All characters of LOTR are copyright of J.R.R. Tolkien and Tolkien Enterprise. Unless otherwise stated, most personality and physical appearance are based on both Tolkien and Sir Peter Jackson's Lord of The Ring Trilogy.

Writ of Shadows and Phantoms

Chapter 4: of Coward and Burden

Fields of Pelennor

16 March 3019 T.A.

Lothíriel was tending the wounded soldiers, seeing them to their lunch. There were many who could not eat without help, hamstrung by the injuries they received. She gathered some men who her father could spare. It was no easy task. Some injured would just become so frustrated that they refused to eat. Just as she was handing a bowl of stew to a helper, she overheard the loud quarrel outside the tent. She lowered the ladle and decided to investigate the root of the fit. Then a man stormed into the tent, red-faced and looking hot under his collar, trampling recklessly around the tables and yelling on top of his lungs, "Where is Prince Imrahil? I want to see him! He promised to talk to me! Where is he?"

Lothíriel immediately recognised this man. He was the noble who shamelessly took the salves for his selfish purpose even when he was unharmed. The dastard who exhibited no sympathy for commoners and peasants. "I am sorry. Prince Imrahil has other dealings. How can I help?" She offered to listen to his request despite the crude look he cast on her.

His eyes went from top to toe, inspecting her in her rugged dress and commoner blouse, swaggering around her. "Who are you to speak to me? I need to speak to Prince Imrahil in person, not likes of you. It is a matter of great significance! "

His uncouth words were no help to getting closer to her father. She would not allow such man to be in close proximity to her family. She struggled to collect her temper, still trying to sound neutral, "Lord Imrahil is not here. Perhaps I could offer to pass the message through."

"You? What do lows like you know? I am Lord Galar. I am going to ask Prince Imrahil for his daughter's hand in marriage. The great Princess of Dol Amroth and I shall be her husband!" He roared in her face with disgust in his voice, "What sincerity do I show if I need a lowly servant to tell the Prince about my proposal? Begone and let me speak to Prince Imrahil!" He did not seem to appreciate her courtesy.

The Swan Knights guarding the tent had their hands on their hilts, readied to move in. They did not take any insults lightly and moreover, it was directed to the daughter of their lord. Lothíriel lifted her hand, and gestured the knights to back away.

She then smirked at this spineless man who did not have the courage to join the army, who fled upon hearing the word "fight" and who, in each and every way, irritated her to the core.

"Let me tell you, Lord Galar," She went close to his ears in a whispering fashion but in a voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "This is indeed generous of you to ask my Princess' hand in marriage. But she will have to decline your offer, unfortunately, for she does not wish to marry a coward." She put her emphasis on her last word.

Some servants and soldiers brought their hands up trying to hide their laughs. Feeling humiliated, the noble's face reddened. He still tried defending himself and his shaken voice rang again. He barked back at her, "I am not a coward! I am willing to give up my last breath to The Princess. I shall protect her from all harms and ills!"

She cackled upon his words. Only lies came from a false tongue. If his words were convincing, then pigs would have wings and fly. "Yet you are! You fled when The Steward called the men to war. You hid and you stole salves from the Houses of Healing when others were dying! And yet you have no shame but to ask Lord Imrahil for his daughter's hand in marriage? You are lower than worm's belly crawling in the mud!" It made her sick to her stomach if she were to wed someone like him.

"You lie! Filthy wench with forked tongue! Let me see Prince Imrahil!" He demanded, grabbing her shoulder, his fingers crawling into her skin. He refused to give up his efforts. Two guards marched swiftly to him and took him by his arms and pulled him away.

"I will report this to Prince Imrahil! You will not get away, you wench!" He kicked his legs like a spoiled brat. His voice faded and she watched as the guards removed him from the tent and dragged him and dumped him off at the entrance to Minas Tirith.

The revenge on the noble man at lunch time had cheered her mood up. She had not always been in favour for humiliating someone openly like that but that man well deserved it. She whistled a little tune, making her way to check the orphans. They were supposed to have finished their meals. Merry she was now, but she least expected that it all soon turned chaotic.

Rohirrim camp.

The galloping of hooves halted abruptly in front of the tent of Lord of Rohan. She quickly dismounted from her horse and wanted to storm in. The guarding Rohirrims, in front of the tent, stopped her from going further.

"I am sorry, my lady. You cannot enter. " One of them reminded her that she had no right to storm into a king's tent like that. Their spears crossed the mouth of the tent.

"I have to see him! Can you tell him, please? It is urgent, please!" She pleaded.

"I cannot allow that, my lady. My lord is not here." Said another with a heavy accent.

"Where is he? Tell me!" She grew restless.

"He is in a council with Lord Gamling, just over there." The Rohirrim guard pointed her to a green tent nearby.

"Thank you," she bowed and gathered the reins of her horse and hastened towards the green tent.

And when she reached there, she was again impeded by the Rohirrim guards standing outside.

"I need to speak to your king. Will you please just let him know? Tell him Lothíriel wishes to see him!" She persistently demanded.

"My lady, Éomer King is in a council. Perhaps, it is wise to wait until he is finished." The guard tried to reassure her that she should wait.

"No, it is a matter of urgency afoot! I need to see him NOW! Please!" She continued to beg. She never understood why the Rohirrims were so stubborn.

Inside the tent, Éomer was sealing the letters he wrote to the families of the fallen Rohirrims. Gamling was at the table with him, overlooking the appropriate words to pass the ill news. Éothain was standing a foot away. He was now the Head of The Royal Guards. The quarrelling noise outside the tent did not go unnoticed. Éomer turned his eyes to Éothain and motioned him to take a look.

Éothain was surprised to see that one of his guards was in an argument with a woman. The guard noted the presence of Éothain and whispered in his ears. Lothíriel did not understand Rohirric but she could tell that the third man was not very pleased with her. His eyes narrowed as the guard continued to feed the message through.

"Lady Lothíriel, is it? I understand that your need to see Éomer King. But as Stán has told you, my king is, indeed, occupied with some matter of great importance. It is, perhaps, wise to come back another time." He was actually repeating the same answer that she had heard before.

"You don't understand! It is really urgent! I really have to see him now! Please!" She did not want to sound like a spoiled child but the matter she had in hands could not wait.

"My lady, do you not understand me? I will say again – my king is in a council. He is in a meeting with Lord Gamling and I very much doubt that he wished to be disturbed." Éothain was still very polite, trying to reason with this woman. It was not in his manner of upbringing that a man should raise his voice on a woman.

While inside the tent, distracted by the unsettling noise outside, Éomer handed all the sealed letters to Gamling and decided to investigate matter himself. He lifted the tent sleeves and asked, "For Béma's sake, what is this madness?" And he first saw a horse, his three guards then a woman in between. That woman that he met in the morning and last night. Now she was making a scene. More and more soldiers emerged from their tents, gathered and looked curiously at her.

Her eyes brightened up when he came out from the tent. She nearly bumped onto him.

"Have you seen Hannor? Have you seen him?" She was talking rapidly. Concern drew over her face.

"Who?" He frowned with a questioning look. Obviously he did not recall knowing that name or someone with that name.

"The boy! The young boy who you met this morning! He gave you the hurtsickles! Have you seen him? Tell me you have!" She urged.

"No. I have not." He shook his head. His brows scrunched. "What business is this?"

"I could not find him anywhere." The panic in her voice and face grew heavier.

"Well, he is not here." Short and crisp was his reply. His voice came out colder than he thought. To her ears, his words were devoid of warmth. This man was made of stone.

"He told the others that he would go and collect some flowers for you. He is not in Minas Tirith! I have checked every corner!" She found her voice trembling as thoughts grew darker inside her. Her feet lost their strength. She grabbed the reins of her horse to balance herself.

"I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps he-" He could see the panic in her eyes. But his words did not reach her ears. She sensed his reluctance to help and eagerness to get rid of her, so she jumped up her horse not waiting for him to finish. "WHAT do you think are you doing, woman?" He pulled the reins in her hands and demanded, seeing that she was ready to ride off.

"Alas, if he is not here, then there is one place he can be. The forest where hurtsickles sprout the most." She lifted her chin and peered into the bushes leading to Drúadan Forest. "If you choose not to help then let me go." She did not want to beg him for help. She still had her pride.

"Don't be silly! You go into that forest, you will only return as bones." Éomer did not have the heart to let a woman venturing alone into that forest. He may dislike her but he was not cruel. With a sigh, he turned to his bodyguard and Gamling. In his own tongue he spoke to them, "Éothain, bring me Firefoot, get a healer in my tent and then come with me. Gamling, have ten men ready and we meet in quarter of an hour in front of my tent. We are going into the forest." He marched towards his tent.

"I am coming with you," she followed him, leading her horse, seemingly to understand that he had decided to go to the forest in search for the little boy.

"It would be very wise if you stay." He turned around and said dryly, casting his hazel green eyes into her grey ones, trying to discourage her with his hard stare.

"No!" She grabbed his arm, digging her fingers into his gauntlet. "I will go regardless. I am not your soldier. You do not command me." Returning the glare, her protest toned with persistence and anger.

He lowered his eyes on her hand which was still gripping on his arm. She quickly realised how improper and rude her action was. "I am sorry." She loosened her grip and tore her eyes away. He did not respond to her apology. Deciding that this woman would not give up the thought of going into the forest to search for the boy, he snorted and went into his tent to fetch his helmet.

Within minutes, the Riders gathered in front of their king with long spears in their hands. Éomer mounted and gave a short instruction. His voice was clear. "There might be a boy missing in Drúadan Forest. We will seek out in the forest. Scour any suspicious path and learn if any other sign has been left behind which may reveal the trace of the boy. We have to find him."

"There is little time to lose. Ride out! Ha!" Kicking his horse foward, the white horse tail on his helmet flew in the breeze. Firefoot. Lothíriel followed him, riding behind him. For a moment, she felt lost. She did not understand Rohirric and nobody cared enough to translate it to her. She just pulled the reins and led her horse until she came next to Éothain.

Then a deep voice rang ahead. It was Westron and it was meant for her. "Beasts dwell in the forest. Do not wander."

Within minutes, the Riders arrived at the boulders of the forest. The bushes were thick. The canopy of the trees blocked the sun light. They dismounted and followed their king into the forest. They searched thoroughly for anything that may divulge to them the whereabouts of the boy.

"He was here!" She exclaimed, pointing at a small bush of plant with missing stalks. Éomer stepped in and took a closer look. The cut was still fresh and neat. It was a remnant that the boy could not be far.

"Lord Éomer!" One of his riders called out and waved at him. Éomer quickly ran over to his man. She followed his steps closely. He examined the stalks. Another neat cut. Then he noticed the small footprints around it. She followed the prints and signalled to him to look at another set of deep prints just nearby. Deep and huge marks of paws and claws. A wolf.

He threw Éothain a troubled look then drew Gúthwinë and so did his Riders. They moved steadily and quietly. "Stay close, Lady Lothíriel." Éothain hissed at her as he quickened his steps to position himself on her side. Éomer was leading the way. The light was fading quickly, creating new shadows. His armour seemed to have taken a darkened colour without the grace of sun. He watched carefully every step as he followed the trail of the small foot prints. And the prints of paws and claws were never far from them. The wolf was stalking its prey. His throat tightened on the thought of this.

They crept through the woods. There was still no sign of Hannor. Yet the threat of danger grew heavier with every step they ventured further in the forest. Lothíriel was finding her movement obstructed by her long dress. The branches every now and often caught the fabric. Annoyed, she pulled and lifted her dress up to knee length so that she could meet the speed of the Riders.

Éothain saw her doing and narrowed his eyes on the sight of her feet. She wore no leather boots but a pair of suede shoes obviously unfit for creeping through woods. Some sharp briars scratched her exposed shins. She ignored his warning and continued. Éothain shook his head at her resolute character and gave up his attention. Then her movement was jerked. She felt a splinter through her left foot and the stream of warm liquid flowing. The suede of her shoe greedily drank of the generous feed of blood and soon it was damp. The pain shrieked up from her foot to her hip, every time she landed her weight on it. She bit her lips trying not to hiss out in pain.

Then the company halted and they lowered themselves among the twigs and grasses. She lifted her view and saw the movement of the crest of the white horsetail flew from side to side. Éomer had given the signal to his Riders to circle his sides of left and right. She listened to the forest. And a sobbing cry of was faint among the humming and churring in the woods. She saw his hand was up again, and this time in an inclined manner. He was ready to give his orders. As he dropped his hand, arrows and spears darted in in front of her eyes followed by a short wimper. They killed the beast. But where was Hannor?

Éomer rose to his full height and sprinted hastily further. Seeing this, she moved forward but a hand came in front of her, stopping her from going any further. Éothain turned and shook his head at her. He denied her action to follow his king. She let out a heavy sigh at him, feeling defeated by his absolute loyalty. He would obey every command that Éomer had given him. She was not allowed to wander. He did so to make sure she did not stand a chance at disobeying Éomer's order. Intolerable man their king was.

"Lord Éomer is not a harsh person, you know." He said in a low tone. Obviously, her thoughts were all written on her face.

"None of my business," she replied with an annoyed look on her face. Rude in speech and cold in heart. Their king was an insufferable man. Her disliking of him only grew worse.

"Carry another man's burden before you judge him, my lady." Éothain was not entirely happy with her view of his king. And he came to the conclusion that this woman was hopeless.