "As for our agreement, this changes nothing; it will hold until the moment your daughter is safe."
Eadwig seemed unimpressed. He directed a cold, piercing look at Lothíriel, but she met the gaze calmly.
"I wish to help your daughter as well, Lord Eadwig. Let me show you I'm not the kind of villain you think", she said. Her voice was low and pleasant, and if she felt fury for how this man had treated her, she hid it well.
Eadwig's struggle was plain to see on his face. His expressions changed as though in some kind of spasms, from anger to suspicion and at last to something like desperation. He was clearly loath to accept her help, but at the same time, he must feel keenly how moments were passing. Starting a fight over this would waste time that his daughter did not have.
"Fine", he barked out at last, although his eyes shone with frustration. "If the lady can keep up. And if it comes to battle, I won't be held responsible for any... missteps."
"No need to worry, my lord. I shall be quite all right in the company of my lord husband and Lady Alfwen", said Lothíriel smoothly. She suddenly looked up, and somewhere beyond Eadwig's shoulder. With a small, pleasant smile, she added, "I believe it is only fair for the King to bring unexpected company with him, considering your own guests."
Éomer's eyes moved quickly between her face and that of Eadwig's. The old lord pursed his lips and looked supremely displeased, but he also seemed to realise he wasn't going to be able to wiggle out of this.
"Lord Wigmund, why don't you come join us?" Eadwig called over his shoulder, and after a moment a new shape began to approach. Apparently, he had kept out of sight when the gates were opened for the King, perhaps hiding in the crowd or observing the scene from inside of some building. As he came to meet his liege-lord, at least he had the grace to look ashamed.
Éomer took a deep breath in order to keep his anger from rising anew. Béma, you'd think he knew better than to trust people so easily – Wormtongue's scheming should have made sure of that – but clearly kingship had not yet disabused him of all his idealistic expectations. Just how far had this plot gone? How long had Lord Wigmund, a trusted member of the council, let Eadwig whisper in his ear? Had he been a part of this even since the wedding celebrations, when he had heard Eadwig ranting his frustrations to this man? Obviously, a thorough investigation was in order. He directed a long, stern look at the newest arrival.
"I have a promise to keep and villains to deal with, but Lord Wigmund, you may rest assured there will be questions later on."
"I beg your pardon, my lord. This is not what it looks like. I had no idea of what was happening when I came to visit Lord Eadwig on some business", said Lord Wigmund apologetically. He was avoiding Lothíriel's gaze, which was perhaps even more piercing than her husband's. Éomer wondered silently what it was that she saw and knew and he didn't.
"As I said, we shall talk about it later. For the time being, let us focus on how your presence may be useful", said Éomer coolly. Then he directed a brisk look at the lord of the town, and continued, "Is there somewhere else than before your very gates where we may talk?"
"There's a tavern nearby. We may use it", Eadwig replied. He seemed to have somewhat recovered from his initial shock, although he still appeared like he had aged two decades in the course of hearing the ill tidings.
Alfwen had been released, and she came half running for her mistress; her face was white with fury, glaring daggers at Eadwig's people, but she said no word to anybody but Lothíriel, and stayed close to her. They had taken her armour and sword but she still looked quite formidable; her hands were strong and deadly even without a blade. Lothíriel's voice was calm but firm when she gave orders that the Shieldmaiden's things should be returned, and a few young lads were sent to fetch them.
Soon this motley company was gathered at the tavern: there were the King and Queen and several Knights of the royal house, and Eadwig with a few heads of Healding's leading families. Wigmund had brought a couple of his own trusted men, who had travelled with him. Lothíriel took a seat in the corner, away from the centre of things but with a clear view. Only very briefly did Éomer think he saw a flash of weariness on her features, but then she caught his eyes, and her smile had no trace of fatigue.
His heart ached. He felt keenly that he should tend to his wife first, make sure she was well and not just pretending for others' sake – and make her stay behind, if need be. But he could not indulge in such luxuries. Time was passing and Lothíriel was certain she was the only one who could lead him to Guthild and the men who had taken her. For all the mishaps of the past few days and even weeks, he still believed in the potency of his queen's sight. Something told him that he may have to; she needed to truly see that he still had faith in her.
A debate now ensued: it seemed that every man and woman present had a different idea of what to do, and where to look for the abducted. Eadwig criticised all their ideas fiercely, although he himself didn't seem to have any thought of how to proceed. Éomer was silent, listening to different propositions – his own course of action was already decided. Lothíriel would guide his company, for better or for worse. But the question was, where would she lead them? Did she even know herself?
He sought for her eyes, and held them for a moment. She seemed to understand what he had in mind. She turned to whisper to Alfwen, who leant close to listen. The Shieldmaiden nodded gravely before she made her way to Éomer. She whispered into his ear, although the debate was going on so loudly that nobody would have heard her anyway: "She says north."
North? Well, Éomer wasn't sure what he had expected, but this was certainly interesting. It raised plenty of questions in his mind. However, he couldn't both consider this and listen to the company around him – even though their arguing didn't seem very useful. Nobody knew what the outlaws wanted and how they were planning to escape. Nobody, except maybe for the Queen.
It quickly became clear that there was going to be no consensus about the group, and none of them apparently thought the outlaws were heading north. He decided it was probably for the best to split up this party; if Eadwig had enough of his own or Wigmund's folk at his disposal, he might reconsider his promise to surrender once Guthild was safe. So Éomer rose to his feet again, and as soon as he moved, everyone around him fell silent.
"Lord Wigmund will ride to inspect the site of the attack and look for a trail to follow. I will go north with my own company, and Lord Eadwig shall join me. Those of his people he can spare will search the southern parts of the realm with the help of Marshal Elfhelm. I doubt these outlaws would go where population is denser, but they could be trying for mountains. As you know, the Muster of Edoras is standing by; they will also be sent in groups to look for Lady Guthild and her companions east and west", Éomer said, clear and strong, and all arguments died with that command. Some murmurs rose in agreement.
Eadwig he wouldn't send off by himself; Éomer wanted to keep an eye on the old lord. That way, he could hopefully prevent Eadwig from double-crossing once Éomer had kept his end of the bargain. True, the Lord of Healding had seemed genuine and sincere when he had begged for Éomer's help and promised to submit to justice once his daughter was safe, but after all that had happened, the young king wasn't going to trust him again so easily.
He swept a glance over their faces and continued, "Give these orders to the captains of each company. Our first priority is to save the captives and bring them home safely. Take the outlaws alive if you can, but show them no mercy if they insist on fighting. Do not let them harm the innocents."
Whether there was any hope of the other companies reaching these villains, Éomer didn't know – although Lothíriel's words rather implied it was not so. Still, he had to try, and people would have awkward questions if he didn't send out any other search parties, perhaps even think he didn't take this seriously after all. Even if Lothíriel's guidance was the only way to the outlaws, it was better to give everyone something to do, especially those with any allegiance to Eadwig, and keep their thoughts away from more scheming and plotting.
He then directed a stern, lingering look at both Eadwig and Wigmund.
"Once the captives are safe and the outlaws subdued, I expect to see both of you in Edoras in my court of justice", he finished his orders, and both the men looked gruff and displeased, but not defiant. They seemed to realise now was not a good time to provoke him.
"How soon do we ride?" asked Éothain, who had stood by his side and offered occasional comments to this or that proposal.
"I propose all who are able should take their leave as soon as they have prepared. As for my company, the King's Guard must rest for a couple of hours, horses included. I suppose rest would do you good, too, Lord Eadwig?"
The old lord's eyes flashed in impatience.
"I would rather leave immediately."
"Of course, but how do you mean to help your daughter if you're too tired to fight?" Éomer asked back calmly. Eadwig pursed his lips and looked unsatisfied, but said no more.
Things were now in motion, and folk swiftly streamed out of the tavern – those who were able would soon be riding out. But Éomer exchanged some words with Éothain, telling him to send for the Knights of the Royal Guard so that they may rest for a while, and that Lothíriel would show them the way to the outlaws.
"Can she make it?" asked the Captain quietly.
"She says that she can. And I must trust her", Éomer replied in a low voice.
"It will be dangerous, even if these ruffians are poorly equipped."
"I know. Alfwen will take care of her, and she has promised to run if I tell her to", Éomer said, though he sighed.
"Is there no other way?"
"Probably not. She hasn't been wrong before, has she?"
"Yet here we are."
"... yet here we are. It's awfully convenient, isn't it, though? Do you think there would be any chance of rescuing Guthild if we hadn't arrived when we did?" Éomer pointed out, and Éothain considered this for a moment.
Eventually he grunted in agreement.
"I suppose. Aye, it's so convenient, if people are not talking about it after this, it'll be a wonder. Good thing your lady has already effectively proclaimed herself a witch, because now there won't be a doubt about it among Eorlingas", said Éothain quietly.
"A white witch, if you don't mind", Éomer said absently. Strangely enough, it wasn't so hard to think of her that way. All this time, he had worried and dreaded what would come of it if she was indeed perceived as a wielder of witchcraft. But truth was, his wife was unusual. Perhaps now was a time to stop being scared of what she could become – and Lothíriel herself, surely, seemed to think it wasn't a bad thing as long as she did it in her own terms. Perhaps that would also grant her a freedom she had never had before.
Once his captain had the orders, the young king returned to his wife. She had not removed from her seat, and Alfwen still stood next to her. Lothíriel sat with her eyes closed, leaning her head back against the wall; she looked like she was asleep. He felt bad to have to disturb her and momentarily, he even wished he could leave there to rest and ride off to look for Guthild. However, Lothíriel would not forgive him going back on his word, and there was no guarantee he would find the missing lady and her companions without his wife's sight.
Her eyes opened, as though she had felt him there, and smiled slightly.
"Sorry. I think I drifted off for a bit", she said and reached for his hand. There was no hesitation in her touch. She caressed his fingers as though to make sure their shape was still as she remembered. That simple contact sent a tremor through him, and he felt acutely how much he had missed her. And also how useless it would be to try and convince her to stay behind.
"I really wish you would stay and get some rest", he said, even knowing she was not going to change her mind.
Lothíriel just smiled and shook her head.
"Have you seen anything in the meantime?" he asked her.
"No. I think… all I need to know is already inside my head. It will come together when we move out", she replied after considering his question for a moment.
"Very well. Anything you need me to do?"
"You're fine. You too already have it inside your head, love. You'll know what to do when the time comes", said Lothíriel, smiling slightly.
She still had such faith in him. Upon hearing her words, he felt such tenderness for her that he nearly scooped her up into his arms once more. It took him a moment to get his emotions under control again; she said nothing, but pressed a small kiss against the palm of his hand.
"One more thing", he spoke again when he was sure his voice would be steady. This was probably the only chance he had to ask her this question. "What actually happened when you were taken?"
A dark look passed across her features and she clasped her hands together tightly.
"I was wondering when you'd ask that. I don't fully understand what happened... I went to see Wulfun, as you know, but when she was not at home, I decided to turn back. Maybe wait somewhere close until you had read the letter... but it was then Ceorl interrupted us. I suppose he had been hiding with one of his relatives, not daring to show his face before you. He was drunk and very, very angry", she explained quietly, and her features were troubled as she spoke. The memory was clearly evil.
"Ceorl was there? I might have guessed", Éomer muttered darkly.
"Yes, he was. I will not repeat his words here, for they were not fit for anyone's ears. Still, he couldn't do anything except taunt – drunk as he was, he realised he was no match for Alfwen. She told him to get lost, and maybe he would have, hadn't Eadwig showed up with his company right then. I don't know how he was there so early, but maybe he had travelled in haste. Either way, he greeted us and offered to escort me back to my lodgings. He was quite polite – at that point, at least", she went on, shaking her head slightly.
"So it was Ceorl who complicated things, wasn't it?"
"Indeed. He grew furious when he saw Eadwig. He blamed him for all sorts of things, for not holding up his side of the bargain and not doing enough. Eadwig tried to dismiss him, but to no avail. It only made Ceorl more mad. He began to say he'd go to the King and tell you everything, explain exactly how Eadwig had betrayed you and schemed to manipulate you. I do not know what he meant, but Eadwig seemed to think Ceorl had already revealed too much. Alfwen and I had heard too much. A fight broke out, and the two of us were caught in the middle. We couldn't escape. Nor could Eadwig let us, because what we had witnessed had already incriminated him; even if he removed Ceorl, he expected I would come straight to you and tell what I had heard. You wouldn't just let it pass – you'd find out how exactly he had betrayed you. So he didn't take just that pig of a man, but the two of us as well. I'm not sure how he planned to wiggle out of it – maybe at that point he still had some hope for it, as he didn't know you were in Snowbourne at the time."
That was the meaning of her vision, then: Eadwig's hand had indeed been forced. The old lord had reacted in panic when Ceorl had threatened to reveal whatever his plans were, and so against his better judgement he had captured the two innocents who had witnessed the threat. Eadwig had rightly understood Éomer would investigate the allegations if his wife was allowed to talk to him.
"Sounds like there's still much that I need to find out before all is said and done, and I'm more than interested to hear what it was Ceorl wanted to tell me."
"I'm not sure he'll be able to tell you much. He was wounded rather badly and it's a miracle he even made it alive to Healding. They haven't said if he lives still, but I doubt he has long", Lothíriel answered, frowning.
He groaned out loud.
"Of course. I can tell there is more to this and I'm not going to like it", he said grimly. What plots had Eadwig made to betray and manipulate him? It sounded like he was responsible for the rune staffs, and maybe other things Éomer had not clearly perceived until now. But wish as he might, he would have to deal with this situation first and keep the bargain he had made. After declaring before this whole town how living up to one's word was a measure of one's pride, he would set a very bad example if his actions contradicted it while the sentiment was still fresh in everyone's minds. He wasn't going to be as deceitful as Eadwig apparently was. Yet though his justice was slow in coming, it was now even more inevitable than before.
All the same, at the very least he had to see Ceorl, and so Éomer made his way to Eadwig once again. The Lord of Healding looked at him warily, perhaps sensing trouble.
"I was told that one Ceorl of Snowbourne was also present when you took the Queen, and he was injured in the skirmish. Does he still live?" Éomer asked coolly.
"Barely, my lord. His wounds are very grave", Eadwig said. His face was grim and he avoided his king's gaze.
"I would like to see him", said Éomer.
"I don't know what good it will do, my lord, but as you wish", Eadwig grumbled.
Ceorl had been taken to the gatekeepers' barracks upon arrival. It was only two minutes' walk away from the tavern, which had become the King's unofficial headquarters for the time being; the Royal Guard had now entered the town. Outside the tavern, their horses were being watered and rested, and the Knights were given food and places to stretch themselves, if they so required. At the barracks, most of the guards of the town didn't seem to know what to do and where to look when Éomer passed them by with a few of his own Knights. In their rich green cloaks, gleaming armour and well-tended arms, the Riders of the Royal Guard were rather unlike the guards of Healding, some of whom were just simple local folk that took watch turns only part of the time. Most of those with any formal battle training had already left to look for their lord's daughter.
The captain of the gatekeepers took the King to a smaller room in the barracks, and there on a table lay Ceorl, with a grim-faced healer by his side. Somehow he looked much diminished from when Éomer had last seen him. Lothíriel had been right to say he probably did not have long; his breathing was weak, all colour had left his grey face, and the mass of bandages about his mid-section spoke of the extent of his wounds. Éomer felt sudden pity for this man. Granted, he himself had caused this to happen – he had been given every chance at a calm and happy life, and yet with his cruelty he had destroyed it. And who knew how long it would take Eadhild to recover her peace of mind? Still, when his life was so near at its end and he was to die alone without any of his kin by his side, Éomer did not feel anger for this sad, sad man.
"Has he been awake?" he asked the healer.
"He comes and goes, my lord. If he pulls through this, it shall be a wonder. I've done what I can, but he has lost a lot of blood and that ride did not help in the slightest."
Éomer nodded quietly and regarded the ashen face of the injured man. He recalled how Ceorl had first approached him, feigning to be such a humble and distressed subject, and then how his confidence and arrogance had turned into fury in the court when Lothíriel had stood up for Eadhild. How long had he nursed that poisonous hate which had eventually brought them all here? Did he now think it all was worth it, or did he even have the presence of mind to feel regret?
Their voices seemed to have disturbed Ceorl and his eyes fluttered open. His gaze was feverish, but he still recognised the one who now stood towering over him.
"My lord", Ceorl croaked, "if you came to get your revenge, you're too late."
"So it would seem. But you're not dead yet, Ceorl. You can still unburden your heart and relieve your conscience", Éomer said gravely.
"Sire, he should not be talking", the healer objected.
Ceorl took a raspy, uneasy breath.
"I was a fool to think I could trust anybody but myself. That bastard Sighard turned the moment your wife did something nice for him. And for all his talk of how easy it would be to influence you, to use your youth and pride against you, Eadwig has been slow to deliver. I guess we neither of us knew what we were against. That witch is stronger than I realised", he gasped with some effort, his voice almost dying between words.
Éomer's hands tightened into fists, but he reminded himself it was frankly pointless to exchange insults with a dying man. Ceorl had already paid the price for his hate and scheming.
"How exactly did he mean to do it?" Éomer asked, keeping his voice calm and steady.
Ceorl started to laugh, but apparently it caused him immense pain, for the sound turned into coughs and a grimace.
"You don't know the answer already? Had we pushed you just a little bit more, you might have started to think of divorcing her..." he uttered through the pain and then coughed again, almost convulsing in pain.
"Sire, I must insist. The man is at death's door, he can't take more of this", the healer interrupted again, although it was rather unnecessary. Ceorl's eyes rolled back in his head – he had passed out from the effort it had taken to speak. But his chest still rose and fell, albeit weakly.
Éomer stood there a while, gritting his teeth in frustrated anger. So he had not perceived things clearly, and the troubles between him and Lothíriel were not just their own making, even if their pride and stubbornness had clearly played an important role. The Lord of Healding had chosen well when making his strategy. How far might it have gone, and had there been a real danger of divorce? Éomer shuddered to think of it at first, and then considered: maybe not. He thought of Lothíriel's letter, still safe in his pouch, and her desperation to make things right again – or his own musings only the night before she was taken. Surely, the aging lord had been astute to use their pride against them, but he had overestimated its power, not guessing it was not equal to the devotion between the King and Queen. Either way, Eadwig had a lot to answer for, and many questions awaited him once the current crisis had been dealt with. It infuriated him to no end, but Éomer was bound by the word he had given.
Guthild and her kinswomen first, then justice.
And Béma, was he going to enjoy it.
It took Éomer a moment to simmer down, but once he was calm enough again, he returned to the tavern. His Knights and their horses were still resting and he wanted to use the time to speak to Éothain. So the King and his Captain pored over a map somebody had produced, trying to see which was the most likely route the outlaws were taking. Lothíriel was now with them and she stared at the map, too, but she could not be of much help at this point. Eventually she shook her head.
"I'll know when I see the road before me", she said simply. It was the answer he had expected after their earlier exchange. In fact, he'd be most surprised if she had just looked at the map and immediately shown them the way to go.
"How soon do you suppose we shall reach them, my lady?" Éothain asked warily. The young king could well guess what his friend was thinking of; the first couple times she had given him directions based on her sight, he had felt a little uncanny, too.
She thought for a moment and a small crease appeared on her brow.
"Not today. Tomorrow, maybe", she replied at last and rubbed her temple absently.
"Don't try too hard. You told me once it wouldn't be good for you", Éomer said gravely.
Her eyes were soft when she looked at him.
"I know my limits, but thank you", she told him quietly.
"You must stick to those limits, too. I don't want you trying to be a hero, not at the peril of your own life and well-being", he said and thought of the child she carried.
"I will be careful, love", she promised in gentle tones, and he knew he would have to be content with that – he had to trust she'd not push too hard.
But time was passing, and he had other things to worry about besides his wife. His company had eaten, the horses had been rested and watered, and even with a seer on his side, Éomer did not want to give the outlaws too much of a head start. So he gave orders for his guard to make ready – and Eadwig as well, with whatever men the aging lord was to take with himself. Éomer knew they were not going to be more than his own, because thanks to his actions, most Riders of Healding had already left. For that small act of cunning he was now glad.
Indeed, many of the companies, Lord Wigmund's included, had already ridden out as ordered and the King's Guard was among the last. Yet there still was a large audience, most likely the majority of townsfolk who had not joined the search parties. They spoke in low murmurs as the King's Guard made ready before the tavern. A horse had been produced for the Queen and her sworn shield, and Éomer gave the two animals a quick, studious look. But no matter what Eadwig's thoughts and feelings were towards her, he had still lent her a fine, lively-footed horse, and to Alfwen as well. The young king hid his relief. In a tight spot they would have no difficulty in making their escape.
When all was ready, Lothíriel and Alfwen came outside; the Shieldmaiden was in her full gear again and the Queen's composure betrayed nothing but calm determination. The tone of the murmurs shifted. Éomer looked around himself, and thought that maybe the people of Healding were still considering the idea of their queen being a witch, albeit a white one. That was certainly a new one. On the other hand, like Léoma had told him, many queens of Rohan before Lothíriel had been strong, distinct characters, sometimes riding to battle, sometimes working to build, and sometimes holding it all together while the kingdom wavered on the brink of extinction - and more than one of them had done it all while carrying or suckling a child at their breast. The history of the Riddermark was wrought in songs and legends, and Queen Lothíriel the White Witch was only the most recent.
Still, deep down he knew it was possible because of his own popularity and success so far. Had he been a weak man, letting the land go to ruin and failing to find food and shelter to the many dispossessed of the war, then his wife would have surely suffered much greater anger and hostility.
He helped his wife to mount the horse and moved over to Flamefoal; the stallion was eager for the road again. Once in the saddle, Éomer glanced around himself. Lothíriel was by his side, his Knights were standing by, and Eadwig with a few of his own Riders were quietly waiting for the sign. It was an odd company; Béma only knew what would come of it.
Without further ado, Éomer pressed his heels against the side of his horse. Flamefoal almost leapt in his eagerness, leading the company out to the wide, green lands of the Riddermark.
The road was waiting.
To be continued.
A/N: Here's an update! Unfortunately, writing is taking me longer than before. Things have changed in my personal life, leaving me less time for writing. But this story is not far from my thoughts, and I very much intend to bring it to an end.
I did want to bring more action into this chapter, but then stuff happened, and people had things to say. I felt like Éomer and Lothíriel's reunion was such an important moment, and then him needing to let his company rest while negotiating, and also learning about Lothíriel's abduction (and Ceorl's role in it) - eventually, I had enough text for one chapter. So here we are, Éomer and Lothíriel are together again, and they are going on a quest! It's incredibly hard for him to let her come when she's pregnant and all he wants is to send her home, but on the other hand, he understands he must show her that he trusts her. On the other hand, she probably feels like she needs to show him she's not some crazy woman, but that her visions are quite valid and this time, following her is the only way he can fix this problem. (I am biased but I think it's, if not poetic, it's certainly something that Lothíriel is using her "witchy" abilities to help to find the daughter of this man who has opposed her for so long.)
Hope you and yours are safe! As ever, I'm delighted to hear your opinions. Thank you for reading, reviewing, favouriting and following!
Inspiration for the chapter: Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds - Bright Horses
Katia0203 - Yes, I rather enjoyed that chapter myself! And I'm so glad you think so of Lothíriel. 3 I'm always so scared of letting her make mistakes in my stories, because somehow people seem to be so harsh against characters (especially female characters) making mistakes, even when it makes sense in the story.
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thank you!
rossui - Here you go! :)
Kehlan - Well, you have a right to your opinion. It did not offend me, I just felt like you had not considered Lothíriel's point of view very well. I tend to be protective of her because she doesn't get 'her say' like Éomer does in this story.
Lathril - Thank you! I'm so glad you got the idea I was going for - her making this mistake because she is human and because her circumstances are against her. But they are both proud and stubborn, so that makes it more difficult for them to make up - which Eadwig had noticed, too. However, he didn't notice the most important thing about these two!
I'm also very excited about the 'white witch"!
Prince Pondincherry - Thank you for your commets! It's very much the case of neither of the parties wanting to make war for different reasons. It's pretty much killing Eadwig to have come to this point. I see Rohirrim being this a very close-knit community, so it's VERY hard for Eadwig to persuade his people to fight against their king,
I also wanted to show Éomer being a good king and a leader - he's not just some violent brute who smashes his way through shit. He can also be persuasive and effective when need be.
Interesting thoughts about Éomer and ther Ring! I'm afraid he'd try to use it (for similar reasons as Boromir). Good thing the Ring never came anywhere close to him.
EStrunk - Glad to hear you think so!
I don't think Eadwig is beign an idiot per se - he had better ideas, but things didn't go as he wanted. All this is rather his panic reaction.
Like Lothíriel tells Éomer, Eadwig didn't know Éomer was at Snowbourne at the time when he took Lothíriel - hence his surprise.
Jo - Glad to hear you think so! That's how it is - both were wrong, and maybe there was something little bit more to aggravate it. And it's definitely true it's still a new marriage and they haven't learned how to deal with their more serious issues.
bledtilldryness - Thank you! I try my best. :)
Guest - Éomer knows he must deal with Eadwig, but his first priorities are Lothíriel and Alfwen's safety, and making sure no innocent blood is spilled. Moreover, while Eadwig has committed a serious crime, he's still a powerful and influential lord, and taking him to justice requires some manoeuvring. I don't think Éomer is the kind of king to execute people left and right just for proposing mercy.
As for Lothíriel, she absolutely did not go willingly. Rather, she saw something that made her misjudge the level of threat Eadwig posed, which partly contributed to her going out just with Alfwen. The whole point here is, again, that her sight has never backfired like this; I wanted to show even with her gift she's not infallible, and that she too needs to truly understand this in order to make things work and fulfill her duties as Éomer's queen.
I don't really understand what you mean when you say Éothain is the only one he can rely on. I don't think that's true at all.
Simplegurl4u - I think Éomer would very much like to do that, but he's also a guy who won't easily break his word! He wants to let Eadwig witness: "see, I kept my end of the bargain, now it is your turn!" Also he's probably a bit confident, being a formidable warrior himself and having a seer on his side. Éomer is also keen to make sure that no innocent blood is spilt.
Galenrandir - Thank you for your comment! It means a lot to me that my humble story is having such an impact. I do wish easier tides for you!
Guest - Apparently I still wasn't clear enough, but here goes: the point is they have both made mistakes and are responsible for how things have turned out (and it's easy to take Éomer's side because the story is from his POV). Their mistakes are different because they are different people and have different perspectives, but both their actions have worsened the situation and caused the other to react in bad and unhelpful ways. The point was never the contest of which one is more to blame, and I think in any intimate relationship that is often a dangerous and unhealthy approach anyway - at least when the parties are not actually abusive and/or toxic to one another.
APfire17 - Damn! I've consumed some longfics in my time but that is some achievement. Honestly, I'm impressed. I'm so glad to hear you have spent an entire day reading my story - hopefully this update will brighten up your day!
