Chapter 14
Dol Amroth
November 3016
Imrahil stood on the docks as the Valiant finally finished pulling into the port. The plank was lowered and just as soon as it was steady in its place, two figures descended. Even though he hadn't seen them for seven years, Imrahil recognized his second son and daughter immediately. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised that little girl he had said goodbye to had turned into such a beautiful woman. As she came closer her noted that although she looked so much like his late wife, there were small differences: the curve of her lips, the straightness and darkness of her hair, the color of her eyes. Erchirion, who stood beside her and was holding her arm as if to steady his sister, had grown as well, though not quite so drastically as Lothíriel. His face looked like it belonged more to a man than before. Imrahil stepped forward, out of the crowd and he was pleased that he saw recognition on his children's faces. Lothíriel stepped away from Erchirion and came to stand directly in front of her father. He watched as she hesitated for a moment before reaching out to embrace him.
"Hello Father." They held each other for a long while until he held her away from him to take another look at her.
"Oh, my darling girl!" Imrahil felt the wetness in his eyes build. When he looked at Lothíriel's face, he saw a similar expression. He pulled her into another embrace and ran his hand over her hair. "You've grown so much. I have missed you so dearly." Lothíriel stepped away from him and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Imrahil saw a strange expression in her eyes that he could only describe as relief. He turned his face towards his son. "Erchirion!" he reached forward and the two men clasped hands firmly.
"Hello Father, it has been a long time." He smiled slightly and Imrahil couldn't keep from pulling him into an embrace as well.
"Where is everyone else?" Lothíriel asked quietly. She looked around throughout the crowd until she realized that no one else from her family was there.
"They are back in the castle. Elphir didn't want to leave Meira to wait by herself and Amrothos was summoned to the House of Healing only moments before your ship pulled in. Your Aunt Ivriniel is here as well, but she is stiff from her journey here and did not desire to walk any further." He took Lothíriel's arm and to guide her to the road leading to the castle. As they walked, all three chatted casually about Lothíriel and Erchirion's journey home. The time it took to finally arrive at the castle was lost on Imrahil. He was so caught up in the emotion and moment of finally having his family all in Dol Amroth once again, that he wanted it to last forever.
Lothíriel felt such joy and relief with each step that brought her closer to her home. She noted the expressions on each person's face as she passed them. Some of the people would suddenly grow silent around them and made no attempt to hide their open stares. Erchirion kept talking of the journey from the ship and every once in a while Lothíriel would add a few words to the conversation, but she didn't want to talk. She wanted to take in everything. Somehow, it wasn't exactly as she had remembered. Everything seemed a bit smaller than she had remembered as a child, though she wondered if that was simply because she was made to look up at things more then.
When they finally arrived at the doors leading to the great hall, Lothíriel stepped into the warm light and cheerful voices. She looked around and saw a group of soldiers pass. While most wore the armor of Dol Amroth, others sported the typical armor of a soldier of Minas Tirith. She wondered why they were in Dol Amroth, but remembered the shadow her father had spoken of in his letters. Her musings were cut short when she spotted Aunt Ivriniel sitting with Elphir discussing something with great concentration. It did not take long, however, for their presence to be noticed by all the inhabitants. As soon as Elphir and Ivriniel noticed their entrance they both stood so suddenly that Lothíriel could hear the sound of wood scraping against stone.
"Lothíriel! Erchirion!" They shouted in unison and rushed forward to embrace her. Lothíriel felt tears begin to build at their joyful and excited expressions but quickly blinked them back. Lothíriel felt her aunt's lips push against her cheeks while Elphir's strong arms pulled her against his chest.
"It's so good you're home. Dol Amroth hasn't been the same without you, little sister." Elphir whispered into her ear. "And Meira can't wait to see you, she's taking a nap at the moment." He pulled away and Lothíriel found her hands held tightly by her aunt.
"You look well, my dear. I am so glad to see you here again, but my have you grown. Let he have a good look at you, girl." Lothíriel couldn't help but smile at the way her aunt held he by the shoulders, pushing her until she was at arm's length. Lothíriel stood stock still at attention as Ivriniel inspected. "Yes," she declared quietly, "you've grown into a fine looking young woman."
"All this fuss, you'd have thought somebody important was here," a voice teased from behind the group. Lothíriel turned around and smiled when she saw the speaker's face.
"Amrothos!" She rushed towards him. "I'm home."
"And so you are. I am glad to see you again, Lothig." He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "It seems you're not such a little flower now though." Lothíriel nodded.
"Tonight we will sup as a family united once again." Her father declared. "Dol Amroth is whole again for the first time in seven years." A great cheer sounded from everyone in the great hall and Lothíriel thought again how happy she was that she had finally come home.
Rohan, the East-Mark
December 3016
Éomer sat on top of Firestorm and looked out along the snowy plains of his homeland. Normally they were empty but this time the familiar colored tents of the horse breeders stood pitched. Even from this far away, he could hear the music as well as the typical sounds of the nomadic people. He guided his éored down to the encampment, stopping in front of the breeding master's tent. As he dismounted, the flap of the tent opened and Éomer saw the surprised face of Tania emerge.
"Éomer," she was quiet, "what are you doing here?"
"Now is that any way to great an old friend?" Éomer teased. "I was patrolling and happened to see your camp in the distance. Do you think your father would mind sharing the area for us to stay the night?" Tania shrugged and stepped aside, holding the flap open for Éomer.
"You'll have to ask him yourself, Third Marshal." She smiled. "And perhaps when you're done, you could tell me about what happened in the capital. You left so urgently, a girl might feel like you were trying to avoid her if she didn't know better."
"I'll tell you everything that happened later, on my honor." Éomer returned the smile before stepping into the dimly lit tent. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once they did, he saw Master Talisund , sitting in the center of his tent, absently stirring a bowl of stew as he gazed into nothingness. Éomer respectfully took a seat on one of the cushions sitting around a leather map of Rohan. After a while Talisund cleared his throat and Éomer peered up into his wizened gaze.
"Ah, Lord Éomer, I see that you have arrived just as I knew you would." He spooned a bit of the stew into his mouth before continuing. "How is your new mare growing? Tania spoke of how difficult it was to bring her to into this world."
"If her rate of growth is to be an indicator, I would judge that she will grow to be a mighty horse indeed. Each time I circle back to visit Aldburg I check on her and am quite pleased with her progress. Once the frost has melted, I will begin her initial training." Éomer watched as Talisund nodded and stroked his long beard.
"Very good." He began to stare again for a moment before speaking in a tone as if he were dreaming. "I feel this horse will aid you in a way you could not anticipate. Be steady with her training, for she will need it dearly in the years to come." Éomer paid close attention to the words, making sure to heed them. The elderly man cleared his throat and the spell was broken. "Now, my lord, why have you come to this old man's tent?"
"I have come not only to pay my respects to you but to request a place within your camp for my éored this night. I feel it will aid my men's morale to spend time in the company of other Rohirrim." Éomer kept his back straight, but bowed respectively to the master breeder.
"Of course, you must stay at least the night. And not only will it heighten your éored's morale, I'm sure that my people will most likely sleep more soundly knowing they have you to protect them this night, just as all of Eastern Rohan must feel about you." He smiled and waved his hand towards the tent's entrance. "You should see to your men right off, I shall retire for the evening as today's journey has exhausted me." Éomer stood and bowed, a smile on his face as well.
"I hope you rest well, Master Talisund." He turned on his heel and stepped towards the opening.
"And the same to you, my lord."
Éomer was pleased at how quickly everything was set up. The men from his éored mingled with the breeders and the conversations and songs were merry and loud. He had just begun to make his way to Tania's tent to speak to her as he had promised when his captain, Éothain, called out to him.
"My lord, what is our plan for tomorrow? Yule will be upon us soon, and I doubt your sister would want you to miss the celebrations in Edoras." He wore a small smile on his face.
"I was thinking something similar. I did cause great offense to Wormtongue, so how can I possibly ever show my face in the city again?" The sarcasm in his tone was more than evident.
"So shall I inform the men that we will prepare to go to Edoras for Yule?" Éomer shook his head looking at his more serious companion.
"Not right away. I want to stop by Aldburg before heading to Edoras. Some of the men in the éored have family there and I wouldn't want to separate them during that time. After that, we will make preparations to leave for Edoras directly." Éomer saw the smile on Éothain's face as he nodded and couldn't help but return it. The captain turned and began to share the news with the already happy men. Éomer watched only for a few moments before continuing on his way to Tania's tent. After calling out to her quietly, the flap shifted and she stood in front of him.
"Éomer, and here I thought you had just up and left again." She teased.
"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" He stepped through the entrance.
"Never," Éomer took a seat as Tania laughed lightly. "Now, I believe you owe me a story." She took a seat opposite of him and handed him a bowl of stew. "It's beef and cabbage," she indicated the bowl with a nod of her head. Éomer dipped his in appreciation before trying out the flavor. It was a bit salty for his taste, but he knew that the breeders tended to salt their meats very well due to how they traveled.
"I do. I had received a letter from my sister and thought it was best to travel to Edoras right away…"
Edoras
October, 3016
Éomer looked towards the beloved city of Edoras as the noon sun stood high above. It hadn't taken his éored long to prepare and leave for their journey, but each moment felt longer than it was as Éowyn's letter ran through his mind over and over. Why had he been so preoccupied with the birth of a single mare? He spurred his horse onwards with Éothain at his side.
"I'm sure she's fine." Éothain's quiet words of consolation echoed within Éomer.
"I certainly hope so." The Marshal responded. With each step the city grew closer and closer until finally they were at the gates. They rode through and Éomer watched as the stablehand took Firefoot, the stallion who had taken Firestorm's place a year ago, into the stall reserved for the rider. He saw to it that Éowyn's mount was still in the stables before striding up the stairs towards Meduseld.
The two guards nodded to him with quiet greetings before turning their stoic expressions forward once again. When he stepped in the hall, he saw, for the first time what Éowyn had described. The man sitting on the throne was no longer the strong, warm man who had taken in his orphaned niece and nephew as if they were his own children. This man was cold and grey like that of living stone. Éomer stepped forward cautiously, surveying how, like the image of his uncle, the hall itself had become gloomy and dark. Finally, arriving in front of the King, Éomer said the iconic words.
"Hail, Théoden King, Lord and Master of the Riddermark." The response he was hoping for was never issued as a small man slinked to the side of the King.
"Third Marshal," the only word Éomer could use to describe voice that obviously belonged to Gríma son of Galmod, was moist, "What brings you to Edoras without a summons from the King?" A slight tone of irritation, like when a fly enters a room, filled the hall.
"I have come to report on my findings of the East-Mark." Éomer spoke directly to the King, making sure not to even glance at Gríma.
Gríma sighed, as if it were the most odious task before waving his hand dismissively. "Then be about your business, Marshal. The King is weary from a long day and you are only proving to make it longer." Éomer felt the hand of rage grab hold of him and he placed his hand on the pommel of his sword.
"Orc and Dunlending attacks from the East have been growing steadily in the past weeks . The orcs especially have been openly seeking out and attacking the breeders and stealing the black horses. There have been ten thefts and thirteen deaths among the breeders. One small village was burned by Dunlendings but the people were all accounted for as my éored arrived in time to aid them." As Éomer continued his report he watched his uncle for any changes in his expression, but it was like looking at a dead man. Finally he concluded, "I would like to request an increase of food from the granaries to be sent to Aldburg where the refugees are now living until the winter passes."
"Would you drain Edoras of all its supplies along with you so that you might add to your own meal?" A small smile was etched into Gríma's face. "How incredibly selfish of you to ask such a thing. The people of Edoras need to eat as well."
Éomer felt his jaw set, " I am not asking to take the food from the King's larder but from the stores that have been set aside for such occasions." His voice was growing progressively louder. The King began to mutter something and Gríma bent over and listened before standing and sighing.
"Very well, Third Marshal, we can spare three bags of grain. Please be ready to pick them up before tomorrow morning when you depart. Now," he placed his sickeningly pale hand on the King's shoulder, "Your Lord King is tired from this discussion and requires rest. Please see to it that you complete all your necessary tasks you need to finish before tomorrow." He helped the King to his feet and led him away towards his chambers. Éomer watched the pair leave with a mixture of anger at the advisor's pompous attitude and sadness at his uncle's disposition. He turned and saw, standing in the corner, Éowyn, dressed completely in white.
"Hello, elder brother." She came forward and embraced him for only a moment. "I am glad you decided to come. Now you can see how Gríma has begun to 'rule' in uncle's stead." Éomer nodded.
"Indeed, this is not right. Where is Théodred? You said he came and it seemed to bring life back to the King." Éomer scanned the room for anyone listening to their conversations. "Surely he could aid in the rule of Edoras rather than Gríma?"
"He said he would when he was here, but the West has been growing more and more volatile. Bigger, stronger orcs than we are used to have begun to attack and Théodred came to request more men added to his éored. After he left, Uncle just got worse and I am beginning to wonder why he has shown no improvement." Her words were barely over a whisper. Éomer stroked his chin.
"I feel similarly. In the past he has always conquered sicknesses with ease, remaining, at most, in bed for a week. This is not natural." Éomer saw Gríma reenter the hall and gaze towards the brother and sister. Éomer glared at him for a while until the man slinked off into a shadow. "I do have things I must see to while I am here, but you and I will speak more before the day is out." Éowyn nodded and the two separated.
Rohan, the East-Mark
December, 3016
"…and after that, I found that Gríma had taken offense at my actions and felt they reflected poorly on the King. While he did not challenge me directly, I have heard word from Théodred that he has started banning certain people from carrying weapons before the king." He finished his stew and placed the empty bowl down beside him.
"He only gave you three bags of grain for an entire village worth of refugees?" Tania looked stunned as she watched Éomer nod. "How are you going to feed them and all of Aldburg if you don't have enough?" Éomer crossed his arms.
"I put a ration on the grain that we have already in the stores and while in Edoras, several families gave me a bit of their portion so we ended up with more than we expected. I doubt anyone in Aldburg will grow fat this winter, but they will not starve."
"Father says we will be returning to Aldburg before the first snowmelt. While we are there, perhaps we can share some of our food as well." Éomer shook his head at Tania's words.
"You have a good heart Tania, and that is something to be very proud of, but my people and the refugees will be fine in the end. And the breeders need all the food you can get for the amount of time you are traveling without means to grow your own food." With a resigned sigh, Tania agreed. She was just about to say something else when there a woman entered the tent.
"Tania, there's a problem with Bridget's delivery. The babe is not facing the right way. I apologize for the interruption, but you have the most experience with such things." Tania nodded at the woman's words and hastily pulled out her apron from a bag.
"If you'll pardon me, Marshal Éomer, I have work ." With that she followed the woman out of the tent. Éomer followed her as far as the entrance of the tent before walking the opposite way to where his men were still enjoying the company of their countryfolk.
