Chapter 19
Fire spread around the large white stone. Hungry flames licked upward, reaching for the single figure standing on top. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight and her dark, long, straight hair flowed behind her in the wind. She watched the flames around her without expression when suddenly all went dark and still. The scorch marks on the stone faded and the woman let out a small cry before stepping off into the abyss. The only sound that came from her fall was that of her simple white dress as it flapped like a bird trying to take flight as she plummeted into the unending darkness.
East-Mark, Rohan
April 3018
Éomer sat up suddenly, his chest heaving at the image that remained seared within his mind. As he came further and further into true consciousness, he felt the cold that clung to his damp skin. Taking a few calming breaths he tried to remember everything from his dream. He wondered what it all meant. But it faded away with each second and the more he tried to grasp at the image of the woman's face, the more it seemed to be just out of reach.
He lay back down and stared up at the ceiling of his tent, wondering what could have inspired such a vivid dream. He tried to return to sleep, but after several minutes knew it would be a futile effort. Sitting back up slowly, he lit a candle and opened one of the maps he tended to bring with him throughout the Mark. On it was marked several places that were ideal for ambushes as well as others where campsites could be set up defensibly. He had spent many years marking the map, finding all the hidden gems of the massive plains all around him.
The quiet sound approaching footsteps alerted him and he folded up the map before making his way to the flap of the tent. He opened it and saw his most loyal of men, Éothain, standing before his tent with an inquisitive look in his eyes.
"Is everything well with you, my lord?" His voice was low so as not to wake anyone in the other nearby tents.
"Indeed," Éomer moved aside, giving Éothain room to enter the tent. "I simply couldn't sleep and decided that I would plan our next route."
Éothain lifted an eyebrow skeptically, "And why could you not sleep?" His expression was as serious as usual as he surveyed the Marshal.
"It is nothing for anyone to be concerned with." Éomer waved casually before reaching over and picking up two cups and filling them from the small wineskin that he had brought with him. Holding out the full cup to his friend, he hoped he would take the offering and not ask any further questions. He did not know why he was so hesitant to bring up his strange dream, but before he could think on it further, Éothain spoke up again.
"Have you received any word from Edoras? There are rumors that your uncle is no longer the man who took the throne. They say that he has been replaced with a shell in his image." As they spoke, Éomer remembered the image of his uncle, sitting so still he might as well have been dead, being spoken for by Wormtongue.
"Messages coming from Edoras have become something of a rare occurrence, though I must remind you that so long as Théoden King remains with breath in his body, he is still our King. If his very life brings him pain, we can only hope that the Valar do not prolong his suffering." Éomer put the rim of the cup to his lips and took a long gulp before bringing it back down.
"You are right, of course my lord. In the future, I will remind the men and whoever else I hear whispering such rumors of your words." Éothain finished his drink before handing the cup back over to Éomer. He walked towards the entrance and only turned back while he held the flap of the tent open. "Perhaps we can plan our route that we can return to Edoras and you can meet with your sister and even find your uncle in better health that you had left him in." The flap fell behind him and for a few moments, Éomer could hear the receding footsteps.
He thought on Éothain's words of a while. He didn't dare to hope that his uncle would be returned to health, but the idea of seeing Éowyn again, who he had not heard from since Yule, was something he truly desired. Returning his attention to the map, he stared over it, wondering if he could plan a route that would allow that without shirking his duty.
Minas Tirith
April 3018
Lothíriel stared up at the ceiling of her room as the dawn's light began to filter through her window. Although it had only been a month since her father had left with Elphir and Meira, it had felt like years had gone by. Due to the circlet, she was often too concerned to focus on anything, which had left the nobility to believe her to be cold and rude. Shortly after the gossip of her behavior spread, people stopped coming for visits or attempting to speak to her at all. Eventually she had decided to remain within her home, away from the judging eyes of Gondor's nobility and away from the expectation to wear the circlet.
A knocking at the door sounded lightly, taking Lothíriel away from her thoughts. She turned away, pulling the bed covers over her head as the latch clicked open. She could hear footsteps approaching and suddenly she felt the mattress shift to a new weight and then she heard the voice.
"Oh sister, how long do you plan to remain ill?" The voice belonged to Amrothos, the only brother who had volunteered to remain in the White City with her. She did not fool herself though. She knew that his main reason for remaining was his love of the city and the people that he helped in the House of Healing. "I have checked you and you are well enough, but still you don't touch your food and when you do happen to go out, you pay no attention to anything or anyone. Please tell me what is troubling you so much."
Lothíriel peaked from under the covers to the brother who was closest to her in age. He smiled warmly to her and stroked one of her exposed fingers. With the touch, she remembered how much she missed Dol Amroth and the rest of her family. She remembered the feeling of loneliness and despair as she saw all but one of her family members riding towards the ship that would take them home. She forced the blanket down further, revealing the whole of her face before accepting Amrothos' outstretched hand to help her up.
"Amrothos," she sighed, "I don't know how much longer I can survive in this city. Uncle will not let me be in public without my circlet and I am not myself while I wear it. I long to return to Dol Amroth and be near the sea again. I have been away long enough." Tears began welling up in her eyes. "This city is killing me!"
"Lothíriel," Amrothos pulled her into a gentle hug and stroked her hair, "I know that this is not what you wanted. I know that if you had your way, you would be on a ship right now. But sometimes, we have to live with the circumstances that we are given. And be thankful for what you do have rather than what you do not." He let go, and a look of determination was in his eyes. "I have an idea on how you can be in public without wearing the circlet you so clearly despise, but let me discuss it first with someone."
"What is it?" Lothíriel's frustration and sadness replaced with curiosity.
"I do not want to tell you until I have confirmed that you can do it. I will see you later little sister." He kissed her forehead before making his way back to the door. "Try to at least take a walk in the gardens. It's still inside the house, and the walls are high enough no one could see you." He closed the door behind him, leaving a stunned Lothíriel behind.
Minas Tirith
August 3018
Lothíriel rushed towards the sound of screams, a basket of clean linens in her hands. The people she passed paid no attention to her as her feet moved swiftly down the long hallway. Finally, reaching the room, she entered and the first thing she saw was the blood. She did not hesitate as she would have in the beginning of her training, but stepped forward confidently. She looked down at the wounded soldier with various battle wounds. Placing a damp, cool cloth on the man's forehead and a heavy leather strap between the his teeth, she nodded to the healer who stood ready.
For several hours, she aided the healer in his multiple tasks. She pulled the string for the stitches, held the boards for the broken bones to be set to, and made sure to keep the soldier's forehead cool. Finally, when all the work was done, she found a seat and handed the last of the wet cloths to the healer and washed her own hands that were covered in blood. The healer began to leave, taking the sullied cloths with him but Lothíriel remained seated. She stared at the face of the now unconscious man who had been damaged so wholly and wondered what horrors he had seen. She shook her head along with the images that were in her mind before standing and leaving the room.
Standing outside the door was Amrothos. His back was against the wall and his eyes were cast down onto a small stack of papers. "From what I hear, you're doing well." He looked up from his papers with a smile. "I'm glad that you have been making a place for yourself here." Stepping away from the wall, he took Lothíriel's arm and began to slowly guide her out of the House of Healing.
"I'm glad to have a single place outside of our home that I don't have to bear my circlet." She nodded, but as she did, they passed under an archway that led outside. The sun had already set several hours earlier, but the full moon above was so bright that she could clearly make out the path she and Amrothos normally took on their way home from the House of Healing. "Amrothos," her voice was very quiet when she spoke her brother's name. He turned his face towards her, but continued on his way slowly, trailing her along at his side. "I don't belong here." Lothíriel stared out at the walls that surrounded the city. They were beautiful, but she kept thinking of how it reminded her of a luxurious prison. She let go of Amrothos and stepped away from him, moving towards the wall that looked out at the fields below. "This is not my home. I doubt I will ever feel at home here." She sighed lightly as she felt hands on her shoulders.
"You will not remain in this city forever. Your future marriage to Prince Théodred will assure that." He turned her around and looked deeply into Lothíriel's eyes. "I do not know how it will be for you in Rohan, but I can only hope that you will feel happier there." He kissed her forehead and looked at her again.
"Go on home," Lothíriel said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'll follow after shortly." Amrothos nodded after studying her a moment longer and backed away until her was once again on the path home. Lothíriel turned once again to stare out onto the plains. She felt then, in that quiet moment, the stirrings of a vision growing. She looked around cautiously for anyone who might see her, but she was utterly alone. She cleared her mind and allowed the quiet vision to flow.
In her arms was a child no older than two years. He was beautiful with a mass of dark curls covering his head and a pair of dark blue eyes that seemed to remind her of someone she couldn't quite place in that exact moment. The boy held his hand up and she reached down and took it. Then she noticed something that struck her. She was seeing something she herself was experiencing in the future. As she grabbed the boy's hand, he began to lead her out with a toddling run. Eventually the two of them were outside and the boy gave an excited yelp and let go of her hand. Going down stairs that also seemed to pull at her memory.
"Papa!" the boy made it to a man. She couldn't see his face very clearly as the sun was behind him and in her eyes. But a sense of happiness and belonging filled her. After a few more moments, as the vision began to fade away, she realized that the future self she had been looking through had been standing in Rohan. She continued on her path and wondered why the child's eyes had seemed so familiar.
Aldburg, Rohan
October 3018
A chilling wind swept over the plains as Éomer sat atop Firefoot and watched the sun rise. The grass was beginning to brown and in the light, it seemed to resemble the golden roof of Meduseld. It had been a long while since he had returned to Edoras, and he began to wonder about Éowyn. The horse nickered quietly, turning his attention away from the light and his thoughts. Éomer followed the horse's gaze to see Éothain riding up to him casually. Once he was close enough, he watched Éomer for a few moments before speaking.
"I've seen that look before. You're longing for a journey. You know," he paused, turning his head away from Éomer, "if you found yourself a wife, I'm sure you wouldn't be quite so eager to be away from your home so often."
"You know as well as I that I have vowed to take no wife until these dark days have passed." Éomer laughed lightly, "Though I do pity you in having to depart from your bride while she is still blushing."
"Gléowyn is a hearty lass who knows to whom she is married. She also knows your terrible habits of leaving not long after your arrival and that I am tied to those travels as your captain."
Éomer shifted in his saddle and looked closely at Éothain's profile. When he spoke, his tone had shifted into something much more serious. "You wouldn't have to continue being by my side now. As I said, dark days are here, and I would not fault you if you wished to remain with your wife until they ended." His voice became quieter as he whispered, "If they ever do end."
Éothain looked back to Éomer and studied him for less than a minute before laughing loudly. "As if you would survive one week without me to aid you, oh brave Third Marshal!" His tone was sarcastic and forced a small smile onto Éomer's lips. "Aye, dark days are here, but I would rather spend my time making sure that we were doing our best to end them instead of cowering behind my wife's skirts." He laughed again before pulling his horse round to face Aldburg. "If I wished to remain, ha!" With those words tossed over his shoulder, he sped back towards Aldburg leaving Éomer behind, smiling ruefully at his closest friend's back.
