Chapter 31
It was a couple of days later that Lady Guthild sent word to the King of Rohan, announcing that she had received his summons, and asking that he may grant her a private audience.
"I have some information to declare to you, my lord", she wrote, "but I am not certain if you wish to have it revealed to the entire court before you have had time to consider it. Some of the things I would tell you are of sensitive nature. But I also admit it's partly because of the love I still have for my late father, whatever his mistakes may be, and it would be extremely painful for me to speak before a crowd."
He was reading her letter when Lothíriel came to stand behind him and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. She read the letter over his shoulder.
"What are you going to tell her?" she asked him after a while.
"I think it may be wiser to meet her alone. If she knows anything about her father's plots, I'd rather hear it myself first... especially if she knows anything about his accomplices. It would be better to consider how damaging or serious her information is before it's revealed to the whole court – and Rohan by extension", he replied at length.
"That's a good idea. It should be easier for her to speak openly when she doesn't have a big audience", Lothíriel commented.
"Indeed. I do hope she can cast some light on the recent events and what her father was trying to do. It's high time we put this behind us", he muttered.
"I hope so, too. Her letter sounds like she has at least an inkling. But do you think that is because she participated, or was somehow told by her father?" she asked him.
"It's hard to tell before we actually hear what she has to say. But I find it difficult to believe she knew nothing of what was going on", Éomer said, frowning slightly.
"That may be. I would ask you not to be too harsh on her, if she was not working together with her father. Even just facing you may take all her courage, and more. Her family has already paid for their offences, and you know better than most people what it's like to be so alone", she said gently as she slipped into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close against his body.
"Trying to influence me, are you?" he asked her, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Just advising. It's my prerogative, isn't it?" she asked him with a faint smile.
"Aye, it is. A witch's opinion is always useful, and people have earned a word in the King's counsels for lesser deeds than yours."
"A witch's opinion? Let me tell you about that", she snorted softly, and then kissed him long and deep.
Yes, a witch's opinion could be very informative.
A few days later, Lady Guthild came to Meduseld to see the King. Éomer had granted her the private audience she had asked for, and was to meet her in the King's study. Lothíriel would be present, of course, seeing this matter concerned her closely.
It was early afternoon when one of the guards let Eadwig's daughter inside. She was dressed in a plain homespun gown and wore no jewellery on her, as was the custom among noble families when they were in mourning. The pallid tone of her skin and the shadows under her eyes spoke of how deeply her grief still held her, but she had to be admired for answering the King's summons so quickly. Of course, it could be she hoped this would give her something else to think about than her father's death and the duties that now fell to her as the new Lady of Healding. He was seated behind his desk when she entered, but Lothíriel had moved her chair near the fireplace, and sat working on a new shirt she was making for him.
He supposed it could not be easy for Lady Guthild to have come. What sort of curiosity and gaping had she already been subjected to while she walked through the streets of Edoras and made her way through the halls and corridors of Meduseld? The tale of her father's crime, and how he had attempted to redeem himself, were now widely known – as were various other tales that had little to do with what had actually happened. While Eadwig had given his life to keep her honour intact, the stain of broken fealty was not quickly forgotten.
But even if she felt uncomfortable to be the object of scrutiny, Guthild held her head up as she approached the King and Queen of Rohan.
"My lord, thank you for agreeing to see me in private", she said, curtsying deep first to him and then to Lothíriel. "My lady."
Lothíriel nodded silently. Her eyes were keen and bright as she regarded the young woman who might have sat where she herself was seated now. It was a strange and not very comfortable thought.
"I have a feeling it may be in both our interests to speak without an audience", Éomer said evenly. "I am glad you came so quickly. I'm sure you have a lot on your mind right now."
"It is no matter. It's my duty to make up for the grief and trouble my father caused, Sire", she replied.
"Speaking of him, did you know about his plans, and did you participate in them?" Éomer asked. He watched her face closely for any stirrings that might reveal uncertainty or dishonesty.
"I did not know what he was trying to do", she began carefully, "but I could see something was going on. I tried to ask him about it but he told me the less I knew, the better."
"You didn't know his intentions? Surely you had to be aware of what his ambition was."
"... yes, I knew he wanted me to be the Queen of Rohan. Ever since I was born, he was convinced I was meant for great things. When you came to the throne, being a young man without a family, he took it as a sign that his hopes were about to become true. I won't deny I shared in his ambitions, but never to the same degree. When your choice of bride was made, I accepted it, though it was bitter and difficult at first. But for my father, it was much more than bitter. It became an obsession he couldn't shake off, even though I sometimes tried to tell him it was useless to fight against reality – and foolish to challenge your will, Sire", Guthild answered. She spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. He listened to her closely and watched her, scarcely blinking his eyes. At times he could see that she was nervous, but he didn't think it was because she was scared of being caught in a lie. So far, he could not sense any falsehood in her.
Lothíriel's eyes were fixed on the shirt, over which her skilled hands silently worked, but her posture was rigid and he knew she listened closely to every word that was said.
"Yet you did not try to stop him", he pointed out in stern tones.
"No, I did not. Please, don't judge me too harshly for it. Most of us want to believe only good of those we love, and close our eyes to their mistakes even when it would be better to interfere. I loved my father, Sire, and so I told myself it was nothing. What could I have done? He wouldn't tell me anything or listen to me when I tried to rebuke him. It wasn't as if he made his plans while I could hear and see. If I suspected anything, I also hoped that he'd see how futile it was to try and achieve this thing", she answered, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.
"You must have seen what impact it was having, though. That in some degree, the plan was working, whatever it was."
"Aye, but even I didn't know what he had done to achieve it. I wouldn't have known what to say. And my father could be very stubborn."
"But you know now, don't you?"
"I do, my lord. Before he died, my father told me the truth and instructed me where to find a fuller account of what had happened; he had written it all down in case something happened to him. Perhaps some part of him knew, even then, how wrong he was to work against you. I suppose he believed it would be worse for me if I couldn't answer your questions", Guthild said, sighing softly.
"Would you care to share that story now?" Éomer asked, leaning forward in his seat.
"That is why I came, Sire", she replied, took a deep breath, and began to talk.
Her voice was low, but neither he or Lothíriel urged her to speak more loudly. She sat very still on her chair, her eyes fixed in her lap as if she couldn't quite bear to meet his gaze. She didn't speak loudly, but her voice didn't falter even at the most difficult parts of her story.
Slowly at first, Guthild described her father's burning disappointment after he first heard that his daughter would not become the Queen of Rohan, and that the King's chosen bride would come from Dol Amroth. If he understood the benefits of such a match, he would quickly dismiss them. Guthild perceived that something had changed in her father with this news: what had been his high hope became more of an obsession, gnawing away at his thoughts even as he attended to his duties as the Lord of Healding and a head of one of great families of Rohan. He felt as though he had been cheated out of her great destiny.
For a while, he had pondered in silence, even making her believe maybe he would get over his disappointment after all. But then they participated in the bridal escort to bring the King's bride to Edoras, and during that journey, he had thought the lady was "uncanny".
"I should have realised it then: the wheels of his mind had already started to turn", said Guthild, shaking her head.
Even so, things seemed to go normally until after the wedding, although whenever Eadwig spoke of the new queen, his words were critical and unkind. Then Guthild visited Edoras, and happened to be at court when the case of one Eadhild and her abusive husband Ceorl was scrutinised by the King and Queen themselves. She went to see the event out of sheer curiosity.
"It was quite something to see the Queen stand up for this little nobody who had never even stepped inside Meduseld and defend her so fiercely. I did see what my father meant when he said that the lady was uncanny, but I couldn't deny I was impressed. Grudgingly, I had to admit to myself that you, Sire, had not chosen so badly. You complemented one another, just as Béma and Læs should. I was envious, of course, thinking it should be me standing there, but at the same time, I wondered if I could truly measure up to the Queen. This idea made me so angry that it even surprised myself", she continued, and although there were a lot of things Éomer would have liked to say, he bit his tongue and kept silent.
She then described how she had returned to Healding, still fuming with anger and envy. To vent her emotions, she told her father everything – including how the Queen seemed to have burned with some strange, cold fire. And she made no secret of how humiliated Ceorl had been.
They did not know it then, but at this point, it was Ceorl who made the first rune staff. One of his kinswomen from Snowbourne delivered it to Edoras when Éomer was not at home; even in his burning resentment, Ceorl had decided against such provocations while the King was nearby. But he still thirsted for some kind of a vengeance, and knowing he could never touch the Queen directly, he decided to try to humiliate her as he himself had been humiliated. And so he thought to call her a witch.
At this point Éomer nearly shot up from his seat. So it had been Ceorl! Now the whole ordeal made sense in an entirely new way, even if he had at times suspected Ceorl may have something to do with it. Although Guthild's tale was not doing good things to his temper, he still had enough self-control to wryly wonder what Ceorl would say if he knew that in the end, Lothíriel had decided to own the word which had been used to insult her.
Eadwig had not known about the rune staff, but he rightly guessed by Guthild's story that Ceorl might be a helpful ally. So he contacted him, offering to work together against "a shared enemy". Ceorl accepted eagerly and revealed the steps he had already taken for revenge. So they began to make their plans, and asked the question: how to remove the Queen?
Ceorl was unhinged enough to want to do physical harm to the woman who, in his view, had ruined his life. But Eadwig was more sensible than that. He had witnessed how smitten the King was with his new wife, and her sudden, tragic loss might send him to deep and lasting grief. Moreover, he would not leave stone unturned to find out who had taken her from him, and her Gondorian relatives would be just as eager for an explanation. His vengeance would be quick and merciless and he was not likely to marry anyone even remotely connected to the culprits. However, there were other ways of separating lovers. If a disagreement severe enough came between them, the King might then seek to get rid of her himself. This was the key, Eadwig perceived: he needed to make Éomer feel like his marriage had become so unbearable that he would divorce her.
Largely thanks to Guthild's detailed description of Eadhild and Ceorl's case, Eadwig was able to find a way to incite this hoped disagreement. He correctly identified pride and stubbornness as something both the King and Queen possessed. He reasoned, if these were played against each other, then a conflict may be created that would eventually lead to their separation. Ceorl's rune staff, and the second one that followed it, had a part in this. By weakening the Queen's confidence and resolve, and by making her feel like her husband wasn't protecting and defending her, the conflict would grow even worse. So it was Eadwig who planted the second rune staff, although not as close to Meduseld as the first one; he had known the premises of the Golden Hall were watched more closely than before.
The key to aggravating the conflict, or so the two men perceived, were Eadhild and Ceorl. Lothíriel had championed for Eadhild and the poor woman's freedom was largely her victory. But if this victory could be used to create discord and to humiliate the King, and make the Queen feel like she did not have his support, then it might become the wedge to drive them apart. This they tried to achieve by creating unrest at Snowbourne: making trouble at Eadhild's family's farm and harassing them – and doing it in such ways that there was no proof of a crime. Because Sighard, the chieftain of Snowbourne, was related to Ceorl's family through his wife, he was less inclined to stand up for Eadhild. And seeing Snowbourne was one Rohan's core areas for the support of the King, Eadwig was hoping that this discord would tap into Éomer's personal popularity and eventually damage his reputation – seemingly thanks to his wife's actions.
Éomer listened to Guthild's account in growing anger. A bitter taste filled his mouth and something ferocious spread through his veins, filling him with a need to act – to get justice for himself and for his wife. It was so maddening, he thought he would burst if he just sat still.
So he leapt up on his feet, hands pressing into tight fists. Guthild seemed to realise it was better to not speak more just now, but allow him a moment to process everything he had just heard. In many of the details, he had already guessed close to the mark or suspected it, but to hear it laid out like this was quite another thing.
He paced for a moment, fighting back the terrible wrath that her tale had invoked but also the intense frustration of knowing he could not punish the man who had plotted against him and betrayed him. Few things provoked Éomer like being manipulated did; it reminded him too much of how Wormtongue had twisted the mind of his sister until she looked for death to release her, and made his once so proud and strong uncle into a blind and deaf puppet, which eventually cost them Théodred's life and ruined all chances of Éomer's own personal plans and hopes from coming true. Had Eadwig stood alive before him now, he would have struck the man dead immediately without slightest remorse. He had thought he understood the ageing lord's decision to seek death in battle, but now it made even more sense. Eadwig must have realised the only possible sentence for him was a humiliating death. That he had escaped his just punishment was so against everything Éomer believed in that he wanted to scream his frustration, and perhaps go and burn Healding to the ground so that nothing of Eadwig's would ever exist in this world again.
But his eyes then fell on Guthild, who sat pale and silent and looking as though she wanted to sink through the floor, her eyes wide and frightened. She seemed so small and so alone – which, he understood then, she was. Her family was gone and as if the loss wasn't enough, her father had nearly ruined her life, too. She hadn't wanted him to lose himself to his consuming obsession. He might have seen many happy years, revered and respected, if not for his ambition.
Sometimes, the world was not just or fair. You may be a king and still you couldn't make it a better place, no matter how much you wanted. That Eadwig's plots had got so far in the first place were partly his own fault, too: he was in some ways too idealistic, too trustful in the honesty of his fellow Rohirrim. He had let himself believe that everyone was just as disturbed by Wormtongue's scheming. He needed to be more vigilant and not let his own problems distract him. Altogether there was still so much he needed to learn about intrigue, about politics, and about ruling.
Yet his anger only began to abate when he looked at Lothíriel. She sat still, her needlework forgotten in her lap. Her eyes burned brightly and she looked as furious as he had just felt. In some ways, Eadwig's actions were even more insulting to her, for it was clear he had perceived her as weaker and more breakable. In succeeding, Eadwig would have ruined more than just her life. Briefly he wondered if she now regretted helping Eadwig before he died.
But even as he gazed at her, he understood something. While Eadwig had been keen to recognise the qualities in the both of them that he might use to his advantage, he had also overestimated just how far it would take him. They had quarrelled, yes, but both had also wanted to make up before it was too late. The night before her kidnapping, she had written him that heartfelt letter, pleading with him to hear her. And he had stood next to her sleeping form, realising just how much he loved her and how painful it would be to lose her. With a strange sense of pride and victory, Éomer realised Eadwig had never had actual chances of getting rid of Lothíriel and fulfilling his ambition of becoming the father-in-law to the King of Rohan.
He halted to stand by her and gently squeezed her shoulder. She looked up, and though that burning light was still in her eyes, her features softened. Maybe she had similar thoughts as him, understanding that what they had between each another could not be broken by men like Eadwig. Silently, she picked up his free hand and held it tightly in her own, cradling it against her breast. Guthild had already given them much to ponder and they would have to discuss it in private – and how to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again.
There was something consoling in his wife's touch, helping him to get his anger and frustration finally under control. There was nothing more that Eadwig could do to harm them and all resentment and bitterness against him, a dead man already in his grave, was a waste of time and energy.
Briefly he kissed the top of Lothíriel's head, took a breath of her soft hair, and then returned to his seat. Guthild sat still and silent, although she didn't seem quite so terrified as before. She must have momentarily dreaded that she would be made to pay for her father's crimes.
"Lady Guthild, did your father tell you why he came to Snowbourne so abruptly? What was his purpose there?" he asked, taking care to keep his voice calm and level.
She cleared her throat and began to speak once more.
"My father had different plans for how to further aggravate your conflict, Sire, but the Snowbourne scheme, if you will allow such an expression, started to become prominent, mostly because of Ceorl. He was impatient and angry, consumed by his desire for revenge both on the Queen and Mistress Eadhild. He wanted the plan to work faster and was dissatisfied when the rewards were not forthcoming. More and more of my father's efforts went into containing Ceorl – and keeping him from doing something that would damage their plans. I guess before the end, he realised he had made a serious mistake in joining forces with Ceorl", she explained, her eyes lowered so that she didn't have to meet his gaze.
Ceorl's impatience notwithstanding, much did hinge on the plan working. So when word was brought to Eadwig that the Queen had ridden to Snowbourne, he was alarmed. What if she interfered there and was able to turn things around, thus ruining the plot? This would not be good and moreover, Eadwig didn't trust Ceorl to keep his head down. If the angry and unstable man perceived that he wasn't going to get his revenge, he might do something stupid and ruin everything. He could even attack the Queen, which would immediately alarm the King and bring his attention where it was not wanted. Eadwig wasn't convinced the conflict between the royal couple was yet severe enough that harm wrought on her would go unanswered.
There did not seem to be any other choice but to ride to Snowbourne to find out what was happening, hopefully prevent the Queen from undoing what they had so far achieved, and to keep Ceorl in line. So Eadwig had travelled there as fast as he could, taking with him the men he had meant to send to escort his daughter back home from her visit to her kin further east. He would come to regret that choice sooner than he knew at the time.
He arrived on an early morning and as it happened, he encountered both the Queen and Ceorl near the edge of the village. Knowing better than to challenge her openly, he offered to escort her back to her lodgings; he'd find out by other means what was going on – and contain Ceorl in the meantime before the brute could do anything too rash.
But Ceorl would have none of it. Eadwig's arrival stoked his anger to new heights. Sighard turning against him and withholding his silent approval of Ceorl's abuse of Eadhild and her family appeared to Ceorl as the very ruin of the plan to bring down the Queen. He blamed Eadwig for it all, accusing him of breaking his promises. Mad with fury, he threatened he would go straight to the King and reveal how Eadwig had manipulated and plotted against him.
The Lord of Healding had no good options. Either he would do nothing, and risk the chance that both Ceorl and the Queen would speak of what had happened to the King, which would certainly bring Éomer's full attention to Eadwig. Or he would take both of them and try to figure out a way to keep them quiet. Of course, he had not known at the time that the King himself was close by; he didn't guess that Éomer would come looking for his wife so quickly. Because of this, Eadwig had no time to make a plan to hide his tracks.
The rest of the tale was already known. A fight broke out and Ceorl was severely injured, but the three who could reveal his crimes had been taken and carried away. The Lord of Healding raced back home with his prisoners, hoping against hope to find some way to escape punishment. But he had barely reached Healding when the King himself was already knocking at his gates. At this point, Eadwig's had known he was about to crash and burn; his only concern was if he still could save something of his family's reputation and make sure his daughter was not ruined because of what he had done.
At last Guthild fell silent, her story now told in full. She kept her eyes down as she waited for her liege-lord's decree. She looked very pale and unhappy, her pride and dignity utterly crushed. Maybe there was no punishment he could devise to match this humiliation.
He thought of everything she had told them, slowly digesting the full tale of Eadwig's treason. For treason it was, having tried to manipulate the King, to supplant his chosen wife, and finally laying hands on her with ill intentions. Somehow, he didn't even feel angry anymore. Mostly, he was sad and disappointed, both with the man he had once trusted, and with himself for not realising what was going on. He might have lost the woman he loved because he hadn't been vigilant enough and for that, he could blame only himself. It was a mistake he could not afford to make again. But there was more: no matter how popular he was, it did not guarantee the obedience of his subjects. For though it was clear Eadwig had never questioned his right to rule, but had been happy to call Éomer his king, the old man had still refused to accept his choice of consort. Perhaps he and his like still considered their new king too young and too hot-headed, so that he needed their not always so gentle guidance before he truly was ready. Or maybe some of them even saw him as a poor substitute for Théodred, and found following and respecting Éomer too difficult.
Then there was Ceorl, a bitter, pitiful man driven mad by his failure. Éomer had a bizarre feeling that, in a way, he should be grateful to him. Surely, Ceorl had caused trouble and headache to a lot of people and the pain and torment Lothíriel had gone through was not the least of it. But his actions had also led to Eadwig's exposure before anything worse happened and, Béma forbid, the old lord could conceal his involvement in these events.
Silently he met his wife's eyes. Her look was calmer than before, but he could tell this story had shaken her, too. He was not the only one who had got much to consider. Still, her eyes were not hateful when she regarded Guthild. Lothíriel was not unfair and she did not blame this young woman for the crimes of her father. And neither did he.
Éomer breathed in and out. His anger was now spent. It felt like a weight had been taken from him, leaving his shoulders a little easier to hold up. It was strange, because he knew well it did not end here – he would have to consider his own actions and how to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. And there was still the question of how many had supported Eadwig in his scheme. What was Wigmund's part in it? Guthild couldn't answer that question, for her father had been discreet in his communications. Finding out the truth might be very difficult, even impossible. It could take months or even years to untangle. Still, he had a distinct feeling that Eadwig's sorry end might serve as a warning.
"Have you other things to declare, Lady Guthild? Now would be the time", he asked at last.
"No, Sire. That is all I know", she replied, keeping her eyes demurely down. She seemed to swallow, and in an uncertain voice, she continued, "My lord, you told my father that our House would still have a future, if he complied with your orders. I realise the situation has changed and you made that promise while you did not know what he had done. But I wonder if you mean to hold me responsible for my father's offences."
"I have no such intentions. Punishing you would serve no purpose, Lady Guthild. Yours is an ancient House and seat and until now, your predecessors have served the throne faithfully. I think you have that sense of duty as well, and a desire to work for the good of your people. I would rather you keep carrying on that duty, rather than blame you for what your father did", said Éomer gravely.
She startled as though some kind of a shock had gone through her. Guthild looked like she might just collapse on her knees before him. Large tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face, which was usually so composed. With a small sob, she turned away to shield her face from his gaze, as if her emotions might shame her before the King and Queen.
Éomer shared a glance with his wife. Lothíriel's eyes were veiled and thoughtful, but she seemed to know what he had in mind, and nodded silently. Though she hadn't spoken during this exchange, he saw that she agreed with him.
"I do think", he said then, before the poor young woman thought there would be absolutely no consequences, "that something must be done. You knew something was amiss with your father, and might have intervened – perhaps you could even have influenced him to give up his plans or informed me of how things stood. It's not a punishment, Lady Guthild, like I said, but you must see why I can't let you simply walk out of the Golden Hall as if nothing had happened."
The relief that had nearly made her break down was gone in an instant and dread returned to Guthild's eyes.
"Sire, what do you mean?"
"I have an idea, but I must talk with my lady wife first, seeing it concerns her. Would you excuse us for a moment?" Éomer asked amiably, hoping to reassure her he was not planning anything severe or permanent.
Guthild didn't seem entirely consoled, but she did remove from the room, walking slowly as though one who is going to their execution. Clearly, she did not trust him not to make her pay for her father's transgressions. He couldn't entirely blame her. Only a few years ago, he might have treated her not with mercy, but anger and retribution. But things had changed, and so had he. Rohan was at peace and his wife was bearing his son; if these were not things to soften a man's temper, nothing was.
Lothíriel did not speak until after the door had closed after the new Lady of Healding. She gave him a long, discerning look.
"Well, let's have it. What are you plotting, husband mine?"
A slow smile spread across his face.
That evening, the King and Queen joined the rest of the household for supper in the feasting hall. Often they took their meal alone in the privacy of royal chambers, especially since after their return, so there was some curiosity as to what had compelled the lord and lady of Meduseld to appear tonight. For others, a hearty meal after a long day was the more interesting issue, and the King kept his folk well-fed. The long tables and benches were in place and they were laid with dishes and drinks, and servants of the feasting hall walked among them to make sure all had enough to fill their bellies.
Generally, supper was a cheerful occasion at the Golden Hall. It was so especially now, because there was not a soul in the royal household who didn't appreciate the King and Queen's renewed warmth and familiarity between themselves. In some regards Rohirrim could be a superstitious people, and the success of this union was as much an indicator of the land's fortunes as a good harvest or a prosperous foaling season. Often it was a delicate balance, but when the King was resolute and unfazed by troubles and his Queen stood by his side and created the beating heart of Meduseld about herself, then many things could be forgiven.
And that, Éomer thought to himself, was finally starting to happen.
He and Lothíriel had come to supper side by side, her leaning against his arm and laughing softly before she briefly broke away to share a few hushed words with Leofrun. The past couple of days, the housekeeper had not been able to stop smiling. Most people still thought it was because she was happy for the reconciliation between her king and queen, but a few were probably starting to wonder if there was more to it; nobody remained that gleeful over others making up, however fond of them one was.
Lothíriel returned to his side, smiling slightly, and let him pull back a chair for her. He tried to be more attentive to her these days, and not just because of the baby. He still felt like he needed to make up for how monstrously he had treated his wife, although she would probably tell him he was completely forgiven. At any rate, it felt good to do nice things for her.
So they took their meal, and when Éomer was not speaking with his wife or Ormar seated next to himself, he often let his eyes glance over the feasting hall and his people seated by the tables, drinking and eating and laughing between themselves. It was one of those moments, which came increasingly often these days, that he felt at home, felt comfortable to call this his own. Countless times he had seen his own uncle on this very spot, presiding over the court of Meduseld, but now he did not feel like an impostor when he occupied the high seat. When he had wearily made his way on the Pelennor, wading through mud and blood and the bodies of the fallen, he had not thought it possible that he could ever truly feel level with the crown.
How far he had come.
But when they had finished and he felt the atmosphere change in the hall as the minds of his household turned to home and bed, Éomer shared a glance with his wife. She met his look and gave him the barest of nods.
He stood up and the motion itself brought the attention of most of the people present to him. At first they probably expected he and the Queen were about to retire, but quickly they understood he wanted to speak. The chatter died and many curious eyes fixed on Éomer.
"I know you are eager to go and spend your evening, but before you do, I have something to say. I shan't keep you long", he started, slowly sweeping his glance over the familiar faces of guards and servants and other members of the royal household. They watched him in quiet anticipation.
"I have met Lady Guthild today and she has revealed to me certain facts about her lord father, and of his unlawful attempts to dispose of the Queen. Along with one Ceorl of Snowbourne, whom you all may remember, the late lord of Healding hoped to manipulate myself and my lady wife into further quarrels, and ultimately aggravate them beyond all healing and reconciliation. The rune staffs were also their doing", he spoke evenly, his words causing some stir in the crowd, even a few shocked gasps.
"They have paid for their offences with their lives, but justice demands truth be known. Lord Ormar shall make a full announcement later on. However, I will take this opportunity to stress one thing: Lady Guthild is not guilty of her father's actions and she will not be tried in any court of justice. In fact, I've already decided on her sentence, so to speak", he continued, and then rested his eyes on the young woman. She had been seated at one of the tables, but whenever he had spotted her during the supper, she hadn't been eating much or speaking with her company. Guthild had a lot to think about, and also much to process.
Many other eyes also fixed on her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the stone floor. He almost smiled: his judgement was already at work. It was a lesson in humility, but also in grace.
"Lady Guthild will stay at the court and serve the Queen, until such time that my lady wife decides penitence has been shown sufficiently. For the line of the lords and ladies of Healding go back to earliest days of the Mark, and I believe one day they may stand again as proud as they ever did", Éomer said, and though his voice remained calm, he cast a stern glance over the crowd; he wouldn't take any cheek or complaints in this matter. It was time this was buried, and hopefully, his next words would do just that. So he allowed a small smile to enter his face once more. He couldn't stop himself from glancing at his wife; she smiled back at him with a glimmer in her eyes. However angry and insulted she had felt with Guthild's tale, she was not hostile against the young woman, and she had agreed to his suggestion more quickly than he had expected.
"The Queen has also conceded that she will be in need of some additional help and care in the coming months. I am pleased to tell you all that my lady wife is expecting our child."
If any had felt scruples or doubt over what he had decided about Guthild, it was swiftly forgotten. The crowd burst in cheers and whooping, voices rose in sudden delight, and the Doorwards must be wondering outside what had just happened in the Hall to deserve such noise. All eyes were on Lothíriel, who sat blushing and beaming, and her smile seemed to light up the entire space; a shine that defied even the name Golden Hall. Leofrun was wiping her eyes, and it was hard to say if Alfwen or Éothain was cheering more loudly; the Shieldmaiden in particular looked as if Lothíriel was her beloved daughter who had just won some kind of an epic prize. Ormar, in a rare fit of emotion, had collapsed back in his chair and was shaking in soundless joy, his eyes brighter and more carefree than in many years. The news of her pregnancy had made Éomer himself dizzily happy, but to see his friends share that joy nearly to the similar degree touched him very much.
Then Ormar rose, eyes still glistening, and the old adviser grasped Éomer's hand in his own – a rare breach of etiquette for him. He spoke in a low but strong tone, so that even in the cheering, Éomer heard every word.
"You have done well. I'm not talking about the baby – any man can father a child, although of course I'm happy there's a promise of an heir so soon. It's the way you have conducted yourself lately, the dignity and wisdom you have shown to possess. I admit there were times I doubted you had these things in you. But you have proved me wrong, and I couldn't be more glad. Now I know that when the time comes, I shall be leaving the Riddermark in capable hands, and I may face your lord uncle without having to feel shame."
The young king swallowed hard. Ormar rarely praised anyone, and lest of all those like Éomer; a man as learned as one could be in the Riddermark, the old adviser put much less emphasis in one's prowess at arms than most Rohirrim.
"And would you say that also of my lady wife?"
Ormar smiled, to him and at Lothíriel. Éomer glanced at her, and saw by her look that she had seen the adviser's expression. Perhaps she had already read Ormar's heart, too.
"She is getting there, too. With your guidance, and whatever it is that she does – well, I can see a very bright future for our land. There's such hope as I never saw before in my lifetime, and that's saying something", said Ormar, his voice still shaking.
It was true indeed. Few kings before Éomer had looked ahead to decades before them with such bright prospects. But hope was a fragile thing. He had a lot to live up to, and he would have to work hard to cherish and protect that hope.
Still and all, he was now more determined, and better equipped, to do just so than ever before.
One golden afternoon Éomer strode into the royal chambers, humming softly to himself as he did. He had been outside talking to the smiths and carpenters of the royal household for some repairs he wanted done to the outbuildings of Meduseld, and he had also discreetly asked after some good wood for carving; he was planning on making a cradle for the baby with his own hands. There were still many months before the child was to be born, but he wanted to begin the work soon. No doubt tasks of ruling would often interrupt it.
He was idly planning the carvings as he kicked off his muddy boots. With his eyes he sought for clean ones – his gaze passed by the bed, and he couldn't help grinning to himself. His wife had not spent a single night away from him since they had come home. It was good to have things back to normal, and to wake up next to her every morning.
He had just left his boots by the door to be picked up for cleaning when sudden noise from the Queen's rooms, like something rolling over wooden floorboards, caught his attention. Lothíriel had given orders never to close the door between their bedchambers; a command even the chambermaids probably understood to a degree, although nobody appreciated the gesture as much as her royal husband did.
His curiosity awakened, Éomer made his way to Lothíriel's bedchamber. The room was bathed in the soft glow of afternoon, her things were neatly laid out on the dressing table and her small desk, and other available surfaces were covered with multitudes of plants she was nursing in the warmer conditions inside. Even months after the wedding, he still felt a peculiar sense of satisfaction to see her life spread in this place – knowing she was here to stay, truly. It felt more certain than it ever had before, like she hadn't really claimed this space as hers until now.
This reverie was shortly lived, for his attention was then fixed on the floor. There was Cúran, pushing something small, white and glimmering in his black and white paw.
Éomer nearly laughed out loud when he realised what it was. How very fitting. He didn't know how Cúran had found this thing, but well, the little beast was a witch's cat.
Retrieving the small glimmering object on the ground was not completely without hazards, and Cúran did hiss and nearly scratch him as he caught the tiny monster's plaything from the floor. The cat looked supremely annoyed when his toy was removed, not knowing what favour he had just done to his nemesis. Or maybe he did, and that's why his look was so sour.
"Sorry, Cúran. I'll find you a pinecone instead", he told the cat, but judging by the dirty look the small furry menace gave him, Cúran found the idea utterly contemptuous.
It was a good thing Lothíriel liked them both so much. Otherwise, one might already have killed the other in his sleep.
For a moment, Éomer searched the room with his eyes. He didn't have to look long; Lothíriel had left the rest in a small, flat earthenware bowl that sat on the table by the bed. He guessed she had left them there in the hopes that this thing might be fixed. Had she hoped for it, though, or seen it? One never knew with Lothíriel.
Be that as it may, Éomer smiled in satisfaction, took the contents of the bowl, and then turned swiftly around. He knew Ormar was waiting for him in the royal study, but his chief adviser would have to wait – even if it earned him reproaches afterwards. On the other hand, Ormar still seemed to be riding the high of the good tidings, and if the young king just told him the delay was because he wanted to do something for his pregnant wife, Ormar would probably relent.
"Éothain? Come along. We'll head back out. I need to talk to a goldsmith..."
Of his life before, Éomer could not remember much peace. Certainly, he could recall nights of celebration and comradeship, spent in taverns or Meduseld or even in his own hall in Aldburg. Brief affairs in this or that lady's arms had shut out the darkness for a while, and there had been moments of glory after a victorious battle. Most of the time, though, there was a sense of doom over it all. It could end very quickly, and not a single day was given for free.
But today he walked in peace. Although the morning had been chilly, the sun of the passing summer was still warm as she made way towards autumn, reminding the world of high days when all green things were bright and blooming. The Queen's garden somehow recalled the memory of summer; he wasn't sure how she did it, but he supposed witches were entitled to their secrets.
The woman walking by his side was blooming, too. Now that their troubles were past and she had the support and love she needed, she looked well indeed. She lifted her face to the sun, smiling as if in a beautiful dream. Sometimes, he was reminded of what she had told him before walking into Fangorn: "... but you are my sun, and I cannot live without daylight anymore." He was glad she had found things to love in the light of day.
And perhaps it wasn't just him. For by now, all of Rohan knew what she had done for him, bringing him back from the brink of death. They also knew she carried a child in her womb – the first child of Eorl's blood since Éowyn was born.
Few queens of Rohan had established and made themselves beloved and indispensable as she had. She was their White Witch. And his, too.
After walking a while, they took a seat on the wooden bench that had a nice view over both the garden and the plains below. He was thinking maybe in time it should be replaced by a stone bench that would endure weathers a bit better, but he'd leave that to her discretion.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked her when they were comfortably settled down. Daily walks had become a refuge for them both, allowing some quiet time together in the middle of bustle and noise of the Golden Hall.
"I am quite well. Alfwen has me wrapped in silk and wool – she will persecute anyone who looks at me funnily! I may have to tell her to loosen up a little bit. And Lady Guthild won't spare her efforts in making me comfortable. If I ever had any doubts on how eager she would be to serve her so-called sentence, she has long since taught me better. She is very eager to show her loyalty and win back your good graces", Lothíriel told him, smiling slightly.
Granted, what he had seen of Guthild so far in Lothíriel's service was promising. The Lady of Healding was diligent and dutiful beyond even what was expected. Still, he thought his wife was maybe swifter to good impressions than he was, especially where Guthild was involved, but Lothíriel just was like that; her sight had not corrupted her good heart. And maybe she understood more than he did. It was by no means in Guthild's interests to endanger the Queen's pregnancy or lose her good will.
"I'm glad you are well looked after, my dear heart. But you will tell me if you need a break, or if it's too much? You're a wonderful queen, but we have been through a lot lately, and I'd hate to think it has done you ill", he said, somehow managing to keep his tone from faltering. Truth was, this was something he still feared. What if by his neglecting and putting her through such ordeals he had caused some harmful effects on her and the child? Éomer had spoken to Éothain of these concerns after a couple of drinks, but his captain had reassured him it was quite all right, and that he too had examined all his failings with growing dread while his wife was expecting – until Scýne had knocked some sense into his head.
Lothíriel smiled and took his hand in her own. The bracelet glimmered in her wrist again, the Amrothian pearls in their proper place amidst Rohirric leather – only, now the whole arrangement was reinforced by metal strings, woven inside the leather. It should keep the bracelet from breaking again, much to her delight. When he had presented her with the new – or fixed – bracelet, her joy had almost been greater than when he had first given it to her. He was still astonished at how so simple a gift could delight her so much. Her mirth grew even greater when he told her it was Cúran that found the missing pearl – the one she had so desperately searched for that one miserable day when they were still fighting.
"There's no need to worry, beloved. All is well now. And I wouldn't keep it from you, if I felt like I couldn't handle this", she said calmly.
He grunted softly and kissed her brow, deciding against telling her how much he loved and cared about her, and how it scared him to think of losing her and the child; how much he had already lost, and how she had restored him to hoping and desiring life again. It was all too much, and probably known by her already, anyway. As if to confirm it, she gently pressed her head against his shoulder.
They fell into a comfortable silence, both enjoying the beloved view. The sun was westering, making her eternal way beyond the mountains and colouring their snow-clad sides in deepening shades. Soon enough the King and Queen of Rohan would have to return inside and attend to their duties, but this moment was worth enjoying for a little while longer.
"What are you thinking, love?" he asked after a while.
"So many things", she answered softly, pressing her fingers against his. "I was just recalling the first time I saw you with my waking eyes in the Houses of Healing... the light around you, and the warmth you tried so hard to conceal. Even in that grim hour, you were a luminous thing to behold. And I knew at once that I was in danger. You were an open flame and I – I thought I was – a creature best suited to hiding in the shadow and the wild."
The memory brought a smile to his face. Though the memory of that night was grim, it held one bright spot: his first glimpse of the woman who now sat next to him.
"Love, you were not the only one in danger. For I saw the light in your eyes and never stopped desiring it; I couldn't forget you, although everybody told me to move on. And when we met again, you were one of the very few women who did not seek my company because I was a young and unmarried king. You were wary of accepting me, rather treating me as an old friend. It always felt so good to talk with you. Often I was pleased simply to listen to you speak", he told her warmly.
She looked up at him with damp eyes. But he was not overly concerned, because he had now learned she was more weepy than normal since the pregnancy.
"I was going to refuse you when you proposed. Tell you that I'm no good for you or anybody. But then you kissed me, and I could not remember anymore why I should say no. All I could think of was how you felt like and how tender you were with me, and then I just... I wanted to have you, too. Even if it was selfish", she uttered softly.
"You were no more selfish than I was, Lothíriel", Éomer said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "But I'm glad we both held on, no matter what doubts we had."
"Yes", she whispered half audibly, pressing against him and winding her arms loosely against his midsection. "It was not always easy, but it's worth it. You know, I'm seeing it now more clearly than before. I've been thinking of everything that has happened lately. I feel so bad and so ashamed. There has always been this urge in me, a desire for deep lonely woods or sunlit fields and of roaming there by myself. I've never felt unsafe as I've walked alone. But I made a mistake, and it almost cost me your life."
Gently he grasped her chin between his thumb and index finger and raised her face, so that he could see her eyes.
"We've both made mistakes, love. The first and perhaps the most serious one was when we failed to confide in one another. Don't think I've never felt badly over my decisions that impacted the lives and fates of others... that I've managed to avoid larger blunders is perhaps more a sign of luck than anything", he told her; he didn't want her spending too much time on such regrets. What good did it do, anyway?
Her look was serious.
"Still, I can't shake this feeling... I think it's a burden that I shall always have to carry."
"If that is so, then use it as a chance to grow. Make it into a new armour for yourself. Don't think I never judge poorly – I surely do, and I probably will again, but I try to learn from my mistakes. There is such potential in you, Lothíriel. I think you have it in you to become one of the great queens of Rohan", he told her gravely.
She regarded him in silence and nodded, silently grateful for his gentle and gracious answer. For she was proud and to humble herself to admit her shame and regret must be difficult. However, both of them had understood it was something they needed to learn to make this union last.
"Blessed", she said suddenly.
"What do you mean?" he asked her, raising his eyebrow.
"That's what they will call you. I have seen it. I wondered if I should tell you, but why not? You have earned it. And truth is valued in the Riddermark, is it not?" said Lothíriel, smiling slightly, her eyes alight with that glimmer he loved so much.
He smiled and cradled her face between his hands. His dear White Witch. Perhaps he was Blessed only because of her. But who knew? He surely didn't, and he didn't need to.
"It is indeed", replied Éomer. "If that's what they'll call me, then I shall do my best to earn it."
He kissed his wife, long and deep and quiet, and she melted against him.
"The earth and sea, and the sun and the moon... were I truly a witch, then I would say that is rare and powerful magic", she whispered, her voice a gentlest vibration against his mouth.
"Aye, I think I rather agree", he muttered as he pulled her to himself, and kissed her again, allowing himself to be lost in her in that gentle sunlit moment.
I see sunlight upon your road. And here it was: the blessed path in the way of the Sun.
The End.
A/N: Well, here we are. I can hardly believe this story is over! It was such a fun one to write, and I would dearly love to continue, but a part of the job is to know when to stop. As of now, I think their story is told sufficiently. I was thinking of possibly writing a sequel, but that plan has been but on hold, because I have other ideas I'd like to pursue at this point.
I know this final chapter was exposure-heavy, but I did want to reveal what had really been going on with Eadwig and Ceorl, and to settle Guthild's thread as well. But I also wanted to end the story on a peaceful and hopeful tone, and leave Éomer and Lothíriel confident and united. As always, it feels good to give a character like Éomer, who has gone through so much in his life, a happy ending. And, for this particular incarnation of Lothíriel, it feels good to think that she has found happiness, too.
I thank you all for lovely comments, favourites and follows. Your support and interest in my stories means more to me than I could ever tell you.
There will no doubt be another story coming along sooner or later, because it's not like I can stop talking about Éomer and Lothíriel, so I expect to see you soon. In the meanwhile, you can always reach me here at , or at my tumblr blog.
Once again, thank you!
Melissa Black13 - Well, now we really are at an end! But I know how you feel. I would love to continue this story, but at the same time, it feels like this is the right moment to stop. Anyway, I'm glad to hear you love this particular story so much - it may just be in my top three as well.
Mary07 - Thank you!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thanks!
EStrunk - Thank you! The part with him waking up is rather one of my favourites, too. And I did want to write more about her experience in the wood, but at the same time, I think it may be correct to leave it a bit mysterious.
Wondereye - Thanks! The news are very well taken, indeed. :)
ACH - You are right, the additional relationships give some flesh around the story, even though there's always the temptation of just focusing on the couple. It's either inexperience or laziness when you don't make the effort to flesh out the other relationships characters have.
Simplegurl4u - Indeed, it feels good to give them this peace and contentment after all their troubles.
Guthild had some inkling that something was going on, but she's only able to tell the full tale because her father let her know. So I'd see her as mostly innocent, and if she bears any guilt, it's fairly understandable - like she says, we can be more lenient with the people we love than is perhaps good for anybody.
I will have to see about the sequel, but as of now, I have other ideas, and I think it's a time now to let this one to rest!
Katia0203 - It would be interesting to write something from her POV (especially of her trip to the forest), but I'm not sure I could capture her tone correctly! This version of Lothíriel seems always a little mysterious even to me.
Your cat sounds lovely (and very cat-like)! :D I think Cúran is incapable of being cross with Lothíriel. Éomer, however, is another thing entirely. ;)
Tibblets - Glad to hear it!
sailor68 - You are quite correct - they are now better equipped to manage than ever!
Jo - Thank you! :)
