Chapter 35
Khätif
March 3020
Fa'essana's cry pulled Lothíriel back from the shock of hearing her name from this stranger. She dug in her heels and tried to pull her arm from his gentle, but firm grip. "Let me go." Her command halted the two men for a moment and the man's hand loosened enough that she could free herself. They had only just exited the tent that she had been sharing with Sha'ana, Hind, and Fa'essana but already she could hear feet pounding on the ground, hastily surrounding them. Zwendi had been waiting for something like this to happen. The only thing that was different was the men who had come to collect her. They had been expecting other haradrim, and perhaps Na'man himself, but not for two men who looked to belong anywhere but the deserts of Harad.
The men must have heard the approaching warriors because the air rang with the metallic sound of swords exiting their scabbards. They both turned their backs to each other with Lothíriel sandwiched in between the two of them just as the first of the warriors arrived. Several people of the tribe poked out their heads from their tents, curious at the commotion, only to be ordered back in. The intruders were surrounded, tips of many spears leveled at them. Silence hung in the air for minutes until finally, the warriors shuffled on one side of the circle, making way for their chief.
If he was surprised that the intruders were northern, he did not show it. His eyes surveyed the scene expertly before meeting the eyes of the larger northerner. The silence continued but the tension grew heavier. After moments that felt like hours, Zwendi crossed his arms and spoke.
"I would have never imagined Na'man sending horselord to capture an Oracle." He glanced at Lothíriel before returning his gaze to the first man. "Considering how much he loathes the golden haired mheydor." A smile curved on one side of his mouth. "But perhaps this is all a misunderstanding. Who are you, and what do you want with Lady Lothíriel?"
The larger man stood still for a long time before answering, "I am Éomer son of Eomund," his voice was cold and hard like steel, "and I have come to take Lady Lothíriel back to her home and her family."
"My home?" Lothíriel couldn't prevent a gasp of surprise. "You know where that is?" Her question seemed to shock some of the tension out of Éomer as he turned his face slightly to look at her for half a moment, confusion written clearly on his face.
"And where is her home and family?" Zwendi asked, bulling back Éomer's full attention.
"Shouldn't the man who took her from them know where that is?" Somehow the cold tone grew even more icy.
"I believe he should, but because I was not that man, I do not." This seemed to surprise Éomer only slightly, though he remained on guard.
"If it is true that you are not responsible for taking her away, then why would she here and not in the custody of those who did?" Éomer lowered the point of his sword somewhat.
"She ran from her captor and our tribe just happened upon her and her company. Indeed, we were planning on aiding her in finding her home very soon." Zwendi said.
"Then you should have no issues with us leaving with her this very night." Éomer's words were laced with a command that very few would dare to question. Zwendi, however, was one of those men.
"Not just yet." Zwendi clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace in front of Éomer. "You see, Lady Lothíriel has promised to aid me in the demise of Na'man," he stopped pacing, "the very man who, as you said, stole her away."
"I did give my word." Lothíriel spoke up. "In exchange for drawing out Na'man, I was given safety, food and shelter, as well as the promise of aid to find my home." She stood a little taller as she stared up at Éomer. "Lord Éomer, if it is true you know my family, perhaps you can send word to them of where I am, but I will not leave here until I have fulfilled my promise."
The Northerners were escorted to the edge of the camp watched by the chief, Lothíriel and many warriors. It had been agreed to meet the next day and Éomer would bring Erchirion with him. The name held no meaning to Lothíriel, but there was something Éomer's steadfast gaze that made her feel at ease. He nodded once to her before turning and walking down the river and into the darkness. She felt herself shiver although the night air was still warm from the day.
"Are you well?" Zwendi asked, touching her arm gently. "You were not hurt?"
"I am not hurt, but it is strange, I still remember nothing, though I felt so peculiar when he spoke my name. Although I have no memories of him, the way he said it felt very familiar."
"I think he spoke the truth. Although I have never faced a horselord on the field of battle, I have heard tales of their ferocity in battle and their penchant for honesty. Lord Éomer seemed to me to have the pride and strength of a lion. Along with that pride, I sensed a great deal of honor." Zwendi was still staring in the direction they had gone.
"Do you really think that he means to return me to my family?" Lothíriel wondered.
"I do." He finally looked at her. "Let us return to your tent. Fa'essana and Hind are most likely waiting for you."
"I lost her again, Éothain." Éomer ran his fingers through his hair as they walked back to the ship where Erchirion and everyone else awaited. "Except this time, I let her go without so much as a fight."
"My king," Éothain's voice hinted at his exhaustion, "if you had fought for her, I very much doubt you or I would have made it out of that camp alive. At least we made it out and can inform the prince of tonight's events." Just as Éothain finished speaking, the ship came into view and atop the deck was Erchirion, pacing like a caged animal. He didn't notice Éomer or Éothain's approach until they were nearly on the gangway.
"What happened? Were you not able to get into the camp?" He spoke quickly after checking for the absent Lothíriel.
"We were able to get into the camp." Éothain began.
"But we couldn't get out with Lothíriel." He hated thinking of how he had walked away, but Erchirion had to know. "She gave her word to the chief of the tribe, Zwendi, that she would remain with him until someone named Na'man came for her. She refused to leave with us until her promise had been kept."
"Who is this Na'man person?" Erchirion asked.
"The man who took her from Dol Amroth. This Zwendi claims that he aided her in crossing the desert after she ran away from Na'man." Éomer explained. "However, there is something odd. I have seen her a total of three times if tonight is included, but each time she didn't recognize me. And when we were in the camp, I mentioned your name but she didn't know you." Erchirion stared at Éomer.
"I've heard of illnesses of that nature, though it would be in Amrothos' field and not my own." Erchirion sighed before he began to pace again. "So what are we to do now?"
"Tomorrow, after dawn, we will go back to the camp and request to formally speak with Chief Zwendi and Lothíriel. Perhaps we can find a way to aid them so we can return Lothíriel all the sooner."
Lothíriel could see the sun peaking in through a small hole in the tent. She sat up, sighing quietly. The three women who shared her tent were still fast asleep, though it had taken some effort to calm them the night before. Lothíriel hadn't slept a wink. She kept reimagining what had happened until dawn eventually arrived. Outside the tent Lothíriel could hear that the day had already begun for most of the tribe. Deciding that sitting in her tent, simply thinking and imagining would do her no good, she stood and silently went outside.
The air was still slightly cool from the night before but she knew from her many nights traveling across the desert that it wouldn't be that way for very long. She meandered through the camp, enjoying the quiet busyness all around her. It wasn't long before she was at the edge of the camp. Just beyond it lay the river, gently lapping at the muddy shore. A few women and children were already at its bank. Some had already waded into the water and were busy washing clothes or collecting water further upstream.
Casually, she slipped off her sandals and let her bare feet submerge into the chilly water. Already the day was growing warm as the sun began to leave the horizon behind for open skies. She stood silently for minutes before she heard voices approaching her. She would have ignored them if there had not been that voice. She recognized it immediately. She turned around just as he and several other men came from the other side of a tent. Zwendi was with them and besides Éomer and the other man who had been with him the night before there were an additional five men. One of them was golden haired though his face was much more fair and young, though his eyes bespoke a wisdom that only someone who had lived a long life could have. Another was dark haired and tall, though not quite as much as Éomer. The rest of the men wore shining silver plate armor and helms with the symbol of a swan emblazoned in them. When the dark haired man spotted her, he cried out and began to run headlong towards her. Only a few seconds passed before he was splashing into the river. He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her.
"Lothíriel? Is it truly you?" She could see he was on the verge of tears though he managed to hold them back. "A part of me knew you were not dead. When Éomer told me he had found you and let you get away from him so many times I thought I would go mad!" he chattered on excitedly. "Oh, Lothíriel, I am so sorry." He hugged her tightly and Lothíriel returned the hug, though she felt a bit bewildered by this man's greeting. "I can't help but feel that this is my fault because I didn't show you Éomer's letter." He let her go. "I hope you can forgive your foolish, selfish brother."
"My brother?" Lothíriel stared at the man. His excited expression grew slightly more serious.
"Of course," he sighed, "I had forgotten, you don't remember anything, do you?" She shook her head and he sighed a second time and looked at her carefully. "My name is Erchirion. I am your second eldest brother. You have three brothers in total. Elphir is the eldest and Amrothos is younger than me though he is older than you. Our mother died many years ago and our father is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace as his tone became more instructive. "Our lineage goes back many years, as far back as the Númenóreans. As such, the members of our families have been graced with some," he paused for half a step, "gifts. We –" he would have continued even more, but Lothíriel cut him off excitedly."
"Is that why I can see the future?" Lothíriel noticed that as soon as she said the words Éomer, Erchirion and the men who had come with them all stared at her as if she had just declared she was able to breath fire. Erchirion recovered faster than any of the others.
"Yes, though in the past, you didn't want anyone knowing of that ability." Erchirion smiled, "Though I suppose one of the benefits of losing your memory would be that you would forget any of your past discretion that might accompany that ability. Perhaps we should find somewhere to sit and I can tell you of all that happened since you developed the gift of foresight."
"Of course," Lothíriel indicated to a log and stump beside the river, shaded by a large fig tree behind it, "Let us retreat to the shade and you will tell your tale, my l-" she hesitated, licking her lips, "brother."
"That was how Éomer helped me figure out that you were still alive." Hours had passed as Erchirion had explained everything to Lothíriel. Éomer had listened carefully. He had often wondered about that night several years before when she had fainted without any indication of something being wrong. Now he knew, she had been a seer. He wondered why she had hidden her gift, though he supposed after her near capture as a child, she would have been prone to keeping it to herself.
Yet, now, as she spoke and behaved with her brother, and even with him, she seemed different. Though he could tell that she was still the same in her very core, she seemed less reserved. She spoke to everyone, stranger and friend alike, with ease and grace, never looking as uncomfortable as she had seemed in Minas Tirith, and while he was sad that she did not remember him at all, he couldn't help but be happy to see her so well. She chose to look at him in that moment, and their eyes locked. She smiled happily at him, but there was a question in her eyes. What are we to each other?
The sun was peaking over the desert sands and Na'man could see the images of the city far ahead. "You're sure she's in Khätif?" He stared towards the horizon from atop his horse. "I don't want to lose her for a day longer than is necessary."
"I am sure, my lord. Khätif is less than a full day's ride from here. If all goes as you planned, the Oracle will be yours once again before the sun sets."
"Good." Na'man smiled wickedly. "And when we return, I believe I will have to teach that girl a few lessons."
