"Aunt Thiri?"
Lothiriel's head shot up from where she had been taking deep breaths (in an attempt to calm herself) at the small voice. Alphros was standing in the doorway, looking very frightened and very much his meager four years old.
"Alphros." Lothiriel sighed and the boy ran across the room and flung himself into her arms.
"Why do they have to go, Aunt Thiri? Why must they go away?" He whimpered. Lothiriel smoothed his hair, trying to soothe him. In truth, she had asked herself those very questions only moments before. Why indeed, after her wedding must something horrible occur? Of course it couldn't have happened in the months between Eowyn and Faramir's wedding and she and Eomer's; of course it would happen now! Alphros looked up at her worriedly, and Lothiriel scolded herself for her selfish thoughts and not answering her sweet nephew.
"They go because they must, henig. They are going to help people in dire need."
Even to herself, the words sounded meaningless and forced. Alphros' face reflected this, for he looked up at her and asked:
"Will they come back?"
Lothiriel froze. Alphros did not know, could not know, the pain of a wife (a pain many women in Edoras would soon be experiencing) of watching their beloved ride away, not certain if they would ever see that precious form ever again.
"I don't know. I hope so. I believe so."
"Good." Alphros said, snuggling closer. "Ada promised me that I could learn to fish, and Uncle Am never told me why he hides in closets so much. They have to come back, they have to!"
Lothiriel sighed and kissed her nephew's forehead.
I pray you are right, little one. For all our sakes.
oOo
"Do we know that it is not Minas Tirith?" Lothiriel asked, shifting a sleeping Alphros so that he was more comfortably splayed over her shoulder. Arwen gave her friend a tense smile.
"You were absent for a few days, dear one. We have had messengers from Minas Tirith, and nothing was ill. Nay, I fear it is somewhere between Edoras and the White City, somewhere where few men are present to fight."
"I do not like those odds." Eowyn said, running her hand longingly over her old sword. Lothiriel looked at her pointedly.
"You are not to even think about going, Eowyn."
Eowyn's face flushed guiltily.
"I was not."
"You forget how well I know you." Lothiriel said, reaching over to give her friend's hand a gentle squeeze. "But Faramir would never forgive me, much less what Eomer would say…"
"I do not wish to go." Eowyn interrupted. "I truly don't. Any desire I had to die in glory or in battle has faded away with Sauron and his ilk."
"I am glad. Who else could help me manage the stable boys?" teased Lothiriel. Eowyn smiled wanly. Arwen gave both of her friends' shoulders a soothing stroke; all three women stood as a serving boy entered the room.
"They're leaving miladies." He said. Lothiriel shifted Alphros in her arms and together all three ladies made their way to the front of the Hall. Artanis appeared and took Alphros out of Lothiriel's arms without a word. Lothiriel gave her sister-in-law's hand a gentle pressure; Artanis' eyes flicked briefly towards her before returning to her husband, who was standing with all the other men at the top of the stairs. Arwen had already been pulled aside by Aragorn, and the pair was speaking softly to each other in rapid Elvish. Eowyn had been gathered into Faramir's arms; Elphir drew one arm around Artanis and held Alphros in the other. Lothiriel's eyes sought Eomer, and she found him, deep in conversation with Eothain and Gamling. Before she could make her way to them, Amrothos (in his typical ill-time fashion) appeared and gripped both of her shoulders.
"By the Valar, Thiri, you're white as snow!"
"Thank you for that charming comparison, Amrothos, but I really must—"
"Don't you want to know what's happening?"
"I was trying to find out…" Lothiriel said crossly. Amrothos winced.
"Sorry…I keep forgetting I'm not the only one you have to worry about any longer…"
Lothiriel's face softened and she brought one hand to her brother's cheek.
"You were never the only one, Am. But that does not mean I worry any less for you."
Amrothos smiled softly.
"I know. Shall I tell you the plan, or save that job for your husband?"
Eomer met her gaze and Lothiriel gave him an acknowledging nod.
"I think it's best if you let me hear it from him, Am."
Amrothos gave a nonchalant shrug and relinquished his grip on his sister's shoulders; before she could hurry off, he grabbed her again and crushed her in a hug.
"Mellon le, little sister. Always."
Lothiriel's eyes widened as she hugged him back; of all her brothers, Amrothos was least prone to bouts of seriousness, and there was nothing in his tone to suggest the tiniest bit of teasing.
"And I you, Amrothos."
He gave her his trademark smirk, a peck on the cheek, and then dashed off, winking at her as he went. Lothiriel shook her head in puzzlement before walking briskly over to Eomer and waiting patiently as Gamling gave one last nod toward Eomer before both men focused their attention on her.
"My lady." Gamling said politely. Lothiriel gave him a quick smile before her eyes moved back to Eomer; Gamling, sensing the couple would need a moment, moved away inconspicuously.
"What is to be done?" asked Lothiriel, peering anxiously into her husband's face. Eomer cast his eyes down only to have Lothiriel put one hand on his cheek and force him to look at her.
"Faramir, along with Eowyn, since she refuses to be left behind, will return to Minas Tirith to prepare the city. They've all lingered too long in Edoras as it is. Arwen shall remain here with you; Aragorn does not want her to risk the journey. Erchirion and a few of his guard shall ride to Dol Amroth to ensure its protection. Your father, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, Amrothos, Elphir, and I will lead men to where the fire was set. Merry and Pippin, though they don't know it, are remaining in Edoras. Gamling shall stay back as well, to help you," Lothiriel frowned slightly, earning a small smirk from Eomer, "though I don't think you need it, my love, but as a precaution, should we not—"
Lothiriel cut him off with a finger to his lips.
"Don't." She said softly.
"Lothiriel, you must accept the fact—"
"I know what may happen, Eomer. But that does not mean I have to say it."
Eomer suppressed a soft chuckle. Lothiriel, having decided propriety was the very last thing to be worrying about at the moment (and she was married to the man now, for Valar's sake) wrapped her arms around Eomer and pressed her face into his chest. Eomer's arms went around her nearly instantaneously and he closed his eyes, savoring the sweet smell of her hair and the gentle pressure of her arms.
This could be the last time you ever hold her…
Cursing his ingrained negative thoughts, Eomer held Lothiriel closer. Finally, she leaned back slightly and their eyes met. In a soft voice, she said;
"Swear you'll come back to me."
Eomer hid his wince; there was no way to guarantee that promise.
"Lothiriel—"
"Lie, if you must. But swear that you will return."
Something in her eyes bade him to say those words, however uncertain they may be.
"I will come back to you. Even if I must use Amrothos as my steed to do so."
His teasing worked and Lothiriel's face broke into a tiny smile. Eomer bent to kiss her, but before their lips could meet, there was a light cough to their left; Eothain was standing there, looking as solemn as he ever appeared.
"Pardon me, my lady." He addressed Lothiriel and then turned to Eomer. "Then men are ready."
Lothiriel's hold on Eomer tightened, and Eomer silently longed for the days when he was a mere soldier, not King. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned to go; he was stopped by her hand on her wrist.
"I do not think that would qualify as a proper good-bye, my lord." Lothiriel said in a shaky voice. She had a small smile on her face, though one would have to be blind to miss the tears in her eyes, it did appear as if she was trying to tease.
Eomer cupped her face in his hands and kissed her; everything he could not find the words for was poured into that kiss. There were small chuckles from the few men near them; neither King nor Queen paid them any heed. When they broke apart, Eomer rested his forehead on hers.
"Proper enough for you?"
Lothiriel smiled despite her watering eyes.
"Yes, but I think I shall always prefer a proper hello to a good-bye."
Eomer kissed her again and then reluctantly moved away; again he was caught by his wife's hand.
"Lothiriel, I must go—"
"I know." She rushed. "I love you."
And just like that, he took her in his arms again, much to Eothain's amusement.
"As I love you."
They kissed again, and Eothain could not contain himself; he teased, saying;
"I knew Eomer had a flair for the dramatic, but I never would've expected it from you, my lady. It's most likely just a small spat; one arrow from Master Legolas, a well-placed spell from Mithrandir, and a sword thrust from yours truly should end this battle at rapid speed. Fret not, my lady, we'll all return to you safe and sound."
Lothiriel giggled softly.
"I shall hold you to that promise, Eothain."
Eothain shot her a wink, and Eomer grudgingly followed his friend away, leaving Lothiriel standing on the steps, Gamling waiting patiently behind her.
oOo
"It seems as if they've been gone for months." Lothiriel said quietly, absent-mindedly running her hand over the shirt she was repairing (one of Arwen's attempts to keep her mind occupied). Arwen smiled kindly at her.
"It has only been five days, dear one. A very short time; Faramir and Eowyn will have only just reached Minas Tirith. Five days is scarcely time at all to me."
Lothiriel momentarily flushed; she always seemed to forget that Arwen was an Elf (thought how she could forget with the Gondorian Queen's beauty, grace, and wisdom, she did not know).
"May I ask you a question, Arwen?"
Arwen nodded, pausing in her own mending. Lothiriel shifted slightly and then looked her friend in the eyes.
"How did you manage?"
Arwen gave Lothiriel a confused look, and the Rohirric Queen clarified; "During the War, when Aragorn was gone, and you didn't hear from him, how did you know he was…"
"Alive?" Arwen finished. Lothiriel nodded. Arwen sighed, looking out of the window, eyes not seeing the flowers in the garden, but rather times past. "Hebo estel. It is the greatest ally you could ever wish for. Never abandon it. It has seen me through the darkest times and has not failed me yet."
Lothiriel nodded, and Arwen turned her gaze towards her.
"Onen i-estel edain." Arwen said. Lothiriel's eyes widened and she answered;
"U-chebin estel anim."
Arwen nodded.
"Aragorn's mother used that phrase. Gilraen let hope escape her grasp, Lothiriel. Do not bring such a fate on yourself."
Lothiriel nodded.
Hope. Such a simple word, but what a difference it can make.
"Thank you, Arwen."
Arwen smiled and gave Lothiriel's hand a squeeze.
"Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach," said Arwen. "do not let your fear drown out your hope. There is always hope."
oOo
Gamling rubbed his eyes wearily. While honored by Eomer appointing him as a regent of sorts, he was a simple man, much more at home riding into battle and defending his King. Paperwork was beyond him, and the advisors had not gotten it into their thick skulls that he was not the true King, and therefore could not pass all the laws they were currently throwing at him. He heard a soft knock at the door.
"Enter." He said quietly. Lothiriel appeared in the doorway.
"Gamling, you are going to work yourself to death."
Gamling chuckled gently, earning a soft smile from his Queen.
"I highly doubt that, my lady. If it were possible, I should already have done so."
Lothiriel gave a hushed laugh and looked at the papers spread across Eomer's desk. Shaking her head, she scowled at the papers.
"Have you read all of these?" She asked. Gamling looked at her confusedly; the sudden change in her demeanor was somewhat alarming.
"Not yet, my lady. The pile seems to grow every time I leave the room."
Lothiriel gave an angry tch at this.
"I should've known they were up to something with Eomer gone…blasted advisors, trying to improve their own standings…."
"I beg your pardon?" Gamling asked, blinking at Lothiriel's sudden outburst. Lothiriel handed him a paper.
In case of the untimely death of the King, we suggest one of the barons inherit, unless the presence of an heir is discovered…
The paper went on, basically discrediting Lothiriel (and by default Gamling) of any hold on the throne should Eomer not return.
"Vultures, all of them." Lothiriel hissed. She took a pen and crossed the entire page out with a large red X, and signed it with a large, script L. "Let them see how their Queen values such loyalty."
Gamling grinned; he had liked Lothiriel before, but her standing in his eyes had just doubled. She gave him a sheepish smile in response to his smirk.
"My lady," Gamling said, and Lothiriel's grey-green eyes focused on him, and Gamling understood in that moment how Eomer had become so smitten, "I hope you know you will always have my support."
Lothiriel smiled warmly at him.
"It gives me great pleasure for you to say so, Gamling. I am not sure what I would do without your help."
Gamling shrugged.
"One could always order them to be banished, my lady."
Lothiriel laughed, truly laughed, and beamed at him.
"While that may be true; and a very tempting idea it is!; I do not the banishment of all the King's advisors would go over very well with the people. No," Lothiriel smirked, "I have something much better in mind."
She beckoned Gamling closer and whispered her plan in his ear. Gamling will always remember that as the night a former Princess of Gondor made him laugh harder than any bawdy joke had ever done in the past.
oOo
The advisors, a group of twelve older men, were (to say the least) less than pleased with Lothiriel's rejection of their bill. The Queen, pacifying them, begged them all to allow her to provide them with dinner, as a show of good-will and willingness to compromise. The advisors, gleefully looking for a chance to lord control over their new (and currently husbandless) Queen, all agreed.
Gamling pitied the unsuspecting men, but said nothing as all twelve descended upon Meduseld. Lothiriel received them gracefully and sweetly, greeting each one politely and individually. Arwen and Artanis (who had both been made aware of her plan) joined the group, and sat next to Lothiriel at the head of the table.
The three women shared mischievous looks (the most happy any of them had looked since their husbands' departure), and dinner was served.
The advisors, never being ones to refuse a meal, dug in heartily; slowly, but surely, every single one stopped eating. Lothiriel watched this reaction curiously.
"My lord Eorl," she said innocently to the nearest advisor, "is your soup not to your tastes? I insisted upon cooking tonight, since all of you gentlemen were so kind to listen to my proposals."
Now, refusing the dinner provided by royalty was considered a grave insult. Refusing the dinner cooked by royalty was near to treason. All twelve men, stubborn as they were, forced the horrid concoction that could barely be called soup down their throats, all being watched by an extremely amused Lothiriel, a horrified Artanis, and an exasperated Arwen.
"Don't you think they've suffered enough?" Artanis asked Lothiriel in a low tone as one of the men nearly spit the soup back out on the table. Lothiriel batted her eyelashes innocently at her sister-in-law.
"I'm sure they'll be fine. Eowyn says her recipe never made anyone sick."
"Aragorn and Gimli would beg to differ with that statement." Arwen said softly, earning quiet laughs from the two Gondorian women.
Needless to say, the advisors did nothing to raise Lothiriel's wrath ever again after that night.
oOo
"I'll see you your pipeweed," Merry said, "and raise you to two pints of ale."
"Two pints!" Pippin cried. "What makes you so sure?"
Merry chuckled, giving his friend a hearty pat.
"She's still in Edoras, isn't she? If she could make the journey back to Minas Tirith, if she was not suffering from that, ahem, condition, surely she would've left with Faramir and Eowyn."
"What in Middle Earth could you two be betting on now?" Lothiriel asked, sitting down beside her friends in the sunny garden. Pippin and Merry exchanged a nervous look.
"Well," Merry began,
"Merry thinks Arwen is expecting!" Pippin blurt out. Merry kicked him in the shin.
"You twit! That's a delicate topic! You can't just go announcing it to everyone—"
"I didn't announce it to everyone," Pippin scoffed indignantly, "I announced it to Lothiriel,who is likely to know as it is, so—"
Lothiriel laughed, shaking her head.
"You Hobbits never cease to amaze me."
Pippin grinned.
"So are we right?"
Lothiriel gave him a scandalized look.
"I fail to see how it is your business, Master Took."
Pippin smiled shamefacedly.
"I need to win my pipeweed back from Merry."
"Oh well in that case…" Lothiriel teased, earning a burst of laugh from Merry. Pippin looked hopefully at Lothiriel, and she opened her mouth to tell him off, when there was a cry of,
"Riders! Riders, my lady!"
Lothiriel stood up so quickly her head nearly spun; Merry and Pippin were on their feet beside her. It had been eleven days. Eleven days. Lothiriel hurried through the hall to the front steps and was met by Arwen and Artanis, both looking torn between frantic and ecstatic. Gamling appeared and Lothiriel gave him a swift smile; he smiled back but quickly turned his eyes to the far-away approaching figures.
"Theodrial." Lothiriel said softly to the closest serving girl, a thin girl of only fifteen, who looked awed whenever the Queen spoke to her. "Prepare bandages and beds. We should be ready for the worst."
Theodrial let out a soft squeak before scurrying off, motioning for the other girls to follow her. One of Arwen's hands found Lothiriel's.
"Estel." Arwen whispered. Lothiriel nodded, but could not help but think that hope could not bring people back from the dead.
oOo
There were cries of joy all around; the first riders had come through the gates, and most appeared unharmed. A few quickly bandaged cuts, a slice on the leg, a nick of the arm, but no more.
Praise the Valar. Lothiriel thought.
Despite these good signs, none of the people she was desperately looking for had appeared. No Imrahil, no Legolas and Gimli, no Aragorn, neither of her brothers, and especially, no Eomer. Quite suddenly, Artanis let out a heart-wrenching gasp, and Lothiriel followed her terrified gaze; Gandalf was riding up, with an unconscious man with the unmistakable dark hair of Gondor, but that was not what Artanis had gasped at.
More unmistakable than his hair was something that was no longer there; his arm, from the elbow down.
Everything else seemed to fade; Lothiriel was vaguely aware of rushing down the steps to Shadowfax, of Aragorn rushing past her to Arwen, of the happy shrieks from Frea's sisters as they covered him in kisses; she only had eyes for her brother, whom Gandalf and Eofor had managed to get off the kingly horse. Her face drained of color as she took in the wound.
"Lothiriel." Gandalf said softly. "You must be brave. Where can we take him?"
Lothiriel led the way, and everyone gave the group a wide berth. The wizard and the Rohirric soldier laid the Prince of Dol Amroth down on the bed Lothiriel had led them to.
"Gandalf," Lothiriel choked out between attempts to reign in her tears, "what does he need? What can I—"
"Aragorn will be along shortly." Gandalf said, soothingly rubbing her arm. "All that you need to do is have bandages and hold his hand."
Lothiriel nodded, and Theodrial appeared with bandages nearly instantly.
"When…when did he lose the arm?" Lothiriel asked softly. Gandalf sighed.
"We had to amputate last night. He wouldn't let us before then; but it became apparent it would be amputation or death, and we had no other choice."
"I am so sorry, my lady." Eofor said sorrowfully. Lothiriel put a hand on each of the men's shoulders.
"Gandalf…Eofor…there will never be a way to thank either of you…"
Gandalf waved off her thanks.
"Think nothing of it, dear girl. I watched him grow up as well. You children of the Tower have always been dear to me."
Eofor nodded morosely.
"I should've protected him better, my lady. I do not deserve your praise."
Lothiriel shook her head.
"Eofor, I have never met anyone more deserving of honor. I will always be indebted for bringing him back."
Aragorn arrived in the next moment, and Lothiriel sat down at her brother's right side, where his remaining arm was. She twined their fingers together as Aragorn readied the plants needed to prevent infection.
"Hold tight to his hand, Lothiriel." Aragorn instructed. "He will not like the feel of this plant."
Lothiriel nodded, and with her free hand, brushed her brother's matted hair out of his face.
Oh Amrothos. She thought sadly. Will you still be yourself when you awake?
oOo
Lothiriel wiped her eyes exhaustedly as she stumbled down the corridor to her own room. A part of her loathed to go in; she hated sleeping in the large bed on her own, and no matter how much wood she piled on the fire, she was never warm enough.
And the memories of her brother's screams were enough to make her blood run cold. Her father and Elphir had turned up half-way through the cleaning, and both men had been unable to remain the whole time. Aragorn had asked her if she had wanted to leave ("I can see the pain on your face, Lothiriel. Are you sure you want to do this?" "He would stay for me, Aragorn.")
Now, after hours of enduring the most horrific cries of her life, it was late, and she was returning to an empty bed.
She pushed open the door and shut it behind her; almost unconsciously she pulled off her dress and shuffled towards the bed. A voice stopped her.
"Have I not earned a proper hello, wife?"
A sudden burst of energy at the sound shot Lothiriel's head up; Eomer stood before her. He was unchanged, except for a tiny cut on his chin, and more weariness in his face. His eyes were full of a jumble of emotions; relief, fatigue, lust. Lothiriel flung herself at him and allowed him to crush her to his chest. When his grip relaxed slightly, she caught him in a scorching kiss, and then made a map of kisses over his face; both eyebrow, his nose, both ears, his eyes, even the cut on his chin received a welcome. Eomer grinned slightly.
"Not quite proper enough, but it'll do."
Lothiriel paused in her kisses and looked up at him.
"How could it be more satisfactory, a'mellonamin?"
A devilish look appeared on his face.
"Allow me to demonstrate."
Before Lothiriel could question him, she found herself pinned between him and their bed, and realizing exactly why fire alone had not warmed her in the past ten nights.
oOo
Author's Note:Oh wow guys. I am SO sorry for the delay; my only excuse is that my Muse was hiding from me and I had absolutely NO inspiration for over a week.
Anywho;
I didn't want to leave anyone hanging, so I thought it best to have them go and come back in one chapter; don't worry, what exactly happened on the battlefield will be explained in the next chapter. And hah! Lothiriel sticks it to those darn advisors! (everyone should know that being forced to eat Eowyn's soup is very nearly torture) Again, sorry if Faramir and Eowyn leaving seems unrealistic, but it didn't make sense to leave them in Edoras for any longer. Yes, they reached Minas Tirith safe and sound. As for Merry and Pippin's bet…well who knows? ;) (Hopefully Arwen and Aragorn, but besides them) Poor Amrothos. I hope none of you will hate me for depriving him of his arm, but all will make sense in the end, I promise.
It might be a bit until the next chapter, as I have a research paper due on Tuesday that I have yet to start….:/
I really hope everyone's still enjoying this story!
Reviews are better than pipeweed and ale :)
Translations:
*Hebo estel: have hope
*Onen i-estel edain, U-chebin estel anim: I give hope to men, I keep none for myself. Aragorn's mother did really say this. She and Arathorn's story is so sad. If you haven't read the Appendixes, you really should
* Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach: I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh. Since Lothiriel speaks and understands Elvish, I feel like Arwen would enjoy the opportunity to speak her true language with someone other than Aragorn or Legolas.