Chapter 33
Khätif
March 3020
Éomer couldn't move. He had seen her. He had bumped into her. What had he done? Nothing. He had done nothing. He was just getting over his shock when she had called him sir. Sir? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. All his life he had trained to been ready for anything. If an enemy had attacked, he knew he would have reacted in that exact moment. But seeing the woman he loved after the grief from her death to the desperate hope that she was alive. But she had called him sir? She was Lothíriel. She had to be. But his Lothíriel would have recognized him. She would have called him Éomer. 'Sir?'
He could do nothing but stand still and stare to where she had disappeared. Every muscle in his body was tense as his heart thudded loudly in his ears. Why hadn't he stopped her? Why hadn't he even called out to her? Why had she called him sir? His thoughts kept coming back to that question. He wanted to chase after her, to search for her. His legs wouldn't move. He couldn't move! He wanted to let out a cry of joy and agony and frustration. It remained locked in his throat. He was a living statue.
People bustled around him. Some gave him curious looks, others seemed to simply stare at his body, as if measuring him. Éomer didn't care. She had called him sir and he had done nothing. He felt wetness on his face and numbly he realized that tears had fallen onto his cheeks. That one feeling seemed to slowly breathe life into him. The life spread so slowly he thought the world might end before he was able to move again. Finally the feeling reached his feet and he burst into action. He was already at least a head taller than nearly everyone on the street, but that did him no good. She had vanished while he had been too shocked to react. Behind him, the sounds of people coming towards him was distinct. He turned around and the first face he saw was Erchirion.
"She was here!" Strength returned to him. He didn't know what had happened, but he would find her first and figure the rest out later. "I don't know where she went, but she was here." Erchirion nodded and turned to one of the Swan Knights.
"Find Elphir and tell him that Lothíriel is somewhere in the city and that Lord Éomer and I are going to search for him. After you've found him, have knights posted at each of the roads leading into the city." The Knight nodded and turned away while the Rohirrim who had joined Erchirion in their chase of their king remained. "Did you see which way she went?"
Éomer shook his head solemnly. "She disappeared into the crowd."
"Very well." Erchirion nodded. "At least she won't leave the city without at least one of the Knights seeing her."
Éomer nearly fell onto the chair. Although his mind could have carried on searching for Lothíriel for days to come, his body – and those of his men – certainly would not. It was a wonder at how much the journey by ship had worn him out when he had done next to nothing during that time. It was even more strange that the men from Dol Amroth seemed to be much more energetic, though when they saw their Rohirric friends fading, they had decided to join them back at the inn.
The search had been entirely fruitless. He doubted it had everything to do with his lack of understanding of the people's language here. Erchirion was able to ask general questions, but for the most part, his understanding of the spoken language was rudimentary at best. Surely he could read the words backwards and forwards, though that helped very little as most everyone they came across couldn't seem to read or write. Sighing, Éomer ran his fingers through his hair.
"You know what would help you, my friend," the Westron the innkeeper spoke was heavily accented, but it was nice to hear at least one person from this land speaking it. The man continued once Éomer turned his attention to the man. "A bath." He held out his hand. "I can have it drawn up for you within the hour. It will soothe your aches and pains." His empty palm came forward, "It is not very expensive. Only a few silver coins."
"I am fine." Éomer leaned his head back and let his eyelids fall. Before he could drift off where he sat, the sound of metal clinking on metal sounded.
"Have it prepared quickly. And make sure that there is plenty of soap." Erchirion's voice was clear. Éomer opened his eyes, though it took a great deal of effort.
"I think I'd rather get some sleep than waste money on a bath." Éomer watched as Erchirion scowled down at him.
"With as much dust and dirt you have collected from walking down nearly every road in the city, I wouldn't be surprised if my sister didn't recognize you if she were even to walk into this inn right now." Erchirion's reprimand hit so clearly on what had happened earlier that it felt like a punch to his gut. The emotion must have registered on his face because Erchirion's scowl lightened into a look of concern. "What is it?"
"I didn't mention it earlier, but when I saw your sister, I didn't just see her. She bumped into me and spoke to me." At Éomer's words Erchirion's gaze became hawk-like.
"Then how did she get away from you? What did she say?" Erchirion sank into the seat opposite from Éomer.
"She begged my pardon and disappeared." Éomer stared blankly in the direction of the doorway.
"But if it was my sister you saw, surely she would have remembered you." Erchirion's brow knitted together as he thought. "Perhaps you were mistaken and saw someone who simply bore a close resemblance?"
"I don't think so. I would go so far as to say that the only way I could have been more sure that she was Lothíriel is if she had come up and kissed me before running off." The hint of a smile played at the corners of Éomer's mouth as he remembered their kiss nearly a year before.
"Well," Erchirion stood, "whatever the case, I'm sure that it will be sorted out as soon as we find her." He began walking away before turning his face back around and studying Éomer. "I did mean it about that bath, by the way. After a week of traveling by sea and walking down dusty roads, it'll do you good to wash the salt and dirt from yourself."
Lothíriel sighed as she rolled from one side to the other in an effort to fall asleep, yet no matter what position she took in her bedroll, she couldn't get comfortable. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the golden-haired man standing before her, his expression shocked and bewildered. Each time it came to her, part of her heart ached, though she couldn't begin to guess why. At last conceding to a sleepless night, she pushed the blankets off of her and after pulling a shawl around her shoulders, silently left the tent.
Guards patrolled through camp, some quietly greeting Lothíriel as they passed each other. She wandered aimlessly, keeping the shawl pulled tightly against her to ward off the cold night air. She had been a bit surprised at how cold the nights in the desert became even though the days were hotter than any place ought to have had a right to be. Eventually, Lothíriel reached the edge of camp, which stopped only a few dozen feet from the river.
The river itself flowed by in a deceptively lazy way. When she reached down and touched the water with a few outstretched fingers, she found it to be as icy as the night. Withdrawing, she found a large rock on the bank that was covered in soft moss. She sat on it for a while and watched the river absently. It was flowing in the direction of the city. The direction of the man and that familiar swan-ship.
"You could not sleep?" The heavy accent and deep voice gave away it's speaker before Lothíriel could turn to greet Zwendi. She shook her head solemnly.
"I suppose I have too many thoughts bouncing in my head for sleep." Lothíriel smiled, though it never reached her eyes.
"I do not know what you mean by bouncing, but I believe I know what you mean generally." He came to stand close to her. "Sometimes, the nights that we cannot rest are a blessing. Sometimes they are a sign." He turned his gaze on her and watched her carefully.
"I don't know which it is, but in the end, I think it'll just mean I'll be tired when tomorrow comes." Lothíriel chuckled. "Though, I've no idea what to do tomorrow."
"I've thought of that." Zwendi's solemn tone seemed to have a layer of steel in it. "You will go back into the city. It will be like earlier today."
"But why?" Lothíriel pictured going back to the docks and seeing the swan-ship again, but part of her was worried that it wouldn't be there any longer.
"Na'man knows you are with our tribe, but I doubt he would attack it so close to this city. Here, there is a rule against such things so as to keep the city's peace. I do not think even Na'man would risk the wrath of such a large city along with all the gathered tribes simply to recover you." Zwendi crossed his arms and looked up at the sky where the full moon seemed to hang. "There are, however, no rules against duels. But I cannot force him into such a duel unless I am able to corner him. For that, I need you to guide him to my trap."
"So I am to be bait?" Lothíriel smiled, though there was no hint of humor on her face.
"I do not know this word, bait, but whatever the case, I promise you will be perfectly safe." Zwendi turned away from the moon and locked his eyes with Lothíriel. I swear on my soul that you will not be hurt from this." Lothíriel swallowed at his words. She knew it was not a small thing to make such a claim.
"In a way," Lothíriel cleared her throat, "I knew it would end up being something like this when I agreed to join you until you killed Na'man ." Turning back to the river. "I may have an idea, but we'll have to wait to discuss it with Sha'ana and Fa'essana in the morning."
Although the sun had only risen an hour before, the air was already heating up dramatically. Éomer had checked at each of the southern gates, but there had been no sign of Lothíriel. To his side was Glorfindel and a few of his Rohirrim. Erchirion had decided not to search with him, but instead for the two of them to split up. Erchirion had bought a map of Khätif the day before while they had been searching for Lothíriel, and at dawn when the Rohirric King had woken, Erchirion had shown it to him, explaining his plans.
Éomer was glad that Glorfindel had decided to join his own party. While he had looked very carefully at the map, he had not had the time to memorize it. Glorfindel – whether due to ever being to the city before or being able to remember a map after just glancing at it – easily led them down streets and back alleys so they could make it from one gate to another in almost no time at all. He wondered if Erchirion had had better luck, but he doubted it. If Erchirion had found her, he would have sent a messenger to the southern side of the city.
He sighed as he took a seat on a stone bench set in the shade of a building. Glorfindel gracefully sat beside him, his eyes on the people passing to and fro. He began to wonder if he had really seen Lothíriel the day before or if it had all been a dream. Surely, if she was in the city, they would have discovered her by now. What if she had somehow left the city without being seen by the guards?
"Do not give up hope, King of Rohan." Glorfindel's bright voice seemed to wash away some of Éomer's doubts. He was about to say something else when his head whipped round. He stood in a single, fluid motion. "Come. Come and let your doubts and fears be laid to rest."
"And you're sure about this?" Sha'ana had questioned Lothíriel one last time before they had left the tents behind.
"I am." Lothíriel remembered the look of concern on Sha'ana's face turning to compliance. She had not stopped her. Now they stood around a fire, similar to the one she had seen in Târêt. The women and men who normally would have been singing, dancing and playing their instruments were silent. Only Lothíriel stood. In her hand, she held a small harp. Although she had no memory of learning to play this or any other instrument, her fingers remembered. She plucked the strings as if her hands belonged to someone else entirely. The quiet melody attracted a large crowd until finally, there was nearly no room between each spectator. She parted her lips, and sang. The song, much like the ability to play, was unexpected, but the words flowed from her heart, unhindered by her lack of memory.
My heart lies wrapped in mystery,
My mind is pinned to sand.
My eyes see scores beyond all history,
And hold the future's hand.
The King who's roof is golden,
And the white tree's King allied.
Their efforts they did toll in,
And thus the darkness died.
The earth's joy is unabashed,
At the end of such great death.
The host who sought life smashed,
Has breathed their last breath.
The swan flies ever swiftly,
It's wings beat in the air.
It's breast like that of a lily,
Is light's chosen one who must declare.
The King who's roof is golden,
And the white tree's King allied.
Their efforts they did toll in,
And thus the darkness died.
Their loves remained behind them,
Their hearts beat in their chest.
Until their return they would condemn,
All who claimed their loves failed quest.
Their return was hailed joyfully,
Though their bodies were bruised and hurt.
They were true examples of nobility,
Their claims to the throne they did assert.
Forever they will stand in friendship,
Their lands remain in harmony.
Never again within darkness' grip.
Embracing each other's fraternity.
The King who's roof is golden,
And the white tree's King allied.
Their efforts they did toll in,
And thus the darkness died.
As she finished her song, her attention was pulled away towards the crowd of people. Among them were two golden-haired men. The first had lighter locks than his companion, and his ears were pointed which caused her to realize that he was not a man, but an elf. Beside him was the same man she had bumped into the day before. His face was not as pale as it had been then, but in his eyes there was a strange longing and pain she felt was akin to her own. She bowed her head for a moment to show her respect. The elf returned the gesture while the man continued to stare woodenly.
