The following morning dawned with a brilliant sun. The wedding took place outside in front of the white tree. Aragorn and Arwen were surrounded on every side by friends, family and subjects. Faramir stood beside Aragorn and after naming Arwen his queen he asked Faramir as steward to care for her should anything happen to him.
Then Lothíriel stepped forward Aragorn as Aragorn gestured for her to. She held a hand on either side of Arwen's head and hair said, "I place upon you all the rights, responsibilities and burdens of the highest lady. You are the left hand of the king. Your kindness and his strength will guide your people through any plight." She then stepped back as Aragorn placed a circlet on the top of Arwen's head and the people cheered.
Following the ceremony was the ceremonial fighting. Éowyn challenged Arwen and earned a sprain for her defensive tactics. But their fight was a lovely sight as the two women were dressed in fine skirts that spun around them. Lothíriel put a salve on Éowyn's ankle as Aragorn challenged Éomer, because no one challenged him. The king of the mark seemed honored he accepted the challenge but only fought defensively. He never attacked Gondor's king.
Eventually Aragorn cut a line across Éomer's chest signaling the end of the match. Éowyn then agreed to be taken to the houses of healing and her brother took her place as Aragorn asked Lothíriel to care for his 'brother.' "Of course," Lothíriel agreed.
The crowd began to break as the last of the festivities wouldn't take place until that evening, Lothíriel bid Éomer take his shirt off. When he complied he grimaced. "Where are you feeling pain?"
He instinctively rubbed the muscle between his right shoulder and neck. "It's not so bad."
Lothíriel didn't say anything as she inspected Éomer's wound actively ignoring the sight of his naked torso by looking closely at the still bleeding cut. First she cleaned it then covered it in a salve to stop the bleeding and encourage healing.
Éomer was speaking to Imrahil and trying to focus on the conversation instead of Lothíriel's fingers brushing over his abdomen. "I already told Aragorn I wouldn't mind being challenged. After all, what is one more scar?"
Her fingers left him and returned with linen. "Well at least you will be well cared for." Prince Imrahil smiled down at his kingly friend and his daughter. If he hadn't already thought of the idea he couldn't have missed it at this point. Lothíriel wrapped the linen around Éomer's cut but in order to wrap it around she had to practically hug him to transfer the linen from on hand to another behind his back. When she was finished, she tied the last strip off.
Éomer moved to return his shirt but another twinge of pain betrayed him. Taking another balm, Lothíriel stood and walked behind him. Rubbing the mixture in her palms she placed her hands on his shoulder and rubbed the balm into his skin. Éomer didn't know if it was her hands or the medicine but he felt instant relief. He had to concentrate on his breathing to keep himself from saying anything that the Gondorians might not appreciate.
When Lothíriel was finished, Éomer replaced his shirt and thanking her gruffly, he walked away. Lothíriel frowned without being certain exactly why.
After changing the nobles gathered again in the hall for the final event of the wedding: the ball.
This time Aragorn and Arwen began the dance and Faramir and Lothíriel danced the first together. Then she danced with each of her brothers and save a special dance for her nephew. The king also took a song as Arwen danced with her father.
Then Lothíriel danced with her own father, but after the first dance he got winded and bid her take him to a chair. Prince Imrahil sat heavily in a chair. Lothíriel was concerned as her father had never shown such weariness before. "Father, are you sure nothing is wrong?" she asked, kneeling before him in her skirts.
Several of the court ladies began whispering, but Lothíriel didn't care. She needed to know if there was anything wrong with him. Imrahil noticed the whisperers, but searched out Éomer instead. Catching the king's eyes, Imrahil realized he had no way of forcing the king to come over to him. But he simply looked down at his daughter and back to the king to find Éomer already heading towards them.
Éomer glanced at the Prince and his daughter trying to decipher which of them was in distress. Lothíriel expression caused him more concern, but she was looking at her father. "Are you troubled, princess?" Éomer asked lowering himself to her side.
She nodded and together they stood. Lothíriel turned and spoke to Éomer. "My father was wearied by the dance. He is my father and I am not ignorant of his age, but he has never tired so easily before. I fear for his health."
"Your father fought in a battle, feared for his family's lives, and watched his daughter fall unconscious last night." Éomer placed a hand on Lothíriel's arm. "He has had it rough for awhile. Just let him rest."
"I am fit enough to dance," Imrahil announced showing that he heard their exchange.
Lothíriel shook her head. "Just sit for awhile. You can dance again later."
"But I won't have you sitting out a dance, because of me. It is not right for a young beauty to sit on the sidelines." Imrahil spoke in a weary voice. "I'll just get up and find someone for you."
The Prince began to stand up to do as he claimed, but Éomer stayed him with a hand on his shoulder. "I'll take your dance." Removing his hand from Imrahil's shoulder, he took Lothíriel's hand and they joined the swirling dancers on the floor.
At every turn Lothíriel stole a glance over at her father still seated in his chair. "He's fine, princess," Éomer whispered in her ear, causing Lothíriel to turn around sharply. "You're father is enjoying himself. The dancing may have been too much for him but the talking certainly isn't." Éomer's easy smile settled Lothíriel's fears.
He looked almost youthful with the forgotten worries not weighing on his brow. Lothíriel lifted her hand from his shoulder and traced his jaw with a finger. "You are very complex," she answered cryptically to his questioning stare.
"Well, I would hate to be obvious," he laughed. They finished their dancing smiling and continued to dance the group dance partnered with Éowyn and Faramir, who seemed to have adopted the strange smile bourn by her father. When the dance ended, they applauded the musicians. Lothíriel took Éowyn's arm and the two walked off together whispering in each other's confidence. Éomer moved to follow them, but Faramir intercepted him.
Without turning back, Lothíriel overheard her cousin ask the foreign monarch for a private word. She glanced over at Éowyn who was smiling. Lothíriel cocked her head to the side questioningly; Éowyn nodded. Smiling, the princess hugged her new friend, her new cousin. "I'm so happy for both of you."
"I am too," Éowyn grinned and looked over at her brother and her intended. The taller man was glaring down on the dark steward, but once Faramir finished his question, Éomer's grave face smiled. It was a small smile but genuine.
Stepping over to the musicians, Éomer asked them to pause before beginning the next set. He nodded to Elfhelm who called for a silencing of the assembly. "I do not wish to detract any joy from my brother Aragorn and his beautiful bride. But their joy has brought together another pair. Our countries are bounded as more than allies but brothers. Lord Faramir is officially betrothed to my sister Éowyn." The entire assembly raised a shout of joy.
And the night slipped away in an array of music and color.
-x-
Morning found a world of bright sunshine, but a scream woke the castle before the sun had truly risen. A maid ran through the corridors, her shriek was short but with such a war barely behind them and so many warriors under one roof, half the castle was awake to witness her sprint. The girl had shed her shoes and was running all out for the houses of healing. She was running through the wing given to the guest of Rohan when they appeared out of their rooms glancing around for anyone with an explanation.
Elfhelm caught the girl as she rounded the corner and ran into a rider. She almost fell to the floor, but he steadied her on her feet. "Madam what has happened?"
"My lady she is not well. The princess is fallen ill and I must find the warden." She continued with her explanation, but Elfhelm was distracted by the way his lord stalked by them.
Éomer recognized the woman she was the maid in the houses of healing who assisted Lothíriel. Assuming that she was the princess of whom the maid spoke of, Éomer went in search of the Princess of Dol Amroth's room. He found her chambers near those of her siblings, who were in various states of waking from the maid's scream. Fearing for the lady's life after what he'd seen happened to her two nights before he headed into her room without request.
He headed into her room, but did not find what he expected. The night of the banquet she had fallen comatose so he thought he'd walk in on an unconscious woman. Instead Lothíriel sat on the edge of her bed in a dark blue dressing robe. "Lord Éomer," Lothíriel gasped in surprise at seeing him in her rooms. "What are you doing here?" She pulled the robe closed around her and stood placing the bed between them.
Éomer who had expected to find her passed out was relieved and irritated by that relief. "What were you thinking?"
"Excuse me," she raised an eyebrow unaware of what the large angry man in front of her was thinking.
He looked her in the eye and demanded. "You passed out two days ago and continued to play hostess and nurse without putting your health first." She made to open her mouth to respond, but he held up a hand. "Treating our wounds, dancing through the night was not required to bring hope to your people."
Lothíriel crossed her arms over her chest. "I felt fine yesterday." She met his gaze and tried to make it clear that she was not in the mood to deal with him.
"You were poisoned. Did it occur to you that it may be best for you to take a day to rest?" The anger radiated off him. Even from across the room, Lothíriel could feel how livid he was. "Your maid was going to the houses of healing for help," Éomer sighed. "You should go there." He glanced around her room realizing perhaps for the first time that he was in fact standing in a woman's room. He grabbed her cloak and threw it at her.
Glancing at him, Lothíriel was beginning to think that Éomer only got angrier the more he was around her. She caught the cloak instinctively. As she raise her arms to grab the clothing, the sleeves of her robe fell, revealing what Lothíriel had been hiding by crossing her arms together.
Éomer could not have stopped his movements in that moment, even if he had had the presence of mind to try. As soon as he saw the black stain covering Lothíriel's lower arm, he stalked around the bed and grabbed her arm from the fabric she was attempting to hide it in. "What is this?" he demanded. His tone was harsh, but the hands that held her arm were gentle. Again Lothíriel mused on his duality on the ability he had to be harsh and gentle at the same time.
Even his hands, Lothíriel noted, were scarred. She wondered what kind of life he led and remembered his comment to her father. He didn't seem to care if he was hurt even for a ceremony that in essence meant nothing. Yet those rough hands held her arm as if any pressure would cause her to break. "I am unsure," she answered raising her gaze from his hands to his expression. "I awoke to its discovery and Avery went in search of revelation."
Grabbing her cloak from her arms neither gentle nor rough, he wrapped the fabric around her shoulders. "You will go to the houses of healing."
Lothíriel removed the robe and looked up at the king. "Give me a moment, Master of the Mark. And if you wish you can make sure I go. However, if I leave in this state there shall be more things amiss."
For a moment, Éomer thought to argue, but as her words sunk in, he looked around again. Lothíriel was in nothing but a robe, even her feet were bare. They were alone there together. Éomer closed his eyes.
"There's a door to the sitting room." She nodded to the far wall. "Through there. Wait a moment and no one will be the wiser." A woman of her word she appeared a few moments later still not angry at the fact that he could have ruined her reputation forever. Though he supposed, she could have called for her family to come, if she had wanted to trap him. Éomer didn't suppose Lothíriel was one of those women. Oddly he found himself thinking that he was not completed bother by the prospect of being bound to Lothíriel.
Perhaps it was his marshal's advice or maybe he mind just doubted that one wife would be better than any other. In any case, Lothíriel lead him out the door, where many of her family were awake and wondering about for answers. "I'm not feeling well," the princess explained to her sister-in-law. "Lord Éomer is insisting that I visit the Houses of Healing."
"How did you come to be here?" Amrothos asked of the king.
Éomer glanced at Lothíriel, who refused to look back at him. "Her maid went screaming through the halls. Elfhelm ascertained the reason for the alarm. I came to see that your sister's stubbornness did not prolong her ailment."
"Why would it do that?" Imrahil looked down at his daughter in suspicion.
Lothíriel shot Éomer a glare. She was aware that he was forcing her hand. She would have to go to the houses of healing and now her family would pressure her into doing exactly as the warden said. "It would be best if everyone got ready for the day. No need to worry until I have seen the warden." She put her hand on her father's shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Éomer has kindly offered to escort me."
"We'll send a messenger, if anything is amiss." Éomer waited for Lothíriel to walk ahead of him. He hoped that she wouldn't be too angry with him and as they walked through the castle without her turning on him, it seemed she was letting him slide.
She suddenly stopped when they reached the passage to the houses of healing. "What were you thinking? My father has enough to worry about."
"He has a right to worry about his daughter." Éomer spoke to her back as she had yet to turn around. "And it seemed to me as if you were going to let him hear the news from a messenger. This" he grabbed her arm and pulled the darkened skin into the light, "is serious. Your father deserved to know."
Lothíriel pulled her arm from his grip, but twisted her arm roughly in the process. It should not have hurt her to move her arm, but regardless pain spiraled up her arm. She winced and took a sharp breath. "Thank you for escorting me, King of Rohan. Your duty has been fulfilled. Feel free to muddle in someone else's affairs."
"Princess Lothíriel, I will remain with you until I see you safely into the hands of the healers. I'll take news back to your family." Éomer nodded to her glaring gaze.
"You are quite persistent." She turned away from him. They entered the houses of healing to find the warden still looking over the goblet that Lothíriel had taken the poison from. "What is going on?" She almost unconsciously reached out to brush the edge of the cup. But the warden instinctually pulled the cup away as if the poison could get the princess through the metal.
Éomer looked at the Warden's worried expression. "What is that still doing here?" the words came out rougher than he expected.
"We meant to dispose of it, but the one of my assistants noticed that the wine had turned black. This is not common with poison I treated the princess for." The warden looked at her carefully.
Lothíriel nodded. "The wine was laced with another poison?" She lifted her arms to reveal the blacken patch of skin on her arm.
The healer's expression instantly darkened. He looked to Éomer. "Bring her father and brothers."
Éomer turned to leave, but Lothíriel grabbed his arm to stop him. "No. Tell me first. What does this mean?" She had not covered up her arm, merely laid it down across her knees. "What poison could do this?"
"There is an orc poison. That I have only even heard of. They say the poison turns the color of the skin to ash and turns its victim into a mindless being incapable of its own reason." The warden did not spare the princess from the truth.
Her hand fell from Éomer's arm no longer preventing his departure. Instead his own feet took that charge. "Is there anything you can do for her?" Éomer asked looking down at Lothíriel's black tinged skin.
"I know very little of this poison. There is no cure I've heard of. No treatment I know of. And I must confess I never thought to seek more information the poison is said only to effect elfish blood." The warden looked between Éomer and Lothíriel. "I am truly sorry that I didn't find out more."
Éomer was only half listening to the healer as Lothíriel met his curious expression. "My mother was elf kind," she informed him.
"Is it possible this poison won't affect her since she is only part elvish?" Éomer asked the warden, but his gaze did not leave Lothíriel's.
The warden shook his head slowly. "No it's not. The blackness is the first stage. If the poison was not damaging to her, it would have passed through her system with no ill affect. Any movement will increase the spread of the poison. It would be best if you rested and kept your strength. It may be many days before we know what will happen. At this point all we can do is let the poison run its course."
"I think I will get your father now." Éomer said to give Lothíriel a moment to object.
She shook her head. "Tell him and my brothers to come. And Faramir, ask my cousin to come as well."
Éomer nodded and glanced at the warden. "Should I tell the king as well?" The warden looked at Lothíriel who didn't react then nodded. Éomer expected to find the family he did not expect to find the entire castle gathered in the great hall. Word that the princess had fallen ill had clearly spread through the halls.
"Lady Lothíriel requests the presence of her family." The princes of Dol Amroth stood and Faramir followed them, but he stopped beside Éomer. "She asked for you as well."
Faramir nodded. "She's in trouble, isn't she?"
"I think you should see her. Seek me out if she doesn't explain." Éomer paused but Faramir didn't leave. "Check on her. Then we will talk."
At length Faramir headed out, he caught up with the others as they came to Lothíriel's side. She was lying on a bed propped up against several pillows. "There has been a development. It seems that the poison is more serious than we thought. Or rather there was one poison masked by another."
"What is wrong?" Faramir asked her for the complete story.
The warden interrupted. "If you wouldn't mind I would like the princess to rest. I'll explain everything to you." Before the family was led away Lothíriel's father hugged her. Her brothers took her hands and her nephew laid his head in her lap. Once the family had left, Avery brought Lord Elrond to Lothíriel's side.
"You asked for me, Princess Lothíriel?" Elrond inclined his head respectfully.
"Unless you feel the need, I see no requirement for you to be so formal with me. The warden tells me that the poison in my system is of orc creation. You are considered quite wise. Do you know anything of orc evil?"
"More than you wish to know or have time to hear." Elrond looked at her serious. "What has the warden told you?"
Lothíriel lifted her sleeve to reveal the darkness on her arm. "He said he's only heard rumors of such a poison. It only affects elf kind. Few elves travel to Minas Tirith."
"No need to defend the warden, Lady Lothíriel. He has amassed far more knowledge of disease, wound and poison than I would expect even in such a notable city." Elrond nodded towards her arm. "May I?"
"Please," Lothíriel tried to stop all the thoughts swimming in her mind. She wanted to know more the poison, but more than that she needed help to find who poisoned the drink. She was not without enemies, but her fear was that the poison was meant for Arwen and with so much attention on her the next attempt may be more successful. But who could she enlist to help in the search. She needed someone to be her eyes, ears and feet.
Obviously her own family was out; they would cause harm to the poisoner before gleaning any useful information. King Aragorn was busy and obviously would have a right to be livid as well. Though Lord Elrond seemed a possible choice, Lothíriel didn't want to worry in unnecessarily in case the poison wasn't meant for his daughter. This reasoning left Lothíriel shy a cohort in her investigation.
"I'm afraid that there is nothing to be done. There is no known treatment for this poison. The poison attaches to the blood and your skin will darken. Then the darkness with fade and you will either fall into an endless sleep or you will wake and grow back to you former strength. I am sorry, Lothíriel."
"Thank you, Elrond, for telling me the truth."
When Elrond stood solemn and grave, Lothíriel saw a figure standing behind him. Éomer nodded to the elvish lord as his passed. Then Éomer sat on now empty bench next to Lothíriel. "How much have you told your family?"
"The warden wanted me to rest. He filled them in on everything he knew." She looked over at Rohan's King. He was not emotionally invested in their situation. But he was capable of searching out the truth and clearly a man who sought a purpose. Perhaps he would aid her and she could distract him from his worries. "Éomer King, I've been having thoughts." He leaned forward listening. "I do not doubt I have enemies of my own. But I have a haunting fear that this poison may have been meant for Queen Arwen.
"I need to know who did this and why. But if I send any of my relatives I fear they won't be able to contain themselves. But if I speak with one of Arwen's I may be spreading worry without cause." Lothíriel pulled down her sleeve to hide the darkness.
Éomer nodded. "Does Avery know the city and the palace well?"
"She was my maid when I was high lady here. There are probably few who know both as well as her." Lothíriel frowned confused at his question.
"And you trust her?" Lothíriel nodded without hesitation. "Will she do as I ask?"
Lothíriel paused. "As long as it does not bring anyone to harm or violate the law, she will do as you say should I bid her too."
"Then do so," Éomer's mouth formed a grim line. "And I will find out the poisoner and who they meant to harm."
Lothíriel leaned her head back and smiled. "You are a blessing Lord Eomer. You may not know it but you appeared at the perfect moment when I needed an answer."
"You're welcome, Princess. But you need to rest." Éomer was right and her last sight was of him walking away to find the cause of this trouble. With the worry lifted, Lothíriel's eyes drifted closed.
-xXx-
Sorry this one is so long, I just had so much to get through. Until next time!