And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was unlike all other mortal Men, and among the great in Arda, and the love of Lúthien a thing new and strange; and he perceived that their doom might not be withstood by any power of the world.
- Of Beren and Lúthien
Chapter 14
One's feverish eyes see strange things. The moments freeze, at the edges of vision there are odd shadows, and when you should feel terror you only feel kind of detachment.
It was probably inevitable that her strength should abandon her: the rush Lothíriel had felt when she had realised just who now was the King of Rohan and Éomer was here was now spent, and at last in the middle of the battle she could not hold on any longer.
Her arms fell from around his waist and the support of her body gave in, and she fell. For one endlessly long instance she fell, and thought it was the end... but she never came in contact with the ground. No, there were arms to catch her. She looked up and to her surprise saw the face of none other than Draug, the man who had lent her his cloak... he was there, and he had broken her fall. And as she lay there she looked at her dear horselord: how his stallion leapt and then reared, so averting the spear that would have ended the day in tragedy if not for that mad leap Firefoot made just then.
Lothíriel marvelled at how it looked like, the man and his horse, and their silhouette against the bright sun of early afternoon. Somehow, it didn't look real, though there was wild beauty to it. A great cry rose in the square: "Eorlingas! To the King!"
Seeing her dear Rohir would be all right, she let go and fell into darkness.
The next thing she knew were frantic voices. Someone was carrying her, cradling her against their solid form, and she felt leather against her cheek. Fighting for full consciousness resulted in nothing but spinning in her head, but she saw the dark golden hair and some matted blood in his beard, and she knew who it was. As long as he was there nothing else mattered. A sense of safety came to her and Lothíriel let her eyes fall close again.
The voices rose after a while, but when she looked up it was not familiar faces she saw. She couldn't really make out any words and she had no idea of what was happening and where she was.
"Father", she choked, desperately wanting to see him there... but it was not her father who leant over her. There was a smile, though.
"It's all right, Princess. You're safe in the Houses of Healing. Your father is outside – you'll see him soon", said the voice gently, and disoriented as she was, Lothíriel recognised the healer for his grey garb.
She felt relief and sighed. They made her drink something and unconsciousness took her again, and a blessed comforting darkness overcame her.
"... they said she'd probably not come around any time soon. The medicines were quite strong", a familiar voice spoke through the haze of her dream. It was close, and there was a hand on her own. Father. How long she had floated in dreamless waters of sleep, she didn't know. But Lothíriel was too tired to care.
"I'd see her awake. I'd like to bid farewell before we go", said another voice; she recognised those rich tones and knew her King was near. This knowledge, that her family and Éomer were there, calmed down whatever anxiety there remained in her heart.
"Hmm. We'd all do well if we went and took some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day... and Lothíriel is safe here", Father said, though he didn't really sound like wanting to leave.
"I can't leave her. She might wake up – be scared, if she's alone... no. I'll stay with her", Éomer murmured so softly that she almost didn't hear him. Nevertheless, his words brought her a sense of comfort, and she began to drift again, and sleep beckoned her. He'd stay close. The bed was so comfortable, and her body didn't feel so achy anymore... even the burn on her hand was gone.
"Perhaps it is high time for me to acknowledge the obvious... you really love her, don't you?" Father asked.
He does, Lothíriel thought to herself and let the dreams take over again.
The moment just before dawn was quiet. The candle by her bedside had long since burned down, but Éomer's eyes had adjusted to the dimness of her chamber. Perhaps too little sleep and too much worry made him see strange things, but it was almost like Lothíriel's pale face was luminous in the dark... he knew not, and cared not... as long as she was still alive.
Her chest fell and rose as a testimony to that fact. Couple of hours ago, a healer had been in the chamber and said her fever wasn't as high anymore, but she had yet to come around.
He had slept for few hours by her bedside, refusing all suggestions that he go and rest. He knew Imrahil at least was outside snoring away on a couch, and Amrothos had muttered about finding out whether there was some cupboard he could sleep in... Erchirion had apparently gone to attend to some running matters, but only after insisting word be sent to him if there were any change.
Lothíriel...
It was sometimes said that Éomer, son of Éomund, was a lucky man.
He couldn't tell what was the basis of this claim, because he had never felt like he was particularly fortunate. Orphaned at young age, grown to manhood in a restless time, making war his trade... and watching the world grow dark with shadows as his uncle slipped away certainly didn't seem like strokes of luck. Perhaps it was because of his fame as a warrior and the battles he had won, but personally he felt that had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with hard, relentless training and the determination to never give up.
But now that he was sat in this dark chamber and watched his beloved princess sleep, he did feel fortunate: for death had walked past him and touched both their shoulders but it had not claimed either of them. What had happened instead was that, maybe by some instinct or just alarmed by Lothíriel's fall, Firefoot had jumped aside... and the spear meant for him had shot past Éomer.
He had survived, but for a brief and agonising moment he had thought she hadn't.
However, that day Éomer was a lucky man.
All that had followed seemed like a chaotic mishmash of images and shouting and panic, and later anxiety and anger and waiting. After seeing that Lothíriel was alive, and yet again aided by one of the beggars, he had brought her up to the Houses of Healing. There her father and brothers had found him while the healers were attending to her, and once all three princes were calm enough Ant had shared with them what Lothíriel had told her before. Thinking back on the strange woman's story, the young king felt regretful for giving Ocharnil such a quick and clean death. After everything his dear princess had suffered in that vile man's hands... but true to her nature and spirit, she had endured.
The healers had done what they could, and eventually the four men had been allowed to see Lothíriel. She had still been out cold and apparently would remain so for a while. Rest was probably the chief thing she needed anyway. Her brothers and father had quietly talked about something, but Éomer had sat silent and staring at the one he loved, drinking in the sight of her. She was alive.
He had only exited to pay a visit to Éowyn and receive reports from Éothain and Elfhelm, who had dealt with the mayhem down on the second level while he was taking Lothíriel to safety. Evidently all was under control again, Ocharnil's men had been arrested, and Elfhelm had invited the entire crowd of Ant's beggar friends into the Rohirric camp for drinks and food. The woman herself had come to the Citadel, and Imrahil had even invited her to stay in his house until the business of war had been taken care of.
The light was slowly starting to grow outside, and it was not long that a soft knock on the door alarmed him. Quietly Éomer made way there, and opening the door he saw Éothain. He had asked the captain to come around sunrise, for there were many errands to run before what awaited them today: this was the date they were set to leave for the Black Gates of the Land of Shadow.
"Morning, Éomer. I came as you told me to", said his second in command, and somehow the man didn't even seem sleepy though the hour was early. Éothain frowned, "Have you got any rest at all?"
"I did sleep for a while", said the younger man, but the frown did not disappear from his friend's face.
"You know exhausting yourself is not a good idea, not before this campaign", he said disapprovingly.
"Oh, I know", Éomer answered, knowing it was pointless to argue about this with his captain. "I'll rest afterwards." Be that grave or a bed...
Éothain grumbled, but the King gave him no chance to complain. He said, "Wait here for a minute. I need to tell her goodbye."
"She's awake?" asked the captain, and his question made Éomer sigh.
"No. But I will not leave just like that", he said firmly. His friend nodded and made no attempts to prevent him, and the young king returned into the chamber where his dear princess rested.
Quietly, he sat at the edge of her bed and picked up her uninjured hand. She looked peaceful and some colour had returned to her skin that had looked so ashen, and it felt so wrong to leave her like this... but he had to go.
"Lothíriel... wake up. Just for a moment. Please, wake up", he murmured and brought her hand to his lips. But though he called for her name and pleaded her to open her eyes, she remained in that land of dreams, far from his reach.
He sighed and rested his cheek against the palm of her hand, closing his eyes. He could feel the light of new day warming his skin, and knew it was time to go. So he leant down to kiss her, and run his fingers through her hair. Then, resting his forehead against hers, he murmured: "I will come back to you."
Upon surfacing from the depths of sleep Lothíriel was not quite sure of where she was, what had happened, and how long had it been since anything at all had happened.
But then memories stirred in her mind, and she remembered all that had taken place – and the nightmare she had been trapped in ever since she had bid farewell to her father.
Abruptly she shot up on the bed, and the fast movement instantly made her feel dizzy. Her heart beat frantically and she desperately sought her surroundings for her father. Then hands appeared, and Amrothos was there, pushing her gently down on the bed.
"Easy there, sister! Take it slowly, will you? Everything's fine and you're safe" he said calmingly.
"Where is Father? Is Éomer here?" Lothíriel demanded to know, though she didn't try to get up again. Her question brought a frown on her brother's face, instantly filling her insides with concern. Grabbing Amrothos by his arm, she asked: "Has something happened to them?"
"No, not at all. It's just... well, they're not here. They left this morning", he answered at length.
"Left where?" Lothíriel asked. Her brow furrowed too, and inside her there was a kind of cold she didn't like at all.
Her brother sighed and looked troubled.
"This is not at all how I hoped to tell you everything, but... do you promise to stay calm?" he asked carefully, studying her face intently.
"Amrothos, where is our father and Éomer? What has happened? What is going on in this city?" Lothíriel asked, more forcibly now.
"To be honest, so many things have happened that I'm not even sure what I should tell you first. But maybe I should start with Father and your horselord..." he said slowly, as if talking to himself, and now she felt frustrated.
"Stop blithering nonsense, brother!" she insisted.
"All right, all right. Just don't go mad or anything, will you?" Amrothos said quickly. Then he proceeded into a lengthy and slightly obscure explanation of how the decision had been made that the combined forces of Rohan and Gondor would ride for the Black Gate of Mordor and challenge the Enemy. That nearly had Lothíriel jumping out of bed again.
"What! How could they possibly decide something like that? They'll get killed!" she exclaimed, but once again Amrothos placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I asked Father for the reason as well, but he said he couldn't answer my questions yet. He said it is meant to remain a secret for now, or something like that. But he insisted there was some very good motivation behind it all... he assured me there is a reason to be hopeful, and he promised to explain everything upon his return", he told her gently. "Of course they hated to go like that, not being able to tell goodbye to you properly and explain why they were going... but they had little choice but to go. I'd have joined them, but Father told me to stay here with you. It wouldn't have been right, to leave you here alone and guessing what precisely has taken place."
His explanation did not do much for her fear and concern that Father and Éomer had ridden to meet their fate and she'd not see them again... but then, Amrothos wouldn't lie to her, and so Father really must have had in mind something more than his two children could see. At face value the mere idea of confronting the Enemy at his very gate seemed insane. But if Father had said they could be hopeful?
Silently she digested this information and eventually sighed.
"How did I come to be here, then? How did that fight turn out, and was he all right? And anyway, just what was that talk about him being the king? One moment I'm thinking it's his uncle I'm going to have to convince that I know Éomer, and then those riders tell me that Éomer King has better things to do than listen to madwomen rave and rant. And then he comes running himself from that awful house!" she said then, remembering her complete astonishment when she had asked for the king and it had turned out Éomer was that king. She'd have asked about it right away, and how did he possess that position, but the bliss of reunion had made other topics more pressing and then Ocharnil had arrived with his men.
"Oh, your horselord was quite fine. He brought you here himself, and remained by your side until this morning... anyway, you should be happy to hear that Ocharnil is dead. He'll darken no one's life ever again, but I must say it looked like Father was really disappointed he didn't get to rough up the man himself. Between the two of us, I'd have loved to see that showdown", Amrothos explained, even smiling now. He continued, "I wasn't there to see any of it, but Éomer told us everything afterwards, and apparently entire two éoreds came to aid him and his men. I am told the Rohirrim thinking their king is threatened are a terrifying thing – a force of nature, really."
"After that it was really just a matter of cleaning up. The villain's men have been taken captive and I'm sure Faramir – who is on the mend, by the way – or Lord Aragorn will see to them and give them what they deserve. We came here to see you after one of Éomer's riders came to inform us that you are indeed alive, and remained here through the night. You've been out of it ever since, but the healers said you just needed rest", he finished. After a brief silence, he went on, "As for how he's the king now... well, I understand his cousin the Crown Prince died a little while ago. That made Éomer the heir, and then his uncle... King Théoden died during the battle before the walls of the city. So now your horselord is a Marshal no more, but a King. I bet you didn't expect that, did you?"
"Definitely not", she answered, trying to process all that she had just heard. She had still hard time believing it. Éomer was king! Somehow, after all their struggles, it didn't sound real. But she had seen the White Horse carried before him, and his men calling him king. But there was also a sting of loss at hearing what had come of Prince Théodred, whom she had deemed a great man.
"What of Ant? Was she hurt?" Lothíriel asked then. She was feeling a bit calmer now despite all. Still, it had to be said Amrothos' words had revealed lots of things she'd have to make further inquiries about, and Faramir's recovery and this strange Lord Aragorn were not the least of them, but there would be time for exchanging stories once the most pressing things had been cleared out.
"She's perfectly well. Father has asked her to stay in our house. She's been making friends among the patients here – they seem to rather like her. She's been telling all these insane stories to them", answered her brother. He frowned slightly then, "Speaking of stories, yesterday she explained us what you had told her. Is it really true, that Ocharnil had you captured and that he'd have used you as some pawn in his power game?"
"It's all true", Lothíriel answered, shuddering at the thought.
Amrothos scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes pensively.
"Hmm. Now I'm kind of envious of Éomer, getting to handle that man. Anyway, there is obviously a lot here we need to talk about. I'll go and get one of those healers to take a look at you, and then we'll eat, and talk about everything. Is that fine by you?"
She settled back on the bed and tried not to think too much of the danger her father and Erchirion and her beloved King were now facing. Really, there wasn't anything to do now except wait.
"All right. We will do that."
The days after the Host of the West had marched from Minas Tirith were long and full of waiting. Over the city there was a tense quiet, different from the past few years of growing shadow. Not even the common folk returning did cause the kind of bustle one would have expected.
For Lothíriel and Amrothos those days were mostly very anxious. With Father and Erchirion away the house of Princes of Dol Amroth was somehow very silent, and even Ant's presence couldn't cheer up the atmosphere.
Much had befallen in the realm during Lothíriel's captivity. For one, Lord Denethor had died... he had even tried to take Faramir with him. Somehow it was difficult to believe what had happened. His stern steadiness had seemed eternal and so the word of his plunge into darkness seemed unbelievable. But Faramir lived and was now busy running things in the city. It was good to see he was doing well despite what had happened to Boromir and their father. As the Steward his days were filled with all kinds of concerns, and so he didn't have much time to socialise with his two cousins.
And it was more than that, for a strange word was going about in the city: there was talk about the return of the king, which Faramir confirmed as true. Altogether it seemed like many things were changing. Perhaps that was not just in Gondor... but in Rohan as well.
Ant at least seemed to be on hopeful mood. The first day the healers allowed Lothíriel out of bed she took the princess to a stroll through the garden in the Houses of Healing. Arms linked, they walked in the quiet calm under the trees.
"You know", said Ant after a bit of silence, "for someone who went through such a nightmare, I'd think maybe you'd be a bit more hopeful? Surely surviving that might help you believe that this another thing could turn out just as well."
Lothíriel didn't answer right away. Instead, she mulled over Ant's words and her strange kind of logic as she gazed towards east where that ever-present shadow rested. Had the Host already reached their destination, and how soon their doom might fall?
When she spoke, it was slowly and quietly.
"I'm just... I'm so tired of fighting. I'm tired of not knowing when I might see him again, and of people who keep falling between us. I'm tired of not knowing what will happen to him and me – and if I ever might be with him", she said, lowering her eyes. "Because so far, everything that has happened has just pushed him away from me."
"Maybe that's about to change. He's a king now, isn't he?" Ant commented. She glanced at the princess, "Not to mention this city still stands because of the Rohirrim. Gondor owes them our gratitude. That should be motivation enough for you father to reconsider the matter, don't you think?"
The pointed look on Ant's face made clear her meaning. Lothíriel gave her a weak smile.
"I didn't realise you'd have such a grasp on politics", she said, which made the older woman chuckle.
"Oh, I have a great grasp on many things, sweet lady", Ant answered lightly. "Be hopeful, will you?"
"And anyway", she continued then, "despite forces pushing you apart... hasn't he always come back to you after all? Does that not prove love is stronger in the end? Surely you're not going to waste all that stubborn energy you've put into this? Would be a waste of good grit."
The princess couldn't but laugh at that, and she had to agree Ant had a point. They walked on in a companionable silence, and then Lothíriel gave a thoughtful glance at the one who had saved her life.
"I still wonder sometimes... about the way you helped me. Us. You didn't only get me to him, but also brought in your friends when we were in trouble. You had no obligation, no reason at all. And I was a practical stranger", she said softly, hoping this didn't somehow offend the woman beside her.
Ant didn't really smile, but there was a sad kind of fondness on her face.
"Well, I suppose it might seem a bit strange. It's just that you remind me so much of my little sister. The only family by blood I had, you see. She was a lot like you, though she wasn't quite as headstrong. Sometimes I look at you and think Gil would have had a chance too, if someone had just helped her", she said softly, shaking her head.
"What happened to her?" asked Lothíriel carefully. This was obviously a tender matter, but she had to know.
"She died", Ant answered, her voice harsh. When she spoke again there was a softer tone, however: "Life on the lower levels can be rough sometimes. Especially these years... you saw yourself how it was. The eyes of those could do something about it have been on things far greater, and so they haven't seen the tragedies of people like me. I don't blame them for it, I suppose. The war had to be fought, and we're alive now because of that. But it has also given rise to men like Ocharnil and his son..."
Ant sighed and shook her head. She looked down for a bit before continuing, "People like me, and my dear Gil... we don't have power or protection against men like them, not when we stand alone. Damn, apparently even a princess like yourself doesn't. That's what happened to Gil. And I'm done watching it happen again."
Now she stopped and looked straightly at Lothíriel.
"That is why I took you under my wing. And that's why I found my friends on the streets and asked them to help you. Your brothers needn't suffer what I went through with Gil", she said solemnly. But then a thin smile appeared on her face, "Not to mention we do owe our lives to the Rohirrim, just as the rest of Gondor, and it would be very poor conduct to let their king die."
Hearing these words, the princess could but wrap her arms about the older woman's skinny form. She held on tight and felt the burning in her eyes, and mumbled, "I'm sorry about what happened to your sister."
"It's all right, sweetheart. Gil is in peace... and you're safe", Ant said softly. "You can't change what has happened when it's all over. One must do what one can while there's still a chance."
She sighed then, "Speaking of which, I'm thinking of going back. To where I belong, that is."
That did take Lothíriel by surprise. With wide eyes, she looked at the woman she had become to consider a friend.
"You can't go now!" she argued quickly.
Ant's smile was gentle and comforting.
"Oh, I know how you feel. It's just getting more and more obvious that I don't quite belong here. And I like it down on the second level. That's what I know. This all" - she said, gesturing about herself - "is not really a place for someone like me."
"But you just said it's dangerous there", pointed out the younger woman.
"That I did. But now I see hope for us. When the king returns he will bring peace and prosperity, and our children can live a better life than ourselves. And the people there on the second level... well, they need me. That's our kind of family, you see. And to be honest, I'm not really sure how to handle myself here. I know the streets, but I don't know this world where you live, and I can already see the people here giving me odd looks. Don't worry for me, sweet lady. I can take care of myself", she said, resting a hand on Lothíriel's shoulder.
The princess worried her lip, trying to come up with something to convince her friend to stay. But she knew and understood why Ant had to go. Lothíriel, if anyone, understood the feeling of not fitting. So she hugged the older woman again.
"You know that here's always a place for you, if you ever need anything? We owe you our gratitude. And once my father and Éomer come back, they will see that you are honoured according to what you did for us", she said, blinking back her tears.
Ant smiled.
"Of course", she answered and gave a gentle look to the princess, "I think you're going to be a fine queen, Lothíriel."
A small sob finally escaped from the young woman's lips, and she hugged tightly the one she owed her life to. The words came out muffled, but conveyed all the emotion and gratitude she felt.
"Thank you. Thank you!"
Amrothos had brought her some books from the library, and as the weather was nice that day Lothíriel had chosen to go outside and read there, if just to take her mind away from that constant worry at the back of her mind. The distraction did not work so well, though: she'd find her eyes regularly wandering towards the eastern horizon, and the book would lay open in her lap until she forced her attention back to it.
But now not even Steward Cirion's scribe's account on the Battle of Fields of Celebrant could not hold her attention for too long... and eventually her wandering eyes spotted the white figure standing not far from her.
The woman was very fair, with long golden hair that shined in sunlight. She was tall and slender and carried herself like a queen. There was something about her face that seemed familiar to Lothíriel, but she couldn't quite place the resemblance. And the woman's eyes were grey and cool as she studied the princess.
Lothíriel summoned a smile and met that gaze with what she hoped spoke of friendliness.
"Hello there. I don't think we have been introduced", she began and rose up from the bench she had sat on.
"I know who you are", said the woman bluntly. The expression in her cool eyes didn't shift... really, she didn't seem too happy a person.
"Have we met, then? I beg your pardon, but I don't remember -" Lothíriel started, but the woman before her didn't let her finish the sentence.
"I suppose I see why he loves you so", she said – it was difficult to say what was the colour of her voice, but the princess didn't detect much warmth at least.
"You're Éomer's sister", Lothíriel realised. Of course she should have known, if not from anything else then at least from those light and fair looks. The famous Lady Éowyn herself! Amrothos had told her of the deeds of this woman, and she had hoped to meet her, but the healers had said she wasn't receiving any guests and just barging in to introduce herself had seemed rude and inappropriate to the princess – she had also wondered if Éomer would like to be there to make the proper introductions himself. So she had waited for the right moment. That moment had now arrived, but it didn't feel too right to her at least.
"That I am. And you're the woman who has made him so miserable", Éowyn said, narrowing her eyes. It unsettled the princess, but she told herself she wasn't going to be decapitated. The White Lady surely must know how it would upset her brother.
"I've only ever wished for his happiness", Lothíriel said carefully, her smile turning forced now. "It was never my intention to cause him pain."
"Oh, that is easy for you to say. You didn't have to be there and watch how he nearly destroyed himself because of you. And you didn't have to bear the humiliation your father and the Steward served him, like he was no better than a common criminal", said the White Lady, her voice hard and unforgiving. Briefly her expression seemed almost like a sneer, "You must be pleased now that he's king."
The princess lowered her eyes and felt warmth on her cheeks, as though what had happened between her beloved and her kinsmen was somehow her doing. But she forced back that feeling and faced Éowyn's gaze again. This woman could very well be Éomer's sister, but she'd be damned if she let herself be blamed like this!
"So you think I wished for it? Enjoyed the way I had to send him away time and again not knowing if I should ever see him again? That I wanted my father and uncle to tell him those things?" she asked sharply. "I never cared whether he was the King or a Rider. I would have chosen him anyway."
Éowyn did not answer right away. Silently, she watched the princess, as if she could somehow see inside Lothíriel's head. When she spoke, her voice was colourless.
"Perhaps you do love him in return just as well. And I know I won't be able to talk him out of this, even if it would be better for Rohan if he found the mother of his heir from among our own. He's going to make you his Queen, that much is obvious. But do not think I'm going to forget what it did to him – and how you nearly got him killed", said the White Lady, standing tall and proud. But her words only fuelled an angry fire inside the princess.
"I can see that you are brave and I'm not denying what you did is great. However, just because of the greatness of your deed, I'm not going to let you place this guilt on me. I'm not going to bear the blame for what that vile lord did. That is wrong, and Éomer would tell you the same if he were here", she said in a loud, hard voice. "And you may be his sister but after all this time I won't let anyone become between us again, not even you. I'm not done fighting."
Strangely enough, a faintest smile came to the face of Éowyn. Her posture relaxed somehow, and some of the coolness in her eyes subsided.
"Like I said, I see why he loves you", she said, slightly gentler this time. "And now I understand you're worthy of him. If he comes back alive... take care of my brother, Princess Lothíriel."
With that, she turned and went, and Lothíriel realised she had just passed a test... and unlike her father and uncle, Éowyn had been able to see through prejudices and the fear of unknown.
A/N: At last comes an update! I had some trouble figuring out the structure of this one, so it took a bit longer to write it, and also the real life has much interfered with my obsessive writing habits. Eventually I chose this road, and I hope you like it as well.
Few words on the events of this chapter. Éomer and Lothíriel both have survived, hopefully that resolution satisfies you too. A little more insight to Ant's motivations seemed necessary, and I figured that since Lothíriel is staying in the Houses of Healing she'd also come across Éowyn at some point. You could say their encounter is reminiscent of how Éomer met Imrahil and Denethor concerning the matter of marriage to Lothíriel, but Éowyn handles the matter a bit differently. However, she's not any less concerned whether Éomer's lady of interest is indeed worthy of her sibling. I actually think Éowyn's not completely fine with how things have turned out with her brother and Lothíriel, but in the end she also knows Éomer well enough to not try and stand in his way.
Also, Galdegir remains an open matter, but I promise we'll see his thread wrapped up as well.
So, it seems to me there's going to be one or two chapters more, and then I'll wrap up this party (that was supposed to be 5 chapters max, hah!). I'm now seeing how I could have extended everything far longer, but House of Sun and now A Light that Endures didn't agree. Maybe I'll rewrite this one at some point, who knows?
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Borys68 - To be honest, I'm not sure I'm emotionally in a place I could comfortably write such an outcome.
Talia119 - What can I say? I'm a free spirit. These spears just come and go. :D Hope you liked this update!
Sandy-wmd - I'm glad to hear that! Wasn't sure how that'd be received, but I wanted to bring more of this contrast between the shadier folks - there's people like Ocharnil and then there's Ant and her friends, and they're not all the same.
not paranoid enough - I must say, I had way too much fun coming up with that. :D
memory bleeds - I just can't help myself and my love for cliffhangers. :) Hopefully this chapter makes up for it a little bit at least.
Katia0203 - Oh, Imrahil would probably have been furious. And I bet he and Éomer both are wishing they had had the full knowledge of Ocharnil's deeds before he was killed. Oh well, you can't always get what you want... but Galdegir remains yet, and perhaps he gets the punishment by law.
And yes, this story certainly did get out of hand! :)
Mellon - Sorry, couldn't help myself. :D
annafan - Well, I did want to include Ant's friends in that battle, to play more with that "corrupted city" angle. Perhaps Ant's words in this chapter open it up a bit more.
As for Éomer and his newly acclaimed crown, Lothíriel definitely didn't know upon stumbling upon his riders that he was the king. Hopefully her conversation in this chapter lightens it more, but if not: she was indeed thinking she'd find Théoden there, but when she insisted she must see the king one of Éomer's riders - possibly even Éothain himself - made it apparent that Éomer was the king actually. We don't get to see this because last chapter was from Éomer's pov, so he didn't hear the conversation. And as soon as Lothíriel realises he's actually there she doesn't really care about anything else than seeing him again, and all explanations as to how he's king have to wait.