The Ugly Duckling of Dol Amroth

by Spake2121

My name is Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. Though my reputation for truth is somewhat tarnished I swear that every word of this tale, the most important of my life, is true...

7. Chapter 7

I studiously avoided Éomer over the next week.

The forfeit was only a small part of my disinclination to see him. He might tease me a little bit but there was nothing cruel enough in him to hurt someone like me. I wasn't even scared of the passion in his eyes when he'd pushed my hair back, so gently. With a man as honorable as Éomer it would almost take care of itself. He would never try to force himself on me, nor would he suggest anything unsavory, and he couldn't very well be thinking of offering for my hand – not with what he knew about me. He could give me that look all he wanted... except... except...

Except that it wasn't Éomer's look that truly frightened me: it was the way I knew I must have looked back at him. What truly scared me was the shivery fire that had raged out of control over my body and the way the thought of his lips on mine made me ache in a strange, languorous way between my legs and deep in my chest.

It wasn't difficult not to see him. I had quite a bit of work to do on the maps and I used that as an excuse not to leave the house, or even my room some days. It was torturous work though. Usually I liked the monotony of it because it freed my thoughts in some way to drift aimlessly from topic to topic. As a rule I found it relaxed me. But there seemed to be a strange, new current in my mind that carried my thoughts, no matter how much I tried to stay them, back to exactly what I was endeavoring to get away from.

I found I was looking forward to the next ranging with almost desperate longing. Getting out of Edoras, and a few days of vigorous exercise, would cure me. It was a silly, girlish fancy and that was all. Perhaps it was a little childish but at least it was perfectly understandable that I would feel something when such a handsome man was so nice to me. It was nothing more than that and it would pass as suddenly as it had come. Or at least that's what I assured myself over and over again.

After my success at keeping out of his way, it turned out that the first time I saw him again was the morning of the ranging.

I woke up early and walked down to the stables with Erchirion to saddle my horse. The stables were a riot of activity with riders running back and forth, packing and repacking their saddlebags and tacking up their horses. Erchirion was almost immediately drawn into about five different conversations, so I just squeezed his hand once to let him know I was leaving and went off to brush Wind Chaser.

I had brought him three nice apples and I fed them to him one after another before I even began to brush him. I took my time, knowing that it would be at least another two hours before we left. My own saddlebags were light, simple affairs, consisting of my clothes, my bedroll, cup, plate, wineskin and a selection of mapping equipment. But most other riders would be carrying quite a bit more and all the gear had to be packed away into what never seemed to be enough space.

I was just about to put his blanket on when steps at the door of his stall drew Wind Chaser's attention. Did I imagine that he straightened up slightly at the sight of his King?

"Hello, Éomer."

"You shouldn't spoil that horse the way you do."

"It gets the job I want done."

He laughed. "You also don't keep your heels down, especially when it counts, and you can only half sit a trot. Does that get the job you want done as well?"

I smoothed the blanket over the horse's back. That was all true, especially about keeping my heels down. "What are you doing here?" I asked instead of replying. He hadn't come to see us off the last time.

"I'm riding out, too."

My head shot up. "You're coming with us?" It had taken all my considerable powers of self-control not to practically shout it. How would I cope with him on the ride with us? I could barely keep my thoughts away from him for two consecutive moments with a stone wall and a considerable distance between us. How would I manage if his bedroll was only a few feet from mine?

He shook his head. "The wild men made a raid on the Western Fold. We're going to bolster the defenses. I'm actually glad I got to see you before we left. We're leaving in a few minutes and I thought you wouldn't come down this early."

"You're going to bolster the defenses?" I was suddenly panicked for a whole different reason. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"You sound like my advisers," he chortled. "Now go on...tell me that I have no heir to inherit the crown. As if I hadn't noticed..."

But I suddenly wasn't really in the mood to laugh. "No, you don't have an heir..." I said slowly.

I was lying to myself if I thought I cared two small coppers about the succession of the crown of the Riddermark. What I cared about was standing right in front of me breathing deep lungfuls of air to laugh, and carelessly leaning against my horse.

"You're sweet to worry, Princess," he said softly. "But I survived all three major battles of the Ring War. If I can't survive a skirmish with the wild men it will be a surprise to me indeed."

"Yes but..." I began, but then realized that I had nothing to say. Or rather none of the million things I had to say I had the right to think, much less speak aloud. So instead I said, "When will you be back?"

"Before Yule, I imagine."

"Yule?" It was months away!

"It's the celebration of the shortest..."

"I know what Yule is!" I snapped.

He laughed. "You woke up on the viperous side of the bed this morning."

"Both sides of my bed are viperous," I hissed through clenched teeth. His obvious good humor made me furious.

"So you keep insisting."

I went to get my saddle from where I had slung it over the door, trying to quell the hot, irrational anger that had swelled suddenly in my breast. When Éomer made as if to help me lift it onto the mare's back, I wrenched it away from him.

He laughed again, and I wanted to slap him for it. "So, what do you want for Yule, little viper?"

"Nothing."

"Truly? Come now, there must be something you want from the Western fold. The wool there is the best in Middle-earth and the women dye it in bright colors. It's quite fashionable, I hear, to have the scarves they make."

I said nothing but cinched the belt on the saddle tight enough to cause Wind Chaser to toss his head in protest. Éomer took my hands off the saddle slowly and released the belt. I stood facing the horse and said nothing. There was an unexpected heat in my face and tightness in my throat.

"You don't want me to go do you." He spoke softly and it wasn't a question.

I said nothing.

"I have to go. My people are under attack. I can't leave them undefended."

I whirled to face him before I even knew what I was doing. "Rohan must be a poor country indeed if their king must ride out to settle every minor border dispute himself," I spat out.

I had spoken without thinking but my viperous fangs seemed to have found some tender flesh. They had always been good at that. Éomer's face clouded over and his jaw clenched involuntarily. For a moment he didn't say anything and it was enough time for me to think of something else to say and not think better of it.

"I don't have to go, Lothíriel. I want to go," he said harshly. "I wouldn't expect a spoiled little brat of the Gondorian court to understand that the people of Rohan need their king to lead them into battle and not crouch behind the walls of their capital city."

"The people and Rohan need their king to accept that he is no longer one of their marshals and that he cannot lead them anywhere if he takes an arrow in his foolish, arrogant chest! Even a brat of the Gondorian court can see that."

"I will thank you not to lecture on my duty, Lothíriel!" He didn't shout because we were in a crowded stable but his voice managed to convey all the same boom and menace as it would have at full volume.

"And I would thank you not to presume to know what I want! Do whatever you want, my lord king and see if I care if you die in this stupid little skirmish."

For a moment his face softened and he reached out to my face with one hand. "Lothíriel it isn't..."

I jerked back from him. "You know what? I've changed my mind. I want to be back in Minas Tirith for Yule. I hate this bleak, wintery country."

The anger was back on his face in an instant. "Well, I hope you get your wish, Princess," he said, voice shaking slightly with fury.

Once he was gone, I sagged against Wind Chaser. Why had I said that? I wanted to run after him and shout that maybe I had meant it but I hadn't meant to say it. But instead I just leaned against Wind Chaser and breathed deeply with my face against his soft coat until I heard Éomer call his riders to leave. Valar keep him safe.

We rode along the River Snowbourn and then the River Entwash. This made me miserable. Even at the pace the wagons forced us to keep, mapping the curvature of the river as accurately as I would have liked was impossible. Scores of times a day Erchirion had to circle back to tell me I needed to catch back up with the wagons, and I obeyed with a sullen, venomous look.

"It barely matters," Erchirion reminded me once when I let out a noise like a growl at his approach. "I've seen the mock ups you've done. They're very good. I'm sure it will be sufficient for anyone who doesn't want to navigate this river by night."

I ground my teeth together. What did I care if it didn't matter to anyone else? I wanted the map to be perfect and the frustration of having to compromise it was like having a burning coal of rage in my chest. I wouldn't admit that my foul mood had to do with anything but the mapping, even to myself.

But to my surprise I found that I was relatively pleasanter than I could have been. In Minas Tirith I had flown into rages, screaming and throwing things across the room, at much less provocation. But whenever I snapped at Gænwyn or Erchirion I felt so much worse afterward that I soon gave up on trying to relieve my misery that way. Instead I took to simply exhausting myself. I woke before anyone else in the camp and walked up and down the river, mapping as much as I could before the camp was broken. At night I stayed by the fire for as long as I could read my notes, making sketches of the map to come.

And when we returned to Edoras, I didn't slow down. I rode with Gænwyn every morning until it was she who had to suggest we return to the city, and then I stayed locked in my room for most of the time, working on my map. I began spending quite a bit of time with Lithoer as well. At Gænwyn's suggestion she started to teach me to card and spin wool, which was apparently quite a suitable pastime for a young noblewoman in Rohan.

Lithoer was a distracting companion, witty, vivacious and even a little ruthless in her appraisal of the other women of the court. I began to seek her out regularly. And through her came to know the court a little better. Before I understood their language, or knew them, it was easy to assume the nobles of the court were like Éomer, Éowyn and Gænwyn: archetypes of the ideal rulers, brave and true to their last breath. I was almost pleased to find that Rohan had its fair share of gossips, sneaks and downright bastards. It was a big relief though, to find that I wasn't interested in any of them.

During tea at Lithoer's one afternoon, a sharp-featured girl a few years older than me from some lands in the Eastemnet had implied that my hair must be poor stuff indeed since I never let it down. Lithoer had started to rebuke her but I simply informed her with a smile that in my country her own gorgeous blond locks, loose as they were, would mark her as harlot. Some of the more intelligent schemers had tried to befriend me but I found them boring and soon let them know it.

"Since you are a stranger in the Mark some people might think that they can take advantage of your kindness or make you ridiculous," Gænwyn said very seriously one morning as we rode together. "If that ever happens you should tell me immediately and I will correct their thinking."

I tried to keep a straight face at the idea of Gænwyn protecting me from a little court foolishness or of anyone 'taking advantage of my kindness' but I couldn't keep from smiling as I informed her I would.

"Éomer is spending Yule at Aldburg," Erchirion said one morning as we sat at breakfast.

While Erchirion was away Eadgyth had let me develop the bad habit of coming to the breakfast table in my long robe over my shift and with my hair loose. When Erchirion returned I just carried on. "If you didn't want me to develop bad habits you shouldn't have brought me to the land of barbarians," I'd said when he cocked an eyebrow at my scandalous attire.

I had also disregarded my father's previous strict ban on books, maps and other things at the table. That morning I was pouring over a list of village populations with a spoon of porridge frozen midway between my lips and the bowl. With winter coming food was become even more scarce in the Riddermark, even in Edoras, and we'd been eating porridge for breakfast for weeks instead of biscuits because there was no butter to be had. But that morning I had found some sugar and even some gooseberries, from Valar only knew where since I hadn't seen them in months, in the market.

"Fine," I said, pretending that I was still looking at the numbers.

Éomer's name had had roughly the same effect as Erchirion striking me unexpectedly with a particularly vicious cane across the face, but I hadn't let it show. After Éomer had left for the Western Fold, I hadn't wanted to admit the roiling mess of embarrassing feelings that I felt for him. But my talent for self-deception, which had always been a point of pride, had done me less good than a silk shawl in driving snow. I hadn't had an appetite for months though I made myself eat. I hadn't slept well, though I made myself get into bed and snuff out the candle like usual.

At first I'd tried to cultivate some anger against him, which I had thought would be easy. But it had been impossible. He'd been so handsome and noble that last morning when I had shouted at him. The concern in his eyes when he talked about his people suffering, and the tenderness in his voice when he tried to explain that he had to go, made it impossible to hate him. Though no one could say that I hadn't tried.

In the end I had just decided that I couldn't possibly be miserable forever. This was just a storm to be weathered, I'd told myself. I only had to stay away from him for long enough and eventually the empty feeling in my stomach would become normal. It was often said of arranged marriages that people grew to love each other. The same must be true about growing not to love someone — you just need to keep trying to make it work.

"Well, would you like to go?"

I tore my eyes from the page, feigning annoyance. "What?"

"I said Éomer is spending Yule in Aldburg. Would you like to go?" he repeated with a grin. "Now I understand why father forbade you to read at the table."

"No," I said, returning to my reading.

"No?" Erchirion sounded shocked. "You've been complaining for months that we never go anywhere and that you want to get out of the city and not just on 'one of my mangy rangeings.'"

I had said almost exactly that a few days before but I had mostly just been trying to keep up my reputation as a misanthrope and grouch, which I felt had been done considerable damage since arriving in Edoras. I had actually begun to enjoy his rangeings, even if they were absolutely mangy. And my life in Edoras I had grown to unequivocally adore.

"I'm making good progress on my maps," I said. "I can't leave."

"That's true ..." Erchirion agreed. "You're making such good progress that you're almost done with them, Lothíriel, and they're great. We can take them with us and show them to Éomer at Yule. I can't wait to see how pleased he will be."

"You go. I'm tired from work and I need to rest."
"That's almost the opposite of the last thing you said," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "Enjoy yourself. I'll miss you."

Erchirion sighed. "Lothi, I'm not leaving you alone at Yule. That's terrible."

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "I'll go over to Gænwyn's and we'll each have a bottle of wine. I have great fun every time we do that. Maybe I'll go down to the tavern and take in some of the local culture."

He laughed. "I can only imagine you in a Rohirric tavern during Yule."

"Why? I know some of their dances now and I can sit a horse. I bet I would be popular."

He laughed again. "Popular enough to start a brawl, I'm sure. Come on, if you can give me one good reason why you don't want to go to Aldburg for Yule we won't go. But if you can't, then I'm going to insist that we do."

"What are you going to do?" I asked with a laugh. "Throw me over the back of your horse? You can't force me to go."

He grinned. "Sometimes I think I'll never understand you, Lothi. You've been riding out for weeks into some of the remotest parts of the Mark to sleep on the ground and ride all day with not even a glass of wine, much less a fancy ball to keep you going. And you haven't complained..."

"I've complained plenty!"

"And you haven't complained much," he amended. "But now when I ask if you want to go and stay at one of the Great Houses of Rohan and spend Yule with the King and his retinue you won't even give me an excuse as to why you don't want to go?"

"His retinue? It's going to be a party?" I asked.

"Not a large one but I think there will be some of the other great houses represented. Traditionally the King holds a hunt..."

"Fine," I said. "Let's go."

If there were a lot of people around the house avoiding Éomer would be child's play. I had no reason to think that he wanted to see me any more than I wanted to see him. It wouldn't be so bad, I promised myself.

But as the date for departure drew nearer I found that I was increasingly unwilling to go. I thought about faking some strange illness and insisting that I stay in Edoras. I actually considered twisting my ankle during my riding practice. But what I really wanted to do was just crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head and refuse to go. In the end, however, I found myself up on Wind Chaser's back with my saddlebags packed and shivering in my wholly inadequate (but quite stylish) cloak, trotting after Erchirion's horse through the thick carpet of snow, with Edoras receding behind us.

The ride took most of the day so we arrived at Aldburg just before dark, and I was impressed by my first glimpse of the ancient fortress. With the setting sun casting long red shadows over the snow it was one of the most moving sights I had ever seen.

It was easy to see that Aldburg had begun as a stronghold. Like Helm's Deep, long ago it had been simply a place people fled to in times of need, but the Great West Road, which ran by it, had been like a river of commerce, depositing travelers, goods and materials layer upon layer. And slowly it had grown into the second city of Rohan.

In peace time most citizens might never even see the original city. The old fortress was high above most of the ordinary dwellings, perched precariously on an irregular outcropping of the mountain that on a clear day gave keen eyes the opportunity to see miles down the Great West Road in either direction. Around the lower part of the city there was a fortified wall, like a thin, motherly arm of the mountain behind it reaching around to encircle its children. A rather hazardous looking narrow dirt path wound its way up through the rocks to the old stronghold. Only the main hall and a few things that would be critical in case of a siege – a deep well, the stables and the barracks—were housed inside the high perch.

As we started up the path, the doors of the gate of the inner wall were raised and a small, dark group rode out. My heart, already in my throat from the height and the treacherous drop scant feet from my horse's hooves began to beat a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I told myself that I was being silly, that there was no reason that the King would ride out to meet his guests, but the gnawing pit in my stomach knew better.

"Hail, Éomer King," Erchirion said when they met us on the one place the path widened.

"Hail, Éomer King," I echoed numbly in an almost whisper.

I had forgotten what he looked like on the back of his horse. How the enormous beast was – like a part of him – and how he seemed almost not to need the reins or the saddle. I had said in the stables that Firefoot was pretty because he had been in a box and had his best manners on. But here he looked like the warhorse he was. I had been gasping for breath in the cold whipping winds before, but now my gasps seemed to take on a whole new desperation.

"Hail, Lady Lothíriel and Lord Erchirion," he responded, voice stern. "Welcome to Aldburg." I could tell that he was trying to meet my eyes but I cast them down to my gloved hands, folded neatly on my saddle. "Come...let us retire to more hospitable quarters."

Once in the hall it was as easy as I had hoped to be swept off by the servants to our rooms and our hot baths. I pleaded fatigue and had my dinner brought to me. After which I'd stayed in the bath until the water went cold. I didn't really make any plans for what I would say or do. My best course of action, I knew, was to do nothing at all.

The next day I woke much later than I was accustomed to. In Gondor I had always risen late but I had woken before dawn every day in Rohan. I felt a momentary panic when I woke in full light. Had the ride left without me? Why hadn't Eadgyth woken me? When I realized where I was the panic subsided but was replaced with a different, more subdued, but no less desperate emotion.

I rose and found a basin of water to splash my face with. I put on one of my dresses that had been aired and pressed the night before and plaited up my hair myself. I had gotten quite good at fixing my own hair during the rangeings, with no maids to attend me. I fought the urge to stay in the chair with the single book I'd brought with me from Edoras (an account of a Gondorian who had ventured to the Western Mark almost one hundred years ago). I didn't want to leave what felt like the relative safety of my own chambers.

Even if I didn't happen across Éomer I still felt nervous walking about unaccompanied among the Rohirrim. My black hair marked me clearly as a stranger in their lands and my Rohirric wasn't yet good enough for me to answer the profusion of questions they asked. But hiding was no use: I couldn't very well stay in my chambers for the rest of our stay.

I had been tired the night before and had been unaware of my surroundings, but it was not difficult to find the main dining hall. I was given a breakfast of the usual porridge but there was cinnamon and honey to mix into it and some fresh nut cakes. "Where are the others?" I asked the girl who served me.

She seemed surprised that I spoke Rohirric. "The men have ridden out into the forest, my lady. They're looking for our Yule log."

"My brother, too?"

"Yes, the other Gondorian went with them."

"Are there other ladies?" I asked.

"Yes. They have gone to main city to look for Yule gifts."

"Is it far to walk?"

"It doesn't take long to get down there but it's a bit of a drag up the hill on the way back."

I already had all my Yule gifts. For Erchirion I had spent quite a bit of time drawing a very nice replica of his view from his bedroom window of our house in Edoras – a vista of the grass sea and with some of the city in the foreground. It was traditional to exchange gifts with everyone around you though so I had also packaged up some of my Gondorian bath salts for the ladies (though it pained me to part with them) in pretty little sleeves of silk cloth. For the men I had brought some of the sweet candied walnuts that the Rohirrim made in the winter. But a walk sounded like a fine idea and I had nothing else to do in the keep.

I had brought all my warmest clothes from Gondor and I had commissioned more once I arrived, but it never seemed quite enough. The Rohirrim could wear a simple cloak against the frigid conditions and not shiver, but no matter how many layers of wool, cotton and even silk underwear I donned I found that I was somehow always cold. I walked down to the main city, hoping to sweat away the cold but when I arrived, after a much longer walk than I had thought, I was stiff and miserable.

For perhaps an hour I wandered aimlessly though the main market before a voice called from one of the shops, "Lothíriel!"

Lady Lithoer came out of the shop to greet me with a warm hug. "Hello, Lithoer!" I exclaimed, genuinely glad to see her. "I thought you were going to your home for Yule!"

She laughed. "Why this is my home! Or rather my lands are rather closer to the River Snowbourn but we have a house in Aldburg and we always spend the solstice here." I struggled heroically not to shiver too much when she embraced me but she said, "Why you're cold to the bone. Come have a drink with us!"

They were drinking the hot, spiced wine that was traditional near to Yule and I gratefully accepted a cup with numb fingers, not drinking it but holding it close to my face to revel in its warmth. I was introduced, and the ladies of Aldburg were all very pleased to meet me I was assured over and over. I was asked about the ride from Edoras and quite a bit about my handsome brother but I was too cold and miserable to be very good company. After the wine we strode out into the street again. I mostly trailed along behind the others feeling out of place as they conversed in Rohirric far too fast for me to follow. I bought some ribbons to tie onto the tops of the little silk sleeves of the bath salts and a pair of nice mittens that I thought I might give to Gænwyn when I returned to Edoras. I'd already given her some bath salts as well as a bottle of very good wine that we'd ended up sharing the night before I'd left, but I wanted to show her that I had remembered her during my travels. I also bought Eadgyth a bright, decorative little scarf because she tended to dress very plainly for a maid of her years.

The only other thing that I had noticed was a funny little carved horse in a woodworking shop that I thought somehow looked very much like Firefoot. It was such a silly gift to give the King of Rohan but I was almost certain that Éomer would like it. I picked it up so many times in the shop that the man seemed somewhat nonplussed when I didn't end up buying it. I wondered if I could perhaps buy it and give it to Erchirion to give to him. But how to explain that he couldn't tell Éomer that it was from me? Impossible.

When it started to grow dark we had another glass of wine at the same shop and then the ladies began to prepare to walk back. I started up the path with them but then found my steps faltering. "What is it?" Lithoer asked.

"I...I forgot something in one of the shops. I should go back for it," I said hesitantly.

"We can send one of the men down to get it tomorrow. Come...it's getting dark," she said.

"No, it's fine," I said, knowing that if I didn't buy it then I would lose my courage. "I'll walk quickly to catch up with you. You go on ahead. I'll be with you before you know it," I assured her and without waiting for a reply, I dashed off down the path.

The shop was closed when I arrived but I was able to find the man and he opened it for me again, amused. "I knew you were in love with it the moment you saw it," he said with a knowing smile.

"I'm not in love with him!" I said sharply. "I mean it's a lovely horse and I... I... I just happen to know someone who I think might like it."

Confused by my reaction he elected, very diplomatically, to respond, "As you say, Lady."

When I started back up the path the sun was already low to the horizon. I tried to walk quickly but I was tired and it was bitterly cold and found that I didn't make as good time as I imagined I would have. The wind had increased and was blowing down from the mountain and it was much harder to walk up than it had been to walk down. My thighs began to ache and my breath came with difficulty. But I didn't really begin to panic until the snow came down hard. I would have turned around but I was already almost half way from the city. Fear rose in my chest, I hadn't brought anything for a light if it became well and truly dark and it really was becoming cold. I stumbled once and scrapped both my palms on frozen rocks.

It was almost completely dark when I heard the sound of a horse coming down the path. I didn't look up to see who it was because of the stinging wind but I smiled into my shawl. "Well, it took you long enough, Erchirion. I'm frozen to the core," I shouted against the wind.

When I moved into the lee of his horse I looked up finally and my chapped, frozen lips fell open. The King of Rohan was looking down at me with a murderous expression. "My lord..." I began in surprise.

Wordlessly he reached down and pulled me inelegantly up onto his saddle by the upper arm. I was sure that I would have a bruise there the next morning, but I didn't protest. He looked angrier than I'd ever seen him; far angrier than I ever cared to see him. A wiser girl might have been worried. But up against his chest I was out of the wind and for the first time in what felt like hours, I relaxed, panic seeping out of me like an ebbing tide. I could breathe fully again, though his nearness did nothing to still my wildly beating heart.

He didn't speak as we made our way carefully back. So much for going unnoticed.

The stables were completely deserted I observed, not without a little flutter of fear in my belly. The stable hands were likely in the hall, having super like everyone else with two shreds of sense to rub together.

He dismounted and, before I could get my stiff legs moving properly, lifted me by the waist and set me on the ground as if I were nothing but a child. I brushed the snow off my cloak, adjusted the fall of my skirts and tried to regain a little of my dignity. "Thank you, my lord, for assisting me home. I think I had best be going to get changed for dinner."

I turned to leave but he seized me by the wrist and pulled me back around to face me. "What in the name of Eorl do you think you were playing out there?" he demanded furiously. "It's nearly full dark!" His mouth was a tightly controlled line but his blue eyes were ablaze with emotion.

I tried to wrench my hand from his grasp futility. "I don't need a lecture..." I began peevishly.

"No!" he agreed harshly. "What you need is a good spanking, Princess! Someone should find a switch and see if that will put some sense into your head."

"How dare..."

"The cold here isn't a joke! People die in storms every year!"

"People die quite a bit in raids as well," I retorted. "But apparently it's only natural that you ride off to play warrior..."

"I don't play at being a warrior, Lothíriel!"

I wanted to slap his face. How dare he use my name! Instead I wrenched my arm so hard he would have had to break my wrist to hold on and managed to slip it out of his fingers. "Oh, don't you Éomer?" I was so angry that it didn't seem to matter that he was quite a bit bigger than me, renowned for his temper, definitely not kidding about not 'playing' at being a warrior and the King of the land I was currently in. "Because Valar knows how intelligent and reasonable it is for the King of Rohan to ride off to take care of some minor squabbles on his border when his death would throw his land into chaos and disarray!"

"I have already told you once before: don't you presume to tell me my duty, Princess of Dol Amroth!" he spat out.

"And don't you presume to tell me when and where I can go for a walk!" I returned. "King of Rohan!"

"Béma, woman! How can you call that a walk?" He pointed out at the door of the stable where the wind had picked up again and there was almost nothing visible but a swirling mass of white.

There was nothing reasonable to say to that but I was never one to concede a point. "Don't tell me what to do, Éomer of Rohan! You aren't my father!" I shouted.

"No!" he agreed. "If I was I would go get that switch!"

"You are such a..." I trailed off but we both knew the end of that sentence. The word hung unsaid in the air like a puff of snow.

"Barbarian?" he prompted, his voice dangerously level.

"When you act like this, yes!"

"When I act like what? A reasonable adult? When I tell you how stupid it is to try to walk back up that path in the dark in a snowstorm? Yes, Lothíriel! Really how impertinent of me to come and find you before you freeze solid or fall to your death in the dark! How barbaric and ill-mannered of me to save your silly, spoiled life!"

"I didn't ask you to..."

"You don't have to ask me!" He slammed his fist hard into the side of Firefoot's stall causing the horse to blow out a protest though his nose and the frame to rattle violently. I too must have showed my surprise because suddenly he let out a long, low sigh of a breath, seeming to deflate. "You should go back to hall, Lothíriel before you catch a cold," he said wearily.

I would have paid any amount of money simply to go back to my chambers, pull the blankets over my head and sleep until the New Year when I could slink back to Edoras, but when I opened the door to our chambers Erchirion was waiting for me. He looked furious and almost sick with worry.

"Lothíriel!" He was on his feet. "Lithoer came to say that you hadn't come back from the city yet and Éomer had ridden down to fetch you! What in the name of Dol Amroth were you thinking walking back so late and in the cold! You could have..."

"I am not talking to you about this right now, Erchirion," I cut him off, beginning to strip off my cloak and gloves and lay them by the fire to dry. I was starting to shiver almost convulsively.

"We damn well are talking about this right now!" he shouted, grabbing my shoulder and whirling me around. "I've been sick with worry! What in Middle-earth possessed you to go back to the city at this hour and with a storm..."

I pounced on him. "What business of that is yours, Erchirion?"

"I am your brother and your guardian! As long as you are in Rohan it is my duty to keep you safe! And I can't do that if you are going to do every stupid thing that comes into your head the second I turn my back!"

Rage consumed me. "When? When did you start being my brother, Erchirion? You never cared when Amrothos and I were miserable in Minas Tirith. I was there for the siege of the city and the battle and neither you nor father even knew it until after it was all over! I can take care of myself and I am fine without you or Éomer, so don't you dare yell at me now!"

His face, already twisted in anger, contorted suddenly with an entirely different emotion. "Oh Lothi..."

He stepped forward to embrace me, but I shoved him as hard as I could in the chest. He was so surprised he stumbled back a few steps. "Don't you dare touch me," I hissed, voice low and poisonous with anger like venom.

He put one hand over his mouth and swallowed deep in his throat, looking at me with a pity that made me want to shove him again. When he finally spoke his voice was gruff with emotion. "Everyone always forgets that there is a reason you and Amrothos are the way you are, father in particular, and that isn't fair. But please understand, Lothi that father sent you two to Minas Tirith because he thought it would be best for you."

I laughed bitterly. "How? How could Minas Tirith be the best thing for two children? We were just... we were just babes back then."

"He thought Denethor would protect you better. You have to understand that the situation with the Haradirim was much worse than we had first thought, and we feared war with them. Besides, there was no real female companionship for you. You would have grown up with no one but warriors and servants to keep you company. Father wanted you to be a lady."

"Well I suppose he got his wish. I am nothing but a lady of the court, too silly not to walk into a storm. I am only sorry it doesn't make him happier." I had meant to say it casually but there was a high, fragile tension in my tone that I despised.

"He does love you, Lothi," he said quietly. "And I love you very much."

I tried to speak but the muscles in my throat were clenched so tight that the pain was too intense. I opened my mouth twice, tried to fight back the sudden tears, and finally let my jaw snap shut. I was so blinded by tears I didn't see Erchirion until he had already put his arms around me. I struggled briefly but he just clutched me to him harder. "I don't want to hear it Erchirion," I managed to sob into his shoulder. "Let me go."

After that I was crying so hard it was a long while before I realized that Erchirion was too, though his tears were less desperate. But after a while my body couldn't support any more violent weeping and my tears subsided into little shuddering spasms. Erchirion and I broke apart slightly, though he kept one of my hands in his, and when we looked at each other I think we both realized that our relationship had changed irrevocably.

He smiled at me and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb before wiping his own eyes with the back of his hand briefly. "I hate how ugly I look when I cry," I said, voice wobbly.

He laughed a little weakly. "You are a very beautiful woman, sister mine, but not when you cry."

"At least I very rarely do it."

He smiled. "I believe that."

"And I believe that such a display calls for a strong drink. Since I have none I think we should drink all the wine I do have." I went to my chamber and fetched back a bottle as well as the cup put in my room to drink from the jug of water. "I'm afraid we will have to share the cup."

I poured the wine and we both drank deeply. Erchirion went to stoke the fire and then we sat on the couch for a long time. We'd both had a long day and should have been tired but though neither of us said much, neither thought much of our beds either.

"There were a few years after you went to Minas Tirith when you and Amrothos were the same sweet little kids you had always been. Perhaps a little more morose but there was none of the..."

"Malice?" I supplied.

"None of the bitterness that came later. And then you spent that summer in the city instead of coming back home. Ever after that...things were just different."

I ignored the unspoken question. I took a deep gulp of the wine and passed it to him. He let the silence rest for a moment but finally, when it was clear I wasn't going to speak, continued. "None of us saw it coming, I suppose. And after that the two of you didn't want to come back."

I stared into the fire. It was my instinct to argue and fight this kind of honest examination of what had happened, to protect myself from the truth. But I was tired of fighting. I was in no state to wield my wit like I normally did: as a spear to keep people at bay. The gradual realization of what I had said in the stables felt like sand being poured slowly into my chest, weighing me down and choking me with regret. After months and months of cursing myself for what I had said the morning of the rangeing, when given the opportunity to make amends I had only made things worse. Valar! Was there a bigger fool anywhere in Middle-earth?

"Father always blamed himself for what happened to the two of you," he continued. "I think that's one of the reasons he's so harsh on you. Guilt that he didn't protect you better..."

"Erchiri, just look at the fire and don't say anything." I cut him off wearily.

He almost smiled at that. "All right."

When finally the wine was gone Erchirion stood and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead and squeezed my shoulder gently. "I love you, Lothíriel," he said softly.

I swallowed. "I love you too, Erchirion."

It was only later when I was shivering under the cold covers with the candle snuffed that I realized that it was the first time in my adult life I had ever said those words.

TBC

Wow! The response to the last chapter was overwhelming! I hope you guys liked this chapter as much as you did chapter six. Even if you did, let me know! I love getting reviews of any kind. Anyway a huge thanks to those who reviewed last time. And as always, LBJ did a really incredible job of editing this chapter. A huge helping of gratitude for her as well!