Chapter 12

There was mist on the river.

It hovered heavily like a milky white film, eerie in the quiet hour before the dawn. All the world was still and the only sound in the world was the gentle lap of water against oars. As the wind had settled, oarsmen were now at work under the deck. Their orders was to row as carefully as they could. Prince Imrahil wasn't sure what they would find in Pelargir, but Éothain had advised caution. If the corsairs had come here after his king, they ought not to have any warning.

The Captain of the King's Guard stood at the brow of the ship and gazed ahead. His fingers tapped against the railing. It was not long now to Pelargir; they would reach it with dawn. Behind him, his men were ready and waiting. They spoke in faint whispers, but Éothain was sure if he should look back now, he would see their agitation plain on their faces. His heart hammered in his chest, anxious for the moment he would see his friend and king. Was Éomer all right? Was he safe? So the message had said, but many things could have changed since then. And Éomer could get restless, if he was left idle for too long. Sometimes he was his own worst enemy.

He breathed in and out again, trying to calm his thoughts. He couldn't lose his grip now, no matter how uneasy he felt. Éothain was well aware it was his calm manner that had kept the men in line until now, though staying collected had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, and it would not do to lose it at this point. There was no reason to expect things had gone awry. Before afternoon arrived today, he would be with his liege-lord again and all this would be put behind.

Éothain pictured it once more, like he had so many times done before now. Reaching the safe house Lady Ivriniel had spoken of, finding Éomer and the Princess Lothíriel there, and taking them back to the ship... hearing all the mad things that had happened during this past week. While seeing Éomer safe and sound was his chief hope and expectation, he also very much looked forward to meeting her. What kind of a woman managed this thing? Was she like her aunt, cold and distant and loath to speak to others than her kinsmen? He snorted under his breath. Éomer would have had his hands full if he had been dealing with a younger version of this icy woman.

On the other hand... if the lady was warmer than her aunt... what she had done spoke of singular courage and persistence. Éomer was not blind to such qualities. Éothain smiled faintly. Perhaps this all would turn out better than any of them could have guessed. He needed to hope so.

Unless, of course, they were already too late. In that case, he might just go mad.

He heard soft steps behind himself, and then Amrothos halted to stand by his side. Imrahil's son shuddered in the chill of the morning and rubbed his eyes. He was not a lover of dawns.

"Ready to rage?" asked the prince and suppressed a mighty yawn.

"Ready and eager", Éothain said grimly. Yes, he would very much enjoy getting to laying some law on pirate scum. He glanced at the man next to him, "You?"

"Delighted, as ever", Amrothos answered and grimaced against another yawn that tried to get through. He looked at the captain, wearing a solemn expression on his face. It was most unusual. Since the disastrous night Éomer had vanished, Amrothos seemed to have grown up in a matter of twentyfour hours. The jokes he had cracked since then could be counted with one hand's fingers.

"Where's your father?" asked Éothain, mostly because he couldn't stand the silence and the growing anxiety.

"Overseeing the last preparations, as if everything wasn't in place already. I don't remember ever seeing him this jittery", aid Amrothos and shook his head.

The captain groaned. If Prince Imrahil, one of the most collected men he had ever met, was being nervous... well, his reason said it was because Imrahil had more at stake than maybe anyone else, but still. He could not be at peace until he had made sure Éomer was fine.

"Don't worry about it, Éothain. I know my sister and trust her. She'll have kept him safe and we'll see him very soon", Amrothos reassured him, having sensed his troubled mood.

"Aye. I hope that we do", said the Rohir quietly. He kept his eyes in the thick wisps of mist, straining to see the city beyond.

There was a brief silence as they both gazed ahead. Eventually Amrothos spoke again.

"You know that I'm sorry, don't you? That I would die before wish him harm?" he asked very softly.

Éothain's mood relented a bit. What guilt it must be on Imrahil's youngest son, feeling that it was because of him Éomer had been taken... perhaps such burdens were heaviest on the lightest spirits.

"I know, Amrothos. And he does, too", said Éothain. He reached to squeeze Amrothos' shoulder and the prince managed to conjure a small smile.

Amrothos' officer arrived and broke the comradely silence between them.

"My lord, we are almost there and the men are ready. Your lord father asks for you", said the man. He was arrayed in blue and silver like the rest of Amrothian troops. In Éothain's experience, Knights of Dol Amroth were some of the most competent fighters in all of Gondor. If and when it came to fight, he was not worried at all. He just hoped it was not too late to make that difference.

"Just a minute, Galdor", said Amrothos and glanced at Éothain. The captain nodded silently. As soon as they landed, he would be taking his men and hurry to get Éomer. The sooner Éothain had his eyes on the man, the better.

Galdor saluted and left the two men alone again. In the mist ahead, Éothain could see what he thought was the first glimpse of the ancient port of Pelargir.

Amrothos flashed him a grin – first real one in days.

"Let's go get them, old man."


The tip of her nose felt cold.

Lothíriel decided she did not like this state of matters. Luckily, she knew just the way to warm it up again, and so she nuzzled with it… or attempted, anyway. Because her nose did not come to contact with warm skin as she had expected. Now where was that man?

She reached with her hand, trying to find him where he was supposed to be. But Éomer's place next to her was empty. She groaned under her breath. That he would leave after a night like that! Not that anything too serious had happened – she was injured and they both had managed to retain some semblance of reason – but the sweet memory still made her feel like a ball of warmth glowed in the centre of her chest. She had liked the way he felt, the way he responded to her. He was so bold and yet he was caring and gentle, giving as well as taking. It had been real. There had been no need to pretend anything, or try to perform, or think of how it was a part of some mission. She could just be herself.

Lothíriel opened her eyes and looked around. It was very quiet in the apartment, but sounds from outside spoke of the city waking up to another day.

"Éomer?" she called his name, expecting him to answer from the other room. But there was no response. Where had he gone? She didn't see his boots on the floor, where he had kicked them off last night when they had gone to bed.

A faint streak of concern was forming, but she tried to suppress it as she hauled herself up and standing. Éomer could well take care of himself and he didn't need her fussing over him like some overprotective fool. But why had he left her in the dead of night? Maybe there was some kind of a message…

Lothíriel searched both the rooms but found nothing that could be interpreted as his message to her. Only thing she could figure out, he had left without meaning to be away for long. But where would he have gone? Surely there had to be some sign that revealed his intentions. She looked around herself in the room. What had changed?

Soon enough she realised what was missing – in addition to the man himself. Both the buckets were gone from their usual place near the door. So, he had gone to get some water! Of course he'd do that when he had the chance.

She bit her lip and looked at the door. How long had he been gone? Why hadn't he said anything to her? More and more questions sprang to her mind. With them, her worry grew also. The reasonable part of her was aware she was probably being overcaring, but on the other hand, he was the King of Rohan. As minutes passed by, she began to think about pirates, and if they were out there, right now… what if he had come across them and was now their prisoner?

Lothíriel could not wait any longer. She went back to the bedchamber to fetch her knives, which she slipped on place. Her hair she braided quickly and messily before stuffing it under a hat. Well, she wasn't sure at this point whether it made any difference, but it was true what she had told Éomer previously. Lads had easier time going about and being ignored, and there could be other unfriendly eyes out there than those of the corsairs.

She quickly checked her wound. It seemed good enough, and probably wouldn't bother her, if she was careful. And in any case, she couldn't let a small matter like that hold her back. Not when Éomer might need her.

So, after quickly eating a piece of bread – there was no sense on going out and engaging in potentially dangerous situations on an empty stomach – Lothíriel made for the door. But before she could reach the handle, a noise from outside alarmed her. A pair of heavy feet approaching the door… was it him? Had Éomer got back after all?

But some instinct told her otherwise. The newcomer approached too slowly, too carefully. Shiver ran down her spine and she grabbed her knife as she positioned herself next to the door. Whoever was coming inside would not see her before it was too late.

Éomer had not locked the door on his way out, probably because he hadn't meant to be gone for long. And so the handle turned and the door opened. A man peeked inside. He was one of the pirates, which she clearly perceived even though he had tried to conceal his garb with a nondescript cloak. For she had seen him back on the ship and she did not quickly forget the faces of her enemies.

The quiet of the apartment fooled him long enough and he stepped inside – only to receive a blade of cold steel between his ribs. He opened his mouth, to gasp or to cry out, but Lothíriel muffled the sound with her hand as she eased the body inside. Even as she took his life, she muttered a curse under her breath. He might have had valuable information on Éomer's whereabouts, but she had no time or physical capacity for exacting it. With her wound she would either have been killed or taken captive, depending on the villain's mission here. And both were outcomes she had to avoid with all her might.

Be that as it may, she was beyond dismayed. First, their safe haven had been found. Second, if they now knew this place, it was quite possible Éomer was already captured. And third, Aunt would be furious with her for compromising the safe house. Well, there was nothing to it now. She only had one responsibility here and that was making sure Éomer was fine.

Right now, she was his only hope.

Lothíriel began to move. She did not lock the door; while it was unlikely, Éomer might return here. Momentarily she considered leaving him a note, but decided against it. More pirates might come and she didn't want to give them any pointers to where she had gone. As for the Rohir – well, she hoped he'd put together two and two, and figure out she was trying to find him.

It was easy enough to trace Éomer's first steps. If he had gone to get some water, he'd go for the closest public well – probably the same for which she had given directions last evening. Had he even got that far? Where would the pirates take him from there, if they had caught him? Was their ship now ready to sail again?

So many questions and no answers. Her heart ached in her breast, more painful than the injury she had taken. If this should be the way she would lose this peerless man, so soon after she had found him… the idea of going back to her business as the Hidden Blade did not comfort her. How could that life ever satisfy her now, when she had dared to imagine a life in light? When there was already something growing in her breast that was against all the lies and shadows? Éomer did not deserve a fate like this! His people needed him, he had so much in the world to do and achieve, and who could comfort those who loved him if he was lost?

Lothíriel shook herself and gritted her teeth. It was not yet the time to mourn the man. First she needed to find out if there was still something she could do to help him. And, if by some chance, he had got away after all.

She found the buckets soon enough. By the side of the narrow street they had fallen, empty and dry to her touch. So he had not even got to the wells. What had happened here? She hadn't seen his sword back at the apartment, which hopefully meant he wasn't weaponless. Éomer wouldn't leave without a blade, of that she was sure. But even with it, how many enemies could he fight alone? How many had met him here?

It was then she saw the dark, wet spot on the ground nearby. Blood. And there was lots of it: someone had died here! Her heart skipped a beat and she rose quickly – too quickly, as was evidenced by the twinge of pain in her side. Lothíriel quickly looked around and saw a small woman walking by, careful as to not step in the pool of blood.

"Excuse me, mistress", said the princess in her most boyish voice, "Might you know what happened here?"

The woman, dressed in roughly woven dress and an apron, turned to look at her. She looked much as Gondorians did in these parts, with thick curly hair and a pair of brown eyes wrinkled at corners.

"I might, indeed!" she answered and threw a resentful glance at the bloodstain. "I live in that very building there, and heard all that awful racket just before dawn. There was shouting at first, and then I could hear them fighting. Can you imagine! Not that our fine old city hasn't it problems, but it's been months since the last incident, and we all were thinking things were getting better! I say, when will the King bring order and justice to this city?"

The woman looked like she might have gone on ranting about the state of Pelargir rather than shed more light on what had happened on the street, and so Lothíriel spoke up.

"What happened then? Did you see anyone?"

"No, I didn't see anything – it was still too dark. But then someone gave out a terrible cry, and next thing I know, sounds of running. I did not dare to come out before city guards had arrived. You never know with these villains, they could decide to kill you too! I saw them carrying the body", the woman said and shook her head.

Lothíriel shuddered. Had Éomer got hurt? At least there seemed to be enough blood that he could have received some injury. But the woman had heard running and shouting… maybe he had got away?

Did she dare to hope something so good?

"Did you know the body?" she asked, though she didn't think it could be Éomer. The corsairs would not want to kill him while there was still a chance to get away with their plan.

"No, lad. Never seen him in my life. Looked like one of them Southrons, to tell you the truth. I would have thought him a merchant, but to get killed in that manner… maybe he was of a fouler sort", the woman answered as though she was sharing some kind of a unique observation.

"Thank you, mistress. You have been very helpful", Lothíriel answered and fished her pocket. She actually found some coin there and she readily handed a few pieces to her informant. The woman looked quite pleased, even going as far as bidding her good day as she departed.

Lothíriel stood there for a while, trying to decide what to do. Still the aching sensation persisted in her chest, though now it was joined by fear. Tears filled her eyes. What if she was already too late? How could she ever face her family, and the world, if she failed this mission? The idea was unbearable. To lose the man she had only just come to know, and come to love…

She took a few steadying breaths. Now was not the time to give up, not while she lived and could do something. She would find him, somehow.

Having calmed herself down, Lothíriel also grasped at a new course of action. If Shanum and his loathsome crew had managed to catch Éomer, they might take him back to the ship. And even if not, there it was possible she would find out something. Their manner could betray some hints: if they were acting triumphant, it could mean he was in their hands, and anxiety could betray that he was still free.

Feeling determined again, Lothíriel began to make her way to the port. She moved as swiftly as she could with the injury. There was a tightness about it that did not bode well, but right now she couldn't worry about herself. At least, it wasn't yet bleeding. Oh, Mandos damn this all! And she had thought things had been going so well!

She trudged forward, hand against her side, all the way to the port.

And found there something she did not at all expect.


Seven men came at Éomer in the grey hour of dawn. Four of them were members of the pirate crew, Shanum among them. But three did not look like Umbarian scoundrels, but rather like the small criminal sort of the city. The Rohir guessed the corsairs had struck some kind of a bargain with them to get more eyes in the city – and blades in a fight. Most likely that was also how they had found him. Was it good or bad? If they already knew of the safe house, then this attack might have come while he and Lothíriel were asleep…

"We meet again, horselord", Shanum spat in hateful delight.

"So it would seem", Éomer answered. But he was not going to waste time in small talk, or give this lot a chance to surround him.

He threw everything he got into his attack. It served him well enough in the narrow corridor: he was able to wound fatally one of the pirates and send the rest of them into a momentary disarray. Knowing he wasn't going to get a better chance, Éomer then turned and ran as fast as his feet would carry him. He hated having to flee from a fight, but alone and without his proper gear it would have been very stupid to try and engage them in combat. And his first duty here was to stay alive.

Éomer did not head back to the apartment. It would be a dead end and most likely both him and Lothíriel would get killed there. No, he couldn't lead these villains straight to her while she was injured and suspected nothing. Hopefully she'd put together two and two as soon as she woke up and noticed he was gone… but how to reunite with her after this and what should they do when their safe haven clearly was safe no more, Éomer did not yet know. Right now, his chief concern was getting away from his pursuers.

What drove him then, gave him wings almost, was nothing akin to fear or care for his own life. Rather, there was a burning ache in his chest and a need to see her again. There was still so much to be said, to do, to be. He wasn't going to give up this thing, not when it had barely even started. And he would not let these villains take it from them, not while there was a living breath left in him.

But it turned out he had some luck even now. For as the dawn was breaking over the world and he was running from the cursing bunch of enemies, he ran to wide street – perhaps one of the main roads of the city. There came a squad of soldiers, laughing and talking among themselves. Éomer guessed they were night guards heading back to their barracks after duty. Throwing a glance behind his shoulder he saw Shanum and his company slowing down and slinking back to shadow a bit. The Rohir hid his grin and adjusted his pace, as though he was a perfectly ordinary citizen of Pelargir enjoying a fair morning. A few of the guards gave him lingering looks, but he was allowed to walk by in peace. Maybe after long night on duty their vigilance was less than keen.

As soon as he was away from the squad, Éomer turned to take another smaller alley and ran again to put distance between himself and the corsairs. He was now well and truly lost, much to his dismay, but there was nothing he could do. Béma! Was there ever going to be an end to this loathsome affair? The mere thought of pirates and Umbar and ships made him sick!

Eventually he had to stop to catch his breath. Leaning his back against a wall circling the courtyard of some house, he panted and wiped sweat from his brow. It seemed like he had been able to get rid of them, thanks to the guards he had passed by, but he did not trust himself to be safe. There could be more out there, and maybe his pursuers were already getting close again. If they had locals in their company, then Shanum would have easier time tracking him.

Éomer was outnumbered and cut off from his only ally. He did not know his way about this city and what little coin he had in his pockets from yesterday wouldn't take him far. How should he find his way back to Lothíriel? She was wounded and didn't know where he had vanished. His chances did not seem at all good, and he began to wonder if he should just find city guard and surrender himself. They might not believe he was indeed the King of Rohan, but at least he would then be away from the reach of his enemies, and perhaps his captors could be persuaded to request someone to identify him? Imrahil's Swan Knights were coming to Pelargir in any case, and perhaps one of his sons would be among them. They would tear the city apart to find him. And if he made enough noise, they wouldn't be able to ignore him… someone was bound to recognise him eventually. However, this would mean leaving Lothíriel to fend for herself. What if the corsairs went after her? They could try and use her to get him, or simply exact their vengeance from her...

"Let's look this way!" someone said around the corner. The voice was not familiar, but the southern accent betrayed the speaker right away.

The Rohir refrained from groaning. It was time to move again.

But even as he was running once more, he heard the sound not so far from this place, and it was so joyous it nearly made him laugh. Clear and strong and bright, they sang in the morning, and as they ever had since he was a young lad, they stirred his heart.

Horns of the North had come to Pelargir.


At once upon her arrival to the harbour of Pelargir Lothíriel knew something was afoot. For it was unusually busy and filled with local folk, who would normally be starting the days' labours and going about their own business. But now some rumour of strange events had drawn an audience to this place, and once she had pushed her way through the crowd with the help of well aimed elbows here and there, she saw the reason for commotion.

No less than three Amrothian warships were docked in the port. From one of them, what seemed like an endless stream of tall blond men was pouring out along with great horses of the North. Two remaining were flanking the corsair ship and men wearing the blue and silver of Dol Amroth were crawling on its deck like ants on their hill. They were already disarming those of the crew that had been left behind to mind the ship. She had not heard any fighting on her way here, so she assumed the struggle had been very quick or the corsairs had simply surrendered against such overwhelming odds.

The final and perhaps most surprising fact was the fourth ship, smaller than those from Dol Amroth, but fairly made; in its mast flew the White Tree of Gondor. King Elessar himself had come!

Lothíriel put aside her astonishment and elbowed her way further, much to the annoyance of the folk watching this scene. Her side was stinging worse now and when she touched it, she felt it was damp with blood. Well, it didn't matter anymore. Her task here was close to end.

She spotted one man who looked like an Amrothian officer overseeing the delivery of horses from under the deck, and approached him stealthily enough to avoid the notice of the rest of the company; when his eyes fell on her, he looked surprised.

"Stand back, lad!" he barked the command, but she lifted her right hand in a gesture of consolation. The other hand she kept on the wound to keep it covered. Blood-stained strangers rarely made a good first impression. Well, at least it wasn't bleeding very badly.

"I need to speak with your captain. I have some news on the Rohirric king", she told him swiftly. The man's eyes widened. Either he had been ordered to watch out for one like her, or he was smart enough to understand no commoner of Pelargir would know that King Éomer was indeed here.

He turned quickly at another man by his elbow.

"Go and get Prince Amrothos. He will want to hear this. And where's that Captain Éothain? Sweet Uinen beneath the waves, can anyone keep track of these blond madmen?" said the officer anxiously and his second in command darted away. Lothíriel refrained from grinning. So her brother was here! And Captain Éothain, Éomer's right hand, had come too! Yes, this was good.

"Well, I usually find it moderately easy", spoke a deep voice to her right. There came a Rohir Lothíriel had not seen before. He was built like an ox, this one was, with a head of bright yellow hair. He was arrayed in full armour and a fine green cloak she would have loved to examine closer. In his blue eyes a restless fire was burning, but his features were stern and serious.

"Captain Éothain! This lad here says he knows something about the King Éomer", the officer announced, an immediately the pair of blue eyes were fixed on her.

"Is he here? Is he safe?" the captain demanded straight away.

"Yes, I would like to know that too", another voice added. Now Lothíriel saw her brother approaching quickly, almost running as he came. Only brief widening of his eyes revealed that he knew her indeed and would have wanted to greet her properly. But he knew better than to reveal their connection.

"I'm afraid I do not know whether he is secure right now or not. And I fear the worst", she said in low tones. The faces of three men before her showed worry and alarm that she too knew well. Lothíriel explained quickly the events of past couple days, omitting only what had happened between her and Éomer, for that information was not relevant to the situation at hand.

"So he is out there, alone", said Captain Éothain when she had finished. His voice sounded positively dangerous and she shuddered. If he decided she was responsible for this...

"Yes, but if you send a request to close the city gates-" Lothíriel started, only to be cut off by Amrothos.

"Already done", he said sharply. When he wanted, he could be quite efficient, never mind his frivolous ways.

"... well then, why aren't you already searching the city?" she said, making all three snort.

"We are getting to that presently", the captain muttered. "My men will be ready any moment now."

"Father and King Elessar will want to hear this, too. Don't wander anywhere. They're talking with the lord of the city now, but they will be here soon", said Amrothos. He looked at the Rohir, "We have almost finished searching the Southron ship. It seems most of them are out there, looking for Éomer."

The Captain growled a curse under his breath.

"He could already be dead", he said in a low voice, putting in words what they all feared now. Lothíriel shuddered once more and looked down. If Éomer died… well, it would be her fault. She had promised to save him, to get him back to his friends, and yet in the end she had failed!

At least, something that could potentially be helpful occurred to her then.

"Wait", she said to the captain as he was turning to speak to his own men. "My lord, why don't you tell your men to blow their horns? If Éomer is close, he will hear it and know that you are coming. Perhaps it could help to lead him here."

The captain looked at her and nodded.

"Yes, that is not a bad idea. Let us hope he is still alive to hear it", he said stiffly and went along to give orders to the Riders of the King's Guard. Tall men they were, with long blond manes, and armoured from head to toe. She looked in appreciation at these fierce warriors and thought it must have been a sight indeed when they had ridden over the Fields of Pelennor. Had the corsairs met them in open fight… well, there would never have been any trouble to begin with, and Éomer would be quite safe right now.

In a couple of minutes they all lifted their horns and like she had proposed, they gave a mighty blow so that it seemed like the entire city was ringing with the sound. Now all of them had landed, and while the echo of their horns still sounded, they were already riding forward in pairs. When Lothíriel glanced to her brother, she saw his eyes were moist.

"It still gets me", he sighed and shook his head. Seeing her quizzical expression, he went on to explain, "I was there in Minas Tirith when the Enemy's armies were besieging the city. I heard the horns of North at dawn. Had you been there, you would know."

"That is all good and well", said Lothíriel anxiously, "But do tell me, how come you are here now?"

"Aunt got your message and delivered it to Father. We set sail for Pelargir at utmost speed, as we feared what schemes those pirates could still come up with. And rightly so, it seems. Captain Éothain insisted to come along with his men and frankly, it was probably better to take them with us than to leave them in Dol Amroth and let them tear it apart in their leisure", he explained quickly. They both made a face when imagining what chaos a bunch of restless Rohirrim could come up with.

He then continued, "In fact, we arrived only some twenty minutes ago. There was some mist on the river, which covered us enough to get here before the pirates even guessed anything. My Swan Knights were ordered to seize the corsair ship, while Éothain was to get to the safe house at once while the guards of the city would be searching for the rest of the pirates. But that plan is null now. And it so happens King Elessar's ship was already here when we came. He is most worried for his friend and was sailing for Dol Amroth, but changed his plans when he saw our arrival. I explained the contents of your message to him, and then the lord of the city arrived to find out what this all is about."

"Well, I only hope it will be enough. He is out there all alone, Amrothos. I should be with him. If something happens…" she muttered, trying to swallow the lump that had lodged itself in her throat.

Her brother's eyes were sympathetic and he reached to squeeze her shoulder.

"Don't be stupid, sister. You got him safe and sound this far, and that is no small feat. Let us take it from here. And his men are very competent and they have been dying to blow out some steam. They'll find him", he reassured her. She managed to give him a half-hearted smile.

One of the Swan Knights came to speak with Amrothos, and he turned away from her for a bit. But when he looked at her again, he seemed more serious again.

"By the way, you should get on board. She is here and wants to see you", he said in a low voice. Lothíriel looked at her brother in surprise.

"She came here with you?" she asked in wonder.

"Yes. Don't ask me why. I'm sure she has her reasons", Amrothos said and shrugged.

Something cold shifted in her stomach, though she didn't know why. As another of his men to speak with Amrothos, Lothíriel turned. Almost as though by an instinct, her eyes were drawn to the deck of the very ship that had previously spilled out a band of wrathful horselords. The cold had now reached her breast, awakening a sense of foreboding as it spread.

There, on the deck of the proud Amrothian ship, stood Lady Ivriniel, and her tall and slender form was a dark silhouette against the bright light of dawn.

To be continued.


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

Originally I meant to take this one a little further, but the chapter kept growing bigger and bigger and there was still a bunch of stuff I wanted to cover, and so this seemed like the most natural place to cut it. I know, we continue on a cliffhanger-y note, but what can you do?

I particularly liked writing Lothíriel's bit when she's trying to figure out where Éomer has gone. But Éothain's POV was nice too, though poor man just doesn't seem to get a break! Also, I do admit I am pleased to bring Ivriniel back to spotlight.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!


HannahKathleen - I do my best!

Tibblets - Plenty of someones turned up, as it appears! :)

Merakia - I'm glad you liked it! Also don't worry - there's still plenty of stuff I need to talk about! Ivriniel has now arrived, but we'll see who will be talking with whom!

Doranwen - No such luck, I'm afraid. But help has now arrived. We'll see if Éomer can hold on until his Riders can find him. :)

Jo - What can I say? I love my cliffhangers! :D

A - He's coming, alright! We'll see how it all goes. :)

Anon - Yes, I agree with you. I think it's pretty clear for them both, once they have made up their minds and have figured out what it is they want. In that, I think they are very well matched. And Éomer does strike me as a no nonsense kind of guy, so it's good if I've managed to convey that!

Katia0203 - Plenty of ways till we can get there, though! There may be still more obstacles ahead than meets the eye. ;)

Wondereye - Yes, those villains weren't just going to give up nicely!

Nerdanel - Indeed, things were going so well for them! But it's what it is. Here's a new chapter though, I hope you didn't die while waiting for it! :D

Knight of Stags - I firmly disagree with your assessment. Yes, Rohirrim are big on honesty and honour, but there's no evidence those are things that can't be restored in their society. As a matter of fact, it seems to be the opposite. In the book Two Towers, right after Gandalf has made his breakthrough with Théoden, Gríma Wormtongue is actually offered a second chance. In the scene, Gandalf states that Gríma once used to be a loyal man (in his own fashion) and Théoden gives him an opportunity to show he is true once more and ride with the King to war. So if Wormtongue, who has actively harmed Rohan and conspired to bring it down, can have a second chance, why doesn't Lothíriel get one? All she has done is struggle to save the King of Rohan and use her skills to fight the enemies of Dol Amroth and Gondor. From Rohan's point of view, she has not actually done anything wrong. Everybody fails sometimes, and if Rohan was such a rigid society that you can never redeem yourself after a mistake, it would not be a viable culture.

And Lothíriel is in fact uniquely qualified to being Éomer's consort and queen: she understands the dark side of Men and is prepared to deal with it unlike most people. She knows its workings and ploys and it can't be used against her. If you think of it this way, there's no one better to make sure these schemes are not used against Éomer and Rohan. Her flaw can quite literally become her shield. She can fight these things in ways others can't - and she's finding maybe there's a person inside her who wants to fight it.

Also I'm disappointed to hear that her remorse and growing conscience, her desire to embrace his ideals, don't mean anything. Almost from the moment she first meets Éomer, she begins to wonder and question her own actions and her very self. She starts to see the problems in what she does. And seeing these things, she begins to want to change and become something different. Lothíriel is not naturally this way: she understands honour and truth, has been familiar with these ideas since a child, and the more she is with Éomer, the more she wants them. Because he's making her remember something about herself that her training was meant to suppress.

There is a deeper level to this and I've tried to drop hints about it. If being conditioned and groomed to think and act in certain way by someone you trusted as a small child means that you can never be free of it, that you are forever guilty of the way you were manipulated, and that you should punished and mistrusted for the rest of your life because of your past... that's just cold. That's unjust. Because this is what has happened to Lothíriel. An adult she trusted has trained and manipulated her since she was a child, trying to mold her into a certain type of person. But I refuse to write a story where parental character's bad influence means that the target/victim can never get away from it. The story I'm trying to tell is one that you can change and become something better. That you don't have to be the victim of toxic people and behaviours for the rest of your life.

I'm big on second chances, personal growth and change. Considering Tolkien's religious views and how clearly they shine through, concepts of repentance, forgiveness and redemption are a part of the world he created. Encouraged by the message of mercy and pity and wisdom that is at the core of the original tale, I simply do not believe that based on your actions at one point of your life the rest of it must be doomed. If this is hard for you to accept, then I don't know what else to say.