Chapter 25: Points of View
Lothíriel paced the floor of the barn, arms crossed over her chest, expression troubled. The night guards glanced at each other, bemused as to their queen's actions. The hem of her navy dress was collecting dirt and hay as she walked back and forth. The horses welcomed her arrival with heads sticking out from their stalls, but, bored with her lack of attention, most had resumed previous activities. Lothíriel stopped her pacing, eyes closed as she mentally upbraided herself for the treatment of what was meant to be a gentle persuasion. Instead they ended up yelling at each other like angry children.
But she couldn't understand why he had to be so pigheaded about this. It wasn't as though his people would be worse off with the aid of Gondor. Her mind drifted to those biting words he'd said to her. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was just a pampered girl from a stone castle, not fit for the rugged life this country required.
"My lady?" Lothíriel looked up from her musings to see Elfhelm in the archway leading into the stable. He looked considerably healthier since their rescue from the Dunlendings. He walked toward her and quirked a grin. In the muted light of the barn, his face looked younger, less hardened. At his appearance, several horses peeked out from their dark stalls. Elfhelm stroked the long face of the beast closest to him, trailing his fingers down the horse's coat gently. Despite the general austerity of these men, their tenderness toward horses always made Lothíriel smile. Aside from Elves (who seemed to connect with all animals on a spiritual level), the men of Rohan had an undisputed relationship with equines.
"Something on your mind?" he asked at length. She watched him stroke the beast, its eyes closing with contentment. There was no point trying to avoid the truth.
"My brother was sent here to persuade the King to accept Gondor's assistance," she answered slowly. "For all his talents Elphir is no bard. He thought it best that I persuade my husband. But like my brother, my skill with words is noticeably lacking."
"I take it Éomer was none too thrilled to receive the offer."
"Not at all," she conceded, looking at the ground.
"Rohan has been independent of Gondor for a long time, my Lady," Elfhelm murmured, engrossed in untangling the horse's forelock. "Éomer is of the generation that prides impartiality. Even while the venerable King Theoden was under the power the evil wizard, the thought of asking for help was absent. Besides, Gondor has long suffered from ill management under corrupt stewards."
"Indeed," Lothíriel nodded. She knew well the foul council Denethor masqueraded as righteous truth. "Do you think Rohan needs the help offered?" Elfhelm paused in his ministrations.
"In theory, yes," he answered. "The extra soldiers would discourage wayward orcs from considering Rohan an easy target. But it would send a message to the Dunlendings that we are susceptible to their attack without the aid of Gondor."
"I see," the Queen sighed. She should have considered all possibilities before confronting Éomer.
"It is also a personal problem for Éomer," Elfhelm continued quietly. He watched her as he spoke. "He must establish himself as a good ruler."
"Would not accepting Gondor's aid show that he is willing to put his infernal pride after the safety of his people?"
"Yes," the man chuckled lightly. "But that is the way of Éomer. He is stubborn beyond reason. To him, it is about living up to image his uncle and ancestors held. his ascension to the throne was an unexpected one and I believe he struggles to prove himself."
Lothíriel sighed and felt the bitter taste of guilt in her mouth as she took Elfhelm's words in. She was far too impetuous in her effort to make Éomer understand her argument. He was trying to do what he felt would keep him people the most safe. Who was she to question his authority?
"My Lady?" her eyes rose to meet the man's. "He doesn't have a clue what he's doing. He is afraid of making a decision that would hurt the people he has sworn to protect. Do not feel bad if you think you said the wrong thing. He needs to figure this out without upsetting those he holds dearest." He smiled and turned, leaving her in the dark barn.
Later that night, Lothíriel returned to the bedroom. The candles were doused and the room was quiet. With a resolve to be as supportive as possible, Lothíriel slipped into her nightgown and crawled into bed. Éomer's form next to hers was heavy with sleep and she settled against the pillows, staring at the high ceiling. She felt her husband shift and turn to her. His eyes opened and he avoided looking at her.
"I am sorry for my behavior," he murmured. "I was unforgivably hurtful."
"I should not have questioned your ability to make decisions," she answered softly, turning to look at him. "I am here for you. As your wife and as Rohan's queen."
Éomer nodded and brushed her cheek with his fingers before closing his eyes. Lothíriel smiled to herself and waited for the embrace of sleep, hearing his words whisper through the night air.
"Thank you."