Chapter 26

Minas Tirith

May 3019

Éomer stared from his high window, although it had been hours since a ship with the figurehead of a swan had departed for Dol Amroth along with Lothíriel. His heart had ached as he watched the woman he loved riding away from him. He chastised himself for his feelings. How could he still love a woman who had deceived him? Had wanted to use him for her own means?

"Who knew that my older brother was such a fool?" Éomer turned to see Éowyn storming into his quarters. He turned to a pile of letters and maps laying on a nearby desk, in no mood to be chastised by his sister.

"You forget yourself, Éowyn. You are speaking to your King." His voice was rough from the contained emotion.

"No I'm not." She came to the opposite side of the desk from him, placing herself directly in his view. "I'm speaking to my foolish brother who can't seem to know a good thing if it had bitten him in his arse!"

"Éowyn!" His temper began to rise.

"She loves you! No matter her past betrothal." She touched his arm lightly, but he wretched it away.

"What would you know of it?" He yelled, standing tall over his sister. Éowyn squared her shoulders and pointed a slender finger at him.

"More than you, evidently. She would have explained her side, of that I am sure. Lothíriel is many things, but the outright liar you have seemed to paint her as in your mind is not one of them!" Her eyes burned, matching Éomer's anger. "I'm sure you didn't consider that she was basically forced to agree to the arranged marriage, on pain of watching her brothers and father, her only family mind you, sent to the front lines!"

"How do you know of this?" He turned, facing the cold, empty fireplace.

"She told me while we worked together in the House of Healing." Éowyn's voice softened. "She didn't tell me all, of that I am sure, but from what I do know she wanted to tell you herself."

"She should have then." He stubbornly held onto the feeling of a hurt heart, but he could hear the wisdom in Éowyn's words. He knew he was at fault for listening to gossipmongers and then not allowing Lothíriel to speak her piece when she was confronted.

"Did you even give her a chance? Or did you decide you'd received enough information from the gossips?" She sighed. "You are a fool, brother." She once again placed her hand on his arm, though this time he didn't shake it off.

"I need time to think." He looked at Éowyn, his temper already beginning to lessen. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she saw him push his fingers through his hair. "Perhaps I will write to her after we have returned to Rohan. In that letter, I will make sure to apologize for not hearing her side of the truth."

She nodded. "I would suggest you do it now, before the day is out. Broken hearts are dangerous things to leave untended." She stretched upwards and kissed his cheek before leaving him to his thoughts.


Dol Amroth

June 3019

Lothíriel stared out melancholically from the window. The sea sparkled in the noon sun like a sapphire but the beautiful day did nothing to improve her mood. It had been nearly two weeks since she had left Minas Tirith with hardly a word. Her father had agreed that it was for the best that she leave after hearing of her scandalous kiss. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she allowed herself to play it over in her head. Every time she imagined it, her heart grew weary and she wished she could have forgotten it, and everything leading to it. She wanted to move on, but knew it wouldn't happen. Éomer had taken up permanent residence in her heart.

A knock sounded at the door. She went to open it and saw Erchirion. His expression darkened slightly when he saw her. She knew what he saw. She had hardly eaten or left the castle since they had arrived and she knew by the fit of her dress she was beginning to lose weight. She wanted to eat, but whenever food was presented to her all appetite fled.

"I swear, I have half a mind to go back to Minas Tirith and give that man a piece of my mind!" He entered her room and forced several curtains back allowing the sunshine to enter unrestricted. "What did that fool say to make you act like this!"

"It's nothing I didn't deserve." She slowly stepped towards the bed and started to drawback the blankets.

"Oh no you don't!" Erchirion caught her by the wrist. "Ever since we left Minas Tirith you have done little else than waste away in a bed. I will not allow you to fade away." He pulled her into a tight embrace. Tears she was too tired to shed began to burn her eyes. "You need an occupation. You did well with Amrothos in the House of Healing back in Minas Tirith, and I'm sure that Master Hëmond would be more than happy to have your help."

"No, I cannot stand to be in the House of Healing." She was certain that the smells of pungent herbs and patients waiting to be treated would torment her with memories of Éomer and his sister. She wondered what Éowyn thought of her. Did she think her a manipulative girl who had misused her brother? Whatever the case, she doubted she would ever see them again.

"What about a ride? We could even go down to the stables and you could look at the new yearlings and find the one you would like to be your new mount as soon as it is old enough." He sighed as she shook her head again. "Well," he grabbed her wrist and began to pull her after him, "I know one thing for certain. I will not allow you to spend one more minute in this room!" Dragging her behind him, he marched down halls where servants stopped and watched them pass. Finally making it to the courtyard, he ushered her to a path that led down to the sea. "Go and tell your troubles to the sea. If I remember correctly, you only ever wanted to be near the sea in Rivendell. Well now you can, so go!" He shouted and crossed his arms, a hard expression on his face.

When she saw he would not allow her to return, she sighed heavily and shuffled down towards the waiting beach in solitude. The sands were a dazzling white and several colored shells had washed up as if they were jewels adorning pale skin. The tide was low and so she was able to look into the little pools left behind. There were more shells here, though some of them were clearly occupied. Dipping her hand in, she pulled out one of the empty shells that was a rich green color. Sitting back on her haunches, she held it up until the sun filtered through it. The color transferred to the sand as if she were holding up colored glass. Her mind wandered back to the sea of grass that she once expected to call home. She had known ever since the news of Théodred's death that her visions didn't always come true, and now she knew her latest one would never be a reality.

She had been on a horse with a coat of deep grey. And beyond her lay Rohan's endless countryside. Looking to her right she saw a handsome young man with dark hair and deep blue eyes. The same blue as Éomer's own eyes. Turning to her right she saw Éomer atop his own giant, ashen horse. His golden hair grown lighter into an almost white. On his face were lines that belonged to a man who had seen many years. Reaching over, he took her hand in his own and squeezed lightly. Her own hands had a thin, papery quality to them but she felt a smile pulling at her lips. No words were exchanged as he returned the smile. She had just come out of the vision and seen Éomer standing in the garden. He had seemed tense, but had not considered what was bound to happen after approaching him.

She stood and faced the open sea. "I wouldn't have belonged there. Someone who played any part in the death of his beloved relative doesn't deserve to receive love." She threw the shell with all her might into the waves. It flew through the air and landed with a small splash. The tide was growing higher and she waited for the surf to reach her toes.

She would have stayed there for many hours, perhaps even after the sea had fully risen with the tide, but the sound of shuffling feathers distracted her. Thinking it was a pelican or gull, she looked towards the bird. It was nothing of the sort. A raven with wings that were so black they almost looked blue stood perched on a piece of driftwood near her. It looked at her as if studying her for a long moment. Opening it's beak, she waited for the sound of it's call, but it never came.

Come. It was the voice of a woman. The sands shifted under Lothíriel and she lost her balance and tipped backwards, a piece of fabric from her dress caught on splinter of the wood and ripped as she fell. The bird shuffled it's wings, recalling her full attention. Come with me. The bird took flight and Lothíriel felt herself being pulled to her feet, though no one stood with her. The voice lingered near her, though the raven circled over her head many feet above. Come, come, come to me. It seemed to chant over and over and the bird slowly circled. down the beach line. Come to me, and I will make your heart light. The whispered promise seemed to echo within her own mind and she no longer heard the sea crashing against the rocks. Her feet pulled her forward, as if they had a mind of their own. Her mind seemed to enter a fog where she forgot everything but the voice.

"Come." She mouthed the words as she heard them again and again. "Come to me." Before she even realized it, she was far from the castle and even the harbor. She had trailed after the bird without any thought except to follow its command. Finally the bird stopped circling and dropped flew down into the trees of the forest. Lothíriel rushed through the thick underbrush, searching for the raven.

"It seems as though your efforts and charms have worked." Lothíriel heard a man's voice, but her mind was still in too much of a fog to really care though a part of her knew she should. Her eyes looked through branches and saw nothing until the sharp call of raven drew her attention. Directly in front of her stood a woman with the raven on her shoulder.

"Come to me." Her voice was the same she had heard through the raven. The woman had dark, smooth skin and grey hair that fell in waves to her ankles. On her hands were deep yellow, fingerless gloves with a single white gem. A similar gem rested on her forehead with two smaller one's dangling from it. Her eyes were a deep shade of purple but within them Lothíriel could see flicks of gold. The woman held out her hand and she took it, fully entranced.

A man came into view and smiled. A feeling of caution lodged itself in Lothíriel and she began to back away, but the woman's grip on her hand was like iron. "We meet at last, Oracle." That did it. The title she had heard as a child escaped his lips and the spell was broken.

"Who are you?" She panicked as she tried to wrench her hand out of the woman's grasp. "What do you want with me? Please let me go." With the swift speed of a cat descending on a mouse, the woman grabbed her other hand and forced their eyes to connect.

"I am here to take you where your heart will face no more troubles. Trust me." The golden flecks in her eyes were hypnotizing and her voice was like that of a mother soothing a babe who had woken from a nightmare. Against her will, she felt her arms relaxing. "You will no longer face any loss or pain if you come with me. Come." Lothíriel felt herself beginning to fade back into the fog. She tried to fight it desperately, but a secret part of her wanted to believe the woman and give in. Wanted to leave her despair and guilt behind. That piece within her began to grow as the woman spoke. Until finally she was once again completely in a daze.


Yusraa kept her hands on the Oracle's but turned her eyes away after she had taken on a blank stare. Keeping her voice calm she addressed Na'man. "My lord, so long as you wish to proceed traveling without being noticed, I would advise you wait to speak until we have made sure we are far enough from any possibility of being discovered. I have her under my spell, but it is still fragile and will continue to be until we have returned to Târêt where I have the assistance of my potions." Na'man nodded, going back to where their horses were tied.

Just as they had discussed during their travels, Yusraa whispered words in a tongue very few knew, and even less understood. The raven at her shoulder cried out and flew off, returning to where the princess had come. It didn't take long it to land beside the pools, though most had been swallowed up with the rising tide. At the driftwood the bird morphed until it was the spitting image of the Oracle, white dress and all.

Without a sound, the imitation walked up a nearby path that led to a high cliff overlooking the sea. The imitation stood for a long time until, from far below, the frantic cry of a man called out, "Lothíriel!"


Erchirion waited for a very long time. He waited for his sister to return, perhaps not renewed, but at least somewhat refreshed. It wasn't until the tide had begun to rise that he began to wonder why she was still below. He considered whether or not he had made the right choice when the letter from Éomer had arrived. Elphir and Meira had left with their children to attend the wedding of King Elessar and Lady Arwen of Rivendell already, making Erchirion the acting lord of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel had been in her room for a few days already, but he was convinced that hearing from that man would only make things worse, especially after how he had treated her in Minas Tirith. He wanted her to heal and move past the failed relationship. He knew he was being selfish when he hid the letter in his room, but had suppressed any guilt he had by convincing himself that Lothíriel would be happier if she never heard the name Éomer again.

Finally, after his patience gave way to concern, he made his way towards the coast. His worry grew when he spotted a torn piece of white cloth in between a split of driftwood. It was the same cloth that Lothíriel had worn that very day. As he pulled it from the wood, something caught his eye. A dazzling white against the otherwise clear blue sky above. Lothíriel stood at the edge of one of the cliffs, arms hanging limply at her sides. Everything from her hair to her dress seemed stiff and resigned. The rocks below pointed up like jagged teeth, waiting to consume their victim. Fear lodged itself within his as he cried out with all his strength, "Lothíriel!"

She didn't turn to face him, but instead stepped closer to the edge. Erchirion didn't hesitate a moment longer. Running as fast as his legs would allow, he flew up the path, praying that he would make it to his sister before she stepped off the cliff. He knew the odds were impossible. There were only a few feet before she would reach the end and fall against the craggy rocks and waves below while he had at least ten times the distance to cover. A large rock cut off his line of vision for a moment and he pressed on even harder, feeling the burning sensation in his lungs and sides. He saw her once again just in time to watch her take the final step over the edge and fall, soundlessly towards her death.

"No!" His scream was lost to the wind and he raced towards the edge. As he peered over, he didn't see his sister floating, dead in the water. He saw only a single black feather.