Chapter 3

Aunt's task rather disrupted Lothíriel's plans for the following day. She had hoped to spend some time with her brothers as far as it was possible with King Éomer in town, perhaps gone for a ride on the beach, and obviously she would have liked to meet the Rohirric king. However, the wise thing to do was to concentrate fully on the task at hand, and leave other plans to wait for a more convenient moment.

Lothíriel decided it was not so bad. The task should be an easy one, she would be back before morning, and anyway Father was supposed to return to the city the next day. Then, once she had the answers her Aunt wanted, she could join the rest of the family for whatever amusements they came up with to entertain their royal guest. In any case such were better enjoyed when work was done, and so she put aside thoughts of family and friends and got up when the sun was rising. After a quick breakfast, she plunged into her second wardrobe – the one she kept tightly under lock and key. Servants were not allowed there, though she was sure they would have come up with delightful reasons as to why the daughter of Prince Imrahil possessed a variety of clothing that went from beggar's attire to a couple of dresses only a lady of the night might feel comfortable wearing.

Deciding on the disguise of a boy, she quickly bound her chest and picked up a loose tunic, leggings that looked more worn than they were, and a pair of soft boots she always wore to her missions. She hid her hair under a cap and slipped a small dagger inside the right boot. While her task was only to observe, it didn't hurt to be careful.

Once her disguise was mostly in place – she would have to rub some dirt on her face before it was complete – she headed outside. Using again the back doors and hidden stairways in the parts she knew were quiet at this early hour, she moved through the palace as noiselessly as ever. The skill of not being noticed was one of the most important things Aunt had taught her.

However in the courtyard, she saw she was not the only one up and about at this hour and quickly she pulled back into the shadows. Three Rohirrim were standing near the stables, and a fourth one was just dismounting. She looked at the man in wonder and noted he was even taller than her brothers, his shoulders were broad and his arms strong, and a surge of intimidation went through her when she took in the lethal grace he moved with. An elite warrior right there, if she had ever seen one.

"Éomer Cyning!" spoke one of the other three, confirming his identity. So this was the King of Rohan! She had rather wondered if stories about him were very exaggerated, but saw now the amount of embellishment in the tales was less than expected.

He looked a little wind-blown, strands of golden hair had escaped from his braid, and by that and the fact he had just dismounted she guessed he had already been to a morning ride. An early bird, then, she thought instantly and then blinked, feeling surprised at her own thoughts. She was cataloguing him as though he was one of her targets! And yet, had she ever looked upon a man without analysing his strengths and weaknesses?

Then suddenly, his eyes flashed straight where she was standing, his hand falling on the hilt of his sword as though by an instinct. She recognised the tense preparation of a hunting beast as he scanned the area with his keen, dark eyes, and though Lothíriel knew he couldn't see her, she still held her breath. A warrior king indeed, she thought to herself; though surely after a year of peace and when visiting their friends, even warrior kings relaxed a little? Then again she remembered the situation had been very dire in Rohan in the last years and months before the War of the Ring, and King Éomer had served the realm as the Third Marshal. And wasn't her Aunt the living proof that some old habits died hard? There were some things so deeply etched in one's body and muscles that a few months could not erase them.

At last the tall Rohir looked away, focusing on the other Rohirrim again. Lothíriel let out a small breath of relief. It surely was a good thing this horselord was an ally. She didn't think she could have taken him by surprise – or actually be able to challenge him in a fight. Not without the help of some dirty tricks, at least, but somewhere deep there was a certainty she would have hated to use them against him.

She shook her head and reminded herself she had a job to do, and it did not concern the King of Rohan in any way. It would be wise to focus on the matter at hand.


When Prince Amrothos of Dol Amroth was ushering his royal guest down the road towards the city, Éomer considered to himself that his friend had some kind of supernatural skills of persuasion. How else would he be agreeing to visit some taverns with the other man? Well, it was an entertainment he rarely allowed himself these days, and his face was not as well known in Dol Amroth as it was back in Mundburg. Seeing the formal part of his stay would not commence before Imrahil's return, he still possessed some anonymity in this part of the world as far as his appearance went, and he couldn't deny after two rather quiet nights he wasn't against the idea of some free-spirited carousing – in a moderate amount, though, like Éothain had insisted. At his captain's demand, he had also agreed to take at least two guards along. They were not in armour and carried no swords, but he was aware both wore chain-mail under their coats and probably had a copious amount of daggers hidden on their persons. Éomer had known better than to say it was a little excessive.

"So, where are we going?" he asked his friend as they made their way towards the nightly amusements of the city. Erchirion followed a little way back along with two other young lords Éomer remembered meeting back in Mundburg after the war.

"I have a few places in mind, but we absolutely have to make a stop at Uinen's Mirror. Their ale is legendary, and I'm sure even you will appreciate it", Amrothos said cheerfully and offered a flask to his friend. The young king sipped it carefully and recognised it as brandy. Perhaps Amrothos had been raiding his father's wine cellars again, as he apparently was so fond of doing.

"You mean it's slightly more drinkable than the horse piss you Gondorians usually try to serve as ale?" he asked his friend plesantly.

The prince was not so easily taken aback.

"I would ask how would you know what horse piss tastes like", Amrothos said in carefree tones, "if it didn't make so perfect sense that you do."

"That's rich, coming from the man I witnessed at Cormallen drinking -" Éomer started, but he wasn't given a chance to actually speak out loud the unforgettable memory. His friend hit his arm hard.

"Shut up! Erchirion doesn't know and if he did, he would never let me hear the end of it", Amrothos hissed and gulped a large mouthful of the brandy.

Éomer offered a beatific smile to the prince, enjoying this banter more than he could have said. This past year, he hadn't got that many chances to actually have a sense of humour, but moments like this reminded him such thing did exist. Even some of his oldest friends back in Rohan had apparently forgotten he was still a man.

"I'm sure you can come up with a way to convince me to stay silent", he quipped now, and troubles of home were the furthest thing from his mind.

Amrothos groaned and pushed the brandy into his hand. The young king sipped it and smiled, deciding maybe this was going to be a good night after all, despite his initial doubts.

It was also nice to get a little closer look on the city. It reminded him much of Mundburg in north, though he got a feeling the builders of this place had not considered defences as lengthily, but had given thought to beauty instead. Here and there one would see little gardens and blooming trees, and even the houses of the common folk had a sense of airiness and light about them. The roads were wide and paved and all was in good order, as could be expected of anything Imrahil ruled. People he saw looked to be in good cheer as they passed by and he judged there was prosperity here, as could be seen from the good fabrics the local people used in their attires, and in their hale faces. At one market, his company stopped to look at a mummer's performance and cheered among the rest of the audience. The brandy was starting to work its magic, for his mind was growing lighter and his step swifter.

At last, when it felt they had already walked through half the city and the sun was about to set, Amrothos pointed at their destination. There, basking in the light of torches and already filling with patrons, was Uinen's Mirror.

"Here we are! Prepare for something exquisite, my friend!" the prince said happily. His spirits had been just as affected by the brandy.

"Amrothos is in love with this place, though I don't know why", Erchirion commented. He and the rest of the company had caught up with the two.

"Well, let's see if there is any truth to his words", Éomer said, following Amrothos inside.

It was rather crowded inside and the air was heavy with a wide mixture of smells: sweat, spilled ale, smoke, and some spicy undercurrent he couldn't name. The youngest of three princes was able to find them a table at the corner and before he even knew it, tankards of ale were already put down before them. Laughter and chatter rose and fell and at the corner, a fiddler was trying out a melody as tragic as his expression. At the same time, it was everything and nothing like the taverns of the Mark.

The night unfolded much like could be expected. There was jesting and laughing and singing, and more ale was brought to the table by a serving maid with dark hair and a rather wicked glint in her blue-grey eyes. A couple of times she leaned over the table while putting down the drinks so that no secret was made of the womanly gifts she had been given. At some point, Erchirion disappeared with one of his friends. Meanwhile Amrothos was growing more and more boisterous, and the young king would have told him to slow down hadn't his own ale made him feel increasingly dizzy and sick. Surely he hadn't drunk that much?

Grunting something about needing to get some air, he stumbled on his feet and headed outside, clumsily pushing people from his way. Their grins and laughing faces seemed unreal somehow, almost though he was in a nightmare where even the most commonplace things become threatening and just wrong. Only one guard followed him – he had no idea of where the second had vanished – and Éomer had hard time comprehending the rapid flow of words the man was delivering to him. He was able to state he'd be fine, but even though the air was blessedly cool outside, it didn't help him to clear his head. He swayed harder now and felt disoriented, and somewhere in the muddle of his thoughts there was a small voice screaming this was not normal.

"Éomer -" his guard spoke his name in alarm, and then the young king saw two dark shapes approaching fast. He fumbled his side for the sword that was not there, but then his feet finally gave in and he knew no more.


Though Lothíriel had spent most of the day tailing the Umbarians, she had not yet found anything worthwhile. She had located the place they were staying at – a first floor sleeping chamber at the inn called Uinen's Mirror. A second-rate place with second-rate ale, she considered it, even though she knew that for some reason her brother Amrothos adored the establishment. But maybe this group of Umabarians was not lodging here for quality. Such assumption was easily made by the fact their chambers were so near to the noisy common room. Then again, their lodgings were on the same corridor as the back door. A good choice, she had surmised, and perhaps a sign they were indeed prepared for having to flee very quickly?

She had followed a few of them around the markets but had seen nothing out of the ordinary. They had a stall where they sold goods from their land, and one performed as a mummer not far from that place. They stayed together or remained in highly public spaces, making it impossible for her to try to sidetrack one of them. Seeing this approach was not yielding any results, she eventually returned to the inn, thinking of a new plan. She'd have loved to go through their things back at the inn, but unfortunately it turned out at least one of the party was staying in the room at all times. Randomly pick-pocketing one of them would probably reveal nothing of interest, especially when she didn't know which one of them was the leader, so at the time being it seemed eavesdropping was the best course of action.

It turned out the Umbarians rather set it up for her. For as the sunset came and night grew darker, she could see one of them opening the window of their lodgings. The day had been warm, so perhaps it was stuffy inside. Upon sneaking closer to the open window, which faced a narrow corridor between the inn and the next house, she learned one Umbarian's fondness for garlic was also to be blamed: she could hear a male voice complaining in their language how he couldn't breathe in the stench.

Smiling to herself, she pulled her dark cloak around herself, took seat below the window, and waited. Perhaps they would speak freely in their rooms, using their own tongue, and make a mention of their plans. After all, they had no reason to think someone who understood their speech could be sitting right under their window.

However, they were still not giving her much to work on. They made vague mentions of searching for something in the city, but it wasn't clear what that could be. Frowning to herself, she decided it might be wiser to start again tomorrow, and try to find a way to corner one of them. She'd need Aunt's permission for contact, but hopefully she'd be able to convince her mentor that this was necessary.

Lothíriel was considering leaving and going home when there was sudden noise beyond the room in the corridor. Her curiosity awakened once more, she sat still and quiet.

The door to the big chamber was noisily opened.

"What? What is this? What do you think you're doing?" asked one voice loudly.

"Look closely, Dagalur. Don't you realise who this man is?" asked back another, supposedly someone who had just entered the room.

"Why should I care? What have you done to him and more importantly, why have you dragged your kill to our room?" Dagalur demanded to know angrily.

"He's not dead! He's just drugged", the new arrival said defensively. Lothíriel lifted her eyebrows when she heard that. In some other situation she would have thought these Umbarians had found what they had been looking for, but Dagalur's reaction convinced her otherwise. But even then, something unusual was afoot and her curiosity was now very much awakened.

"Wait a minute", said another with some suspicion. "I know this face. I have seen him before."

"Explain yourselves!" Dagalur ordered. By now the princess had guessed he was in charge of this ragtag company.

"We were enjoying some wine and company at the common room when this man and a few more walked in. We could hardly believe it, Dagalur, even though we had heard at the markets he's in the city. There he was right under our noses!" the one who had first spoken began. There was a brief silence and then another spoke – a friend to the owner of the first voice.

"So we decided to act. After all, this is a chance that's not likely to come our way ever again. It surely is more worthwhile than our ridiculous mission in this city. Dagalur, allow me to introduce: the King of Rohan himself!" he announced triumphantly.

Everyone in the chamber was quiet. Perhaps they felt just as dumbstruck as Lothíriel herself. Though she knew the risk, she had to see, and so she edged herself upwards as carefully as she could. Keeping herself in the shadow as much as possible, she peeked inside.

There were seven men in the room, standing in a loose circle. Two of them were holding an unconscious man between them and they did it with some difficulty. No wonder, for he was a large fellow, tall and broad. Just as the man she had seen in the courtyard of her father's palace... his long hair hung messily over his face and shadowed it, but she knew it was him. Somehow these sorry bastards had captured Gondor's chief ally, and in that moment it was only years of training that allowed her to keep from crying out loud in alarm.

"Just how", Dagalur started slowly and evenly, "how is it possible you two idiots have caught one of the most lethal killers in Middle-earth?"

"It wasn't difficult to have something slipped in his and his guards' drinks. The serving wench owed me a favour", said the man standing left to the King. Lothíriel considered wryly she'd rather not know what kind of a favour that was.

Again there was silence. She guessed it was because the entire company was busy marvelling at the sheer stroke of luck that had come their way. Well, luck for them, but incredible misfortune for everyone else in this part of the world. Quickly she tried to think of what she should do. If she made an alarm, who knew how these men would react? Maybe they would kill their prisoner and flee into the night, leaving no tracks to follow. There were seven of them now and maybe they had friends nearby. A few of these villains she could have taken care of, but the odds did not promise good for her – not while she also had to worry about the survival of the King of Rohan.

"I think we should throw him out to the street. It's not worth the effort to try to take him. Once they realise he's missing, this whole city will be hunting for us", one man commented at last.

"Hold on a second. Don't you understand what this means? We have the King of Rohan in our hands! There are many in Harad who would pay a hefty sum to have this man under their mercy. The loss of the Black Serpent has not been forgotten, and this horsemaster is the closest thing to getting revenge. What is more, his death would be a severe blow to all northmen, Rohirrim and Gondorians alike and make them vulnerable for an attack. Bauruk is right: we are not going to get a chance like this ever again", another put in in a voice that was full of malicious glee. While he was speaking, he cast aside his cloak and revealed the serpent embroidery on his tunic. So Aunt's sources had been right.

"He is right, Dagalur. Don't say you don't want to humiliate the northerners just as much as the rest of us. And if this means Gondor is weakened... just think of the possibilities", another man spoke.

One more moment Dagalur spent considering the situation. Against hope, she wished he'd deem it too dangerous, and they would let the horselord go. But it was in vain.

"Very well. But if we are going to do this, we'll have to move quickly", Dagalur said at length and her heart sank. "Grab your things and get moving! It won't be long 'til they realise he's missing, and then everyone and their mothers will be looking for him."

As the Umbarian company began hastily to prepare, Lothíriel stood in the shadow and thought quickly about her options. What she had resolved before was still valid, perhaps even more so than before: these men would not hesitate to murder their prisoner to save their own sorry lives. Furthermore, letting them out of her sight could result in them being able to escape all notice. She had to follow them and come up with something.

Guessing they would come out through the back door, she made her way there and positioned herself in a shadowy spot to wait for their arrival. Her heart was beating anxiously while she waited; she had not felt such urgency in a while. Compared to this, her recent missions were like nice little picnics.

She also thought about the King's guards and whether they were out there, drugged just as him. She couldn't worry about them now – no one could aid their lord except for her. This helped her to calm her mind. Crisis was what Aunt Ivriniel had trained her for.

The company of Umbarians burst out, carrying the horselord between them. They had thrown a hood over his head, making him look like a friend who has enjoyed a little too much ale. Twice they had to switch the carriers, for the limp weight of the tall and sturdy man was not moved without much effort. In their haste, they didn't notice a dark figure ghosting after them.

The direction they were taking soon had her heart sinking. They were heading for the port and that could mean only one thing: these villains had a ship and were meaning to escape by the sea. That made things even more complicated, because to escape a ship on the open waters was a trick even she didn't know. However, as they made their way towards the harbour, she could also detect the way wind was picking up.

There's a storm in that breeze, she thought with a smile. Maybe it would discourage the Umbarians from this endeavour?

All the way down to the pier they hurried, and if other folk still outside at this time made notice of them, they didn't seem to pay much attention. But Lothíriel shadowed them silently, and felt like each step made it a little clearer what she would have to do if she hoped to help the King of Rohan. There was some fear, yes, but she was also determined. Aunt had sometimes said that it was not always a hindrance, if one didn't give in to it. For a stout heart and a disciplined mind, fear could even be useful.

The company of pirates halted at what she guessed was their ship. It didn't look like the usual corsair vessels that raided the shores of Gondor, but this was probably because these men had hoped to avoid being noticed.

On the pier, an argument rose. The newly arrived company was insisting they should set sail at once, but those stationed at the ship were reluctant. The reason for this was clear: wind now blew ceaselessly from the sea and it was driving storm clouds before it. Not a few from the crew disliked the idea of braving the sea in storm, but others agreed this was an opportunity they were not likely to get again. Eventually Dagalur, who she now assumed was their captain, raised his voice and announced they would leave Dol Amroth tonight.

From her hiding place behind some barrels Lothíriel saw them dragging the King of Rohan on board. He was still out cold and probably would be for a while; Southron poisons were strong and subtle. While Aunt Ivriniel had spent years and years telling her that women of their trade were not concerned with honour, Lothíriel had never overcome her contempt of poisons and those who used them. She was glad she hadn't yet come to a situation where they were her only choices.

A plan had been forming in her mind from the moment she had heard Dagalur announcing they would indeed defy the odds and try to deliver the King of Rohan to Umbar. It was a dangerous idea and she had no time to calculate her odds, but there were few things in her favour, for the storm would keep the ship close to land and these men did not know who and what she was. And King Éomer had quite the reputation as a warrior. He would know a thing or two about survival. He would help her to help himself.

One thing was clear to her, if nothing else was: this would probably be the most dangerous thing she had done so far and there was no guarantee of success. But she'd rather take that small chance than the absolute certainty that if she did not act now, the King of Rohan would surely die.

Resting herself on one knee and keeping her head low, she took several deep breaths. She shouldn't make her appearance immediately after the King of Rohan had been taken on board, as that would only make his captors suspicious. She peeked around the barrels and saw the crew starting to prepare the ship for sailing; she still had several minutes left.

Lothíriel glanced at the city to her right. Torches and lamps glimmered in the night and somewhere far, she heard laughter. She had looked forward to spending some time in the city of her birth and among her family, but it looked like she was in for another trip away from home, and there was no telling yet how long that journey might be. If only there had been time to leave some kind of a message to her family! But Aunt knew her mission, and hopefully her mentor would put together two and two once it became clear that King Éomer and her were both missing. The departure of this ship would not be go unnoticed by the ship masters, and eventually whispers of it would reach Aunt Ivriniel's ears.

Deciding she had waited enough, she got up and arranged on her face an expression she hoped that would convince the Umbarians. Boldly she stepped into the light.

"Good evening, gentlemen. May I speak to your captain? I would like to pay you for a safe passage to Pelargir", she announced herself, much to the surprise of men readying the ship for embarking. It took a minute for them to master themselves and wryly she noted if she had wanted, in that time she could have taken down at least two of them before making her escape. But eventually their reaction came, hands grabbed her, and she made her struggle against them as convincing as she could.

"What we have here? A small harbour rat, is it?" asked one of the pirates.

"I'm no rat! I'm a weary traveller who simply wants to get out of this city!" she exclaimed, feigning outrage in a way that might have impressed even her aunt.

"What is this racket?" asked Dagalur from the deck of the ship. He regarded the scene down on the pier with critical eyes.

"This lad claims he wants to book a passage to Pelargir", said the same man who had called her a rat. "I say we kill him."

Dagalur did not seem impressed with this suggestion.

"And leave a clear track for Gondorians to follow? What an idiotic idea", he said coolly, and his words made the man look embarrassed. "Take him to the cells. We'll see if he can be useful – and if not, the slave markets of Umbar are always buying."

Lothíriel knew this was meant to frighten her. But inside, she was laughing.

Oh, we'll see about that.

To be continued.


A/N: Here at last is a new chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

I know the situation right now bears some resemblance to A Light that Endures, but I promise the upcoming events will be quite different. I think Lothíriel's presence on that ship should mix up things very nicely. The whole thing happens so fast, she really has to just think on her feet, and in this situation she decides the only thing she can do to help Éomer is get on that ship, too. There's no time to make the alarm and like she fears, the abductors would probably just kill him if they felt cornered.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


MissCallaLilly - Well, that is surely a weird thing to be hearing!

EStrunk - No proper meeting yet, but I hope you enjoyed the bit where she spies on him in the courtyard! I imagine her job description is pretty versatile actually - she's the go to girl whenever intrigue and stealth are needed.

Jo - Thank you! :)

Guest - I'm glad you liked it! I had fun doing that bit - I really need to write more of Éomer interacting with Imrahil's sons! I admit I'm a little curious to what you think the villains are in Dol Amroth!

Luckylily - We'll get there - soon enough! :)

Guest - Thank you! It was interesting to really take a look at Dol Amroth as Éomer would see it. :) Also thanks for the compliment! I do feel it's got better, too, but if you ever spot a mistake in my writing, please don't hesitate to point it out!

Irgendwer - Thanks! I have always had a soft spot for them, really. :)

Anon - I imagine you are not very wrong about that! But as the situation goes, she won't be having a chance to keep a close eye on Lothíriel! There are actually reasons she had to be removed from Lothíriel's vicinity, but more on that later. :)

Boramir - Thank you!

Jeraly - We'll get there eventually! ;) I am eager to get to their first actual meeting, too.

sai19 - It may not be so easy to stay away from him in this situation... but we'll see how it goes!

frenchypassingby - Thank you! It really is a point of view I grew to like more and more as I was planning and drafting this story. Also I wanted to write Lothíriel as her own person, especially because what it means for her relationship with her aunt. But now I'm getting ahead of myself!

Doranwen - Aww, I'm sad to hear you've been sick! But I hope you are better now. I'm glad if you liked the chapter, though!