Chapter 4
What awaited Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth in his city upon his return was a full-blown crisis. It was easily the worst thing to happen ever since the Ring War had ended, and possibly also the one with the most serious consequences, unless it could be resolved.
The situation was this, as Elphir delivered it to him the moment he had dismounted in the courtyard of his home: King Éomer, their good friend and ally, was missing.
At first Imrahil had thought his sons were simply making a mountain out of a molehill, and he stated that the man would be found somewhere in the palace, where he had got lost after taking a wrong turn. But his eldest son's face was dead serious, while his brothers were pale with such looks of horrified guilt as the Prince had never seen before. Slowly and painfully, the news sunk in. Éomer truly was nowhere to be found.
In strained voices, his sons made clear to him what had happened last night. Amrothos described how he had persuaded the king to join him for a visit to a tavern in the city, their journey there, and then that moment he had noticed the Rohirric king was gone. One of his guards had stayed behind and passed out in the table, while the second one was found on a narrow street, badly wounded. Soon enough it became clear that the sleeping one had been drugged, as he remained unconscious despite all attempts to wake him up. At the very least, no body had been found yet. Imrahil took this as a hopeful sign, and he was sure any idiot would know Éomer was far more valuable alive than dead.
Amrothos was the one who had made the alarm. Though he had been quite drunk at the time, he had enough sense left to be distressed when Éomer went missing. Guards of the city, Éomer's own riders and Swan Knights had spent the rest of the night looking for the king but at the moment of Imrahil's return, he was still lost.
The lecturing Imrahil gave to his sons was fiercer than anything he had delivered in years, for his fear and concern for not just their friend, but for all of them betrayed him. He dared not think of the evil things that would befall if Éomer was lost forever, or the blow it would be for the House of Dol Amroth if it was their negligence that caused his demise. But eventually, he saw the agony on the faces of the three princes and understood they were just as afraid. They knew full well the catastrophe that could ensue and their guilt already tormented them enough. So, mastering his emotions at last, Imrahil gave orders to renew the search with more men, and to gather all information from the ports that could be found.
And then there was the King's Guard. Éothain their captain seemed calm and collected, and Imrahil could tell it was him only that was keeping the Rohirrim in line, but in his eyes the Prince could see a dangerous fire. If Éomer could not be found, who knew what this horselord would tell his men to do? Nightmarish visions of elite Riders going on a rampage in the city of Dol Amroth did cross Imrahil's mind. Consoling and reassuring Éothain took some effort, but eventually the captain left to marshal the Riders again and to join the search parties once more. Imrahil shuddered inside his very skin. He had seen what Rohirrim were capable of and he really did not want the Muster of Rohan storming Belfalas in vengeance for their lost king.
His sons went on to carry out his commands while the Prince of Dol Amroth was left in his study, doubting and fearing for the outcome that this turn of events would have. With a sigh, he collapsed to sit in his chair and he rubbed fingertips against his scalp to ease his headache. He still needed to write to Aragorn and to Lady Éowyn. He shuddered once more when he thought of what the Slayer of the Witch-king might do if her brother was not discovered safe and sound.
It was then Ivriniel, his sister, made her appearance. Though her injury had left her with a limp and she always used a cane now, otherwise years had been kind to her. She stood tall and proud, her back straight and unbent. Her hair was braided and gathered in a tight bun at the nape of her neck and she wore a dark blue gown with simple silver embroideries. She had never liked the court life, but the society still regarded her as a woman of rare dignity in Gondor. Imrahil suspected even Denethor had feared her a little.
"I really do not have the time right now, sister", Imrahil muttered in a pained voice, not lifting his eyes to meet the cool pair that had earned her the name "Ice Princess".
"You should, brother. I have some news", she stated simply, disregarding his discomfort. Sometimes, he rather wondered what would come out of it if Ivriniel and Aragorn were put in the same room alone. It was probably in everyone's interests that this would never happen.
"News? About what?" he asked wearily.
"Lothíriel did not return home last night", she answered as she took seat opposite him.
Imrahil's head popped up.
"What? Has something happened to her? Elbereth, not this too! We cannot deal with this right now!" he stammered in a rare bout of nervous attack. His only daughter! Oh, he had always known it was a bad idea to let her pursue a trade so dangerous!
"No, I don't think so. Calm yourself, brother, for I believe I have some idea of where she is right now", Ivriniel said evenly, folding her hands in her lap.
"Well?" he asked, looking at her anxiously.
"The day before yesterday, I sent her to spy on a certain group of Umbarian merchants. You know of them, of course, and it was due to your concerns I sent her to look into them. She was supposed to return last night and report to me her findings, but she never did", Ivriniel explained in her slow and steady manner, which now made him rather want to shake her. His patience was much less than usual.
She leaned back and continued, "This morning, I received some very intriguing news. Not only had your sons taken the missing king to the very inn those Umbarians were staying at, but it also appeared that they had departed in haste during the night. Furthermore, a ship left the port the same night despite the storm that was coming from the sea. The ship masters seem to think it was no Gondorian ship, but supposedly one used by southern merchants."
Imrahil stared at his sister. While he had imagined several different scenarios as to what could have happened to Éomer, this was about the worst possibility. A bunch of corsairs capturing the King of Rohan! Could it be true? Had his friend fallen into the hands of those filthy pirates? And what hope was there of ever rescuing him, if that was the case?
"Elbereth have mercy", he whispered, slumping in his chair. He would have to send ships, of course, he would do that as soon as he was able to pick himself up from this chair, but with their head start, the pirates could already be out of reach. The only thing Gondor could do now was prepare for war... to rain such vengeance on the lands of Southrons that it would be remembered ten generations later.
"Oh, but she does", Ivriniel said, sounding unreasonably relaxed. "Imrahil, I believe your daughter is on that ship."
"What?! Ivriniel, how could that possibly be true?" he demanded to know, jolting upright once more.
"Well, she was watching this very band of pirates, wasn't she? And she didn't return last night? If Lothíriel was there, then she saw them taking him", she answered calmly.
"But if she did, why didn't she tell anyone? Why didn't she raise the alarm? What if they killed her?" Imrahil shot questions at his sister and gripped tight the armrests of his chair.
"Because I didn't teach her that way. She knows not to expose herself so foolishly. And if I have any insight to the way that girl thinks, and I am fairly sure that I do, she decided it would only compromise the life of King Éomer if she made the alarm. Believe me, brother – she is alive. She is on that ship", Ivriniel stated and smiled slightly.
"How do you know?" he demanded, staring at her hard. Lady Ivriniel met the gaze and the smile on her face grew into a broad one – a most unusual expression on her face. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen her smile.
"Oh, brother! How many times do I have to tell you? When will you begin to understand? This is what we do. This is why we exist. Don't worry about your daughter. She has trained all her life for this and she knows everything she needs to survive among those pirates. Imrahil, if Lothíriel was able to board their ship, then King Éomer already has all the help he needs."
After Dagalur had made up his mind about their second captive, two of his men had taken Lothíriel below the deck and to the cells. As the ship was about to set sail and all hands would be needed on deck to battle the storm, they gave her only a brief search; they relieved her of a purse of silver, but didn't discover she was not a boy, nor did they pay any attention to what she might be hiding in her boots. The princess acted demurely and even managed to produce a few tears, of which Aunt would have been proud. Faking crying had always been a little difficult for her.
Lothíriel was glad to see her cell was opposite that of the horselord. They were more like cages, really, and the locks didn't look too complicated when she examined her door. She refrained from snorting. Planning their escape would be almost too easy, at least as long as the ship didn't take them to the high seas.
Meanwhile, the King of Rohan remained unconscious. He probably wouldn't be waking up any time soon, because the two men who had captured him hadn't looked like expert poisoners, and she imagined they would have exaggerated the amount this man needed to go down. At any rate, she decided it was for the best. He would just panic if he was awake, and she needed to get out of this cell first.
Chewing her lip, she wondered how difficult it would be to fool Dagalur. Granted, she had managed very well back at the quay, but then his attention was mostly on greater matters, and the idea of braving the storm had distracted him. And the King of Rohan presented an unknown factor. What would he do once he woke up? Would he listen to her, or would she even get a chance to talk to him? How much she should tell him, anyway? Maybe it wasn't a good idea to tell him right away who she was – he would just try to be a hero for the sake of her father and do something that put them both at risk.
It was not long that the storm hit at last. Soon the ship was tumbling on the waves, riding high and low as the sea raged all around the vessel. It creaked and wailed and there were a couple of times Lothíriel was almost sure it was going to burst into pieces. Surely Ossë was doing his best to bring down this crew.
As for King Éomer, he remained blissfully unconscious through the storm. She counted him lucky for it, because she didn't think he had been to sea before, and this terrible weather might have made him very sick. Even she felt a little nauseated at the fiercest bout of the storm, and while she couldn't say that she hoped any fortune for the pirates, she did pray to Uinen to keep them afloat.
Lothíriel had already analysed about dozen likely scenarios as to her own fate on the ship by the time she was thrown in the cell. But in all truth, what came to pass did rather surprise her: as the storm raged on, one of the pirates stumbled through the door to demand whether she knew how to work a ship's deck. Apparently, a few men had already been lost to the sea and help was sorely needed.
She was not as good as her brothers – her own talents lay elsewhere – but she had enough skill to at least try. Or, she had enough guts to try. Either way, Lothíriel quickly delivered a rather nice speech on how her father had practically been born of the sea, and she wasn't even finished yet before the door of the cage was thrown open and she was dragged all the way up to the deck.
The spying princess was in luck: the worst of the storm had already passed. For if they had still been riding fierce waves and battling the tempest in that case, she would not have been able to fool these villains. But with enough concentration and remembering Erchirion's lessons, she played her part on the deck as well as she could hope. The wind and sea spray whipped at her face but she tried to take it as toughly as any sea dog would.
It was a fierce fight, even if they were riding the outskirts of the storm. Lothíriel hardly had time to worry about the King of Rohan down underneath the deck, but her consolation was that everyone else was too busy to wonder about him, too.
The sea was not gentle that night, and so by the time the rain was reduced to soft drizzle and the waves rolled underneath more softly, it was clear that the ship had taken some serious damage. The sails were tatters and it was no small job to replace them. The first mate reported the steering was not working the way he would have liked. They had also lost one mast during the storm.
Though Lothíriel felt about as weathered and worn by the time Captain Dagalur gathered them on the deck, she also felt a secret hope in her heart. It was clear the ship was not in good shape, so perhaps these poor bastards would give up their bold attempt? Then again, it could mean just throwing the King of Rohan over the board and pretending innocence when some Amrothian ship reached them... well, that was something she would have to try and prevent.
"Well, lads, I won't lie", said Dagalur, standing on some stairs that lead to the upper deck. He was no better than the rest of these pirates, but at least he appeared to care about his crew.
"We are beaten down rather bad by the old man of the sea. You all know the damage this ship has taken – most of you saw it yourselves as that damned storm threw us about the waves. It's going to take extensive repairs and time we don't have. The Gondorians will already have noticed that the Rohirric king is missing, and it's only a matter of time they send their entire fleet to look for him. Dol Amroth's fastest ships will be on us before we even know it", he spoke gravely, looking around the faces of his men.
There were some mutters among the crew, until one of them spoke up loudly.
"I say we throw him overboard. If there's no proof of him being here, what can those Amrothians do to us?" said a tall, thin man with a rather unpleasant expression. His suggestion received a few approving grunts and mutters.
"What won't they do to us, though?" Lothíriel spoke up loudly, much to the general astonishment. It seemed that each pair of eyes on the deck was now turned towards her, and some of them looked like they were genuinely surprised to see she was still around.
"What do you mean?" Dagalur asked harshly.
"Captain, the lad is one of them Gondorians. He's trying to trick us somehow", said the nasty looking man who had suggested drowning the King of Rohan.
"Why would I want to trick you? I was trying to get away from Dol Amroth just as much as you were. And if their ships catch us, they're most likely to think I'm in some kind of a league with you lot", Lothíriel pointed out and forced herself to stay motionless, even though the air was thick with threat and suspicion. If these pirates decided she was not trustworthy... well, there were all too many things here that could go wrong.
But she was a spider. And her webs were not always spun to kill.
"What's your name, boy?" Dagalur asked her sharply.
"Candir, sir", she responded readily.
"Go on, lad", he said after a moment of consideration. Some of his men groaned, but he shot them a warning glare.
"Well, do you really think the departure of this ship went unnoticed by harbour masters? They keep a book on every ship that enters and leaves the port. Not a single vessel does anything in Dol Amroth without them knowing about it. And they know exactly what this ship looks like and how strong your crew is. You effectively announced your own guilt by setting sail at the eve of a storm when any reasonable mariner would have sat tight in some nice tavern and wait for fairer weathers. They know it was you who abducted the King of Rohan. They'll send the Prince's entire fleet straight after this ship. And once they reach us – and I promise you they will – what do you think they will do to you if they don't find the horselord alive and well? If you don't hurt him now, at least you will have something to bargain with", she stated, calm and collected. She knew she was rather exaggerating the expertise and competency of the harbour masters of Dol Amroth, but these men didn't need to know that. The more they feared the sea skill of the Amrothian fleet, the better.
There was a brief silence, and then the crew began whispering among themselves again. Not a few of them looked a little nervous; she had them nicely on the hook now. But she would have to tread carefully. It would not be a good idea to send them to panic.
"Well, what do you suggest we do, then?" Dagalur asked and came down the steps, approaching Lothíriel with a threatening look on his face. She took a step back and kept her hand from reaching for the small knife in her boot.
"They will expect you to sail straight for Umbar. They will pursue you there with their fastest ships. But if we set another course right now, I think it's possible to avoid them", she started carefully.
"Another course? Where would that be?" Dagalur demanded to know and halted to stand before her. His eyes narrowed, he searched her face intently. The man was trying to decide whether or not she was speaking falsehoods.
"Sail for Pelargir. It's close enough we can make it there, even with this damage. You'll be able to make the repairs and lay low while the Amrothian fleet hunts for you at high seas. Then, once the ship is seaworthy again and the worst uproar has died, you sail down to Umbar, nice and quiet", she explained and offered a smile to the corsair captain.
"And do you suggest every ship in Pelargir won't be searched for the horselord?" asked one man standing nearby.
"Of course not. But hasn't any of you ever been to Pelargir? Plenty of folk live there who wouldn't mind helping you out and hide the prisoner while the ship is docked. They don't care about Rohirrim or their king, if the price is right. Just drug him again and slip him out before landing, keep him locked down in some nice cellar, and then wait for your window to sail home. It is all very simple", she responded and shrugged nonchalantly. She was well aware she was handing them a plan of escape that was actually feasible even with the risks, but then... they didn't know they had a spider in their midst.
Once more quiet conversations rose among the crew, but the overtone was much more approving than before. Even Dagalur looked like he was close to being convinced.
"Tell me, boy", he inquired suddenly, "why are you so eager to help out? The King of Rohan is friend to your country."
She shrugged again.
"What do I care about some Northman who can't stay out of trouble? They'll just put another like him on the throne", she dismissed the question with a disinterested tone. Of course, things would hardly be so simple if King Éomer came to harm. She knew enough of what had been going on in the north to understand his death could very well be a blow Rohirrim wouldn't be able to recover from. But this harbour-grown lad she was pretending to be wasn't supposed to understand politics very deeply, and it was better if these men believed that, too.
Dagalur considered her thoughtfully. She kept her face blank and her posture as relaxed as she could. If he saw any signs she was nervous, it would surely put him off and betray her lie.
"I must wonder, though", he stated at length and watched her face intently, "how does a small harbour rat come up with these marvellous plans?"
"When you grow up in a port and there's not a soul in the world who gives a damn about you, you learn to think on your feet", she answered, meeting the corsair's eyes calmly.
"Well, that's something I can't argue with", muttered a short, burly pirate by Dagalur's elbow.
The captain turned to talk with him in hushed tones and she guessed the man was his first mate. She tried to strain her hearing to catch the whispers between the two pirates, but leaning closer would have looked rather suspicious and she didn't want to risk what could be her only chance of winning the trust of these corsairs.
At last Dagalur turned to regard her once more.
"My first mate and I agree your little scheme could be our only chance of avoiding capture", he announced in a loud voice, making sure not a single member of the crew heard him. "If it helps us to avoid the Gondorians, I will see that you are handsomely rewarded, Candir."
Lothíriel made a little bow, clumsy enough it could be a street rat's attempt at courtesy, and then Dagalur turned to look around his crew once more.
"You heard the boy. Our best chance is to try for Pelargir, and if we mean to pull that off, we need to get to work at once. You know we lost some good lads fighting that storm, and I need every one of you to pull their weight until we reach that damn port. Otherwise, we may just sit right here and wait till the Gondorians get us. Is this clear?" he spoke in strong, loud voice.
"Yes, captain!" the crew shouted in unison.
Well, Lothíriel thought to herself, that went better than expected.
The first thing Éomer knew upon waking was the most horrific headache he had experienced in a long time. He was groggy and a little sick and for the first five minutes, he was not certain whether he was going to throw up or not.
With a groan he turned on his side and now something occurred to him: this was not the bed in the guest rooms of Prince Imrahil's palace. His cheek was against wood that smelled like tar and salt and sea.
His eyes flew open. Initially he didn't comprehend what he was seeing, and he was half convinced he was still in some kind of a strange dream, induced by Erchirion and Amrothos' endless talk about ships. But his parched mouth and headache were far too tangible and his muscles too sore that this could be anything else than the waking world.
Éomer could hardly believe what he was seeing: he was in a cell. His first absurd thought was they had got too drunk, caused trouble, and got themselves arrested. Wouldn't be the first time, that, he thought wryly. But soon enough he realised it was not so, and in his chest there was a sinking sensation.
This was no cell in Dol Amroth.
He sat up, though it made him feel like a hammer fell against his forehead, and he rubbed his temples. What had happened? Where was he? Where were Amrothos and Erchirion and his two guards? His heart hurt even worse when he struggled to remember…
The King of Rohan was still trying to make sense of bits and pieces of images that jumbled around in his head when the door leading to the cells was pushed open. Éomer looked up and tensed, and then he saw a young lad stepping inside. He was holding a lantern in one hand and a waterskin in the other. His face was only slightly less dirty than his tattered clothes, which looked like they had never fit his scrawny form very well. His cap was a little silly, but his young face was dead serious.
Éomer would rather have liked to demand and have the waterskin this stranger was carrying, but instead he rose up on his feet – he had to crouch, because the cell was not very high. He was also vaguely aware he was not making a very threatening picture, what with the way he was swaying a little. He still felt sick and standing up did nothing for his headache.
"Where am I and why have you imprisoned me? Who are you?" he barked, or tried to – his voice was raspy and weak.
"First of all, I need you to calm down", the lad answered and put the lantern aside. "And maybe sit down – you look like you're about to collapse."
"Boy, I warn you -" Éomer started, but the boy shot a sharp glare with his bright grey eyes at him.
"Hláford min!" he hissed, effectively silencing the Rohir. This was about the last place in the world he would have expected to hear his own tongue.
Éomer stared. Once again doubt was growing in his mind: maybe he was in a dream, after all. Because the possibility of him being locked inside some kind of a cell that was not in any house on land and being scolded by a street rat in his own northern language was simply too absurd to be happening.
"What -" he started again, but once more he was disallowed from finishing his sentence.
"My lord king, I need you to be quiet for two minutes. I'll explain everything. But first you must promise me something and it is a matter of life and death that you do", the boy whispered, stepping closer to the bars of the cell.
"Explanation would be nice indeed", Éomer grunted. "What do I need to promise?"
"That you will trust me absolutely", the boy said in a very serious tone. His stare held Éomer's own without blinking.
"Give me one reason", the Rohir said, narrowing his eyes.
"Prince Imrahil sent me. I'm here to help you, but if you do not trust me, I'm not sure what I can do for either of us. So do you promise?" the lad demanded. He was surprisingly forcible for someone so young and skinny.
But there was also the fact how practically everything he said raised only more questions. His grasp of Rohirric, his insistence he could not only explain everything but also help out the young king, and his claim that he was here on Imrahil's behalf… Éomer would rather have liked to know what this all was about, but something told him they did not have the time it would have required.
"Very well", he said at last, though a little doubtfully. He didn't take seat, but rather took support of the bars. "Please begin with why I am in this cell."
The lad made a face.
"There's no easy way to say this", he said at length, "but there's no sense in sugar-coating it. My lord, you have been abducted by Umbarian pirates. We are currently on their ship, sailing for Pelargir to lay low while Prince Imrahil's entire fleet is looking for you."
"What in the name of -" Éomer began, and his voice rose with each word, until the boy grabbed his hand in a surprisingly tight grip.
"Be quiet!" he hissed once more. "I barely managed to sneak down here without anyone noticing!"
The King of Rohan fell silent. Now horror pounded inside his skull with the headache as he tried to wrap his mind around the terrible fact: he was prisoner to a bunch of pirates! They were shipping him Béma knew where, and it was all too easy to guess what they meant to do with him. To make things worse, he had absolutely no idea of how to get himself out of this one without getting killed. And Éothain was probably going mad right now, and it was all his fault… he should have… should have…
"Focus, my lord", a voice spoke, and he became aware he had been growling curses for past two minutes. A pair of grey, anxious eyes were staring him down. "I know it looks bad right now, but I'm already working on a plan to free you. Don't worry. I'm going to get us out of here. You just need to hang in there a little while."
"Imrahil sent you? Are you some kind of a spy?" Éomer asked and noted how thin his voice came out.
"He did. Sort of", the lad answered and looked around himself. The young king refrained from snorting in disbelief. The skinny boy didn't look like he could free a potato if he tried.
But then, he knew appearances could be deceiving.
"Why should I trust you?" he asked at length. He almost sounded calm now, much to his wonder.
A wry little smile touched the boy's face.
"Because I am your only chance of getting out of this mess, my lord", he stated solemnly.
"... aye. That you are", Éomer agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. Nevertheless, he gave the lad one of his more ferocious glares, and spoke in low tones, "But may revenge fall on you swift and merciless if you are trying to trick me."
Whether he liked it or not, the boy was saying nothing more and nothing less than the truth: right now, all his chances and all his hopes depended on this scrawny youth who looked like he had never got a hearty meal or a good scrubbing. What was more, he had never met the boy before and there was no guarantee of him actually being in Imrahil's service. And even if that was true, what could a street rat from Dol Amroth do against a crew of bloodthirsty corsairs?
Éomer would have liked to think he had made it through with worse odds… but he wasn't sure he could.
To be continued.
A/N: And the plot thickens! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)
I'm sorry it took so long to post this chapter. Originally I meant to do so early last week, but the nearly finished draft was not... I did not like it. It moved way too fast and things were happening more because of dumb luck than because active decisions by characters. So, though I realised discarding it meant I would have to do a major re-write, I decided to do so as I was convinced everyone (including myself) would like this second version much better. And I'm glad that I did, because it runs much more smoothly and makes more sense.
Éomer and Lothíriel have now met, except not really. For one, he doesn't even know yet that she's actually a girl! :D However, it seems clear to me she wouldn't just reveal herself right away. She's used to doing things on her own and she believes it would only make things worse if he knew her true identity. But we'll get there eventually!
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
hláford min - my lord
sai19 - I am glad to hear that! :)
MissCallaLilly - Thank you!
EStrunk - Happy to hear you liked it! I imagine her poor brothers are feeling very guilty right now. I admit I rather enjoy the fed up Lothíriel having to go and clean up their mess! And it's great fun to be inside her head. She feels much more snarky than I expected when starting this story.
Doranwen - Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and her antics. :)
outlawwoman - Glad to hear that! :)
A - Well, here you go!
Jo - It's going to take some manoeuvring, but maybe she can actually pull it off!
Nerdanel - Yes, it is great fun to write a proper adventure every now and then! :)
Anon - :D We'll see about that! Glad you're liking the storyline!
Guest - All in good time! ;) The stage needs to be set properly first, you see.
AngusH - Glad to hear you think so! :)
It's surprisingly amusing concept, really. And he's in for such a surprise when he finds out the truth about her!
Merakia - Oh boy, they really are in a trouble now! But we'll see how this all goes. And I'm very happy to hear your thoughts on Lothíriel. It's good to know I've managed to make her so multifaceted. :)
