A/N: Sorry about the delay - please read below if you want the details. As always, I am not J. R. R. Tolkien and I do not want any profit from this story.
Thank you to kfirey, Christmas 95, and pianogirl for their reviews! You guys made my day!
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They were riding the way back from one of the hamlets when the message came. A house had caught fire and the village requested aid. Lothiriel and Eowyn waited while Eothain circled up his escort and sent all but himself and another guard to assist with relief.
"Do they need an additional healer?" Lothiriel asked the messenger before the riders left.
"They have enough people on hand. Fortunately no one was in the house at the time." Eothain answered, having translated the question and retranslated the answer.
Lothiriel, despite herself, was relieved. Burns were nasty wounds to heal, and she felt that she had seen more than her fair share after the First Circle was lit ablaze.
Once the riders were off, the small party of four continued the way back to Edoras.
As they rode, Lothiriel found herself almost stuck in a never ending loop of the siege of Gondor – the smells of burning flesh, the screams of the dying, the pounding of the orc armies that seemed to echo even into the once peaceful gardens… She was so distracted that her company slowing and then stopping didn't register at first. As they halted, she noticed that there was an accident on the road in front of them.
The carts were wrecked together, and in such a state that Lothiriel's first instinct was to dismount and find who was injured. Eowyn's iron grip kept her in the saddle, as Eothain brought his horse a pace forward.
"What happened here?" He asked in Rohirric. When neither man answered, Eothain's scowl grew, and he repeated his query in Western.
"Go on," sneered the first man. "You're the one that wanted to do the talking."
The second man made no answer, but instead looked from face to face.
"Where do you come from?" Eothain asked, but still received no answer.
"I know that accent, man of Umbar." Lothiriel stated coldly, unable to keep quiet. "Little love did I have for it when I was waiting for the Corsairs to sail up to Gondor. I love it less here in Rohan. State your business, as requested."
The second man smiled evilly at her words. "You are indeed the Princess of Dol Amroth. No other has her style of arrogance, or so I'm told."
Lothiriel's brows shot up her forehead.
"It is ill manners to speak with a guest before declaring oneself to her host. Who are you, and what would you?" Eothain challenged.
"It's quite simple, horse-man. We are poor sailors, and wish to rebuild our fleet. Neigh on two weeks ago we came to a crossing point on the Anduin, and heard rumors of the Princess of Dol Amroth traveling in Gondor with only a small guard to protect her."
"And you thought to try your strength against the Horselords of Rohan?"
"Haven't seen any Horselords yet," the first man sneered. "Poor men with even poorer spoils for the taking. No money here."
"And yet here you are." Lothiriel intercepted, hoping to keep from bloodshed. "Sir, what do you want from me?"
"Your dowry."
"My dowry? How do you – you would have to marry me" Lothiriel stammered, her mind searching for a way to make his statement sensible.
"Lady Lothiriel," Eowyn's voice drifted softly by her shoulder, and Lothiriel turned her head, almost nose to nose with Eowyn. Lothiriel raised her eyebrows, and Eowyn almost imperceptibly shook her head.
"You seem to have wasted your time in coming." Eothain's voice was deadly calm. "Throw down your arms now and we will consider letting you live, otherwise you do not have the numbers of men to try anything by force."
"Is that so?" The second man asked, and at a whistle from the first another ten men appeared from the carts behind them. "Do you care to reconsider?"
"Lady Lothiriel, stay back please." Eothain asked, and at his nod the second rider blew a loud horn call that seemed to reverberate through the hills. "You have but a few minutes now before you're hopelessly out numbered." Eothain informed the men, almost pleasantly. "I suggest you make them count." With that he drew his sword and nudged his horse forward, the second rider and Eowyn at his heels.
Lothiriel watched as they were able to take the men by surprise, and two were struck down before they could even draw their own weapons. However, they seemed to be able to use this as a rallying cry, and the Rohirrum were quickly surrounded. Unable to stay away, Lothiriel saw her opening and nudged Mirime in to a canter, knocking down one of the men who tried to attack Eowyn from behind. She kept Mirime's momentum and rode around the wagons and knocked a second man down on her return trip. The third time around the wagons it seemed one of the men was waiting for her, and before she could register what had happened something caught her by the shoulder and dragged her down.
Almost blind with pain, Lothiriel saw a rope was wrapped around her now despondent left arm. Broken? Dislodged? Thoughts seemed to scatter like lightning bugs in the fog of her pain. Two things suddenly became clear, however. First was that Eothain was fighting for his life trying to get to her, as the force the men was concentrated on him, and Eowyn and the other rider had been drawn slightly further away. The second was that the man who held the other end of the rope was one of the men she had knocked down. He was severely injured from his fall, but that didn't stop him from being able to crawl towards her, knife in hand.
Eothain had struck down two of the five men surrounding him, and his horse had taken care of a third. The two remaining men were on either side of him, and Eothain was doing his best to deflect blows away from him and his horse, but was only slightly successful. Blood gushed from many wounds on his legs and thighs. Lothiriel watched as the men backed him into a corner, pinned by the wagons. One focused his attack on Eothain and the other began to move around behind on the wagons. A sharp tug on the rope sent stars of pain into Lothiriel's vision. The man was now less than ten feet away.
Not allowing herself to think about what he would do when he got to her, Lothiriel drew her dagger from the boot. Putting one bracing foot on the rope, she cut herself free from the man's hold, and threw the dagger in one swift motion. It whistled through the air and hit with a sickening thud in the man on the wagon's stomach. The man fell with a groan, but Lothiriel didn't see what happened next as there was a sharp tug on the shortened rope, almost causing her to vomit in pain.
"How dare you." The man hissed, as he threw her to the ground and raised his knife. "It'll be had to scorn us when you're dead, won't it be?"
But before he could strike something large collided with him, and blood splattered on her face and body. She heard a shriek of pain from man and horse, and then the decisive sound of bones snapping.
Slowly she got up, using her good arm to steady herself. The man with the knife lay dead, and Mirime was staggering near him, a horrible looking slash down her side.
"No!" Lothiriel screamed, and it was as if her cry had summoned others of the Rohirrum from the ground. They surrounded the other men on foot, killing all with swift efficiency. Lothiriel barely spared them a glance as she carefully walked over to her skittish horse. "Miri," She said softly. "Mistress Miri, it will be fine. You will be fine." Slowly she got close enough to catch the harness. The cut was bleeding freely. Assistant healer though she was, Lothiriel had no experience with horse injuries. "You will be fine." She repeated, and looked around for help.
Eowyn was with a large group surrounding where Lothiriel had last seen Eothain. A rider was explaining something very intently to Eowyn, he kept pointing to the wagons where the man Lothiriel had killed went down. Eowyn nodded gravely, and turned to Lothiriel with the strangest look in her eyes.
"Eowyn!" Lothiriel called, and Eowyn came with a few of the other riders. "I don't know what to do." Lothiriel could feel tears streaming down her face, but couldn't bring herself to care to wipe them away. "I don't know how to help her." She reluctantly let go of the reins as the riders gently convinced the shaking Mirime to lie down. "She saved my life." It seemed crucial to try to explain this. "She saved me. She has to be alright. She'll be alright, won't she Eowyn?"
Eowyn was looking intently at the horse. "It is hard for me to say, I do not have the knowledge." She replied honestly. "They will see that she is brought to our stable master, and if anyone can heal her…" Eowyn let her sentence fade away uncompleted. "She was amazing. Where did she learn to attack like a warhorse?"
Lothiriel shook her head, tears springing afresh as her horse cried in pain again.
"What happened to your arm?" Eowyn asked, drawing Lothiriel's focus again.
"My arm?" Lothiriel looked down. Her whole body was covered with Mirime's blood, but her left arm was stiff at an abnormal angle. The rope around her wrist was lined with red welts, and developing bruises. "I think some one threw a rope at me…" Lothiriel tried to piece it all together, swallowing back yet another wave of nausea. "Eothain?" She asked.
"Alive," was Eowyn's answer. "You saved his life with your throw."
Lothiriel shook her head, not taking her eyes away from her horse. "Can I stay with her? Will they move her?" She was crying again.
"You need your own attention." Eowyn said firmly. "She will be in the best of hands."
Eowyn guided Lothiriel away from her horse, and Lothiriel followed, almost in a daze. Strong hands lifted her up onto another horse, and Lothiriel bit back a cry of pain as her arm jerked forward and back. Eowyn mounted behind Lothiriel and with a strong guard they rode back to Edoras.
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Lothiriel tasted blood, as the healer snapped her shoulder back into place. Eowyn had left her side to fetch Amrothos, and while she was gone Lothiriel told the healer to bring her shoulder to rights, and then bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.
By the time her brother and Eowyn had returned the healer was binding the arm flat against her body to protect it from being jarred about.
"I'm not sorry." Lothiriel snapped, in too much pain to care what her brother thought. "I'm not. I'd do it again in a heart beat," she continued to challenge, though her brother had yet to say a word.
"I am so relieved you are alright." Amrothos surprised Lothiriel with a gentle hug. "Eowyn told me you were injured, but was unclear as to what specifically was wrong."
The healer moved back in and washed Lothiriel's wrist with liquid that made her hiss in pain. He said something to Eowyn in Rohirric, but too quickly for Lothiriel or Amrothos to catch and then began to gently bind her wrist.
"The healer says your cut is clean with no poisons. It will smart for some time, but you should be able to use your wrist." She translated, and then asked him something in Rohirric. After receiving her answer, she added "Your shoulder was dislocated and it will take some time to heal, however your arm should be good after awhile."
"Little bird, what happened?" Amrothos asked as the healer left.
Lothiriel shook her head and began to stand, when the doors opened again to reveal Eomer, white faced.
"Eothain?" Eowyn asked quickly.
"It is bad." Eomer replied honestly, "But he will get through it. Lady Lothiriel, are you – "
"I am fine," she snapped, moving to stand again. "I am going to see my horse."
"Mirime?" Amrothos asked, startled. "Lothi – what happened?"
Lothiriel bit back tears as she jerked her shoulder wrong. "She saved me. She saved my life, and if she dies it will all be my fault. Vanya is too old to bear foals and I will have lost everything."
"That's not true," Amrothos crouched in front of Lothiriel, and gently grabbed her face to force her to pay attention. "You still have Calanon and Alyan. You can still continue the line. But what makes you think that Miri is so gravely injured?"
"I saw bone," Lothiriel's face was white as death. "I saw her ribs. She protected me, and this is the thanks I give her." With her good hand, Lothiriel absently wiped at the tears that retraced paths down her cheeks.
Amrothos helped his sister sit, and perched at the end of the bed. "What happened," he asked again. This time he directed his question towards Eowyn, and the room was silent as she told her tale.
Lothiriel broke the stillness first, looking directly at Eomer. "Where must I go, Eomer King, to find my horse?"
"The stable master will find you when he has news, good or ill." Eomer replied gravely.
"I cannot sit with her then? She will be scared with strangers, and" Lothiriel took a deep breath and continued in a steadier voice. "I wish to be there if… if the worst…" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
"Perhaps we might sit in the Great Hall and wait," Eowyn suggested. "That way the stable master will find you all the quicker."
Lothiriel got to her feet with a small hiss as she wrenched her shoulder. "They didn't give you something to numb the pain?" Amrothos asked furious.
"The healer tried." Lothiriel admitted. "I will have none of it, nothing that will dull my senses or make me sleep until I know…" She once again stopped herself and took Eowyn's hand.
"Let's wait in the Great Hall." Eowyn suggested in the silence that fell. "Eomer, will you join us, or are you needed by Eothain?"
Eomer shook his head. He had been staring at Lothiriel as though she were a puzzle he was trying to work out. "Eothain's family is by him. His wife and daughter. I would only be a nuisance."
"Then sit in the hall and join us. The healers will know where to find you if something changes."
Eomer nodded in agreement, and they left the small room together.
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A/N: Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always; questions, comments, or reviews are always appreciated.
I am so sorry that this was so late in coming. Between moving this summer, my brother got married, and so for the past 15 days I have been preparing for his wedding, driving to his wedding, driving people around his wedding, and then driving back from his wedding. I do apologize, though, and can hopefully promise that this won't happen again.
See you September 1st!
