Disclaimer: Is it any use writing these? You all know I don't own them… sadly. Hmph…
Things Worth Fighting For
Chapter 13
He felt numb. The battle was over, and all he could feel was anger and frustration. Not happiness for being alive or relief because the battle was finally over. He did not feel any pain, though he had received several minor wounds during the battle. He had not even spoken to Liriel after the battle, but he had assured himself that she was unhurt. He was happy she was all right, for that allowed him not to think about her for the moment. Even though he loved her, he could not help how he felt after finding his sister on the battlefield. It was the empty feeling her presence had left. He could never hold her again, never speak or joke with her again. He could never comfort or protect her again. He almost laughed at himself. You failed miserably to protect her, Éomer! Your sister is dead because you failed to protect her! It is my fault! His mind screamed. I should have seen it! I should have known she would come with us! I should have made her promise me that she would stay at Dunharrow!
His sister was dead and it was his fault. He had promised their mother to protect her. On her deathbed he had promised he would take care of his little sister and protect her. He had failed Éowyn for not being there for her and prevent her from riding with them. He had failed his mother for not protecting his sister. He had failed his father, Théodred and King Théoden for not protecting his family and for being an unworthy heir to the throne of Rohan.
He had not yet failed Liriel. But if he could not protect his own family, how could he protect her? He knew he did not even deserve her. And he failed Éowyn so badly that he would not risk failing her. He could not. He loved her too much.
The sight of the dead Orcs he had left behind was of no comfort to Éomer either. When he cried out death in the midst of the battle, he had really expected to die. He had wanted to die then. Now he did not know. He knew he wanted to cry out to the Valar and curse them for taking his sister away, but he could not find the strength to do so. Slowly he made his way towards the City.
Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and his sons were on a search to find the king of Rohan. Imrahil wanted to thank him for the aid of the Rohirrim. A single rider rode towards them. He was a young man, but Imrahil found it difficult to determine his age. He could be as old as Elphir or as young as Amrothos. "I seek Éomer King of Rohan," Imrahil said. "I was told I could find him here."
"And found him, you have," his voice sounded normal, but he was wary and tired. "I am Éomer. Now who are you and why do you seek me?"
"I am Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, and this is my sons. We have come to thank you for your aid," Imrahil said and Éomer nodded. "If you wish, my lord, it would be my honour to escort you into the City."
"I thank you, Lord Imrahil," Éomer said.
Aragorn rode over to them. "It is good to see you again, my friend," he said to Éomer.
"And you as well," Éomer said.
Lothíriel did not dare to breathe. She had seen her father and her brothers, and she was afraid they would see her if they looked her way. She was with the rest of the éored. She was pleased to know that Galrim, Helmling and Halmod had survived the battle, as had Éothain. She had wanted to go over to Éomer, but she wanted to give him some time as well. And now he was with her father and brothers, and she could not allow herself to be caught. Not in a Rohirric armour, and not on the battlefield. She was unsure if she wanted to let them know she was there at all, even though she missed them a great deal. She was happy they had survived the battle, but at least for now she could not allow them to see her.
On their way to the City they met Éothain. Imrahil's sons had ridden ahead to the City.
"I want to know how many men and horses we have lost, and the wounded must be taken care of. I will return as soon as I can. Ic sculan don reccan of hwa," Éomer told him.
Éothain nodded. "Ic cunnan, Éomer. I will take care of it, min Cyning," he bowed his head respectfully before he left them.
Aragorn stared at Éomer. "I am sorry, Éomer," he said quietly. "Your uncle was a great man."
"Théoden was a warrior and his death was a good one," Éomer said. "It was one I once feared would not be his."
Aragorn nodded in understanding. Aragorn did not come with Éomer and Imrahil into the City. He was not sure how the Steward would greet him, and although he was the heir of Isildur, to become the king of Gondor was still a frightening thought.
Éomer of Rohan and Imrahil of Dol Amroth continued into the White City alone. They came to the Hall of the Tower, seeking the Steward. But they found his chair empty, and before the dais lay Théoden King of the Mark upon a bed of state; and twelve torches stood about it, and twelve guards, knights both of Rohan and Gondor. And the hangings of the bed were of green and white, but upon the king was laid the great cloth of gold up to his breast, and upon that his unsheathed sword, and at his feet his shield. His face was fair and young, save that a peace lay on it beyond the reach of youth; and it seemed that he slept.
Imrahil stood back as the young king bowed before his uncle. Éomer remained on his knees for a while. Many thoughts entered his mind all at once. I am sorry I have failed you, uncle. Éomer thought. I should have protected her. I promise I will try to be a good king for our people, but I wish I still had you to help me. I will try not to fail you more than I have. "Faran binnan freod to se dryhtsele of our fæders," he said in a low voice before he raised and turned at Imrahil again.
Imrahil had not wanted to disturb the young king, so he had stood quietly behind, not saying a word. He bowed in respect to the fallen king. He now spoke to one of the Gondorian guards. "Where is the Steward? And where also is Mithrandir?"
"The Steward of Gondor is in the Houses of Healing," the guard answered.
"Where is the Lady Éowyn, my sister; for surely she should be lying beside the king, and in no less honour? Where have they bestowed her?" Éomer could not keep the bitterness from his voice. Where had they put her? Was she not important enough to be laid in honour next to her uncle? If they had laid her in some dark room with the dead bodies of other men, he was sure he would break something.
But Imrahil turned surprised at him. "But the Lady Éowyn was yet living when they bore her hither. Did you not know?"
It was first like the words had not reached him. Then hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Éomer's heart, and with it the bite to care and fear renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall; and the Prince followed him. Before the doors of the Houses of Healing, came Gandalf on foot and with him one cloaked in grey.
"We seek the Steward, and men say that he is in this House. Has any hurt befallen him?" Imrahil asked.
"And the Lady Éowyn, where is she?" Éomer asked.
"She lies within and is not yet dead, but is near death," Gandalf answered. "But the Lord Faramir was wounded by an evil dart, as you have heard, and he is now the Steward; for Denethor has departed, and his house is in ashes."
"So victory is shorn of gladness, and it is bitter bought, if both Gondor and Rohan are in one day bereft of their lords," Imrahil said. "Éomer rules the Rohirrim. Who shall rule the City meanwhile? Shall we not send now for the Lord Aragorn? For is it as I understand, he is the heir of Isildur and rightly lord of the City."
And the cloaked man spoke and said: "He is come." And they saw as he stepped into the light of the lantern by the door that it was Aragorn, wrapped in the grey cloak of Lórien. "I have come because Gandalf begs me to do so," he said. "But for the present I am but the Captain of the Dúnedain of Arnor; and the Lord of Dol Amroth shall rule the City until Faramir awakes. But it is my counsel that Gandalf shall rule us all in the days that follow and in our dealings with the Enemy." And to this the others agreed upon.
"Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. Let us enter!" Gandalf said. "For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spoke Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known."
When Éomer saw his sister he hurried to her side, and he took her hand in his and looked upon her face. He did not speak, for he could not find any words. She was so beautiful, but her face was paler than the white snow in the Ered Nimrais. Her hand was cold, and a cold fear settled in Éomer's heart; the fear that he may yet lose her.
He did not hear her before he felt her hand gently on his shoulder. Lothíriel had made sure that her father and her brothers were not there, before she had approached Éomer. She quietly sat next to him, laying a comforting hand on his arm. She had changed from her armour to her shirt and trousers, and of course her blue cloak, but the hood was down and her black hair fell in waves down her shoulders. She started singing softly:
"With a sigh
You turn away
With a deepening heart
No more words to say
You will find
That the world has changed
Forever
And the trees are now
Turning from green to gold
And the sun is now fading
I wish I could hold you
Closer"
Her voice faded away. Éomer was still staring at the pale face of his sister, but he gave Lothíriel a small grateful smile.
"She will be fine. She will come through this. You have to believe she will, Éomer," Lothíriel said. "She is strong and she will make it. Amdir, meleth nín."
Éomer did not answer, and they sat in silence for a while. Lothíriel decided she had to hurry out of the Houses so that the danger of her father or brothers finding her would lessen. "I must go, Éomer. I will speak with you later."
When she was about to walk through the door, she stared into the face of her father.
"Lothíriel? Is it you, my daughter?" Imrahil could not believe his own eyes. He was sure his mind was playing with him.
"Ada…" Lothíriel muttered.
Hearing Liriel speak, Éomer turned and looked at them. Lothíriel? Daughter? Was Liriel Imrahil's daughter? And why did he call her Lothíriel?
"By the Valar, Lothíriel, I never thought I would see you again," Imrahil embraced her and kissed her brow. Lothíriel was not surprised to see her father, since she knew he was in the City, but she was robbed of all speech, for she did not know what to say to him or how to explain herself. And then another thought entered her mind. Éomer!
"Where have you been, Lothíriel?" Imrahil asked. "I haven't seen you for months! But everything will be fine, daughter. We will all go home and everything will be as it was. Your betrothed is anxious to…"
"Talon is in Dol Amroth!" It was not a question. She shouted it so loud that the Lady Ioreth had them lower their voices.
Éomer looked at his sister again. Liriel, the woman he loved, had lied to him, he thought bitterly. Her name wasn't even Liriel and she was a princess! She is even betrothed! Éomer could not look her way. After the word betrothed had been used, he had been too shocked to hear anything else. She had lied to him.
Lothíriel looked at Éomer. She knew he had heard. He thought she had lied to him. But she hadn't exactly lied to him. She just didn't tell him everything. It was a difference, wasn't it? What did he think of her now? Did she feel like she had betrayed him? She didn't even hear her father speaking to her as she was watching Éomer's back. Her father didn't notice. Suddenly she felt herself being pulled over to where Éomer was sitting next to his sister.
"Éomer, Lord Aragorn will come in a short while, and he will help your sister," Imrahil said. Éomer nodded, not looking at them. "Come, Lothíriel. I will help you to find somewhere you can rest. You must be exhausted."
Lothíriel simply let her father lead her where he wanted. All she could think about was the expression on Éomer's face. Betrayal, anger and several other emotions had flickered across his face. And she had caused him to feel this way.
Lothíriel… had she not trusted him enough to tell him the truth? Éomer was wary and tired. He wanted his sister back. Oh, how he wished he could just turn back time! He would have refused both Éowyn and Liriel to ride with them! Éomer felt that he had no longer control over the situation. He knew he no longer had any control over it. He could not will his sister to open her eyes, or decide that his uncle had not died. He could not make Lothíriel simply Liriel again. It was not that she was a princess that bothered him. It was that she had not told him and it was that she was betrothed.
Suddenly Aragorn was at Éowyn's side. He said something Éomer did not hear. When he finally managed to listen, he only heard Aragorn ask him a question: "Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?"
"Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king's bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. Many other fears we shared, yet I knew not that Éowyn was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. But that did not bring her to this pass!" Éomer said, yet he looked not at Aragorn as he spoke, but at his dear sister.
"My friend, you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on," Gandalf said.
Éomer was silent then, for he well knew the courage of his sister and her desire to fight. It had often been the reason for many disagreements, but never had Éomer believed she would make truth of riding into battle. But she had, and as much as he loved her and knew her, he had not foreseen it.
"I saw also what you saw, Éomer," Aragorn said. "Few other griefs amid the ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame for a man's heart than to behold the love of a lady so fair and brave that cannot be returned. Sorrow and pity have followed me ever since I left her desperate in Dunharrow and rode to the Paths of the Dead; and no fear upon that way was so present as the fear for what might befall her. And yet, Éomer, I say to you that she loves you more truly than me; for you she loves and knows; but in me she loves only a shadow and a thought: a hope of glory and great deeds, and lands far from the fields of Rohan," Aragorn sighed. "I have, maybe, the power to heal her body, and to recall her from the dark valley. But to what she will awake: hope, or forgetfulness, or despair, I do not know. And if to despair, then she will die, unless other healing comes which I cannot bring. Alas! for her deeds have set her among the queens of great renown."
Then Aragorn stopped and looked in her face, and it was indeed white as a lily, cold as frost, and hard as graven stone. But he bent and kissed her on the brow, and called her softly, saying: "Éowyn, Éomund's daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away!"
Éowyn did not stir, but now she began again to breathe deeply, so that her breast rose and fell beneath the white linen of the sheet. Aragorn bruised two leaves of athelas and cast them into steaming water; and he laved her brow with it, and her right arm lying cold and nerveless on the coverlet.
"Awake, Éowyn, Lady of Rohan!" Aragorn again said, and he took her right hand in his and felt it warm with life returning. "Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean!" Then he laid her hand in Éomer's and stepped away. "Call her!" he said and he passed silently from the chamber.
Éomer took no notice of Aragorn's departure. "Éowyn, Éowyn!" Éomer cried amid his tears.
To his relief and great joy she opened her eyes. "Éomer! What joy is this? For they said that you were slain. Nay, but that was only the dark voices in my dream. How long have I been dreaming?" her voice was weak, and she was still pale, but to Éomer her voice was like music to his ears.
"Not long, my sister," Éomer answered. "But think no more on it."
"I am strangely weary. I must rest a little. But tell me, what of the Lord of the Mark? Do not tell me that that was a dream; for I know that it was not. He is dead as he foresaw," Éowyn said.
"He is dead," Éomer said. "But he bade me say farewell to Éowyn, dearer than a daughter. He lies now in great honour in the Citadel of Gondor."
She closed her eyes briefly before looking at her brother again. That is grievous. And yet it is good beyond all that I dared hope in the dark days, when it seemed that the House of Eorl was sunk in honour less than any shepherd's cot. And what of the king's esquire? What of Merry? Éomer, you shall make him a knight of the Riddermark, for he is valiant!"
"He lies nearby in this House, and I will go to him. Great gladness it is to see you awake again to health and hope, so valiant a lady," Gandalf said.
"To health?" Éowyn asked. "It may be so. At least while there is an empty saddle of some fallen Rider that I can fill, and there are deeds to do. But to hope? I do not know."
Éomer, for once, held his tongue. Instead he smiled at her. "Éowyn, get some sleep, for your body is weary, and you said yourself that you must rest."
"But what of you, Éomer? Should you not also rest? You look as weary as I feel, and I will not have you lying on a cot next to mine," Éowyn said.
"I will rest later, sister. Sleep now, and regain your strength. I will sit with you for a while," Éomer said.
"You are right, I will rest," Éowyn said. "Éomer, will you sit with me until I fall asleep?"
"Yes, of course, sweostor. Did I not say I would?" Éomer asked.
"Then promise me one other thing," Éowyn said and he nodded. "When I am asleep, you will go and get some rest."
"Go to sleep now, Éowyn," Éomer said gently and she obeyed him, for once.
Lothíriel let her father lead her to the House of the Stewards. She heard not what he said, for all she could think about was Éomer. Her father was babbling. He wanted her to hear of all that had happened in Dol Amroth. She ignored him, not wanting to hear about anything he said. He talked about Talon, and that was the last subject she wanted to discuss with anyone. Maybe except Éomer. She had to explain herself. She had to apology.
"…and we came to the Citadel to find out that Denethor was dead and Faramir badly wounded and…"
For the first time her father's words reached her. "Faramir is wounded?" Lothíriel asked concerned.
"Yes," Imrahil answered. "Did you not know? Was that not why you were in the Houses of Healing?" Lothíriel was not sure what to say, so she did not answer. "Faramir will be fine, Liriel, and I hate to say so, but I think he will be even better now that his father will no longer be here to judge all he does. And it was not only Faramir who were wounded, but also the Lady Éowyn, whom you saw in the Houses, and she truly is a brave lady, slaying the leader of the Nazgûl."
Lothíriel wanted to say that she knew, that she was there and that she rode with the Rohirrim, but she could not. How could she explain where she had been and what she had done?
Imrahil had been silent for a while and gazed upon his daughter. "What has happened to you, my daughter? Where have you been?"
"That is of no concern, Ada. It does not matter," Lothíriel said.
Imrahil looked sceptically at her for a while, before he nodded. "You should rest, you must be weary. We will talk later, and then you can meet your brothers," he said and led her to a bedchamber.
Her father's belief that she was a frail little girl angered Lothíriel, but she managed to keep her temper. Before she had left Dol Amroth, she would have told him exactly what she thought, but she was not the same person who had left.
Imrahil kissed her brow. "Sleep now, Liriel. I will come later," and then he left.
Lothíriel waited a few minutes before going back to the Houses of Healing. She was about to enter when the door opened and Éomer was standing before her. They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but then Éomer started to walk away.
"Éomer!" Lothíriel grabbed his arm. "Don't go like this."
"Why not, Your Highness?" Éomer asked sarcastically. "I could not be blamed to walk away without offering you any words."
"Please, let me explain," Lothíriel pleaded.
"Explain what? That you lied to me and my men? Your friends, as you claim them to be? What about Déorl? He died without even knowing the truth! You betrayed me and the éored," Éomer's voice was low and cold, and that was even worse than if he had shouted at her.
"Don't use Déorl against me!" Lothíriel said angrily. "I should have told you, but I had my reasons not to."
"Like what, Princess?" he spat out her title. "You forgot to mention you were royalty, you forgot to tell me where you are really from and you forgot to mention your betrothed. I cannot believe I trusted you. I should never have let you ride with us."
"I fought with you, Éomer! I fought by your side on the fields of Pelennor and at Helm's Deep. Think not that I do not care for you," Lothíriel said.
"What was I to you, Liriel?" Éomer asked. "A last adventure of a spoiled and childish princess before she would have to marry a boring lord of Gondor?"
"No!" Lothíriel shouted. "No, I love you, Éomer! I think I have before I met you, and I will love you forever. Talon means nothing to me, he…"
"Talon, is that his name? I almost pity the man, for being the man you intent to marry. A spoiled princess who care only of herself. I will not be used by a childish princess." Éomer did not know where his words came from, and he was shocked at each word that escaped him. "All I was to you was an adventure, was it not?"
"No," Lothíriel protested, tears threatening to come, but she forced them back. "I lo…"
"Do not say it, Lady Lothíriel," Éomer said. "For I know you do not mean it. Marry whomever you want; you are free to do so."
Both were unable to speak, yet also unable to look away from each other. Éomer had truly believed her. He knew he still loved her, no matter how much his mind protested against his heart. He would do something now he would regret, but he did it nonetheless. He pulled her against him, forcefully pressing his lips against hers, allowing all the love and passion he felt for her melt into that one kiss. It was like tasting the forbidden, though many times he had kissed her, he had never known she was promised to another. It was like all the emotions he had kept locked inside since the battle was over was unleashed in this last kiss, and it lasted for what seemed like only a short while, yet in truth it lasted much longer. Just as suddenly as the kiss had begun he ended it, but Éomer still held her in his arms.
And then he did the hardest thing he had ever done; he let her go. He bowed to her. "I wish thee will have a blessed marriage, Princess Lothíriel." He left her there, and as she stared after him, the tears finally flowed freely down her face and she was unable to move. It seemed like several years before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She did not dare to see who it was.
"Since the First Age love has been one of the greatest mysteries for Men and Elves alike. It has the power to overcome great trials. Believe that, my child," Gandalf said. He left her standing there, and it would be dawn again before she returned to her chambers.
Éomer slowly walked through the City, finally finding the stables where Firefoot had been put. He saddled Firefoot and rode to the fields of Pelennor.
"My lord!" It was Éothain. He obviously hadn't expected to see him. "A messenger from the City informed us you would stay in the City tonight."
"A messenger?" Éomer asked.
Éothain nodded. "Éomer, are you all right?" His friend seemed even wearier than when he had last seen him.
"She lives, Éothain," Éomer whispered and Éothain barely heard him, but hear him he did. "Éowyn lives. Thank Bema she lives."
"Éowyn lives?" Éothain could not believe it. She was alive. He sent a silent prayer to Bema, both for the king and his sister. Ever since Éomer and Éowyn had come to Edoras to live as children, Éothain and his younger sister Éohine had been friends of the two.
Another thought suddenly entered Éothain's mind. "Have you seen Liriel? She left for the City several hours ago, but she has not returned."
The relief that had just showed on Éomer's face disappeared and his expression became impossible to read. "Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth is in the City with her father and I am sure she is fine," Éomer said and disappeared inside the tent that had been readied for him. It was the tent of the king of Rohan, and Éomer was used to meet Théoden there, not sleep there himself.
Éothain had lost his ability to speak or move for a moment. Then he suddenly entered the tent. "Then why such a foul mood, Éomer? What is the problem?" Éothain asked.
"The problem?" Éomer asked as he turned to the other man.
"As far as I can see there is none. She is a princess, youare a king. Marry her and make a queen out of her," Éothain said.
Éomer turned away from him again. "The problem, Éothain, is that she is already betrothed," his voice was low. Éothain did not know what to say, so he just remained standing, not saying a word. "Should you not get some rest or attend to some duties, Éothain?" the King of Rohan asked.
"Yes, of course, my lord," Éothain answered and turned, but paused before he left. "I am sorry." And then he was gone.
Halmod was deep in thought. He had promised Déorl to keep an eye on Liriel, and when he had asked, Halmod wanted to say no, but his friend was about to die, so what could he do? And come to think of it, Liriel had certain qualities one could not help but admire. She was as brave as Lady Éowyn had been, and she was just as skilled with the blade.
So she had pretended to be a man. So what? She was right. Lord Éomer would never have allowed her to ride with them if he knew she was a woman. What puzzled Halmod was why he had allowed her to ride with them to Helm's Deep and to Gondor. He had heard the rumours among the men that there was something going on between the Marshal and the lady, but it could be just as well be only the boredom of men laying too much into a few friendly gestures made by Lord Éomer. But perhaps there was indeed something behind these rumours.
Halmod thought about the friendship between himself, Galrim, Helmling, Déorl and Farabor, and he realized that it had not been Farabor who was the brave rider he had become friends with, but it was the woman underneath the armour.
Halmod wondered when he had become so thoughtful. He shook his head and started walking over to his tent when something caught his eye. It was a white horse lying on the ground; motionless. The finest horse he had seen that was not a Rohirric horse. He walked over to the horse; Liriel's horse. Great! Now he had to tell her that her horse was dead.
Wow! This was one emotional chapter! My sister cried when she read it! Yay, I still manage to get her cry! Just like when we were kids! Just ignore me. I'm in a really happy mood now!
Translations:
Ic sculan don reccan of hwa – I must take care of something
Ic cunnan, Éomer – I know, Éomer
Min Cyning – My King
Faran binnan freod to se dryhtsele of our fædes – Go in peace to the halls of our fathers
Amdir, meleth nín – Hope, my love
lady scribe of avandell: Wow, thanks! I do my best! I'm also having trouble believing Lothíriel wasn't there, for in my imagination she was.
Haldir's Heart and Soul: I know what you mean. I like women who fight, and there's more fighting ahead for Lothíriel.
Jen: I'll try to remember the warning. Hope you didn't laugh much about this chapter. It was supposed to be sad, not happy. And if you laughed, I have to apology for not having a warning. Well, thanks for your review.
Starnat: I hate Talon too! He's just trouble. Lots of trouble. You think my story is awesome? Thanks! And thanks for your awesome review!
Skinnyrita: Thanks for complimenting my English. For one who's not a native English speaker, it's really a big compliment. Well, my sister has the extended DVD of the return of the king, and she, of course, just have to let me borrow it sometimes. I loved the scene where Faramir and Éowyn fell in love, and it was so beautiful, though it was a bit short. And where Éomer finds his sister was also an awesome scene, but it was also a bit short. But that's just me! I'm an Éomer fanatic! And I'm trying to update faster! Hope this is fast enough!
georgeharrison1: Yes, when I think about it, I could have explained that a little better. But well... You're gonna giggle every time you hear his name? What did I write for you to get such a reaction? Well, thanks for reviewing!
Thanks to all of you for your reviews! Have a Happy New Year!