Chapter 7
From that nameless bank of Anduin they ran. Night grew late and sun's first rays flickered in the east, but the two hastened along the stream, knowing that the more they could put distance between themselves and the pirates, the better. There was a wood where trees grew low and loose, not at all like the forests in the North. They followed Anduin but saw no dwellings of Men on their way, even though the land was fair and its weathers mild. In a breathless voice, the Princess said it was because too long Anduin's shores had been the hunting grounds for the corsairs, and people of Lebennin did not wish to give them an easy target.
While they ran, sun rose in the east, blazing glorious. The woods in Lebennin were beautiful and fragrant, but Éomer kept his eyes forward. He knew it was a long way still to Pelargir, over a day and half on foot, but at least they were on friendly soil. Princess Lothíriel had said they might find transport on water eventually, for boats of all sizes travelled the waters near the city. How she meant they would pay for such passage, she hadn't told him yet. Maybe she was planning to blackmail her way through it. At this point, he was ready to expect just about anything.
He had saved his strength, the way he had learned to do as a Rider. Now that he was without a mount, it came to a need as they ran by the side of the river. At times, they had to curve their going a little away, for here and there were spots of quicksand. The Princess kept a close eye on the terrain.
She endured well, though at times he could see her falling a little behind. From that and the expression on her face, he knew she was struggling to keep up with him.
And so, knowing rest would suit him well too, Éomer slowed down.
"I think maybe we should stop and get some rest. We have raced for many hours", he suggested.
"Are you sure it's a good idea? What if those pirates are on our heels?" she asked doubtfully.
He had thought about that, too.
"They will not have made such way as we. It will have taken them time to find and rescue their captain, and to decide what to do. And it should slow them down while they seek for our tracks. I think we can take an hour or two of rest without any fear", Éomer said calmly.
"Very well", she said at length, and he could tell she was now too exhausted to make an argument, even if she had been against his view.
So they looked for a place to lay down and sleep, beneath the trees and some way from the river so that they would not be spotted right away. There they found a place where grass grew and herbs and flowers of the wood smelled sweet. Princess Lothíriel more or less just threw herself down and was asleep in less than minutes.
Éomer lay down as well, placing himself between her and the river. Strange were the fates that had brought them here, but as of now, he felt like he was tremendously lucky to have her for a companion.
They rose again at midday and ate what food they could quickly find in the woods. There were nuts and berries, and some root vegetables that she recognised. It wasn't much of a meal, but it helped with hungry pangs that would otherwise have made their efforts quite painful.
They continued again their flight towards Pelargir, following the stream. No sight of their pursuers could be seen yet, and Éomer guessed their advance had not been as swift or untroubled. No doubt the facts he had pointed out to her had slowed the corsairs down. Who knew? Perhaps he had been wrong about loyalty between pirates and they would not try to pursue the Princess and him. Even so, Éomer decided it would be wise not to leave anything to such a narrow chance.
The two of them kept up again a good pace, though it was not quite as vigorous as yesterday. Lack of proper food and rest now grew on them, even if they were still anxious to get closer to the city of Pelargir. Éomer was not sure what the Princess meant when she said "safe house" and "many hiding places", but right now he knew those were things he needed to trust. After all, she had not yet given him any reason to doubt her.
Their travelling was swift and urgent and as the heat of the day grew, they halted to undo their coats. When they stopped to rest a little, Éomer asked her, "Is this something you often do?"
"No, it isn't. This is the first time I help a king to escape", she replied, washing her face in the river. This flight was taking its toll on her as well, which in fact made him trust her a little more than earlier. If she were dishonest, she wouldn't struggle so much to help him.
"Then what do you normally do?" he wanted to know.
She looked into the river and her expression was odd.
"I do whatever Dol Amroth needs me to do", she stated at length, her tone strangely grave.
"Is saving me what Dol Amroth needs?" Éomer asked in the spur of the moment. Not that the answer wasn't clear to him, but he wanted to know what she thought.
"It is what everyone needs. You are the last of your line, my lord, and Gondor can't afford you dying because of us. My father would be put in a very hard place if you perished under our watch. I know what you have done for my land, and the moment I saw you were in danger, I had to act", she said very solemnly.
"Éomer", he said, making her look up quizzically.
"My lord?" she asked him.
"That's my name. You have quite earned the right to speak it", he told her steadily. For a second she looked at him in surprise, but then a smile appeared on her features. When she smiled, he had hard time believing he had ever thought she was a boy. And there was something else to it, too. Back at the ship, she had shown cold determination and acted ruthlessly against the corsairs. But now, when she gave him this genuine smile, he could see something in her gaze that made him wonder if that ruthlessness was actually a native part of her.
"And you are free to use mine", said the Princess softly. For whatever reason it occurred only now to him that there was much more to her than just her sly, scheming side.
With a comradely look at one another, they returned to their flight.
They made way in good enough pace, considering the circumstances. Éomer thought to himself that Lothíriel moved as though a young deer, swift and light upon the grass. She had braided her hair and ran without her tunic, and to himself he thought she looked as though she was a young Wood-elf, much like one of her ancestress' kin. How could he ever have bought that display she had given back at the ship? Then again, he had a feeling she had the ability of making people think what she wanted. He would be wise to remember that.
At times, they ran a little slower, and then conversations would take place. Lothíriel took the opportunity to tell l him the reason why would a Princess of Dol Amroth be tailing pirates and helping foreign kings to escape. It was a long, strange tale, and it went beyond everything he had thought he knew of the ladies of Gondor. And after last night, Éomer had to admit he was a little intimidated to know Imrahil had such weapon in his sleeve.
"A long time ago, there was a Southron lord visiting in Dol Amroth. It was in a time of truce, though my ancestor who ruled as a prince at the time had heard whispers that the armies of the south were stirring again, and would soon be marching north. He wanted to learn what this lord knew, but he had no way of finding out. In all their talks, the Southron evaded all the questions that even slightly pointed towards any plans of war. But then his sister suggested maybe she could discover the information he needed", said Lothíriel as they jogged along the river. Éomer was listening closely, as this was something quite unfamiliar to him.
"He resisted at first, thinking it was too dangerous. But she reminded him that to they had no higher duties than to protect their people and Gondor, and if there was a chance she could find something out, then she wanted to try. She pointed out to him that the Southron would never consider her a threat, or think she could seriously harm him. That was her advantage", she continued, gazing ahead. Éomer thought this ancestress had been very much correct. Even in the realms of Middle-earth, there were many who would never realise her potential, and her danger. That was precisely where her power came from.
"The prince agreed at last and so she arranged a feast in the honour of the Southron lord. She was skilled in diplomatics – and also knew a fair deal about seduction. Eventually, the lord was so drunk, both on wine and on her, that he told her everything she wanted to know", Lothíriel stated, sounding almost victorious, as though she had played a part in this achievement.
"With her help, the Swan Knights lead by the Prince were able to gain a great victory and protect the realm against their invasion. They were so pleased with the result that they began to wonder if they could use this strategy again, harness her charms and their enemies' prejudices and utilise them to defend the land. So the idea was born, though since then, it has changed and grown, and it's not merely charms or prejudices that we make use of when fighting our shadow wars. In time, her child followed in her steps, and the blade was passed on from one to another, mothers to daughters, aunts to nieces, cousins and sisters and so on – all the way to this day. I'm only the latest link in a long chain of secret blades that the Prince of Dol Amroth applies whenever he can't send his Swan Knights to do the job", said the Lady Lothíriel, holding her audience much bewitched to the end of it. As they ran, her voice came sometimes slower and sometimes faster, depending on the terrain they were covering at the time. But Éomer listened closely to every word and felt like glimpsing an entirely new world that had always existed along with the one he knew.
"It is astonishing. I never knew – never would have imagined there was something like you in these southern lands", Éomer said at last, when he had pondered on all this for a while. Had even Wormtongue in all his cunning dreamed of having such an asset? How strange these Men of Stoningland could be! And yet he saw the sense in all this. Hadn't he himself witnessed how easily she could go into places that were closed to others? The way she had made people believe that she was a lad? She wore her disguises like a second skin and no one knew better.
"Well, none before you know of this. It's been a secret we have kept for a long time", she answered as the halted again to drink some water. With solemn eyes, she looked up at him, "You are the first outsider to hear all this – at least in my time. My aunt won't be glad when I tell her you know. Can you promise to keep our secret?"
"Of course", said Éomer calmly. "You saved my life. If you wish me to keep your secret, then that is a very small thing to do in return."
Lothíriel smiled, and for a moment the young king wondered if she was at all aware of how fair that expression made her.
"I would be very grateful", she said, and without a further word, they continued their run.
They kept up a good pace until evening, but at that time they had both grown weary and eager for some rest. As there was no sign yet of any potential pursuers, they decided to sleep under the stars.
They did not build a fire, for it would have announced their presence for miles and miles, and a warm summer's night kept them warm enough. So they lay down upon grass that grew more abundantly here, along with sweet-smelling river flowers. These were some of the fairest sites along the river Anduin, yet they had been long neglected due to corsair threat. Once, in a time where Gondor had been great and powerful, these shores had been better protected.
She spoke of these things, and of many others, to the man who lay next to her, gazing up to the stars above them. The sky of summer's night was clear and bright and some of her favourite constellations were well in sight. It was a little odd to realise that she could sleep so easily and safely while so close to a man who was still unfamiliar to her. Yet Lothíriel already knew King Éomer would never cross the line, even if he hadn't known her parentage.
Exposing her true name and identity had been moderately easy, and he had taken the news astonishingly well. Lothíriel had figured out they would be stuck together for many days to come and so it would be next to impossible to keep the truth from him. Aunt had told her about Rohirrim and their love of honesty, and lying straight to his face now that pretension was not necessary anymore was a sure way to lose his trust. There was a good chance the King would go berserk if he felt cheated by her, and that was the last thing she needed at the moment. Not to mention, she had the interests of her House to consider. It was her brothers, Princes of Dol Amroth, who had got him in the trouble, and so it had to be another member of that same family to get him out of it. Had she kept her original story with him and vanished when he was safe once more, he might still feel ambivalent towards her kin in the end. But hopefully this way, the good relationship between Dol Amroth and Rohan could be salvaged. Right now she didn't need to be a spider; it was enough to simply be the Princess of Dol Amroth.
Curiously, but careful to remain polite, he asked her many questions about her life, of her training, and of the things she had seen and done. And as she spoke, Lothíriel grew more and more bold in her tales of the years she had spent learning her trade and of the ways she had put it all to use. She could well understand his wonder, and was herself a little surprised how well he took this all. Not once had she heard any judgement in his tone, and whatever he thought of her and her way of life, at least did not disapprove of it straight to her face. She took this to mean that Éomer did not think her being a Lady of the Hidden Blade as a bad thing; enough had been said about his straightforward character for her to know he wouldn't have hidden his opinion if it was not in her favour.
She was glad that he kept asking questions and thus distracted her from some troubling thoughts that had pursued her ever since they had got to land. Aunt Ivriniel had always told her not to feel regret over dead enemies, but Éomer's conflicted feelings over pushing Dagalur into the river had rather disturbed her peace of mind. She knew the Rohir was famous for his decency and honourable disposition, but why was it making her second-guess her own actions?
"I was wondering", he said all of a sudden, "Is this what you do all of your life? Don't you ever settle down?"
"Settle down? As in, starting a family?" Lothíriel asked, frowning slightly.
"Well, I suppose in that way, too", he said and she could feel his eyes on her.
"Not many of us do. I don't think Aunt ever mentioned more than a few of our predecessors who left this life. She certainly never even considered the idea. In fact, I think it would be abhorrent to her", Lothíriel said. Truly enough, she couldn't imagine her aunt married to anyone, or having children. To her, Lady Ivriniel had always seemed so aloof and singular, and content in being so. She didn't seem like she wanted or needed affection and closeness, even from her kin.
"That sounds lonely", Éomer mused at length, making her glance at him.
"I suppose it is", she had to agree. "But my aunt... she doesn't see it that way. She... well, Father thinks she got to it too early. And her predecessor, my grandfather's cousin, was well nigh obsessed with... with what we do. She passed a lot of herself, her visions, to my aunt. You could say she never learned to regard it in any other point of view than her own. And before she got injured and had to quit, Aunt loved what she did and she was good at it. But it also made her ruthless, suspicious if not hateful towards most men, and sometimes she's so cold people call her the Ice Princess."
"... are you like that? Or do you want to become like her?" he asked her. She saw him shifting, and he moved to lay on his side, leaning his head against his hand as he considered her.
Lothíriel let out a nervous little laugh.
"Elbereth, I hope I'm not. I think I would be miserable if I tried to be like my aunt", she said, shuddering at the thought. She glanced at the man by her side. "Don't get me wrong. I respect her very much, but I'm also different than she is."
"Then what do you want from your life?" the horselord inquired.
It rather took her by surprise. What could she answer when she had no response? Silently she stared at the stars for a while, as though they knew better. Indeed, what kind of a life could a spider hope to have?
"I haven't really thought about it", she said at last, her voice falling close to a whisper. "At least as far as family goes, I don't think I can hope to find anyone who would want to live their life with me. Most Gondorian lords would probably think I'm far too independent. And I doubt they would appreciate knowing I have means to beat them, if I wanted to."
"If you ask me, being independent is not a bad thing. Many women I know in my land are, and they have to be. They manage halls and farms when men are away – and sometimes defend them, too", he said and rolled to lay on his back again. It was dark and so she couldn't check, but she thought he was smiling wryly when he added, "Some of them are quite formidable opponents when armed with a blade, as a matter of fact."
Lothíriel looked at him in wonder. Granted, Aunt had taught her some of the culture of the horselords, but her companion spoke of it so casually. Perhaps this was the reason he had accepted her actions easily so far; even when she had revealed her identity, his shock had not lasted for long. It was strange, really, because she felt like for the first time in her life, she was received both as a woman and a... well, not a warrior, but as some kind of a comrade in arms. Only a handful of people knew her both sides, and often she felt like none of them really knew how to combine the two. At least in the eyes of her brothers, she had ceased to exist as a female altogether.
"I would like to visit Rohan one day", she said after a while, shifting her eyes to gaze at the stars. They were bright tonight and she sought for some of her favourite constellations. Long ago, even before she had suspected her aunt was involved in something very peculiar, her grandfather had taught her some of the lore of stars. Since then, she had learned: there is light and high beauty for ever beyond the shadow.
"You are most welcome to do so. After what you have done for me, you would be received as an honoured guest", the horselord said in a softer tone than before.
"I was just doing what I have been trained to do", she tried to dismiss it.
"Yet you saved my life", Éomer said solemnly. "Not many can say that they have."
"I couldn't just leave you there, could I?" Lothíriel said weakly. When had she grown so very aware of him lying so close to her? And why was she thinking of how easy it would be to reach out to him and lose herself in his warmth? She cleared her throat and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. In a low voice, she said, "We should try to get some rest."
"Aye, we should", he agreed quietly and let out a small sigh.
But though her body surely could have used the rest, it was some time before Lothíriel actually fell asleep.
They started again before the dawn. Again they went following the stream, their eyes straining for horizon and the first glimpse of Pelargir, even if they knew the earliest they could hope to reach the city was by nightfall.
"Although", said Lothiriel when they jogged through the soft tall grass covering the riverbanks, "there are always little boats on the waters near Pelargir. Like I said before, we could try and bargain ourselves a passage by one of them. At least it would throw those pirates off of our scent."
"A most pleasing idea", Éomer said, but with some doubt. "How probably do you think anyone will agree to ship us if we can't give anything in turn? I was robbed clean when they captured me."
He was just glad he hadn't been carrying anything of personal value on him. He had his father's ring and a brooch that had also come from Éomund, but thankfully he had left those at Imrahil's palace; he had not wanted to present the pickpockets of Dol Amroth an easy, drunken target. Having so little left of his family, it would have been a shame to lose the objects he had inherited from them.
"Not to worry. I do have something to bargain with – right here", she grinned and made a strange little move in the middle of moving forward. She slapped her ankle and halted to drink from the river.
Éomer stared at her dubiously and almost ran into a bush. Was she implying what he thought she did? She exposed one shapely ankle and reached it towards him.
"We'll give them your... ankle?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to offend her. Surely she didn't mean...? At this point, he had absolutely no idea of what she would or wouldn't do.
"Not the ankle, silly! I mean this!" she scoffed and sat down on the ground. At last, he understood her meaning when she unfastened a light silver chain from around her ankle. The Princess grinned, "I always keep a small chain around my ankle. It's one place robbers never check, and you never know when some silver could save your life."
"You are full of surprises", Éomer said, amazed and, he had to admit, a little impressed. "You think of everything, don't you?"
"Well, I try to", she answered with a pleased little smile on her face. For a while, they went on in companionable silence.
On their way, they gleaned the woods of whatever small things they could find to eat. But there wasn't much and in any case their time was limited, so Éomer still felt ravenous afterwards. He reminded himself they were not far from Pelargir now. Once they reached the city, they would be able to rest properly and get a decent meal. At least, he hoped that was what Lothíriel meant when she spoke of her safe house.
As the morning progressed to a full day, he decided to ask her about it.
"My aunt has this little apartment she rents in Pelargir. It's small and discreet and the owner, a tavern keeper who has his establishment below, keeps it tidy for her. We don't use it very often, but apparently Aunt pays him enough to keep him happy", she explained. Then she made a face and added, "though truth be told, I rather believe she also did something to scare him into submission, and he's too terrified of her to say no. It sounds like something she would do."
He snorted upon hearing that. He wasn't sure which he wanted more: to meet this legendary woman or stay as far away from her as possible.
"Have you been there before? At this safe house, I mean?" Éomer inquired at length.
"Yes, a few years ago. Aunt was training me to get information and so we came to Pelargir", Lothíriel said, gazing ahead. "You see, it's not a port like Dol Amroth. It used to be wealthy and powerful once upon a time, but corsairs have ever been fond of assaulting it from the sea, and the Stewards were usually too busy dealing with the threat of Mordor to pay attention. Most of the decent folks have fled over the years. So as a result, Pelargir has become a little untidy."
She let out a small, wry laughter before going on, "Even so, it's a wonderful place to get information, or a passage if you hope to reach the southern lands. You'll meet many delightful characters who can tell you much about what is going on in the markets of Umbar, or latest news from Dale – even a few Rohirrim have been known to wander there. It was very useful for my training. Aunt had me roaming the streets long enough for me to learn to know my way around."
Éomer was a little doubtful.
"It sounds like a place where we will have to watch our back", he stated at length.
"Oh, it's not so bad when you know which parts you should avoid. You don't need to worry. The safe house will be, well, just that: safe", she reassured him. The Rohir had no reason to mistrust her, especially after she had saved his life, but he hoped she was right about this safe haven. She had said it had been some years since she had visited the place, so who knew how the city had changed since then? Not to mention, it was quite clear they had different ideas about what was secure.
They did not manage to make such way as yesterday. Lack of food and the strain of their flight slowed down their pace and they had to rest more often. Éomer occasionally looked behind his shoulder and down the river, but no pursuers could yet be seen. A few times he helped Lothíriel to climb a tree, so that she might peer back the way they had come. But she couldn't spot anyone approaching. He dared not be hopeful and believe this meant they had managed to lose the pirates. After all the misfortunes that had fallen on the pirates since leaving Dol Amroth, Éomer surmised they would want to get at least something out of it. With some irony, he considered they probably wanted to catch him now more than ever.
As they ran, he threw an occasional glance to the other side of the river. He wondered if they might be better off on the other side... maybe travel all the way to Ithilien, where Éowyn and Faramir lived. What an event would it be, arriving at their home unannounced with Faramir's cousin by his side! Then again, it was many more days to get there, and he and his companion did not have the supplies they would have needed. Not to mention, Éowyn had told him how unsafe the eastern side of Anduin still was. Orcs had made their nests up on the Mountains of Shadow and Southrons still came and went at will. They had better chances at this side of the river.
Towards the evening, hunger pangs grew worse in his stomach. It became harder and harder to keep up the speed and his body ached from all the abuse and strain he had taken recently. Lothíriel too looked exhausted, but she wore a determined grimace on her face, like she was forcing herself to move. At times she lagged behind and then he allowed them to slow down and take a short rest, but soon enough Éomer was urging them to go on again.
He did not know how much longer they could have kept this up, deprived of nourishment and proper sleep as they were. However, it seemed that luck was on their side, for an hour or so before sunset, he suddenly saw movement on the river. There was a fishing boat, or at least he assumed so – he could not claim to know how to make distinctions between different vessels.
"Lothíriel", he said quickly to his companion, who had been lagging behind with her head bowed, "there's a boat on the river."
Her head perked up and it seemed as though his words somehow injected her with new-found energy and vigour. A spark lit her eyes that had been growing duller as the day progressed.
"Let me speak to him", she said and hastened to the riverbank.
What followed left Éomer feeling once more loss at words. Though he knew by now that this woman managed strange and amazing things, she still was able to impress him.
She called out to the fisherman, speaking in the Common Tongue much like the ordinary folk would. At first, the man seemed reluctant to get close to the side of the river and the odd pair of strangers, but Lothíriel's voice was gently persuasive and most sincere. She quickly provided the fisherman with a story of a shipwreck and how the two of them had escaped with an inch of their lives. It didn't sound rehearsed at all and Éomer felt this story had been perfected in her head long before now.
When the fisherman looked like he was wavering between agreeing and telling them to go where the sun didn't shine, Lothíriel showed him the silver chain she had removed from around her ankle. It was a fine thing, surely worth at least ten boat rides up and down Anduin's delta. The fisherman recognised this too and at last lead his boat close to the bank, so that the exhausted pair could step in. When he had snatched the chain from her hand and seen it was indeed a fine piece of jewellery, he even gave them some dried fish. The food was gratefully received, meagre as it was. Éomer wolfed down his own portion and felt a little better.
The sun began to set as the fisherman took the boat towards Pelargir again. It was quiet on the river and the company of three did not speak much. Éomer looked to west and watched how the sky blazed with the setting sun. Next to him, Lothíriel was dozing off.
Darkness fell at last. He could feel her shivering, which was no wonder – the boat was a damp place, and air was cooler now than it had been last night. So he lifted his arm carefully and wrapped it around her shoulders, offering his own body's heat to help her stay warm. More than half asleep, she scooted closer to him and settled down.
She did not stir when they began seeing other boats, big and small. Folk of the river were returning to their homes, hurrying for supper and bed and company of family and friends. Éomer thought wistfully of his own hearth back in Edoras, of warm lights and hearty meals and mugs of ale shared with friends. Granted, it could be lonely too, for the nights of a man without family were often long and empty.
But he wouldn't be alone tonight. There was a warm someone puffing softly into his collar, and she was not even disturbed when they began to near the port of Pelargir and the sounds of the city reached their ears. He smiled wryly, wondering how someone who was usually so alert and sharp could sleep so soundly.
Lothíriel stirred and woke when the boat hit the port. He thought she looked a little bemused to find herself leaning against him. She moved away quickly and kept her eyes down, and when they reached the dock, she was already looking swift and alert once more. When they had thanked their helper and he had gruffly sent them off, she took the lead and began to show a way through the city.
It was true what she had said about Pelargir, Éomer deemed. It was a city that had seen its best days long ago, and Aragorn's healing hand had not yet given new life to it. Buildings were at various states of disrepair and there were some that still bore the signs of some corsair attack in the past. While the city had originally been built of stone, many repairs had been made of wood rather than newly fashioned building blocks. Overall he did not much like the appearance of this place, and even less he liked the people they passed by. The best looks he and Lothíriel got were suspicious, some were openly hostile. The Rohir kept his hand on the hilt of his blade.
She lead him to what looked to be an older part of the city. He saw a few crumbled houses on the way and even one building with a young tree growing out of its window. He shook his head quietly and thought Aragorn would have his hands full trying to lift this city from how low it had fallen.
At last, Lothíriel had them stopping at the end of a long, narrow corridor. Walls stood up high above them and something about it made Éomer feel like they were being watched.
"The safe house is just across that little square", she whispered to him and nodded ahead. Indeed, there was a little open area, surrounded by buildings. He followed her line of gaze and saw stairs leading up to some kind of an open corridor on the second floor of an old building. Somewhere nearby, there were voices speaking. He remembered her saying the apartment was kept by a tavern keeper; perhaps the establishment was in the same block.
"I don't think the pirates have caught up with us yet", his companion went on, "but I would really like to enter the safe house without anyone seeing us. Let's wait for a moment."
Éomer wondered if such caution was truly necessary, but he didn't speak his thoughts out loud. After all, she had been trained to be stealthy and wary, and if she thought there was a reason to be especially careful, then they would do just that.
So they stood there in the darkness, watching the small, empty square. Lothíriel seemed to be listening keenly for sounds in the night. She stood so still, one might have taken her for a statue.
Eventually she gestured him to follow, and like a pair of phantoms they flew over the square. Nothing stirred in the quiet night as they crossed the remaining space and climbed up the stairs. Perhaps she had just been overly suspicious.
At the end of the open corridor there was one door, but Lothíriel did not go for the handle. Rather, she turned towards him and whispered, "Can you lift me up?"
"For what?" Éomer asked her.
"For our way in", she answered and pointed at the window over the door.
He blinked. Even if was possible to open the window, it was still much too narrow for him to fit through.
Lothíriel seemed to know what he was thinking. She made a soft little sound and shook her head, "I go inside first and open the door for you. The tavern keeper would have the key, but this is more discreet. My aunt may have scared him senseless, but I'd still rather keep him from seeing you."
"Well, if you insist", Éomer answered a little doubtfully and refrained from commenting on her idea of discretion. All the same, he made a step of his hands for her to use and she effectively climbed him like a tree. Soon enough she was sitting on his shoulders, her thighs on each side of his head. Somehow, even after all that had happened so far, this seemed like the most absurd thing to him: he was standing in the front of a nameless door in the city of Pelargir, it was in the middle of a night, and the Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth was using him as a ladder. He could not help snorting out loud.
"What is it?" she hissed at him.
"Nothing", he answered and tried to stay motionless while she was working. "How do you usually manage this?"
"What do you think? I bring a tall person", she quipped and he laughed softly.
Focused on supporting her, he could not lift his head or see what she was doing to open the window. She struggled for a while and muttered under her breath, until there was a creaking sound of old wood protesting when it was moved from the position it was comfortable with, and she squealed softly in delight. Then she climbed inside like a mad squirrel.
In a few moments he could hear a key turning in the lock and the bolt clicking open. He slipped inside, but Lothiriel was already lighting up a few candles. The room was bigger than he had expected: there was a small fireplace, a table with enough room for four, a tall cupboard, a couple of chairs and a large dark object that looked like it had once been a sofa. A faint cover of dust lay over everything and the air smelled stale. It didn't seem like the owner of this place saw much effort for its upkeep – although he did note firewood had been left by the fireplace. There were two windows and both were covered. His companion opened one, but only so that she could peer out a little bit.
He then noticed there was a door to another room – perhaps some sort of a bedchamber. Éomer thought Lady Ivriniel must be paying the tavern keeper very handsomely to keep such an apartment empty and almost completely unused. Or scared him very deeply. The more Lothíriel spoke of her aunt, more likely the latter option seemed to him. Lothíriel disappeared into the next room and there was a sound of something being moved, but soon enough she returned once more. She held a small pouch in her hand.
"This should do", Lothíriel said, sounding pleased as she brushed dust from the table. "It's not the most charming place, but we'll be safe here."
"After past few days, this seems like a palace", Éomer said firmly and sat heavily on the sofa. Only now did he notice how very tired he was. His feet seemed to have turned into lead and he could scarcely hold up his shoulders.
She nodded, seemingly energetic still. But then, she had slept in the boat, which had returned some of her strength.
"I found Aunt's little stash of coins in the other chamber. Fortunately for us, she was generous to leave us with enough currency to feed ourselves for a month", she told him and glanced at the door. Then looking at him again she went on, "I need to go out and get some food for us. I'll go and check if the tavern keeper might have anything he could sell. And I'll ask him to send a message for me. He'll know how to contact my aunt. Once she gets the message, she'll have Father send us a ship to take us home."
Éomer's body protested when he hauled himself standing again. He would have liked nothing as much as just falling asleep right there, but on the other hand, he was quite famished.
"I'll come with you", he said, trying to stretch some life back into his tired muscles.
"No, you stay here. It's easier for me to go quiet and unnoticed when I'm alone. I'd rather keep you here, out of sight", she said, shaking her head.
He frowned and tried to think of a counter argument, but he was too tired to come up with anything. Even so, he hated the feeling of being useless. After a year of kingship, he still had hard time accepting sometimes he just had to stand back when others went forth to face danger. He refrained from snorting; when this madness was finally over, Éothain and his council were going to lock him up in Meduseld.
On the other hand, he had recently come to know someone who could probably break him out...
He shook his head. Apparently he was so tired, he was starting to become delirious.
"Very well then", Éomer agreed at last and sat down again, heavy and stiff like an old man.
She smiled and slipped out once more, moving swiftly and quietly. He had never seen anyone mortal move so lightly as she did. He knew she must have trained for years to achieve such phantom-like quietness.
Lying down on the sofa was a tempting thought, but he was quite hungry too, and so he occupied himself by getting a small fire going and taking a closer look around the apartment. He also entered the second room, which was a bedchamber like he had thought. There was a neatly made bed a couple could use comfortably, a stand for a washing basin, a massive but ancient cupboard that seemed to be standing simply out of use, and a small desk faced another covered window. Like the other room, this too had a very impersonal feel. Even if the little apartment had not been so dusty and stale, it would have been easy to discern no one actually lived here.
By the time Lothíriel returned, he had brushed the worst of the dust and was feeding some wood to the fire. She carried a basket and bundles of food and a full waterskin on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get more water. I assume you're as eager to wash as I am. I'll go to the well tomorrow", she told him as she opened her bundles and laid out some bread, cold ham and cheese for a late meal. Seeing the fire was going, she also produced a few sausages and tomatoes. The mere sight of all this food made his stomach growl loudly – and also forget his previous thoughts of how nice it would be to get a bath. While he had washed in Anduin the best he could, it only did so much and he had not had a change of clothes for many days now.
"You have already done more than I thought possible yesterday", he simply stated and loaded a frying pan with sausages and tomatoes.
Soon enough the room was full of delicious smell and Éomer had to fight the temptation of eating straight out of pan. Meanwhile, Lothíriel found two brown earthenware plates from the cupboard and mugs to go with them. When she presented him with a pitcher of ale, the Rohir was surprised.
"Is this a feast or a late supper?" he asked her in wonder, making her laugh.
"I rather thought that after this last week, it was deserved", she said warmly. He couldn't have agreed more.
A proper feast it seemed indeed when they took seat by the table and began to eat. First few minutes both of them were too preoccupied with eating to have conversation, but when Éomer had been able to banish the worst of his hunger, he took a sip of his ale – decent enough for Gondorian brew – and looked at his companion.
"I hope you don't mind me wondering", he began carefully, "These past few days, I have seen you do things unlike any woman of Gondor I've met, and... to be honest, there's not your like in Rohan, either. Surely a skill like yours would have been useful on the Pelennor fields?"
Lothíriel didn't seem like she was offended by such a blunt question. She was chewing some bread and cheese, and after she had swallowed, she looked straight at him.
"I don't know about that. We work in secrecy, my aunt and I. That's what we have been trained to do. I'm not sure I would play well among warriors on a battlefield... I fight just fine alone, but know next to nothing about military tactics", she explained and poured them both some more ale.
He supposed it made sense. She always moved like a shadow when she was on a mission, sticking to shadows and deception. It was a little amusing to realise that as a younger man, hot-headed and full of ideas of honour, he would probably have seen her very existence as disgraceful. But because of what she was, he was now alive and free – and he thought he was starting know her well enough to judge that even if her methods were unusual and occasionally ruthless, she was good. This spy princess would never harm an innocent or use her skills for evil deeds.
"But does it never bother you that no one knows what you have done? That you must always stay in shadows?" he asked her.
"I... I don't know. I never thought about it that way", she said at length, considering her half finished meal. Then she met his eyes, "Aunt always taught me that honour and admiration from crowds were something we had no need for. That men played at war and fought to have their names remembered in books and songs, while we did what we must so that the realm could live on."
It was an unusual perspective. But then, she – and her aunt, as he suspected – was an unusual woman.
They finished their meal soon after, and at that point, both of them were so exhausted it was a struggle to be able to clean up. But they managed it somehow, and then had a brief argument on which one of them should have the bed. Éomer did not point out that it was big enough for them both; he decided to be the gentleman instead and insisted he'd sleep on the sofa.
She agreed at last, but he suspected it was mostly because she was too tired to argue longer.
So they bid each other good night and she disappeared inside the bedchamber. Éomer more or less collapsed on his bed for the night and the sofa groaned under his weight. But he was settled down soon enough and he passed out before he even knew it.
To be continued.
A/N: Here's an update for the weekend! I hope you enjoyed it. :)
I enjoyed writing this chapter, as it gave a great opportunity to develop their relationship a bit more and let them get to know one another. They're getting along pretty well actually, for reasons that are hinted at here and maybe explored more in coming chapters.
Lothíriel's POV gives reasons as to why she had no difficulty in telling Éomer who she is. It's just a reasonable and practical thing to do, because they're going to be together for some time and it's just much easier for her not to lie when in the presence of someone who is not easily deceived. Plus, like she thinks to herself, it's politics, too: maybe he won't be so mad with her brothers when he knows it's their sister who helped him.
Thanks for reading and reviewing! Your comments are most appreciated. :)
Nerdanel - Thank you! It's really fun to explore their characters and bounce them off of one another, if you get what I mean. :) And I'm glad to hear I've managed to portray her in that way! I think she is much more compelling when she has her own issues and flaws.
EStrunk - Excellent viewpoints! Perhaps this chapter puts some more light on that. And we'll see what will happen with the corsairs now!
It felt good to get him out of that cage and start doing things, really. And I hope the reasons for her revealing herself listed in the story and in A/N make sense to you!
Doranwen - I'm glad you liked it. :D And you are quite correct. Their dynamics are very fascinating to write, because they have so different ideas about how to manage things.
A - I'm afraid I must leave that to the guessing right now!
Wondereye - They are different, but maybe they have some things in common, too!
Jo - Happy to hear that! I do enjoy keeping my readers on the edges of their seats. :D
sai19 - And it always makes me smile to get such lovely comments! :) I hope you enjoyed their trip to the safe house.
Anon - Yes, he is always fun to write! And I do agree he would find it difficult to reconcile with sneaking around to get things done. He's too straightforward to feel comfortable with it.
You're absolutely right about the reasons she reveals herself! They are definitely a part of why she tells him her name like that.
Merakia - You are quite correct! Her methods can be quite ruthless, and I don't think she has ever really questioned them before now. You are quite correct they could learn a lot from one another!
Actually, the bit about "lady in the house of red veils" doesn't refer to the name of the establishment - red veils are just what Lothíriel remembers most vividly about it. So I don't think it should be in capitals? But anyway, I'm always happy to receive grammar feedback!
Also I'm glad to hear my replies cleared things out! Don't hesitate to ask, if something is confusing. :)
