Chapter 14

July 3020, Dol Amroth

Lothíriel was thinking of how calm it looked outside in the rain. She had always liked how it felt in Dol Amroth, fresh and sweet especially in the summer. In winter it could get harsh, but even then there was something comforting about rain. Sometimes she would go riding out there and when she got back, she would be soaked in rain and sea spray, and the scent of the sea would be in her hair for days.

"Sister?" a voice called her, but Lothíriel only startled when a hand reached for her own and the word was repeated right next to her.

She glanced around and saw Erchirion looking at her in concern. They were in the family's dining hall and were accompanied by Elphir and his wife and son. Father and Amrothos were not present, as they had not yet returned from Minas Tirith. Aunt was not with them either, but then again she rarely joined the company.

Things were now as ordinary as they could be. Elphir was running the city in Father's absence, and Erchirion had returned from the sea only a couple of days ago when tidings had reached him. He had already been away hunting for the corsairs when Lothíriel's message had arrived, and so he had not joined the party to sail for Pelargir. On the day of his return, Lothíriel had heard him complaining to Elphir how disappointed he was to miss all the fun.

Of course her brothers would think it had been in any way fun.

"What is it?" Lothíriel asked now and felt her cheeks grow warm. Even little Alphros was looking at her with a curious expression, while the adults looked worried.

"You have barely touched your food", Erchirion pointed out carefully, glancing at the plate before her. Yes, she had a fork and knife in her hands, but truth be told she couldn't say if she had yet used them at all.

"I'm not that hungry, in fact", she said at length and put down the cutlery.

"How can you not be hungry? I think I could count the bites of food you've put in your mouth since coming back with one hand's fingers", said Aredhel, Elphir's wife. She was a warm, good-natured woman who had, upon joining the family, ended up mothering all three of her husband's siblings – some to a much greater degree than others, as Erchirion would pointedly say while considering Amrothos from under his eyebrows. Lothíriel had always liked her sister-in-law, though she was often too preoccupied with Aunt to spend much time with her.

Lothíriel smiled uneasily at them and tried to think of something to say. But her mind was so blank that the only thing she was able to say was a half-hearted I'm fine.

It didn't convince anyone, of course. Her brothers and sister-in-law exchanged a look between themselves, before Erchirion spoke again.

"Lothíriel", he said gently, searching her face for… well, she didn't know what. "Lothíriel, did something bad happen with Éomer? Was he… did he hurt you somehow?"

She nearly jumped at the mention of his name. How hard had she tried to banish its very echo from her thoughts! But she also felt shock that Erchirion would ever make such assumptions about him.

"Of course not! Why would you ask that?" she demanded to know. Her voice sounded strangely fierce to her own ears.

"I was just wondering… you haven't been yourself ever since you and Aunt came home. I thought maybe you had quarrelled with him, somehow, or that he treated you badly", Erchirion answered a little uneasily. Elphir and Aredhel followed the conversation in dead silence.

Lothíriel looked away from her brother. What could she say to him? The truth was too much even to herself. Abruptly she felt there was certain sense in how Aunt avoided interactions: being reclusive meant never having to explain yourself.

Yet even as she thought of this, she felt fathomless despair.

"King Éomer never did anything wrong by me. He was perfectly courteous and pleasant and you shouldn't believe something so ill about the esteemed friend of our House. You are wrong to think I'm somehow not myself, Erchirion", she answered at last, and her reply was delivered so that even her aunt might be proud.

Erchirion did not seem fully convinced and Lothíriel bit back her grimace. She had been letting her family believe false things, then...

The thought suddenly came to her: everything about her life was false.

"Are you sure?" Erchirion asked. He still considered her with that face that was starting to vex her. She shuddered. Her brothers had never questioned her before... before him.

It was like he had broken her. Well, at least she knew Aunt thought so.

"Absolutely", Lothíriel answered and conjured a smile. It was almost real this time.

Erchirion did not seem as convinced as in days before. But at least he asked no more questions and she was left to ignore most of the food before her. When it was polite to retire, she excused herself and went to climb to the western tower, which was her favourite place in her Father's palace. There, it was almost possible to imagine she was alone in the world.

As alone as Aunt allowed her to be.

When she looked over the ever restless sea, she allowed herself the yearning thought: Oh, Elbereth, how I miss you.


The day he was set to leave Minas Tirith was damp and misty, far removed from the fair glory of summer Éomer had seen when he had first ridden south for Dol Amroth. It fit his mood well, though he suspected he wouldn't feel dry again until his company reached Edoras again.

It was also the time to say goodbye to Éowyn. She had joined the party at Emyn Arnen, where Imrahil's ship had stopped to pick up her and Faramir. It had been good to see his sister and spend some time with her. It had made him feel a little bit better. And Éowyn, with her sharp eyes and keen thought, had of course known from the first moment that something was wrong.

What could he do except tell her the truth – the whole, disappointing, burning truth? That he had met a woman unlike anyone before her, he had wanted her, loved her even, and she had left without as much as a goodbye. In the end, he meant so little to her that she did not deem him worthy of most basic courtesy.

He had been angry. He still was, and probably would be for some time. Her betrayal made it long and intense, so that he thought he would choke on all the bitter hate. Yes, he hated her. Or, what she made him feel even now when she was gone.

All this he had told Éowyn, though in retrospect he was aware it had come out in some rather mad outbursts. He had ranted about how deceitful she was in the end, how she had probably never felt anything for him – she had faked it just as she faked every other thing she did. He did not matter to her. The only thing she cared about was her aunt and whatever the old witch told her.

Éowyn had listened quietly to his story, and when he was breathing hard at the end of his account, she reached to hug him tight and tell him how sorry she was. He had felt slightly less abysmal, and thanked the Powers that at least he still had his sister.

Events in Mundburg were managed in stiff formality by him. He was aware his manner implied that he was not as forgiving as he said, which vexed Éomer himself more than anyone else. It was not that he wanted to appear as though a bear that has been stuck with an arrow, but it was hard as ever for him to conceal his true feelings. Aragorn worried, of course, and so did Imrahil. So, to spare them the guilt and gossip as much as was possible, Éomer went as far as to give a speech at the banquet of his last evening in the White City, praising his friends and declaring his ill mood an outcome of some personal grievances. It was not like him to advertise his private thoughts in such a way, but right now Éomer did not feel like himself, and he had no stomach to deal with a political disaster.

Altogether he was relieved that the visit was at last ending and he would be going home. During the long ride back to Edoras, he would not have to deal with curious courtiers or deceitful spies. Hopefully, it would help him to get himself back together again.

The one thing he did not look forward to leaving was Éowyn, his sister and only living family... the only person he had not lost.

In the morning of his departure, they took a walk together in the Citadel. Neither of them minded the damp weather – they were used to much worse back in Rohan. Éomer looked at his sister and noted how well she looked. Though she was a Princess of Ithilien now and a high lady of Gondor, she still arrayed much in the manner of the Riddermark, paying little heed to the fashions of her new homeland. Even in this grey morning she was radiant and there was a warm shade on her cheeks. She was happy, happier than in a very long time. Because of that, he could endure parting.

"You're quiet today", he observed at length, folding his hands behind his back as they crossed the Court of the Fountain.

She glanced at him with a weak smile.

"I'm just worried. Faramir and I were talking..." Éowyn said, her voice trailing off.

"It's fine. All this will be forgotten soon enough, by the next war at the latest. Imrahil is good at damage control and with Aragorn's support -" Éomer said and would have carried on, but Éowyn halted and touched his hand. He stopped as well and fell silent.

"No, it's not that. I'm worried about you, brother", she said seriously. "It saddens me that you are so in pain. I've never seen you like this before."

He lowered his eyes and regarded the ground before their feet. He wasn't sure of what to say to her.

"If there's anything I can do..." Éowyn spoke in soft tones, but Éomer sighed.

"Would that you could, sister", he said and shook his head. When he spoke again, it was with the hint of that mad raving of when he had told her everything. "But I don't think anything can be done. I was a fool and got burned. And she is back with her aunt in Dol Amroth, where they both belong. No doubt they are having a good laugh about it right now. The Lady Ivriniel surely is. I can't believe she's Imrahil's kin."

"Yes", Éowyn agreed and a slight frown passed across her features. "She seemed like a proper menace, what little I saw of her at the wedding. But her niece... the way Faramir talks about her... I don't know. It just doesn't add up."

The last words, those about her, almost sounded like Éowyn hadn't meant to say them out loud. He surely hoped she hadn't.

"She's his cousin, of course he will think better of her than she deserves", Éomer said and tried to sound harsh. But even then, he couldn't say he had not had his own moments of doubt.

Her grey eyes, so like their mother's, were warm and compassionate and a little sad.

"Things may not always be what they seem, brother", she said softly and rested her hand on his forearm.

Éomer let out a harsh laugh.

"How right you are. She is not what she seemed to me", he said and was full aware of how bitter he sounded.

"Perhaps there is more to it than you realise, dear brother", Éowyn simply said and then reached to hug him tight. He relaxed and wrapped his own arms around her as well, already feeling how much he'd miss her.

When she pulled back, she smiled slightly, "Write to me when you get home?"

"Of course", he promised and returned her smile. No matter his own disappointments, Éowyn was. "I'll be back some time in August. Can you come to Mundburg then?"

"For my only brother? Always."


Father and Amrothos did not return home alone.

From talks between Elphir and Erchirion, she knew they had been to Minas Tirith, for the recent events had required extensive backwash and politicising. How much he had been a part of those things, she could only guess. And generally, she tried not to imagine any thing he would do. It was painful when she thought of him too much and, like Aunt would tell her, it would make it only more difficult for her to forget him. Still, no matter how hard she tried to push him out of her mind, he was there in her dreams almost every night.

Her brothers insisted they all go and welcome their father and youngest brother in the harbour, and Lothíriel saw no reason to refuse. So she made ready and joined Elphir and Erchirion to ride to the port. Today, she played the role of a well-bred princess, clothed in silk and silver. Even so, when she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she noted how all colour had left her face.

Maybe she was fading and becoming a phantom. Well, at least that would be useful in her job.

She met her brothers in the courtyard. Elphir was giving orders to Swan Knights and stable hands were readying the horses. Her own steed was waiting already. It was a bit tricky to mount with her skirts, but Erchirion lent a hand and so she got up in the side-saddle fairly easily. Unbidden, thought came: Éomer would laugh if he saw me now, sitting like a proper little lady in my proper little side-saddle!

And almost as soon as that thought crossed her mind, her throat grew tight and her eyes began to sting.

"Lothíriel, are you all right?" Erchirion asked in concern. She hadn't noticed him lingering nearby.

She looked quickly at him and tried to mask her mood.

"I'm fine, brother. Really!" she told him pertly. Too pertly, almost.

His frown remained, but the matter was dropped as Elphir was calling for him and so he left his sister to her own devices.

Lothíriel sighed and pressed the reins tightly in her hands. What would it be like, if she were that proper little lady, brought up with no knowledge of shadows and spiders... she would know all the songs and dances and carry flowers instead of knives, and her gift to the world would not be schemes or stabs in the dark, but joy and laughter and healing. That girl might have been in Minas Tirith at the end of the war and met a handsome young king, bright as dawn.

That girl might be with him even now.

She shook her head to get rid of these thoughts. It was useless to mourn the life that had been lost to her long before she even met him.

Their little company, composed of Imrahil's offspring and a few Knights to escort them, started for the harbour soon enough. Gazing down into the bay as they rode down the Hill of Princes, Lothíriel saw her Father's ship gliding softly towards the port. The proud banner of their House flew in the wind, announcing the arrival of the lord of Belfalas. She wondered what the reunion would be like. It all depended on how things had gone in Minas Tirith... what had he told them? Had he revealed the full extent of their interactions? And if so, should she expect to be scolded and reproached by Father? If the King had taken offence from her departing in secret... if he had left Gondor in anger, it would be her fault.

She lowered her eyes. Aunt had told her not to worry about the man anymore. It didn't matter what he thought of her: they would not meet again and he would forget about it soon enough. And if her father and brother knew their job at all, they would assuage him. Lothíriel had silently agreed, but in her heart of hearts it all felt wrong. And in the darkness of her bedchamber, when it was night and she was truly alone, she remembered him. His skin under her hands, his lips looking for hers, dear little words and soft sighs... her last memory of him was as sweet as it was bitter, and not easy for her to forget. Why would it be any easier for him?

They reached the port at last and rode all the way to the docks to wait for Father and Amrothos. The ship was nearing the quay and on the deck full bustle was on. She saw her sire there, giving orders to prepare for landing. Lothíriel smiled weakly. How much would she be expected to listen to their tidings? And how much could she take?

She saw Amrothos too, and then a pair she had not expected. There was Faramir her cousin and by his side, stood a tall blonde woman. At once Lothíriel knew who she must be: Lady Éowyn whom he had married only this spring. The famous Slayer of the Witch-king... and his sister.

Something akin to panic immediately began to hammer in her chest. Lady Éowyn was here! Why had she come? There would be no way to avoid her – she would have to meet the woman and perhaps spend time in her company. And so she would be surrounded with even more reminders of him. If he had met her in Minas Tirith, as was probable, he would have told her about Lothíriel. There was no way he would have presented her in positive light, and maybe Lady Éowyn would feel righteous anger on the behalf of her brother and let Lothíriel feel full force of it...

Lothíriel wanted to turn her steed and race away as fast as she could. But then a voice rose in her mind: she was being cowardly. This was not like her. Perhaps Lady Éowyn would be hostile, but she could take it and in any case, she owed no one anything. The King of Rohan was safe because of her and if his sister could not see any virtue in that, then it said more about her than of Lothíriel.

While these thoughts had preoccupied her, the ship had docked and now Father was stepping on the quay. Amrothos followed him, and then came Faramir and Lady Éowyn. Some unease grew again when she looked at the blonde woman, already looking for features that would remind her of him. And indeed, the White Lady of Rohan did have something similar about her cheeks and her mouth was the same as his. But her eyes were clear grey and her hair was a shade lighter than his deep gold. She was tall as well and had that same easy grace, manifesting in her movements. She was not the image of her brother, and yet one could tell they were close kin even without seeing them standing next to one another.

Then their eyes met and Lady Éowyn regarded Lothíriel with keen, curious eyes. Like the princess just minutes before, she seemed to recognise her without introduction. Lothíriel held her breath, waiting for a reaction. But then her cousin's wife did the most unexpected thing: she smiled.

"Father! Welcome home. I trust your journey went well?" Elphir spoke warmly, approaching their sire.

"Thank you, Elphir. It was as good as could be hoped. Things should be all right now, I think", Father said as he embraced his eldest. He looked at Erchirion and Lothíriel, "And I brought company, as you can see. Faramir insisted to come along. Here's Lady Éowyn, his wife. You have not met her, daughter."

Lothíriel bowed her head at her father and then directed her eyes at the tall woman again. She curtsied and spoke, "Well met, Lady Éowyn."

"Well met indeed, Princess Lothíriel!" came the response, which was perfectly friendly and warm. The Lady of Shield-arm stepped forward and continued, "For my part, we may leave formality here, kinswoman. And I know what you have done for my own blood family. However things may be, I can promise you that your efforts to help my brother have bought my lasting gratitude and friendship, even though we only meet now."

Éowyn was smiling again, but around her, the men looked a little surprised by her words. As far as Lothíriel could guess, he had indeed shared the full tale with his sister, but the rest of them were not privy to the promises they had made... the promises she had broken.

Lothíriel's heart ached.

Nevertheless, she was able to return the smile.

The company headed back for the palace when greetings had been exchanged. Éowyn lead her horse to Lothíriel's side at once and conversed in soft, pleasant voice. She was simply lovely and her warmth reminded Lothíriel of him. She felt uneasy and confused. So sure she had been that Éowyn would be hateful towards her, now she hardly knew how to react and what to say. Part of her wanted to ask what he had told his sister about the misadventure, but she also feared what she might hear. She both yearned and dreaded the echo of his words.

"I cannot thank you enough for what you did for Éomer. You saved my brother. I promise this will never be forgotten in my house, even if it must remain secret to the world", said Éowyn now and Lothíriel felt her eyes on herself. She glanced at the blonde woman quickly.

"I only did what was right", she replied softly. She thought about saying the obvious things: how her family owed it after getting him in trouble, that he was too important, and friend and allies ought to be helped. But her voice would not obey. Today, she really was slow and sluggish and she could almost hear Aunt telling her to snap out of it.

Lothíriel could feel Éowyn's curious eyes on herself. She swallowed.

"Is he... is he well?" she asked at length in a small voice.

"He was hale when we parted in Minas Tirith. But he was not glad", Éowyn answered seriously, much more so than until now.

The princess bowed her head. She could imagine what he felt... the disappointment and betrayal that had marred what should be happy and relieved. Her fault.

"Don't blame yourself, child. He will get over it in due time. His dissatisfaction will only ease his way through it and in the end, he will thank you for the clean break. Now you are both free to go your ways and leave behind this unfortunate period", Aunt's voice echoed in her memory. So the old woman had said when they had sailed south and Lothíriel had wondered if the way she had left would cause him great pain... if she had done wrong.

"I am sorry to hear it", she said now, though she didn't look at Éowyn. "Despite all, I... I wish him well. I do not expect him to ever believe that, but... it's true all the same."

Éowyn was staring at her. Lothíriel felt as much, but she did not dare meet the woman's eyes. What did this lady of the north even see when she looked at her? What had she expected to find here?

Suddenly the White Lady spoke again.

"My brother bears many burdens", said Éowyn softly, though her voice hinted at grim memories. "He always has. Always knew that his would be a life of duty. Our life was not kind, Lothíriel – we lost our mother within the year our father was slain, and long we asked ourselves why would she abandon all hope of life like that when we needed her. And long we denied any hope to ourselves. I know there are things that never haunted me the way they haunt him. But you needn't be one of those burdens, if you don't want to be."

Lothíriel looked up sharply and at last met Éowyn's gaze. The Princess of Ithilien stared back solemnly but without judgement. It was as though she saw right through her.

The princess had no idea of what to say. But fortunately for her, she didn't have to: the company had now reached the courtyard of her father's palace. The talk with Éowyn and the bewildering thoughts raised by it had almost made her entirely oblivious to the world about. It was like her training to be sharp and aware of her surroundings at all times did not even exist! What was it about the two members of the House of Eorl that so pushed her off balance?

The stir in the courtyard offered her the perfect opportunity to slip away, and so she did, dreading what more Éowyn might say if they were to spend more time with one another. Once she was inside and tracing the familiar halls of her home, she wondered how long Faramir and Éowyn were going to stay here... how hard it would be to avoid the blonde woman. She frowned to herself. It wasn't like she wanted to evade the White Lady: she had been perfectly pleasant, and deep down Lothíriel felt they might even be friends in a simpler world. But she knew what she ought to do. Aunt Ivriniel would never endorse such friendship, and Éowyn was his sister. It was too dangerous.

But there were occasions she could not refuse joining, and such was supper later that evening. It was moderately harmless, thankfully. Faramir sat between Lothíriel and his wife and conversations remained general and pleasant. The princess was even able to relax a bit, especially when she saw how happy her cousin was. As a matter of fact, he was happier than she had seen him in a long time. And in his eyes she could perceive something to imply that he had made his peace with the loss of his father and brother.

One topic was unavoidable. Faramir and Éowyn wanted to hear more about the adventure with corsairs, and so did Father and Amrothos, who had only heard his side of the story. But Lothíriel had known to expect it, and so answering their questions was easier than if there had been no time to prepare. Of course, her heart ached every time she spoke his name, but she kept her face straight and her voice even.

There was talk she had dreaded and expected. Father and Amrothos spoke of their voyage from Pelargir to Minas Tirith and all the politicising that had taken place there. Éomer's unfortunate vanishing and return had been the talk of the city, but the man himself had made it clear he bore no ill will, and his friendship with Gondor remained. But Amrothos was shaking his head and saying that the Rohir had seemed so... dispirited.

"It wasn't like him at all. He's always so bold and energetic and loud. And he seemed perfectly fine when we first found him in Pelargir. I wonder what happened, because after that he was so moody and downcast, I even thought if he had taken insult after all and was angry with us", he mused out loud.

"If my brother was angry with you and your family, you would know", Éowyn stated dryly and lifted her glass to drink some wine.

"It has troubled me as well, I admit", said Father and the concerned expression appeared on his features. He looked at the White Lady, "Éowyn, I hope you don't mind me asking, but did he say anything to you? I imagine he would confide in you."

"I know you mean well, Imrahil, but whatever my brother has said to me is between us", she said evenly. Her tone was not stern, yet Lothíriel could tell she would not yield no matter who asked her to betray her brother's thoughts.

"Of course. Forgive me, I did not mean to pry. I'm just worried about him", Father said and offered a conciliatory smile to the blonde woman's direction.

"Perhaps Lothíriel knows what ails our friend", Elphir suggested and regarded his sister with a look that reminded her very much of Father. She felt heat on her cheeks and lowered her eyes.

Fortunately, Faramir came to her rescue and spared her from having to answer.

"I beg your pardon, but perhaps our curiosity is unseemly. Whatever troubles Éomer is obviously something personal and as his friends, we must let him reveal it in his own time. Until then, we must offer our friendship and support inasmuch he requires it. The real matter of import here is that he is safe and the crisis has been averted", Faramir stated, calm and steady, his voice filled with the quiet authority that had been his since he was a young man. Amrothos' face reddened as though he was embarrassed to have introduced this topic and Elphir too was taken aback. But others muttered in agreement, and Aredhel, graceful in manner as ever, directed the conversation to other paths by asking about the Queen Arwen, whom she admired greatly.

Lothíriel stared at her food. Éowyn had said he was not glad... Amrothos thought he was dispirited... the mere idea made her heart feel twice as heavy than it already did. She wanted to – wanted to be there for him, to comfort him, to tell him how sorry she was... she wanted to see him so bad that it made her want to scream!

Aunt had said he was just fascinated about the puzzle Lothíriel was to him, and once novelty wore off, he would lose interest. But such superficial fascination did not cause sadness or pain, only fleeting disappointment.

She needed her mentor's guidance. None of this was making any sense. Her head felt like a million voices were screaming inside of it in a great cacophony. The path before her feet had never been more in shadow than it was now.

"Lothíriel?" Faramir spoke gently by her side and her head snapped up.

"Sorry. I was just..." she began quietly, though she wasn't even sure what she was going to say to him.

Her cousin smiled.

"It's fine. You looked so faraway, I wondered if I should to bother you or not", he said in friendly tones. As if being neglectful of one's guests was anyone's right! She met his warm, grey eyes and wondered at how much there was kindness and wisdom in him even after all the grief he had gone through. He was luminous in ways that defied everything Aunt had told her about males.

"So much has happened. I... maybe I wasn't as ready as I thought", she said very quietly.

Faramir considered her for minute before speaking. When he did, she did not quite understand his words.

"Maybe you're not the one who wasn't ready", he simply said and patted her shoulder.

With that, the conversation was closed. But Lothíriel thought of little else during the rest of the evening, and the food that passed between the plate and her mouth was scarce. She didn't feel hungry or eager for anything, and when the company rose and Father asked them to join him in his own parlour, Lothíriel slipped out before anyone had a chance to miss her.

The halls were quiet at this hour and she didn't meet other people when she made her way to the west wing. It was no wonder to her that Aunt had not made an appearance tonight. She did not care for entertaining guests, even if they were family like Faramir.

She knocked at her aunt's door and the familiar voice called her inside. Aunt was seated by her loom again and was weaving a beautiful dark blue fabric that looked like the night sky. The old woman glanced at her from under her brows before moving her gaze back to her quickly working hands and the weave. A fire was burning in the fireplace, though it was summer and Aunt hardly needed the heat. But Lothíriel figured her mentor liked it for the atmosphere.

"What is it, child?" she asked and gestured with her left hand at the arm chair on her side. The younger woman took it and sat down heavily as though after a long day of labour. Why did she feel so tired these days? Probably because when she could sleep, he was always there.

"I was at dinner with my brothers and Father, and our guests... they were talking about..." Lothíriel began after some hesitating. She took a deep breath and continued, "There was talk about him. I don't know. I just wonder... it sounds like he is really very upset."

She had expected he wouldn't be happy. But the depth it seemed to go, judging by everything people were saying...

Aunt looked at her again.

"Why do you worry over something so menial?" she inquired coolly.

"It's just... what if I really did hurt him, Aunt? I... I don't want him to be in pain because of me", Lothíriel whispered. Her voice came out only with great effort, and the words she spoke cut even deeper when they were spoken instead of running as thoughts in her confused mind.

Lady Ivriniel scoffed out loud and examined the fabric she had woven so far.

"Men like to exaggerate their emotions, Lothíriel. All disappointments and griefs are like catastrophes to them. It makes them feel important about themselves, and it's an effective snare to get a soft-hearted woman to cater to them", she stated firmly.

Lothíriel frowned. It didn't feel right to her, but this she only knew in her heart, not in a way that she could put into words. And Aunt would surely laugh at her if she tried to use her feelings as a justification. So she said nothing.

"So Faramir brought that new wife of his as well?" Aunt asked, having noted her statement was not going to be contradicted. Lothíriel wasn't surprised that her mentor knew Éowyn was here.

"Yes. We met in the port. She is very amiable. They seem very happy together", Lothíriel answered and felt something sting in her breast. She was surprised to realise it was envy.

She was still marvelling over this realisation when Aunt spoke again.

"It would be prudent of you to stay away from this lady, no matter how deserving of her fame she is", said Ivriniel as he began to weave again, her hand moving swiftly as she threaded the shuttle.

Lothíriel waved her hand in a weary, dismissive gesture.

"You don't have to worry about her, Aunt. She may be his sister but that won't change a thing. The ship has already sailed. I betrayed him and he won't forgive it, not even if she tried to make him. Though I can't imagine why would she even try", she said and idly noted how dejected her voice sounded. Was it even correct to say the ship had sailed? A more correct description was, the ship had sailed, set on fire, burned to ash and vanished from the world. Coming up with pathetic metaphors like that was surprisingly entertaining.

"Her brother is king. She may be of Gondor now, but she will have Rohan's interests close to her thoughts, still. And you know the side of you that the world sees. To them, you are a very eligible bride, especially for a foreign sovereign who is held in high esteem", Aunt said and made it sound like all this was very distasteful to her. She added in a lower voice, "I am sure the idea has occurred in the Citadel of Minas Tirith. That Elessar is craftier than he lets on."

"I thought you didn't care about politics", Lothíriel noted, leaning her head back against the chair.

Aunt gave her another of those sharp looks from under her brows.

"I care about it where it concerns us, child. Don't be so foolish as to think it doesn't matter what goes on in the capital. The King has come to his own and things will change", she said sternly.

The younger woman frowned. It sounded a lot like something she had said to Aunt back before the recent madness... she recalled she had tried to point out how the world was changing and the two of them would have to pay more attention to politics. She had wanted to introduce herself to him...

She shook herself. Aunt had her own reasons and rationalisations, and she was sure they did not spring from same concerns as hers. In Ivriniel's mind, they were probably talking about two entirely different things.

Lothíriel looked at the old woman once more.

"Well, even if the idea had occurred to Lady Éowyn and King Elessar himself approved, they will find themselves gravely disappointed. I broke Éomer's trust, just like you told me to. He won't want to have anything to do with me ever again", she said and was not able to keep the sadness from her voice. Many things she could lose and feel only minor loss.

But to lose a man like him... she had had him for such a little while, and yet she already knew that what had passed through her fingers was singular and irreplaceable. It had faded away as a child's laughter in the wind. A chance like that did not come twice in one person's lifetime. This knowledge brought her a fresh wave of sadness and she lowered her eyes. For a moment, the crackling in fireplace was the only sound in the room.

"Poor child", said Aunt softly. "Dry your tears and lift up your chin. When will you see it is a good thing? You are free now. You will forget him in time, and then you will emerge stronger than you ever were before."

No, Aunt, Lothíriel thought and stared into the fire. I'm not sure I will.

To be continued.


A/N: This is another of those chapters that just write themselves. It almost came out fully formed as fast as I could type it! And I enjoyed writing it very much, because to examine their thoughts, especially the conflict Lothíriel feels here, was truly fascinating.

Several of my readers wanted to see Éomer fighting his way to Lothíriel, and I admit it was an attractive idea to me as well. But when I thought about the scenario and what was most likely outcome, I chose the road you see here. I know it's frustrating, and we all want to see Lothíriel freed from her aunt, but let's be honest: it's not going to be easy. Neither of them have a handbook for how to act in this sort of situation. For one, Éomer, doesn't have the full picture. Sure, he has some suspicions about what kind of relationship Lothíriel really has with Ivriniel, but he doesn't realise the full extent of it. How could he, when not even her own family have yet noticed it? He hasn't seen them together or understand how manipulative Ivriniel is - or how very much Lothíriel in fact is under her control and needed his help to break free. So, not having all the facts, Éomer lets his temper get better of him. Feeling hurt and betrayed, he thinks she was just playing another role with him and decided to leave him the moment it became possible for her. His anger prevents him from connecting the dots.

But Éowyn wonders. She has Faramir's view at her disposal, but also something else that you may have guessed already, and will become apparent in the next chapter.

I'd also like to note that Lothíriel's poor mental state in this chapter is not simply angst over losing Éomer. She certainly is grieving it bitterly, but there's also deep shock over seeing just how fake everything she does is and not really knowing who she is anymore. The time she spent with him had already started to change her and given her a glimpse of a life that could be hers, and losing all those possibilities causes her intense pain. She can't go easily back to all that pretending when being with Éomer and finding peace in honesty and truth had started to "heal" her in a way, if that is the right word to be used here. Part of it is guilt of having betrayed him, which only grows stronger when she learns that he is feeling hurt and in pain. All in all, the conflict between her old life and her present causes a crisis in her that she doesn't know how to reconcile, and Ivriniel's continuing influence surely does not help with her deteriorating mental welfare.

I admit I did not expect that she would be so distraught, but on the other hand, it now seems like the most realistic reaction. Her whole world has taken a very serious blow and this crisis is not something Ivriniel has equipped her to deal with.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!


heckofabecka - Indeed! But poor thing didn't (and maybe still doesn't) understand what kind of a hold Ivriniel has over her, and so she didn't understand she needed back up before it was too late.

And this all has indeed been very stressful for her, which surely impacts her mood in this chapter! I know it's probably a hard thing to read, but things must get worse before they can get better!

Wtiger5 - I am loving this reaction to Ivriniel, because it seems to imply I have written her antagonism well enough! :D Anyway, I'm glad you liked it!

MissCallaLilly - I'm afraid she did! ;)

notyetanotheralias - I am sad to hear that you think so. But I also think you profoundly misunderstand both what is going and who and what Lothíriel is. Yes, she is written as strong and brave in many ways. But she is also a young woman who has been groomed and manipulated by a very crafty woman since she was a child. Lothíriel in this story is a victim of deliberate conditioning and abuse by someone she trusted and loved. This duality is the very thing I am trying to explore here.

And this is one thing she doesn't know how to fight: that's how strong Ivriniel's hold of her is. If there's something her aunt never taught her, it's defiance against her mentor. Ivriniel, far more skilled in the art of deception, has tools over her she doesn't even understand. I had hoped to make this clear at least in the latest chapter: Lothíriel has hard time arguing herself because she has been conditioned to obey her aunt, and the way Ivriniel uses her feelings and fears against her, essentially making her think that no one else loves her. These are basic abusive patterns used to control the victim.

Which brings me to how grievous it is that you think Lothíriel is a weakling. I am not an abuse survivor myself, but I have known people who have gone through that and to call them weak would be the furthest thing from the truth, I had hoped to show that you can still be great even if you are abused and traumatised, and it's truly heartbreaking to hear that all that you went through, that you may still be subject to, makes you simply weak in the end.

EStrunk - She really is pushing people's buttons, isn't she? :D Anyway, I'm glad to hear the set up for her nature was indeed apparent! I always worry how well things like that come across in my story.

Also it seems things are not working out for them very smoothly. Éomer at least is too angry at the moment to realise what really happened.

Doranwen - Yes, that was one shitty situation for her! But we'll see how they work through this. :)

Wondereye - It may be some ways yet before we can get there!

Jo - Yes, Ivriniel wasn't just going to let her go like that! Éomer may now have hard time getting through, especially when he hasn't even got through to himself yet!

Catspector - It had so many things going on, it really was delightful to write. As was this one. It's always great to explore characters' psyche when they are in conflict with themselves and the world. It is a tangle for them, and it seems now that they have reached an impasse. And the only person who takes any joy in this is Ivriniel herself.

Anon - Yes, there is still plenty of hardships ahead! Unfortunately, at the moment Éomer is too angry to try and get to her. It seemed to me that his temper would get in way, especially since he doesn't know the full tale and wasn't there to see how Ivriniel manipulated Lothíriel. He hasn't interacted with Ivriniel long enough or seen her with Lothíriel, and so this aspect is still shrouded in some confusion for him.

You are also quite right about it being improbable that Lothíriel could break free by herself, especially when her own mental state is what it is in this chapter.

Merakia - I'm afraid Ivriniel is too set in her own ways that she could let Lothíriel go. Her own life experiences have made her so that she can't interact normally with people, and in her eyes, no one but her niece an even understand her. In fact, deep down Ivriniel is quite afraid of being alone.

Éomer isn't doing any freeing any time soon, as it looks like. But we'll see how this works out!

malfoy lea - Glad to hear that! Also it's good to know that her abusive side comes across that clearly. Like I said earlier, it's not always obvious to me how well I have been able to convey things like that - especially when Ivriniel has not been physically present for many chapters. Anyway, I'm actually happy that she has made such a strong impression!

Nerdanel - She's not healthy company, indeed. I think deep down Lothíriel knows how bad and unhealthy this all is for her, but she doesn't know how to get away from it. I hope this chapter doesn't cause you to cry yourself to sleep again, though the mood remains less than glad!

RubberKidney - You are quite correct - this is the only way she can deal with her own trauma. It's really a circle that feeds itself and she doesn't know how to break it. I don't know if that's even possible for her at this point. But I'm glad to hear she has caused such a complex reaction in you! For however horrible her treatment of Lothíriel is, it can't be denied that she is complicated person!

I'm afraid Éomer has let his anger and temper cloud his sight, but we'll see how that will turn out!