Chapter 3
Leaning against the gunwale, Éomer tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He felt at ease, managing at least for this moment to lock away that thin hassling voice of mistrust in the darkest corner of his mind. It had not been him, they had been talking about. It was so simple. But why had he believed something like that even for one moment?
He felt irked, having to admit that these negotiations had worn him out worse than any battle. He had taken every chance to prepare himself but still not felt up to it, having never been a man of many words. He had not thought himself skilled enough to face those masters at twisting words, thus obfuscating their meanings, using them as both, sling and dagger. And yet he had known that the trade agreement was a victory as important for his people as that of the Hornburg.
He breathed in deeply. He had managed but it had taken its toll on him. But that did not matter now. The negotiations had been successful, they would get enough grain from Gondor to get them through the next winter, and thus be able to keep their own as seeds, promising a better harvest next summer for being adapted to the climate of the Mark.
The climate of the Mark. He felt a chuckle rise in his chest. If it weren't for the salty tang in the air, he could well imagine lying somewhere on the plains of the Mark. Though the grass was definitely much softer. He shifted his weight as a rafter was digging into his shoulders. The soft breeze caressed his face. They would be making hay in the East-Emnet now, the aftermath, mostly needed for cows and milking sheep in the coming snow-prone winter. He wished he could send them some weather like this. Opening his eyes, he looked up into the immaculate sky. No clouds to disturb the brilliant blue, just some gulls hovering overhead.
"You'll better watch out." Erchirion, who had changed places with Elphir and was now sitting at the tiller, pointed at the gulls. "If these shite-hawks drop their legacy into your eyes you may well turn blind."
Éomer sat up. "I know. We have some kind of them in the fens of the Entwash."
"Really?" Elphir's voice sounded uncommonly lazy. Sitting on a coil of rope, he was resting against the side of the boat, obviously at peace with himself. "Didn't even know they were going that far inland."
Éomer shrugged. "It's one of the smaller kinds, sporting black heads at breeding season, well, and that's what we call them: black-headed gulls."
Elphir chuckled. "See, Erchirion, if you go to Rohan you won't even have to go without them. There will always be something to remind you of Dol Amroth."
"Oh, I'd truly miss gull-droppings!" Erchirion laughed. "Hey, Horselord, move over and take the tiller, I have to dilute Osse's waters."
Rising an eyebrow, Elphir remarked: "You shouldn't swig it like that, you know. Swig like a horse ..."
"Piss like a horse. Yes, I know, and I'm going to confirm it," Erchirion growled.
"Only that we normally serve the ale to the riders, not the horses." Grinning, Éomer went over to Erchirion and sat down at the tiller.
"Look, landlubber, you just take the tiller and take care that the sail doesn't start to flutter," Erchirion said, slapping the polished beam." If it does, you just bear away a bit."
"What?" Éomer looked uncomprehending.
"You'd better explain it to him," Erchirion grunted and stalked away to the other side of the sail.
His brother shook his head. "It's easy, Éomer. You simply keep the tiller as it is, I suppose that will just be fine. But if the sail goes slack or flutters you pull her a bit more to the lee, that is you move the tiller into the direction from which the wind is blowing. In our case that's to your left, or as a sailor would say: port side. The boat will turn right then, that is starboard, and the sails will billow again."
"Quite a day for languages," Éomer muttered, "first swearwords in Quenja, and now sailors' bafflegab."
Elphir just smiled assuringly. "Don't worry, you needn't understand, you'll just be fine."
After a while, Erchirion came back, tying the laces of his trousers. "The only thing you have to really keep in mind on a boat is, whatever you want to go outboard, throw it out at the lee side."
Éomer grinned. "Mind you, with the constant winds of the plains we know that in the Mark. As it is, we even have a saying based on it."
"Have you?" Again that risen eyebrow of Elphir's.
"Yep. Piss against the wind and you're in for a shower."
Erchirion snorted with mirth. "Universal wisdom in troubled times and windblown areas."
Still chuckling, he stepped across Elphir's outstretched legs to take the tiller back from Éomer. They were now approaching Tol Cobas, and Éomer wondered how they were to get ashore, as the whole island seemed to consist of tall black rock, rising in steep columns out of the bay. Streaks of white painted the ledges that jutted into the air high above sea level.
Seeing Éomer's doubtful gaze, Elphir explained: "We are approaching Tol Cobas from the south-east. There the cliffs are more than a hundred feet high, but they get lower towards the north till they rise little more than three to five feet out of the water at high tide. The rocks there form a bay, a nice sandy cove. We'll pass the island on it's eastern side and make straight for that cove."
"See that white streaks?" Erchirion asked, pointing at the rocks. "Murres' shite."
"Murres?" Éomer asked.
"Special kind of seabirds, black with a white breast and rather short wings; quite different from those elegant gulls. They breed in thousands on Tol Cobas, and in early summer you have to stop your ears if you come here." Erchirion gave a strangled kind of snuffle before he continued. "And blimey, they do stink! You're lucky to come after they've left, though seeing their young jumping off the cliff, even before they can fly, is quite a sight."
"Jumping off the cliff?" Éomer frowned. Surely Erchirion was pulling his leg.
But Elphir affirmed his brother's tale. "The Murres live on the open sea and swim and dive perfectly, but they are very poor flyers. When their young are about three weeks old they follow their parents out into the open sea, and as they don't even have feathers at that age they just jump off the cliff when the parents call them from the surface. Normally it happens on some windless day, right before dusk turns into night, to keep the little ones save from the big gulls."
Éomer felt himself looking at the jagged cliffs with quite a different eye now. How many things there were in this Middle Earth, he had never heard of?
When they got into the lee of the rocks, the sails suddenly started to flutter, and Elphir got up to tighten the ropes, thus adjusting the sails. Turning to Erchirion, he jerked his head at the cliffs. "Don't take her too close, I'm not in the mood to row her up to the cove."
"What makes you think I am?" Erchirion jabbed back, before he added, scanning the sea ahead of them: "Our pirates have already reached the northern cape."
Amrothos' boat was rounding the northern end of the island and disappeared out of sight.
Though their speed was somehow reduced in the lee of the island, they soon reached the lower northern shore and turned into the bay. Two semicircles of low rock engulfed it nearly totally, as if in a loving hug, leaving just some yards of water between their northern ends, wide enough for a boat to sail into the cove without any problem. While the sea around them up to now had seemed some strange and fathomless kind of green, here in the sheltered and shallower bay, it gleamed in an almost incredible light blue, until it changed into a shimmering turquoise, where the waters lazily touched the pale sand of the beach.
Amrothos had jumped into the shallow water, a rope over his shoulder, and was pulling his boat further up the beach, before tying the rope around one of the many black outcrops, the beach was strewn with. Wading back to the boat, he took a bundle of things his sister handed him, before she lowered herself into the water, a quite big bag slung across her shoulder and, to Éomer's ultimate surprise, wearing some kind of sailor's trousers like those he he had seen on the men of the wharfs' quarters, ending mid-calf and leaving the ankle exposed.
Erchirion's nudge demanded his attention, and soon he found himself wading towards the shore, carrying a provision basket and the inevitable wineskin, while Erchirion was pulling the boat. The water did just reach above his knee, and though it felt rather warm, it was refreshing to splash through it.
"Watch out," Elphir's voice came from behind, "there are sea urchins, mostly near the rocks. They aren't poisonous, but they can cause festering wounds if you step on them."
What in Bema's name was he referring to? Éomer waited for Elphir to catch up.
"Those little black balls." Elphir indicated towards one of the dark spots on the ground, Éomer had taken for pebbles. Now, at a closer look, he could see the spikes, covering the entire orb. He could well imagine that stepping on them would be far from comfortable.
"What are they?" he curiously asked.
"Some kind of animals. There are even edible ones. Oh well, and there are poisonous ones as well, though not in this bay." Seeing the slightly disgusted expression on Éomer's face, Elphir smiled. "Don't worry, we're not after urchins today. We'll go to catch spiny lobsters near the western shore, and I'm absolutely sure you will like them."
Meanwhile Amrothos and Lothíriel had dropped their loads near one of the bigger boulders further up the beach and were busy to put up an awning with the help of the equipment Amrothos had been carrying. "Otherwise we would be as done as the roasted lobsters after a while," he told Éomer with a wide grin.
His sister laughed. "Roth, you have to catch them first, before you can start roasting them." She spread out a mat, made of some kind of reed and motioned Éomer to place the basket and the wineskin in the shade of the rock.
As soon as Erchirion had tied up the second boat, he and Elphir seized two containers, that looked to Éomer like a mixture between a bag and a net and hurried the other two men to get going. They went over to the western shore and climbed the relatively low ridge. On the seaward side it plunged down a little deeper, now at low tide, and before them stretched a large platform of uneven blackish rock, strewn with boulders like the beach in the cove, here and there spotted with algae in different shapes and shades of green and brown. The whole surface was criss-crossed with cracks and crevices still filled with water, and everywhere large shallow pools glinted in the sun, reminding them that soon the sea would claim its territory back again.
The descent to this platform was not easy, as the rock was slippery, and when they were down, the uneven surface did not look inviting. Immediately the brethren stripped and put their clothes on top of one of the boulders, the surface of which had been dried by the sun and the wind. Éomer followed their example, when his gaze fell on his friend. He had seen Erchirion naked before, but that had been in spring at Cormallen, bathing together in the river. Now, after several sunny months on the coast, most of his skin was tanned and displayed various shades, from the dark bronze of his face and lower arms to the rosy white of his buttocks.
Éomer couldn't help but smirk, but then Amrothos' snigger caught his ear. "Blimey, Éomer, you look like a mealworm. Think we should better hurry up, before your horselordship gets a sunburn and keeps you from sitting that ugly nag of yours."
They walked over the rippled and cracked moist black plain, carefully crossing some steep but narrow fissures and wading through the tepid water of some pools till they reached one of the bigger crevices, more than ten yards wide, and Amrothos and Erchirion climbed into it, taking one of the nets with them. The water was nearly up to their shoulders. Carrying the net between them they dived, searching the notches and cracks of the rock, till they obviously found what they were looking for. Letting go of the net, Amrothos moved some stones out of the way and then reached for the first prey. He came back to the surface, grinning triumphantly, holding it up over his head.
Éomer was dumbfounded. The thing looked like some kind of oversized crayfish, being at least one foot long, but instead of pincers it bore two long antennae. What surprised him the most though, was the strange rasping sound the animal made. Erchirion held the net open for his brother to stuff the lobster in, and then they continued their quest further down the crevice.
"Come on, lets try our luck. Where there is one, there likely are more to be found." Éomer felt Elphir nudge his ribs slightly, and then they followed the others into the water. After about an hour they had caught six spiny lobsters, and Elphir urged them to get back to the island, lest the incoming flood make their retreat too difficult.
Erchirion was grinning from ear to ear. "Roasted spiny with garlic sauce, there's nothing like it!"
"Sure," Amrothos quipped, "though you'll have to refrain from kissing the wenches for at least two days cause you'll stink of garlic like some Umbarian gutter sweep."
"Pha, it is worth it. And anyway, you can always find one who has also eaten garlic, and therefore won't notice."
Shuffling through one of the slightly deeper puddles, Éomer turned his head to join in the banter, when suddenly a stinging pain pierced his right foot. He yelled in surprise and pain, pulling up his foot to have a look what might have caused it. There, right underneath the notch between his big toe and his ball of the foot, a small, prickly orb had got stuck. One of those blasted sea urchins!
He angrily shook his foot and managed to dislocate the urchin, hurling it back into the water, before one of the brother could interfere.
"Crap!" Erchirion looked worried. "You shouldn't have kicked it off. Now there is a bloody chance that you still have some broken spikes stuck in your toe, and it's a dratted job to get them out in one piece."
"Stop wailing," Amrothos barged in. "I'm sure Loth has some needle for just that purpose in her satchel, as it is normally your lot to step on the little buggers." Turning to Éomer, he demanded to see the foot, and having examined the toe he nodded. "There are at least three spikes in there. You'd better lean on Erchirion and try to only touch the ground with your heel, lest they break or dig deeper into your flesh."
Cursing, Éomer grabbed Erchirions shoulder and hobbled towards the cliff, while Amrothos and Elphir went ahead, carrying the nets containing the lobsters. When he finally reached the boulder they had left their clothes on, it proved quite a task, to get into his trousers without his foot touching the cloth, and while climbing up the ridge, it was simply impossible to avoid his toes touching the ground. When at long last they reached the sand of the cove, his forefoot was throbbing in a quite disturbing way, and he frowned at the thought of having to walk over to their camp.
Lothíriel seemed to have lit some campfire further down from the awning from pieces of driftwood and was now standing beside it, talking with her brothers. Erchirion gave him an encouraging slap on the shoulder and told him to move on. But just as they were about to start for the last leg, Lothíriel motioned them to wait and picking up her satchel came over to them.
"Sit down and let me have a look," she told him squarely, and when he obeyed, she sat down on the ground opposite him and put his injured foot on her bent knee without further ado.
"There are three spikes in your big toe and two more in the ball of your foot," she announced after having examined his foot thoroughly. "They are embedded in the calluses though, and perhaps I'll be able to get them out without you even noticing it. What might be quite painful are those two spikes in the notch of your toe, as the skin is rather delicate there."
What a mess! Eomer felt utterly embarrassed. Of all things this had to happen to him after Elphir's warning.
Sauntering up to them, Amrothos looked over Lothíriel's shoulder. "You'd better take a planer to his soles, sister. That horselord has nearly as much horn under his feet as his horse."
Not even bothering to look up, she snubbed him. "Just be a good boy, Roth. Go and play with some dead fish."
With a nonchalant shrug Amrothos returned to the campsite, Erchirion following in his trail, and Éomer found it difficult to repress the wish to set the youngest of Imrahil's son's on a pile of urchins, preferably the poisonous ones.
When he looked up, he found Lothíriel gazing quizzically at him. "Don't mind him, I know he can be a nuisance, but I think it is somehow his way to show concern. Though he is right that you do have some magnificent calluses under your feet. Perhaps you should walk barefoot now and then."
"I see," Éomer answered with a wry smile. "I just don't know what my Riders would make of it if I rode bootless into battle. It might as well somehow derogate my riding abilities."
"Word-twister!" she snorted, though her eyes sparkled with laughter. "There certainly must be opportunities to forego heavy boots, even in Rohan."
"Oh, there certainly are, I can well imagine to abstain from them at council meetings, and welcoming Guests of State would doubtlessly provide a further occasion for the King of the Mark to display bare feet."
Now she openly chortled. "I'd exceedingly like to be present as the barefooted King of Rohan receives the dignified ambassadors of Gondor."
"I'll be glad to satisfy your curiosity, if you my Lady, would be leading that mission, giving a likewise display of your feet."
To his surprise she turned serious immediately, averting his eyes. Blasted Gondorean propriety! What line was it now, he had overstepped?
As if she had guessed his thought, she looked at him and slightly shook her head. "As much as I would like to join in that prank, there are certain things no Gondorean noblewoman should dare to do."
He needed all the self-restraint he could muster to stop himself from snorting. What a hypocritical society. They obviously did not mind their maidens display their tits to a point, nothing much was left to imagination, but to show a naked foot probably would cause a medium scandal. But that was nothing to be discussed with Imrahil's daughter, unless he was desperate to prove his reputation as some uncouth northern barbarian.
As if to avoid any further discussion, Lothíriel concentrated on the treatment of his foot. Extracting a thin silver needle from some small piece of cloth, she bent on the task to remove the spikes. As she had said, most of them did not cause any problem, and he did not feel more than a slightly unpleasing pressure as she drove the needle into his sole, but things changed completely as she started to work on the fragments in the notch.
Bema's balls! Was that woman ramming that needle right into his bones? He unintentionally jerked his foot back, and she looked up.
"I'm sorry, I should have warned you, before I started on those."
Embarrassed he shook his head. "You told me it might be nasty, and it can't be helped anyway. It was my own stupidity to step on that thing. Elphir had even told me before to be careful."
The princess gave a soft chuckle. "Elphir is the only person I know, never ever to have stepped on an urchin. Perhaps they avoid him, because they are afraid he will give them a lecture."
The image of Imrahil's eldest, standing in the shallow waters of the bay, reprimanding the sea urchins, brought the grin back to Éomer's face, though his mirth did not last long, as Lothíriel motioned him that she was about to continue his treatment. He set his teeth and watched, as she continued her interrupted work with nimble fingers. The spikes had broken and she needed several attempts to dig every single piece out of his throbbing foot. When she finally set aside the needle he realised that he had been holding his breath. She bent his toe back to have a last check, and with surprise Éomer noticed the typical calluses on her fore- and middle finger. An archer!
"Well, that was that, my lord." She put his foot on the ground and busied herself, tucking the needle away. "It's bleeding a bit at the moment, but if you leave the foot uncovered for a while it will be alright. I'll send you some light shoes once we are back, so you can leave your boots off for a while, but you should bathe it anyway and apply some ointment. Now I'm afraid you are in for some more hobbling, but you should not use your toes until the blood has dried."
Tucking her satchel under her arm, she stood, and Éomer did likewise, awkwardly balancing on one foot. Putting his heel to the ground, he managed a bow. "Thank you, my Lady, for the convincing demonstration of your skilfulness."
"You're more than welcome." A slight bow of the head, and then she turned and walked towards their camp. Limping behind, he watched the ground carefully to avoid stubbing his already damaged toe, and therefore nearly bumped into Erchirion, who had come up to him and now offered his help.
Éomer shook his head and hobbled on stubbornly, the chuckling Erchirion by his side. When they reached the awning, Éomer sat down in the shade, while Erchirion went over to the campfire, that had burnt low in the meantime. A grill had been stuck up on some stones, and Amrothos picked the three biggest lobsters and quickly killed them, stabbing his dagger into their heads, before preparing them to be put on the grill over the hot embers.
Rubbing his hands with glee, Erchirion came to sit besides Éomer. "Now it's just wait and slaver in anticipation."
He reached for his half empty wineskin and took a sound gulp, before offering it to Éomer. "It's lukewarm, but still better than ginger tea."
His sister huffed and turned to rummage through the contents of her big bag. "Amrothos brought some wine, so there is no need to complain," she stated, arranging a number of little well closed jars and dishes on the mat, together with three flat loafs of wheat bread and an assortment of fruit.
Elphir brought forth some cups and wooden plates from the bag he had been carrying, and soon their makeshift table was laid in a quite appealing way. The only problem for Éomer was now, that sitting cross-legged made his injured toe throb painfully, and he could not well stretch his leg, as the mat lay in front of him. Moving farther to the left edge of it, he finally found a way to stretch his leg in an acceptable way, well out of the space the food was displayed. Erchirion's impatience was funny to behold, and Amrothos, in his role of cook, made the most of teasing his voracious brother.
Finally the lobsters were done and with his typical silent smile Elphir, carrying the biggest one of them on one of the wooden plates, came over to sit on Erchirion's right side, placing the plate on the mat in front of him. "Here Brother, indulge your passion!"
With a growl of pleasure Erchirion drew his dagger and chopped the reddish shell open, before tearing out a big chunk of the meat. Dunking it into one of the jars, he thoroughly covered it in viscid garlic-sauce and then popped it into his mouth, rolling his eyes delightedly.
Laughing Amrothos let himself drop at Elphir's side, putting the plate he had been carrying between them. "Have your knife ready, Brother, to defend this hapless spiny from that glutton on your left."
In the midst of their laughter Éomer suddenly realised, that the princess was still standing in front of the awning, carrying the third lobster, and the only space left in the shade was the one between Erchirion and himself. He sensed her hesitating for a blink, then she set her shoulders and made to pass behind him, stepping over his awkwardly outstretched leg.
"We'd better share this, as there is no chance my dear brother would leave you anything but the shells." Adroitly she cut the lobster open, and offered Éomer a piece of the meat. "Try the first bite without any sauce and decide then, what you would like to go with it."
Gingerly he took the meat and put it into his mouth. It tasted delicious, a bit like crayfish, though less fatty. Obviously some sauce to go with it would make sense. With an encouraging nod Lothiriel arranged a choice of sauces in front of him, explaining the ingredients, and then left him to it. He sampled one after the other, spread on the tasty meat, savouring the soft white bread in between. Only when he had tried every single dressing in front of him did he look up and had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loudly.
The princess of Dol Amroth sat beside him, one knee pulled up to her chest, the other bent beside her, a chunk of bread in one hand and a piece of lobster meat, dripping with garlic sauce in the other, munching contentedly, her stuffed cheeks reminding him of the hamsters in the plains of the East Emnet. She seemed so much alive... Where was last night's courtly lady? Where the aloofness? Melted away in sun and salty wind. He felt his inside growing warm. This was life... and life was good.
She swallowed and bent forward, to put the piece of meat into her mouth without the garlic sauce soiling her garments, when suddenly their eyes met. With an impish grin she stuffed her mouth and then shoved the rest of the lobster over to him. A tiny drop of the viscid dressing had escaped her mouth and fascinated he watched it slowly trickling down her chin. Realising what he was looking at, she swept the drop up with the back of her hand. "I'm afraid I'm worse than Erchirion, at least as far as lobster is concerned. Finish it up. I'm not hungry any more, I was just eating for pleasures sake," she said, still grinning happily.
Guffawing Erchirion slung his arm around his sister's shoulder. "Loth, never forget, the things we do for pleasure are the best things of our lives."
Beside him Elphir emphatically cleared his throat, and in an instant the siblings' mirth died down. Still hugging his sister, Erchirion gave her a worried look. "Loth..."
"Never mind brother." She patted his large hand. "You are right, and let the others say what they want."
Her face now was serious, though not displaying the cool politeness Éomer had seen the night before but rather some kind of calm and stubborn sorrow. How could it be that he felt suddenly bereft? With a pang he realized that he wanted her smile back, that reckless grin and the tiny drop, tickling down her chin.
"Peace, Lothíriel." Elphir's voice was even as always. "I did not mean to reprimand anyone. I just thought to keep Erchirion from a more detailed demonstration on the subject."
"Oh, for Uinen's sweet mercy, Elphir!" Lothíriel threw her hand up in frustration. "What harm would have been done, even if he had? We are among family, and..." With a jolt she came to a halt, realizing her blunder. Amrothos started to sicker, as his sister blushed furiously.
One word, and he'll throttle that imbecile! It took Éomer some effort to control his rising anger. "Your sister is right," he finally addressed Amrothos, "for at least in Rohan we would call men who shared such dangers as Erchirion and I have, brothers, and I for one have even more reason to do so, as he received that gash across his forehead, stepping in to save me from being hacked to pieces in front of the Black Gate."
All eyes were now on him, except Erchirion's, who sat, looking at his large hands, his bulky shoulders slightly hunched, while a slight blush was spreading over his face. Out of the corner of his eye Éomer saw Lothíriel taking her brother's hands, and facing Elphir, he continued. "And Erchirion is right, too. The things we do for pleasure may not always be sophisticated or wise, but sometimes rather simple or even primitive, yet, if they bring us pleasure without damaging anyone else's joy, I would deem them sacred, for they strengthen our hearts to cope with the tasks of life."
With a slight bow of the head Elphir acknowledged Éomer's statement, and Amrothos raised his cup. "Well, if that is settled now, let's bring out a toast. To pleasure!"
"No!" Éomer's voice sounded even sterner than he had intended. Amrothos sat, the cup still raised and looked at him in disbelief. Holding the younger man's gaze, Éomer raised his own cup. "No, Amrothos, not to pleasure. To life!"
Amrothos did not avert his eyes, now looking sober and serious, and then nodded approvingly. "You're right, Éomer. To life!"
Lothíriel reached for her cup. "To life!" As everybody raised their cups and drank, Éomer saw the smile slowly creeping over her face, till her features seemed to glow with some inner light.
Woman, a treasure for your thoughts.
As if she had sensed his emotion she turned to him. "That was a most fitting toast, Éomer King. And the cups we raised to it were well representing the differences and oddities of life: rich wine, ginger tea and lukewarm ale."
Annotations:
Tol Cobas: In her "Atlas of Middle -Earth" Karen W. Fonstad gives the name of Cobas Haven for the Bay of Dol Amroth and therefore I simply called the island (which is not given in any maps I knew)Tol Cobas.