Chapter 30
Hours were slow to pass as Éomer and his small company waited. All were quiet and even the horses seemed cautious of making noise. Men sat here and there, but none engaged in their usual pastimes of dice and games; a dour-faced Knight of the guard named Wulfgar kept walking around the horses, inspecting their hooves or undoing non-existent tangles from the flowing manes and tails. Éothain was the only one who spoke now and then a few words of encouragement, even though his face often betrayed his fear. All were thinking of the same thing: the Queen who was walking in the wood, if she would ever come back, and whether or not this was the beginning of the end.
Éomer himself leaned heavier and heavier against his stone as the poison kept on creeping. It was as she had said: his legs were going. There was still some feeling in the uninjured one, but his toes were getting numb. He tried to stay hopeful, though. If he didn't show any faith, why would his men do?
His eyes were fixed in the forest, and although he knew it was just his eyes playing tricks on him, he often thought he could see strange shapes moving in the shadows. Lothíriel had vanished into that shade and there was no guarantee that she'd walk out again. What hope did she have of finding this mystical herb? By the way she had explained it, Wulfrun hadn't exactly given her directions. And the forest was great and ancient. Maybe she would only find the herb if the wood let her. To be perfectly honest, why would it want to help them? What did Entwood care about the troubles of mortals?
After a while, Éothain came to sit with him again. For a while, they merely sat in silence, just keeping one another's company. But eventually, Éomer felt like he'd go mad if he didn't get anything else to think of than his wife and their current predicament.
"I was thinking of those outlaws", he said to his captain in a low voice, "have you any idea of what was going on there? Were they allied with the orcs? Were they maybe taking Guthild and her company to them?"
"The thought had crossed my mind", Éothain replied, seemingly just as relieved to have something else to distract his mind with. "It could be that there was some kind of a deal between them. Bring loot and captives and gain their alliance. There was no time to interrogate them properly, but based on what few words I was able to get out of them, this seems like a viable explanation."
"Hmm. I wonder what would make a man do something like that, especially if they took part in the Ring War and fought against orcs with the rest of us", Éomer muttered.
"To tell you the truth, I'm less surprised than I could be. These were broken and damaged men, Sire. For some of them, death in the Ring War might have been a more merciful fate. From what I gather, many of them had lost their faith, no longer believing in anything. And the world outside the borders of society can be a harsh place to live. There you only survive. So what if they made some kind of a deal with the orcs? I suppose in their eyes, it made all the sense. Winter will come eventually, and in the wilderness, it can be a cruel season. Maybe they hoped to avoid the brunt of it", Éothain offered and opened his flask to drink some water.
It was a grim thought. How broken would a man have to be to go down such a road? Himself, he knew he had a few cracks in his mind and soul. But he dealt with it, sometimes better and sometimes worse. Not once had he felt like falling truly apart. On the other hand, what did that even mean in the end, except that he was lucky? That he had things to hold on to and reasons to patch up the cracks? And he had the will of Éomund and Eorl and Morwen Steelsheen to drive him ever forward.
"I suppose you're right. And I see now that I have so much more work to do, and it will take time to really heal these wounds. I need to do better. I can't let myself be distracted like this again", he sighed at length and accepted the flask as Éothain offered it to him.
"An admirable sentiment, but don't forget you too are a man. You can't just tell yourself not to feel. Your life will always be there to distract you, both in good and the bad", Éothain pointed out.
"How true", said Éomer and felt suddenly so, so weary. "Do you know, she once spoke of us living in the far north, in a tent under the bare sky like our ancestors used to. I think I might have been quite happy just like that."
"But here we are", his friend muttered.
"Here we are, indeed", Éomer conceded.
They fell silent for a while. Éothain didn't ask how he was feeling, or what they should do if Lothíriel didn't come back. Éomer was more thankful for it than he could have said.
"What will you do about Lady Guthild?" Éothain asked then.
"I'll summon her to Edoras, I suppose. Find out if she knew anything about her father's plots. It's inconvenient, I know – I should have liked to interrogate her already. Now she has time to make up stories, or decide she really didn't know anything after all. If her father had allies, they may fill her ears with their poison... but what can we do? That bit of unpleasantness will have to wait", he replied, sighing heavily.
"Including Wigmund."
"Béma, I will be combing through this tangle for quite some time", Éomer muttered and rubbed his forehead.
"Well, if they are superstitious enough, maybe you can threaten them with your wife. A white witch she may be, but that is still a warning if I ever saw one", Éothain commented.
"I'm not going to drag her into this. She has endured quite enough lately. If we make it through this in one piece, she'll need plenty of rest and some peace and quiet. I dread that this experience has already been harmful for her", he said, staring at the wood once more.
But Éothain stared at him. The Captain was astute enough to put together two and two, and understand what his king was really saying.
"You don't mean she is..." he whispered in a strange, almost strangled voice.
"Aye, she is. Béma, I must be mad to have let her come all this way – let her walk into that wood! I don't even blame you if you judge me for it", Éomer muttered.
"It's not my place to judge you either way. You and her, you're not an ordinary couple. A life of ruling is a life of sacrifice, that much I learned from your late uncle. How many times have you endangered yourself in order to protect others? Last night and before, I watched you two put aside your own needs and work together in order to save innocent lives and preserve peace in this land", said Éothain at length.
"Still, if something happens to her, it's my fault", Éomer said quietly.
"Your queen makes her own choices. And to be honest, I understand hers very well. If she hadn't walked into that wood, I would have gone in her stead, though I don't think I have even half the chance that she does."
Éomer cast a grateful look at his friend and captain, and once more, a companionable silence fell between them.
Time crawled and at some point, he dozed off as the strain and fatigue of the past few days finally took their toll. In half dream and half awakeness he saw dark shapes running, and felt like he heard distant shouts. Somehow he got the impression that Lothíriel was in trouble and he should go and help her, but when he startled awake and tried to get up, his legs wouldn't move. His heavy armour seemed to be dragging him to the ground.
"Give me something to drink", he rasped hoarsely to no one in particular. Thankfully, Éothain was close by and offered him the flask. It felt heavier than it ought to and he could scarcely lift it up to his mouth. The water had the smoky taste of peat in it and it wasn't particularly fresh, but it eased the horrible dryness of his throat a little bit.
"You don't look so good", Éothain commented worriedly and carefully touched his king's brow. "You're burning up! She said nothing about this."
Éomer just grunted in answer and closed his eyes momentarily. He was starting to feel dizzy again.
"Wait here. I think it's time to use that tent they supplied us with back in Healding", said Éothain grimly. Éomer thought of commenting that he wasn't going anywhere, but it seemed like too much effort, and so he grunted again in answer.
With half open eyes, he watched as Éothain and a couple of Knights quickly raised the tent on the field. They hadn't used it so far since they had been in a hurry, and for a bit Éomer had even thought it was dead weight. Thankfully, his second in command was a mother hen and usually had backup plans even for unlikely scenarios.
Once it was up, Éothain and Guthlaf, the King's squire, hauled him up between themselves, his arms over their shoulders, and carefully moved him to the tent. It was not easily done, especially since he could do little to help them. Eventually after some frustrating moments and various colourful curses, they were able to lay him down on a bedroll, which they had spread there for him. Guthlaf then busied himself with removing his king's armour piece by piece – another unusually difficult task since he was laying down and unable to offer much help.
Éothain brought some more water. He even produced a damp rag which he placed on his king's brow to ease the fever a little bit. After that, both the Captain and the squire hovered nearby, seemingly wanting to do something, but knowing they could only wait.
Éomer fell again into a strange space between sleep and waking. At times he had dreams of looking for his wife in the dark, calling her name, but finding only shadows and empty distances. Guthild was there too, first taunting him, then accusing him for her father's death. Her fair face turned into hideous shapes, twisting and changing, until it was Eadwig standing before him with a great wound in his stomach.
He woke, shivering even under his cloak, which was usually more than enough cover. Éothain was beside him. The Captain offered him a drink; at this point, he couldn't lift the flask himself, and even less his head. He still felt his hands – it was the fever making him so weak. But Éothain helped him without a word.
"You know", Éomer muttered after a while, "I do think she was right. I'd rather die than live like this."
"You're not going to die. She'll bring back that herb and heal you", Éothain told him firmly. "She's going to save your life, and after that, nobody can say that her magic isn't for the good."
Feverish as his mind was, Éomer considered this and agreed. If she were able to do this thing and save his life, it would secure her position more than perhaps anything, save bearing an heir for the kingdom. He could even leave her side and know that if she ever needed it, the people would defend her as fiercely as himself. Béma, keep her safe. Great Huntsman of the forests, clear the path before her feet.
"That would be something, wouldn't it?" he grunted. He coughed and Éothain gave him some more water, which helped a little. Éomer took a few deep breaths before he glanced at his friend and asked, "Do you ever wonder how we got here? It sometimes feels like a dream. How different life might have been…"
"Don't you talk like that, as if you were saying goodbye!" Éothain growled, trying to sound threatening, but not quite managing.
"It would be a pathetic end, wouldn't it?" Éomer muttered back. How tired he was!
"Aye, it would, and you're too stubborn to just give up like this. Think of your wife and your child! They need you. Do you think that young lady walked into the wood because she wanted it? I could see she had to force herself to take those steps! You need to give her more time", Éothain half ordered, half begged.
But the young king smiled.
"You've been a great friend, Éothain. Do you remember when we were children in Aldburg? Even if everything else in my life went sideways, at least I've always had luck in friends", he said quietly.
"No, you're not doing this to us, not like this. Have you any idea of what will happen if you leave now? What it will do to this land and to your people? Do you think your wife can bear this burden without your strength and courage?" his captain demanded.
All good points, and Éomer still had enough presence of mind to know it might just tear Rohan apart if he died here. And Lothíriel – poor Lothíriel, alone and pregnant, left to deal with this mess... he was the one who had dragged her to this land, interrupting her safe, calm life. He had promised her companionship and safety and based on that promise, she had given up all that she had known. She had told him she hadn't believed a life such as this would be possible for her, even if deep down she had yearned for it. To have it ripped away so quickly and completely could only leave her deeply wounded, perhaps for the rest of her life. And if he died, who would keep her safe? She was now more exposed than ever and without him to shield her, she would be in danger.
Lothíriel had given up her old life for his sake and for that, he owed it to her to keep breathing – even if each breath was an agony.
And somehow that helped. The terrible mist that had grown in his mind cleared a little and his eyes focused. His determination rose, or perhaps it was just stubbornness – he had made it through worse and it was now crucial more than ever that he lived. This was not just his life anymore, but of Rohan, of Lothíriel, of the unborn child she carried. Éomer had not walked through all those shadows and hardships and sacrifices so that he'd die before he even got to see the face of his son.
"Give me some water", he said to Éothain, once again grimly resolute to hold on.
It was now grey twilight, as the Captain readily reported to him. Many long hours had passed since Lothíriel and her escort had walked into the wood. If Fangorn was intimidating in daylight, at night it was quite something else. No matter how determined he was not to give up, it might be for nothing. And the Knights were restless, pacing around the tent as they watched and waited. But the young king, for all his determination to make it through this, slipped more often in and out of feverish dreams, each more bizarre than the last. There was still some feeling in his uninjured leg, but somehow he knew he didn't have much time left. In the deepening gloom, his thought returned again to the possibility that maybe this time, it wouldn't be all right. He became more and more concerned that he wouldn't even be able to say goodbye to his wife and ask for her forgiveness for failing her like this. Even Éothain, faithful as he was, seemed to have trouble keeping up his own and his king's spirits.
But it was in this moment as their hope was nearly spent that Éothain suddenly twitched by his king's bedroll, and then Éomer too could hear the sudden commotion outside. Men were speaking in loud, eager voices.
"... they're here... the Queen... make way, quickly..."
Something electric went through him and with strength he hadn't realised he still possessed, Éomer hauled himself up on his elbow just as the door flap of the tent was raised and Lothíriel entered. She was a sight for sore eyes, although it was clear her journey had not been easy. The hems of her gown were torn and tattered, her hair had mostly escaped from the braid, and weariness was written in her every movement. Yet her gaze shone with a strange brightness and he knew she had seen something in that forest – something that only her witch's eyes could perceive.
But when she saw him, that odd bright look left her eyes and with a small cry, she flew to his side.
"Éomer! Oh, Elbereth, are you all right? You're burning with a fever! I'm so sorry for taking so long!" she nearly wept as her clever fingers cradled his face and she saw the poor way he was in.
"You're here now", he said, sinking back down again, and watching her face with unblinking eyes. He felt completely content and utterly without fear, no matter what happened next. To see her unharmed was such a relief, he didn't even care if she had found the herb or not.
"Just hold on for a little while more", she told him fiercely, kissed his brow and then turned to speak to Éothain. The young king was not concerned with trying to follow what they were saying – he merely watched her and felt thankful that he had got to see her before the end. His breathing had grown slow, his eyelids heavy.
But even as sleep beckoned him, she reached for his hand again and held it very tightly, as if she was trying to squeeze him back to life.
"Hold on. This is an order!" she said angrily, startling him, but also reminding him that he had to at least try.
She later told him that what followed were the most anxious moments of her life – more terrible even than her brief captivity by Eadwig. She would describe how she gave orders to boil the water she had brought from the stream that no man can know and prepared the healing tea out of the strange herb with white flowers like stars. But she also pressed a few drops of the herb's precious sap straight into the wound and then covered it with fresh leaves. When the tea had cooled down a little, Éothain carefully lifted his upper body so that his head rested in her lap, and she could slowly help him to drink it all. It didn't taste like anything he knew, and couldn't tell if it had any healing power that might help him. Even when the cup was empty, she didn't move him from her lap; she let him rest there and ran her fingers gently through his hair.
"What now, my lady?" Éothain asked somewhere beyond his vision.
"Now we wait and hope", she replied softly. "And pray to Lady Estë that she may extend her hand and let him be healed."
A great weariness had now come to Éomer. The strain and struggle of these past few days was heavy and he longed for a deep, undisturbed sleep. And where better to sleep than here, with his head in his sweet wife's lap?
In the quiet of night, he woke suddenly. Éomer didn't know what had disturbed him, but he sat up to scan his surroundings in alarm. But it was dark and still; not even wind moved in these late, slow hours.
Next his attention was drawn to the shape sleeping next to him. Lothíriel had spread her own bedroll by his side and there she slept, her weariness so great that him stirring did not wake her. At what point she had moved there, he couldn't say – his last memory was of falling asleep with his head in her lap.
The back of his shin was itching. He was already reaching to relieve it when he suddenly realised why this was quite significant. His leg, the very injured one, had feeling in it again. Both of them did, in fact, and he nearly exclaimed in sheer joy. So Wulfrun's lore held true then, and Lothíriel had been able to find the legendary herb against all odds. He wanted to wake her up, dance her around the tent, and then maybe kiss her until she was faint. But the poor, dear woman had gone to such lengths for him and she had to be beyond exhausted at this point, and so he contained his joy and relief the best he could.
Even so, he couldn't resist the urge to make sure all his faculties really were working as they should. Carefully he got up, stooping in the small travelling tent that was much less than his height, and although there was some stiffness in his limbs, his feet carried him. He was grinning in the dark tent like a lunatic.
He stepped outside, too full of sheer joy of living and surviving to go back to sleep yet. No doubt this happy news would be appreciated by others, too.
The sky was downcast and the night was dark, but it was fairly warm. A few campfires burned in the night to keep the darkness at bay. Éothain dozed off next to the entrance of the tent and around them, most of the Knights had settled down for the night. Now and then one of the night guards would walk past a fire, casting a deep shadow against the light. It appeared rest of the Royal Guard had arrived during the time he had slept; the full company now surrounded this area, or so he judged by how many dark shapes he saw strewn across the field around the tent. He marvelled that he hadn't heard their arrival, but perhaps that just signified how deep he had slept, and how serious the situation had been.
His Captain, who always slept lightly, startled awake. His hand already reached for his sword, but Éomer crouched next to him, one palm open in a calming gesture.
"Peace. It's just me", he said quietly.
Éothain took a deep breath and seemed to shiver.
"You're walking."
"So it would seem."
"Thank Béma! And thank Lothíriel Queen. I shall never doubt her again", said the Captain, his voice thick with emotion. As if to make sure this all was real, he grasped his king's forearm and squeezed it tight.
"She's a wonder, indeed. How are the rest of the company who accompanied her? Did they return safely?" Éomer asked.
"Aye, they did. All were unnerved. I suppose that little trip was not the most pleasant one, for the wood is strange indeed. But they all knew what was at stake and are honoured to have served you", Éothain replied. His eyes still glistened in the dark, even though he was able to keep his voice level.
"And the rest of the Guard?"
"Sick with worry. Those you had sent to escort the civilians were understandably cross when they heard you were so sick, but seeing you up should cheer them", Éothain said.
Even though the Captain didn't say it out loud, Éomer knew he had been holding them together while the young king himself lay unconscious. That things had gone this smoothly was not just thanks to Lothíriel, it was also Éothain's doing. These two people, the love of his life and his best friend, had fought for him tooth and nail.
"Thank you, Éothain. I'm not sure what would have happened here without you", he said seriously.
Now his friend smiled.
"I wouldn't be too worried about it. These men love you, for you are their king. Surely a few of them might have acted out if somebody didn't keep an eye on them, but they're sensible with or without me", Éothain said evenly.
Éomer wasn't sure he agreed, but it was too late for such conversations. He patted his captain's shoulder.
"Go and get some rest. You have earned it. All is well now", he said and decided maybe he should take his own advice, too. Now that the first rush of relief had passed, he realised he was still rather tired. Just a few hours' sleep wasn't enough to remedy many days' tension.
"You're certain? You don't need anything?" Éothain asked, nevertheless.
"I'm positive I need nothing but some sleep and my wife's company", said Éomer with a slight smile. He rose a little bit, not to his full height because the tent was small, and entered the warm shadow once more.
Lothíriel had not stirred in his absence. She lay quietly on her side, breathing lightly. Her long hair was spread around her like a dark, silken veil; she or Alfwen had brushed it since after he had passed out. She had also taken off the tattered gown and slept in her soft, cream-coloured shift.
As carefully as he could, he settled down by her side and put his arm around her. His white witch. How strangely life had lead him after meeting this woman. It had not been always easy, but right now he felt that there was nowhere in the world he would rather be. He would probably have some explaining to do once Imrahil heard about all this; it didn't seem likely that the Prince would be delighted to hear his daughter was now widely accepted as a witch in her new homeland. Aragorn, on the other hand, would just love it. And Éowyn – well, she would never let him hear the end of it.
But as of now, all that remained in the future. He was tired and content and hopeful and for the first time in weeks, he felt truly peaceful.
That wasn't a bad feeling to fall asleep with.
When Éomer woke again, it was light in the tent. From outside, he heard the familiar sounds of the camp – sounds of horses and voices of men, the trod of their heavy feet as they passed by, and occasional laughter here and there. He even thought he heard someone singing. Éothain must have shared the good news with them already.
Lothíriel still slept and he didn't feel inclined to disturb her. She could sleep as long as she wanted as far as he was concerned – she had well earned it. Éothain seemed to have decided so too, considering he had not sent Guthlaf in to wake them up. Éomer was silently thankful for that.
She had moved a little bit during the night, though: she had shifted mostly to his bedroll, curling up against him and tucking her head under his chin. One of her arms was carelessly slung over his midsection. These circumstances made him a little too warm, but it was a small discomfort he was ready to ignore. Her closeness was too precious and for a while, he simply lay there, listening to her breathing and the sounds of the camp, and letting his mind wander on idle paths. It was a rare luxury and he enjoyed it in full.
But at long last she stirred in his arms, breathing deeply and pressing closer to him. Ever so gently, he brushed his hand across her back.
"Morning", she whispered quietly against his skin.
"Morning to you, too. How do you feel?" he asked her. She had pushed herself so much lately, he worried it might be harmful both for her and the child.
"I am fine. I can't remember when I've last slept so well..." she replied, pressing closer still and sighing in contentment. "The baby is fine, if that's what you're worried about."
"I'm glad to hear it. I was so worried something would happen out there while you were beyond my help", he said softly. A cold shiver went down his spine at the thought.
"My dear wise fool, worrying about me even when you're the one in peril... I take it you're feeling better now?" she asked him.
"Aye. I woke up during the night and the fever had broken. I could move again, too", he replied.
"That is a relief. For a moment, you really had me concerned... but you kept on breathing, as if you were just too stubborn to quit, and around midnight, I felt you sigh and stir in my lap. Then I knew the worst was over."
She spoke softly, her voice vibrating against the skin of his neck.
"Thanks to you, love. You really did it. You found that herb. Was it very difficult?"
"That it was. The wood was a strange one, indeed... full of uncanny sounds and shadows. I saw things under those boughs that I cannot describe. And the forest spoke, whispering and murmuring in my ear, calling to me... I wanted to walk ever deeper into it and learn the ancient secrets that sleep in the heart of the forest. But then I remembered you and my task, and it helped. At times I stopped by this tree or that, and I whispered my name to them and asked for help. I don't know if that's what happened, but I think the wood heard me and decided to let me pass. So we came to this strange little stream, deep in the forest, and there on its banks grew white flowers so thickly that it was as if snow had fallen. The water of that stream was cool and clear as in the purest, most sacred fountain. I knew then I should collect only as much as I needed to help you, and to fill my flask with water from the stream. So I did, and when I was done, I touched the nearest tree, giving my thanks. I think the tree heard me and was satisfied to let us return. We walked again, for hours it seemed, until darkness fell and I saw the edge of the wood at last. I prepared the herb like Wulfrun had told me. Thankfully, it wasn't too late yet", she explained slowly. Often there was wonder in her voice, especially when she spoke of the wood and the stream. What strange power had she found there? Even without her saying anything, Éomer felt certain that if she tried to find that stream again, she would not. The forest wouldn't let her come back to that place. But Entwood was a remnant of very ancient forests, and perhaps it concealed more than just the Shepherds of Trees – little pockets of primordial magic that were now fading from the world. For some reason, she had been allowed to access one of them.
But he also considered it might be wise to move away from the wood as soon as they could. He didn't want the forest calling to her again, or luring her under its boughs. Even if she had the unusual abilities that had allowed her to find healing for him, he also felt that the wood may be more dangerous for her than the rest of them. These thoughts he kept to himself, however.
"What of your companions? How did they manage in the forest?" he asked her.
"It was hard for them, for they don't like the wood. It made them very nervous and I suppose there were moments when they thought it was completely mad to even be there. But the thought of you encouraged them just as it did me, and so they saw me through it. Alfwen was wonderful. She would have carried me on her back if it had come to that, and she did help me a great deal when I grew weary. I don't think I would have made it out of that wood without her aid", she answered warmly. As she spoke, she slowly ran her fingertips up and down his side.
"Erkenbrand can be proud of his daughter. She really is quite something", he commented. Then he shifted a little bit so that he could see her eyes, and asked, "Alfwen knows about the baby, doesn't she?"
"She does, indeed. I didn't tell her – she saw me being sick, and she also knew I hadn't bled since after the wedding, so of course she figured out what it was about. There was no use denying it. And at any rate, I needed her help to conceal it, otherwise, the entire household would know by now. Although I'm sure at least Leofrun suspects it."
"Why didn't you tell me, though?"
"It's not that I didn't want to. But I didn't know how. We were fighting and I wasn't sure how you'd react... I couldn't stand the idea that you would be cold or indifferent or angry. I had thought our first child would be a happy occasion and looked forward to telling you. But the possibility you wouldn't be glad made me scared and unhappy, and every time we spoke, we were snapping at one another and making things even worse..." she replied. Her voice was thick and uneasy, as if the thought of their fight still caused her pain.
"I understand. It must have felt very difficult. I see now that it must have made things even worse... I should have been there for you. I could see that you were not feeling well, but I didn't even suspect it might be because of a baby", he said solemnly and rubbed her back gently.
"It's all right. We both made things difficult for one another."
"That's why you went to Wulfrun, wasn't it?"
"It is a fairly important reason. I knew that if I asked to see a midwife in Edoras, then the whole city would know by nightfall. I didn't want you to find out that way. But Eadhild had spoken much about Wulfrun when we talked together and she assured me that Wulfrun was discreet and trustworthy. Then Lord Ormar told me he was making a trip to Snowbourne, and I had my exccuse to visit Wulfrun without raising suspicions. Of course, I hoped that I could also use the opportunity to do something for Eadhild. When you came upon me at Wulfrun's homestead, I hadn't yet spoken about the baby with her, because I first wanted to make sure Eadhild had judged her rightly... I liked her the moment we were introduced, but also knew that there was something important that I needed to learn from her. Not that I guessed what this important thing was until you were struck by that poisonous blade", she explained.
So it was as he had suspected: her sight had been guiding her even then, although she hadn't known for what purpose. But he also admired her sense of subtlety, and how she had sought to consult with a midwife in a way that would not reveal her condition to everyone.
"I suppose we owe her our thanks for teaching you. I was harsh and unkind about your dealings with her... it made me worried that maybe you thought I believed you're useless", he muttered, frowning.
"It was painful, yes. But I reminded myself that you didn't know the whole story, and I knew the shorter your temper is, the harsher you speak – even when you don't mean it. I'm not angry about it anymore, for I know you were just as hurt as I was", she said gently.
"Either way, I'm sorry about everything. I've been such a troll lately, letting my temper and impatience get the better of me. You don't deserve to be treated that way. I think I still have a lot to learn about how to be a good husband to you, and how to make this work so that we can both be content", he said in solemn tones. After last night it was easier to speak these words and lay himself bare before her.
"I'm sorry, too. I've been wilful and proud and stubborn. I think for a while, I lost sight of what's important and what my duty means. I was so scared and confused, I couldn't think clearly... and so often I've been feeling tired and unwell. But I shouldn't take it out on you, my dear heart – you don't deserve to be treated so coldly, either. I should have told you sooner that I... I need you by my side. I need your strength and your courage more than I realised before", she answered.
"Thank you for telling me. We can both of us learn from this to do better. But I think we both agree we can't allow anything like this to happen again. We can't fight with each other when this burden is for us both to bear."
"Yes. I don't want to fight with you. I suppose it's not always going to be easy, because we both are proud and stubborn. But there are more important things than one's pride. I know mine isn't worth ruining both our lives, or losing the love of the most extraordinary man I've ever met", she whispered, her lips so close to his that her voice danced across the sensitive surface. The same moment he moved to kiss her, she shifted closer, too.
The kiss began slowly, because they hadn't really had time to kiss properly since their reunion, and before that it was some time since they had been able to freely and easily show affection to one another. He marvelled at how much he had missed kissing her and being close to her. She had grown so much bolder since their first few kisses, when she had seemed almost too overwhelmed to do much else than just try and process the new sensations. Now she engaged him eagerly, almost mischievously.
Such a kiss couldn't be endured long without excitement, and she was so closely pressed against him that she couldn't possibly miss how her closeness was impacting him. He wanted her so much, it was almost a physical pain. Yet maybe she wasn't in the mood at the moment – the circumstances were not the most comfortable, and he could understand if after their recent ordeals she was not up to it.
"Sorry. I've missed my wife", he uttered hoarsely as he pulled back in order to give them both a moment to breathe – and allow her to refuse, if this felt like too much and too soon.
But meeting her eyes, he saw how dark and heady they had become, and he realised she was just as starved for his touch.
"It's fine. I've missed my husband, too", she whispered back in a trembling voice.
No other words were needed. In breathless agreement his hands sought the hems of her shift, while she was quickly unlacing the front of his trousers. There was an almost desperate single-mindedness in discarding the clothes between their skins. She didn't appear to mind that he was not the most tender in his impatience – she pulled him to her nearly as demandingly, and hid her groan in a kiss when he entered her. He thought he might pass out from sheer bliss.
It was hard not to just lose himself in her. The circle of her arms, the softness of her skin and the taste of her mouth invited to forget all else, but he'd have to be more tender and careful with her while she carried the child. Her slender frame had never felt so breakable, or so precious against his hands – even though she had already endured so much without shattering. But she drew him to her impatiently, urging him to go on. Each movement sent sparks of fire across his consciousness. She whimpered ever so slightly, and then more and more, until she had to bite her fist so that the whole camp wouldn't hear their delight in one another. He pushed his wife on her back, and threw himself at her as much as he dared, and it wasn't long after that they both were utterly spent. With that, it was as if some final bit of tension was at last released.
For some time they rested in silence, her head on his chest and his arms loosely around her back. It seemed she even fell asleep for a while, lulled to dreams by the warm contentment after lovemaking. But eventually, Lothíriel stirred again and lifted herself on one elbow so that she could kiss him. Her hair was a delightful mess around her face, which held such a glow as he had not seen in a while. The calm he had missed for many weeks was back in her grey eyes.
"Do you know if there's any running water nearby? I would dearly like to wash", she inquired. It was a rather appealing thought for him as well.
"Éothain can send somebody to find out. You packed a change of clothes, didn't you? I brought your saddlebags from Snowbourne with me", he offered. By now, they should have at least some supplies at their disposal.
"I did, thankfully. I might have packed something more practical, though, had I guessed this wasn't going to be a stroll in the garden", she muttered wryly.
"You, surprised? That must be a first", he chuckled as he got up on his feet and picked up his trousers. Relief and joy still came unbidden as he felt the ground underneath and his legs were as strong and steady as they ever had been.
He gave the orders to the guards posted at the tent, but even this appearance was quickly noticed by the rest of the Royal Guard. Cheering rose all around him as the Knights greeted their King, just as relieved. He smiled and waved his arm to greet them back before joining his wife again. She had produced a small carved comb from her purse and was slowly undoing the tangles in her long hair. She smiled up at him and her eyes shone bright. He was content to simply watch her, thinking of how this felt like he had been given a second chance. He was not going to blunder it.
Some food was brought – simple travelling rations, but it was among the most delicious meals he had ever tasted. Soon enough Éothain, who didn't seem to be able to stop grinning, pushed his head through the tent's opening to report that there was indeed a small brook nearby that might just about serve for washing. Lothíriel's head perked up and she demanded to be taken there right now.
When they exited the tent, they were greeted by more cheering; all around them, Éomer saw smiling faces. His wife got her fair share of it and he guessed that her efforts to heal him had not gone unnoticed. Before, they had respected her because she was their king's chosen consort, but now her deeds had earned her their true, enduring fealty and love; just as any of the King's Knights had to earn the right to bear the famous green cloak and a seat at his table. She beamed at the Riders of the Royal Guard, but with Alfwen she shared a look that may only pass between dearest of friends.
It could be just his imagination, but he thought his wife walked with new confidence in her step after that.
The brook was indeed just barely suitable for their needs, but they were able to wash off most of the grime of past few days. Unashamedly, he admired her as she sat naked with her feet in the brook, and water-drops glistened on her skin. Her own eyes were just as bold as she watched him soaping himself, and her look nearly had him pouncing on her again, right there on the banks of the stream. But the day was passing and they couldn't waste all of it by frolicking there by the side of this small, nameless brook. With a fond smile, he watched her noticing some herb and moving closer to inspect it, seemingly forgetting she was nude and without any of her usual gear. It was a pity they couldn't spend more time just enjoying the warm sunlight and each other's company. He ought to get back to Edoras soon, but hopefully before the summer ended, he could take Lothíriel on a little vacation – perhaps to Aldburg, even.
The campsite was cleaned quickly and efficiently. Fires were put out, the tent was pulled apart and packed, and the horses readied for the journey. While these tasks were done with the usual expedition and deftness, there was no sense of urgency about it. Threats had been dealt with and problems solved. They were going home.
But when all was nearly ready, Éomer noticed that his wife was standing still and she was staring into the wood. So it still called to her, confirming his earlier suspicions. It was a good thing they were not spending another night so close to the forest.
He made his way over to her and gently picked up her hand, wordlessly calling her back to the world of men and daylight. She seemed to startle, even looked a little surprised to notice him next to her, but then she smiled and let him lead her away from the eaves of the wood.
They did not ride with such haste and need as during the hunt for the outlaws. Determined to spare his wife after recent ordeals, Éomer kept a pace that allowed her plenty of rest. If she thought his concern too much, she didn't show it. Maybe she approved because this allowed them some much needed time alone, especially during the nights. For after the camp-fire had been made and they had eaten supper with the Knights, they would retire to their tent. Their lovemaking on those nights was eager but tender and there also lingered a sense of relief, for the memory of how close death had walked by them was still fresh.
But afterwards they would speak quietly for a long time, until even the camp outside fell silent. On one such occasion, Lothíriel asked him what he meant to do about Guthild, the new Lady of Healding – and if there was any way to find out what exactly had her father been doing to replace the Queen of Rohan.
"Do you think she knows anything about it?" she also asked. Her head rested against his shoulder and her voice gently teased the surface of his skin. Her fingers slowly brushed across his abdomen.
He was silent for a while, thinking of what to tell her. Truth was, he felt conflicted about this issue. On the one hand, he was dying to know what had really happened – what had Eadwig done behind his back, and what had brought the old lord to Snowbourne at such a time. On the other, he didn't think he was going to enjoy it one bit. The rune staffs, the apparent alliance between Eadwig and Ceorl, and the nature of their attempts to drive the King and Queen apart... he felt like he could almost connect these pieces, but some parts were still missing.
"If Guthild knows anything, she has had plenty of time to concoct ten different stories of how she knew nothing. I would rather have followed her to Healding – find out the truth before she had a chance to make any schemes. But obviously that was not possible", he said at length. He let out a sigh and then continued, "I will summon her to Edoras, of course. I hope she will co-operate, but if not, then I may not have a choice but to press her."
That could be very unpleasant for them both, but could he avoid it if he wanted the truth? Probably not.
"She just lost her father, her only living family. Don't be too hard on her", she said gently. "At any rate, maybe she really doesn't know anything. There was no sign of her having part in her father's plotting. It could be he kept her out of it... for if she were part of the scheme, and you found out, there would be hell to pay, even if they had succeeded in replacing me. Eadwig would have known that, too."
"You may be right. He wouldn't risk her future in such a way", he conceded. "But I can't leave it to chance. Even if she doesn't know anything about her father's plots, I need to find out if she still holds on to the ambitions of becoming a queen. It was not just his goal, after all."
"I don't think she does, but I understand your point", she murmured. "What about Lord Wigmund?"
"He's a tougher nut to crack. Unlike Eadwig, I have no direct proof of his participating, except for the fact that he was present when Eadwig brought you to Healding. But that in itself doesn't necessarily mean anything. It's not criminal to pay a visit to other people", he said, frowning.
He turned his head so that he could look at her and cautiously asked, "You don't think you could, hmm, do something to find out?"
"It doesn't really work that way, love", she replied softly, and he was relieved that she didn't sound too distressed by his question. He was always a bit worried to ask her to use her abilities.
She continued, "I can't make someone tell the truth. I can read many things in people's hearts, but the stronger their will, the better they can conceal their true intentions. Ceorl wasn't very strong of character and being in your presence made him nervous, so it was possible to drive him into betraying himself, but I think Lord Wigmund is a different story altogether. And even if people accept that I can do unusual things, I doubt anyone will agree it's enough to condemn a man. No matter what my gifts are, they cannot overrule your laws."
She was right, of course, and it wasn't like he had seriously considered it as a solution. Ruling wasn't going to be any easier just because his wife was a seer; people would still be people. But Éomer was anxious to put this issue to an end at last, and he didn't think for one minute that Wigmund would make it easy. He couldn't let this kind of defiance go on. Of course, Lothíriel's actions may just have effectively silenced all that may have supported Eadwig: she had shown herself to be brave, capable and dutiful, rising to the aid of her new people even when she had been so monstrously treated. And once the news of her pregnancy were revealed, she would have fulfilled her duty even in the most exacting eyes. A child of the royal blood of Eorl, the very first born in Meduseld in decades, could not be ignored.
He sighed and held her a bit tighter against his side.
"We'll figure it out. I have faith in us more than ever", he said to her, and she seemed to agree with this, or so he guessed by the way she kissed him.
They headed straight for Edoras, for all the company was eager to get home. Some degree of tension still lived at the back of Éomer's mind, and he knew it wouldn't go away until his wife was safe and sound in Meduseld once more. It was odd to think of how angry and bitter he had been at the time he had left his home, and how different things were upon their return. He felt somehow altered, even though he couldn't explain it. At any rate, he thought that his relationship with his wife had grown deeper and stronger. As painful as their disagreement had been, it had not torn them apart – it had tempered their union into something more enduring.
After several days of riding they glimpsed the great hill on which Edoras stood. It was a fair day of late summer and the Golden Hall glimmered afar, basking in the rich light of afternoon like a beacon to summon you home. It was one of the things he had always loved best about Edoras, even when the task of kingship had seemed insurmountable. Even when things had been dark, especially in those days before the Ring War, he had felt his heart stir at the sight of this seat of his fathers. It stirred now, too, and that last leg of the journey he and his queen let their mounts fly over the plains, both eager to be home after what felt like many weeks.
Joy bubbled up his chest and his throat as they raced side by side towards the capital of Rohan. For now he realised he was doing something he hadn't done before: he was coming home with his lady, his queen. Lothíriel rode next to him, pressing close to the neck of her steed, and her hair and the hems of her gown flew in the air, black and green and grey, like in some great tapestry. She glanced at him, eyes alight and full of unconstrained mirth, and that look at her was painted into his memory for years to come. He almost laughed out loud. Sun and wind were in their hair and the world was gilt by rich, warm tones of summer's day. It was as though he had fallen into a song.
I see sunlight upon your road. Her words, spoken on that grim night when the world was falling apart, had indeed come true.
They slowed down before they reached the mounds of the kings of the past, and passed them with the usual quiet reverence. The gates of Edoras were wide open for them and the guards shouted greetings. Smiling brightly, Éomer waved his arm.
On the streets of Edoras people halted to watch them pass. Some word of the battle in the Wold had seemingly already reached them, for cheers rose with unusual enthusiasm. Many eyes also lingered on the Queen. Her kidnapping would be known, too; that she rode home looking so hale would probably be welcome tidings for all. Éomer would have to find out what kind of stories were being told about the events of recent days, but for the time being, such things could wait.
Leofrun awaited them on the steps of Meduseld. Some things never changed and the sight of her made him want to laugh, such was his merriness in this moment of return. But he contained this thought while he helped his wife to dismount. Lothíriel put her hand on his arm, once again warm and familiar with his person as she had always been before their struggles. Then side by side they rose to meet the housekeeper of the Golden Hall. Leofrun had entreated him to make up with his wife, and so their reconciliation ought to make her happy.
She offered them the cup of welcome, eyes wide and bright.
"Welcome home, Éomer King and Lothíriel Queen!" she spoke heartily as they drained the cup between themselves.
"Thank you, Leofrun. It is good to be home", said Lothíriel, clasping his hand in her own. He knew she was wordlessly letting Leofrun know how things stood, although the housekeeper most likely had her sources outside Edoras, and was already aware that their troubles were past. But even so, Leofrun's eyes glistened, speaking in volumes what she could not say out loud.
"The sight of Meduseld has never been more anticipated", he conceded, smiling slightly. "Or a bath more dearly desired. Do you think you could arrange enough for us both, Leofrun?"
"Of course, my lord – it will be prepared right away."
"I must see Cúran first, though. Poor thing must be desolate", said Lothíriel.
"Aye, my lady. We've tended to him as well as we could, but no one can replace his mistress", Leofrun replied.
Éomer glanced at his wife and met her eyes. He knew the double meaning of the housekeeper's words were not lost on her, either.
"Indeed. He should not be neglected in that way. I shall try to care for him better from now on", said Lothíriel seriously. Leofrun's smile became impossibly bright, and for a moment she turned away, wiping her eyes not so discreetly as she may have intended. Éomer had known it was important for his old housekeeper to see the Royal House thrive, and that he was happy and content as much as possible with the burden of the throne, but witnessing this show of emotion still moved him deeply.
"I am glad to hear it", Leofrun said, no longer bothering to mask her true meaning. "I'll have a bath drawn for you. Do you wish for something to eat as well?"
"Maybe some light repast before I get to work. I'm sure Ormar has left me quite the workload in my absence and is expecting to pounce as soon as possible", Éomer commented wryly. No doubt his adviser would make an appearance soon enough and keep him busy until nightfall. But he realised he didn't mind. It was good to be home and after the past few days' constant twists and turns, the everyday tasks of ruling a kingdom seemed like a welcome change.
Together with his wife, he made for the royal apartments. Before they reached their rooms, Lothíriel hastened before him; her eagerness to see her little beast made him smile.
He got to the room in time to see Cúran caterwauling, circling his mistress' feet and pushing his head against her. She picked him up and cooed at the little monster in Sindarin. The cat purred loudly, rubbing her cheeks with his head. Éomer had to admit it, as much as he loathed the small menace, it was heart-warming to see this reunion. The room around her basked in warm light, the familiar things and colourful rugs and tapestries were around her, and Meduseld breathed with them; they were home.
"Sometimes I think you care more about that little monster than me", he teased her gently.
Lothíriel threw him an amused look over her shoulder.
"Now, it's not becoming of you to be jealous of a small cat. I love all my furry beasts, big and small", she replied lightly, beaming at him in such a way that it made him weak in the knees.
He knew she had meant it as a jest, but at the same time, she had said something quite significant. Why was it significant? It wasn't as if this had been in doubt, except maybe in the darkest moments of their fight. He had known it for so long, deep in his bones, in the way she touched him, in the looks she gave to no one but him, in the way she had run into his arms when they were reunited in Healding, and perhaps most of all in how she had put herself in danger to save him and spent half the night cradling him in her lap while he fought for his life. And yet, it wasn't as if he had said it out loud, either – except for that one unhappy night he didn't care to remember.
It was tremendous because he couldn't really recall the last time somebody had said it to him, and now he suddenly realised how desperate he had been to hear this, to know, to feel. He had been alone for so long.
"You do love me, then."
Her expression grew serious.
"... I do. I always have", she said quietly. "I know I should tell you more often."
"I should tell you more often, too", he replied as he approached her. She let the cat down – Cúran hissed when he came – and melted eagerly into his arms. He hadn't known he could feel this infinite tenderness for another person, and yet here they were.
He was so, so lucky. Or, there was another word for it – a better word.
Blessed.
To be continued.
A/N: Here's some sweet stuff - healing, reunion fluff, much needed conversation and heading home! I enjoyed writing this one, though it took some time. I almost regretted not including Lothíriel's POV in this story, because what I imagined to happen in Fangorn was quite interesting, and it would have been delightful to describe in first person! I really had fun imagining Lothíriel going into Entwood, and maybe experiencing things there that most people don't because of her abilities. Even so, I think this has really taught them how much they need each other, and how necessary it is for them to work together (and to find a way to do it). But it's good to have them properly together after their troubles. Some issues sill remain, of course, Guthlld not being the least. But for now, things seem to be getting better.
I believe there's not much more to say and the story will wrap up in a couple of chapters, if I can manage it. Even so, I admit I have an idea of what their life after this would be and have even thought about a sequel. Let me know if you would be interested in such a thing.
I am always eager to hear your thoughts. Your comments, follows and favourites are always appreciated. Stay safe out there!
EStrunk - Well, it's relatively quick, story-wise, if not for the writer's pace! I loved the idea of her going into Fangorn, too! Also I'm glad to hear you think so about Lothíriel and Éothain's little moment. I think they're getting more familiar with one another than ever.
NightBlossom - Thank you!
Wondereye - Glad to hear you think so! I hope you liked what she brought out of the forest. ;)
Simplegurl4u - Yes, what are simple little wounds in a fanfic, anyway? ;)
I think meeting an Ent or Ent-Wife would have been one way to go, but I may have stretched the canon a little bit here. She doesn't see Ents, but she does see some things that are too strange for her to describe. At any rate, I always felt like some of Tolkien's forests, and Fangorn in especial, were more weird than he olainly described - and that unusual things may indeed happen in them. I simply had to play with the idea of what could a person fo Lothíriel's disposition do in such a forest, and here we are. I won't deny it's kind of a stretch, but it was fun for me!
Beancdn - Oh, she does! I'm not a purveyor of stories with unhappy endings.
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Glad you liked it!
elly32 - Thank you!
sailor68 - I think at least his Knights have recognised that at this point!
Jo - So she does!
mystarlight - Thank you!
Leilal - Thanks!
