Chapter 15

After a restless night Lothíriel was the first one in the family's dining hall. She had stayed with Aunt Ivriniel until it was late and the old woman had graced her with one of her stories from when she had been active as the Hidden Blade. She recalled many adventures indeed, but rarely spoke of them even to her pupil, unless it was to instruct her. That she would share one of those tales without any particular purpose was, Lothíriel supposed, her way of doing something nice for her niece.

But eventually Aunt had grown weary and bid her good night. So Lothíriel had wandered the moonlit halls and felt restless, like a ghost unable to abandon paths it has treaded in life. She had only retired to her own chamber when she had come across a servant on some late night errand and he had looked at her funnily, like he was wondering if she was right in the head.

Even so, if she was the last to go to bed, she was also the first to leave it.

Family members began to arrive. She greeted them, summoning smiles and injecting her voice with life and enthusiasm. It sounded fake to her own ears, but at least no one appeared to see through the façade. Grimly she thought Aunt had taught her so well, she could die and still be able to pass as one of the living.

Faramir and Éowyn arrived last, hand in hand and looking so bright and happy it made Lothíriel's heart ache. The White Lady was arrayed in pale yellow today and looked like a ray of sun, which impression was only enhanced by her smile. It was distressing to notice this thing about her, because it reminded Lothíriel so much of him.

But Éowyn was smiling, unsuspecting of her mood. She came to take the seat next to Lothíriel's and greeted her warmly, as though they were old friends. It made the princess feel a little bewildered. Such friendly conduct outside her family was not a common experience for her.

"I hope you and Faramir rested well? Our guests from inland sometimes say the sea keeps them awake", Lothíriel said when the White Lady was settled next to her and was adding some honey to her porridge.

"We slept very well, thank you. Our voyage here gave us some time to adjust, and there are not many things these days that can disturb me at night. It is easy to rest peacefully when one is among friends", Éowyn said lightly. The way she spoke Westron was yet another reminder of him. She did not have an accent per say, but there was a lilting in her voice, almost song-like at times.

Lothíriel hemmed in agreement and was thinking of something to say when the woman next to her looked at her. The princess was not so deep in thought that she didn't notice the keen, searching expression in those grey eyes. But Éowyn spoke again before she could examine this observation further.

"May I ask you for a walk this morning? Faramir has been telling me how lovely it is down the beach, and I would dearly like to go there. We often take walks by the Anduin, but that is hardly the same as the Great Sea", Éowyn chatted away. Her manner was so warm and pleasant, Lothíriel knew it would be hard to refuse her friendship. And she surely could not avoid the White Lady's company while she and Faramir were here. Whatever Aunt said, she had other duties too, and those were of a cousin and a kinswoman and a hostess.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all. And like she had told her aunt, it was not like Éowyn could mend the damage she had done.

"Of course. I would be pleased to take you there", Lothíriel said in her best accommodating voice. Though it was clear where the main focus of her training had been, she could appear like a proper lady when needed, too.

Éowyn seemed delighted, but if she was planning some sort of an interrogation, she was sparing it for another time.

Lively conversations rose in the table that morning, accompanied by many laughs. Lothíriel too made a few quips here and there, and was almost certain today no one worried about her. But towards the end of the meal, her eyes fell on Father and she saw he had been watching her. His expression was one she did not understand, but when her gaze met his, he smiled at her and looked away once more.

After breakfast, she and Éowyn fetched their walking shoes. The day was rather warm and there was little wind, so neither took their cloaks. A couple of guards came along, although Lothíriel mused wryly that nowhere in the western realms could one find at this time another pair of women who were less in need of guarding. However, appearances were appearances, and that was something she understood well.

They took a steep, narrow path down to the Prince's private beach. She knew Father went there sometimes to think and mull over his concerns. In happier days, it had been the scene to picnics with her family, walks with Mother, and games with her brothers.

Éowyn walked by her side, linking her arm with Lothíriel. She had a way of making it feel perfectly comfortable and natural. But the younger woman thought of how strange it was, the mere idea of having someone who would go with her for walks on the beach and share her secrets. Not that she never confided in Aredhel, or even her father on an occasion, but Aunt was always telling her the only one she could truly trust was herself. And in the end, some of her secrets were the kind she just could not tell anyone else.

"It is so beautiful here. Faramir has praised Dol Amroth from earth to the skies, and I thought he must be exaggerating. But I see now that he embellished his stories very little", Éowyn said when they were down at the beach.

"Yes, it is a fair land. We have been blessed in many ways", Lothíriel said and looked ahead, though her mind scarcely made notice of anything that she saw.

The blonde woman smiled.

"Indeed. You must show me around here, Lothíriel. Perhaps you might have time to give me a tour of the castle? I absolutely need to see the gardens – you see, I am trying to take up gardening myself, but there's still so much to learn. And I would love to see the city as well. I know a few ladies back north who would be overjoyed to receive some of your Amrothian pearls for their necklaces and earrings", she went on lightly. It was not so much her words, but her tone that helped Lothíriel to relax a bit.

So they talked about the city for a while, until Éowyn let out a sigh and lifted her eyes upwards.

"Faramir has promised to take me on a proper tour of Gondor some time. I really want to see my new homeland, but of course it has to wait for a few years at least. There is so much to do and to mend in Ithilien, and Aragorn often has need of us. And I can't go romping the countryside while rebuilding still continues in Rohan. Not that Éomer expects it of me, but I try to be always ready, in case he needs my help", she said in soft, solemn tones. Warmth appeared in her voice when she mentioned her brother. Lothíriel lowered her eyes.

"He is a good king. And a good brother", she muttered in a faint voice.

"Indeed he is. Always putting me and others before himself... " Éowyn said and sighed again, though it was more heavily now. "I worry about him sometimes, you know. He thinks people always leave him. Our parents, Théodred, Théoden our uncle, and even I… he's all alone there, trying to wear the mantle that was not supposed to come to him. And he's better at it than he admits. He's so determined to make it work. But I can see how hard it is, especially now that I'm gone. I wish… even if it's hypocritical of me after I left to live in Gondor, I wish that for once, someone chose him."

The princess swallowed hard. If she was not careful now, she might start to cry.

"I wish him all the happiness in the world. And that someone who is deserving does choose him", she muttered half-audibly. The idea felt like there was a blade twisting in her chest, but on the other hand, she would gladly take mortal pain if it meant he would be happy.

Éowyn halted for the first time. As her arm was still around Lothíriel's, she had to stop too. Daring to steal a glance of her new kinswoman's eyes, she saw the sharp, alert glint in them. Lothíriel shivered, knowing that the moment of truth had arrived. She would have been fool to think Éowyn had wanted to come here just to admire the sea.

"Lothíriel, I will speak plainly now. He told me what happened between you. He was convinced that you had deceived him. Yet even then, I wondered. You see, I know my brother better than he realises. And I asked myself, would he really fall in love with someone so deceitful? He usually sees so keenly who people truly are; he knew from the start that Gríma Wormtongue could not be trusted, and saw at once the worth and valour of Aragorn when he was still a weather-beaten Ranger fresh from the wild… why wouldn't he see you for your true self? And Faramir spoke well of you, said that you're not like your aunt… so I had to see you, Lothíriel. Though it was not only for this reason. I also wanted to meet the person who saved my only brother's life", she spoke slowly and gravely.

She then re-adjusted her hand on Lothíriel's arm, and pulled her gently after herself. They began to walk again and Éowyn continued to talk.

"I had my doubts until the last moment. But when I saw you waiting of us on that pier, and your eyes met mine… I knew at once that my brother doesn't have the whole picture. Even with his keen perception, he had missed one vital piece", she said and gazed ahead.

"How did you know?" Lothíriel asked, frowning to herself.

Éowyn glanced at her and there was a strange humourless smile on her fair features.

"Because I saw the look in your eyes. It was the same I had seen so many times in my own mirror", she answered, a peculiar grim tone in her voice.

This only confused the younger woman deeper. She would have asked for clarification, but Éowyn already continued.

"Why did you leave him without an explanation?" she wanted to know. By now, Lothíriel knew she could not lie. All the things Éowyn had already said had disarmed her. She was so tired of lying and pretending. And she was so truly miserable, thinking of how Éowyn was now certain to laugh at her and scorn her. Surely to get to the bottom of this thing and finding out Lothíriel's reasons had been her sole motive to be so nice, because Aunt said no one ever bothered to be kind to others unless they wanted something... but it was so exhausting, always analysing others' actions and trying to figure out what their hidden agendas could be and how she should respond... with Éomer she hadn't needed to analyse anything, unless it be her own weakness for him... her shoulders were shaking and she felt like screaming.

"I… I thought it was the only way", she answered quietly, eyes fixed on the soft white sand of the beach. "We were together for such a little while, and I… I couldn't believe he was…"

Her voice broke, but Éowyn was not going to let her stop.

"What couldn't you believe?" she asked, but her voice was gentle and careful.

Lothíriel breathed deeply in and out before answering.

"It has to be just infatuation. He thought I was something strange, some mystery for him to solve. But he would grow weary of me… he would find me lacking after the first wonder wore off. And he would begin to resent me", she answered slowly. How did those horrible words come out so easily, without tears?

She could feel Éowyn's eyes on herself again. Glancing from the corner of her eye, she saw the White Lady's wondering expression.

"Do you truly think so little of him? It is true my brother's emotions can be quick, but they are not so in love. In that, he is the most steadfast of men and its spark is slow to die in him. If his heart was turned to you, then it was truly felt by him. And there is no power in this world that could change it, unless you yourself were to try and push him away", Éowyn said firmly. She did not seem to realise the sheer agony that her words caused to the princess, who was pressing her free hand into a fist so tight that her nails were now drawing blood.

"Well, I think I did just that", she uttered in a strangled voice.

"But why did you? I see it causes you pain", Éowyn wondered out loud.

Lothíriel did not answer right away. The answer was so simple, and yet it made her feel such shame. This bright, strong woman who took no orders from anyone would think her weak, think her foolish... she wanted to turn and run, but her body would not obey. She felt like she might collapse.

"Because... my aunt told me to", Lothíriel whispered at last and bowed her head. It throbbed inside her skull, the agony of her shame and weakness.

Éowyn said nothing at first. She was silent, but Lothíriel felt her eyes on herself, though she couldn't meet them. In silence she stared at the ground and waited for scornful words that were sure to come.

But none did come.

"I see", Éowyn said at last, soft and thoughtful. "I understand now. Thank you for telling me this, Lothíriel… I know it was hard for you. Please don't think I pushed you to talk because I wished to cause you pain."

The princess made a low sound in her throat and turned her eyes to the sea. She felt numb, as though all the misery and failure and yearning had just… like it was simply too much for one person to bear.

A comforting hand touched her shoulder, but she did not turn to face her cousin's wife.

"Lothíriel, I'd like to ask you something. Do you want to leave this place? You could come with me and Faramir and stay with us in Emyn Arnen for a while. You don't even need to say anything. Just nod, and we will take care of rest", Éowyn said now and in her voice, there was a strange, vehement tone. It stirred something odd in Lothíriel's chest, but she knew not what it meant. She met the woman's eyes and saw they were bright and eager.

"Thank you for your offer, but my place is here in Dol Amroth. One never knows when my services are needed", she announced, prim and proper.

Éowyn's face twitched and she opened her mouth to say something, but she closed it again before a single word came out. She smiled once more, though this time, it was not quite so bright.

"Very well. But it's an open invitation, Lothíriel, and you may claim it any time you feel like it", she said nevertheless. The princess felt a bit better and she relaxed somewhat. Not everyone was double-faced and trying to manipulate others. Least of all his sister.

They turned back soon enough and spoke little on their way back. What thoughts passed through Éowyn's mind, Lothíriel did not know. But her own musings were far away, and with growing dread in her heart she wondered if she had ruined her chances of freedom, of light, of him, for nothing.


Over the course of the next week, Éowyn and Faramir rarely left her alone. The pair of them had apparently become overnight single most adventurous couple in all of Gondor, and every day they required Lothíriel to join them for excursions in and out the palace. There were walks in the castle grounds and the beach, shopping and sightseeing in the city, rides in the woods and the countryside, and even a sailing trip to the coast. Éowyn assumed a green shade on her face as soon as she stepped in their boat, but never complained.

Their amusements were extensive to the point where it was already evening they returned to castle. Lothíriel was quite exhausted when night came, both because of long days of accompanying her energetic cousin and his wife and her sleeping troubles.

She did not mind all the activities, though. It seemed that her initial concerns had been wrong, and it was unnecessary to try and avoid the White Lady. His name never came up again after that one conversation. Éowyn and Faramir were invariably delightful company and with them it wasn't so hard to keep her mind from him. In fact, she even had moments when she enjoyed herself and felt the burden on her shoulders lightening a bit. And though Éowyn often reminded her of him, this sweet, loving woman's friendship was not the kind you could reject for long. Lothíriel knew she would miss them both when they returned to their own home and at times, she regretted refusing Éowyn's invitation. However, she knew Aunt would never approve of her going.

So another night came after their sailing trip, which had continued all the way to sunset, and Lothíriel was really very tired when she got in her own chamber and took a quick bath. She felt stiff and weary from managing the sails and the ropes, even though she had just been helping Erchirion. But it had been nice: they had spent the afternoon exploring one of the small islands off the coast, eaten so much fish and other sea creatures that dinner was an impossibility by the time they got back, and watched Erchirion chase Amrothos across the beach because the latter had splashed the former's face with ink from an octopus carcass. Éowyn had laughed so hard she had nearly fallen in a tide pool.

Lothíriel smiled at these memories as she pulled a brush through her hair. But the smile died when she thought of him and what he would have said, had he been with them today. She bit her lip and laid the brush down. This would be so much easier if he did not pop into her mind when she least expected it.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her melancholy thoughts. Wrapping her robe around herself, she went to answer the door, thinking it was perhaps a servant. She was quite mistaken.

Aunt Ivriniel stood there and almost as soon as the door was open, she slid inside – if an old woman with a limp could slide. Lothíriel did not try to stop her.

"What is it, Aunt?" she asked instead and returned to the task of brushing her hair.

"It has been three nights since you last came to see me, child", Aunt stated. As ever, she was swift to get to the point.

"I've been spending time with Faramir and Éowyn. And afterwards I've been so tired, I simply want to go to bed", said Lothíriel and looked down. These days, it felt like everything she did was somehow wrong.

"And forget your old aunt entirely?" Ivriniel asked, just with the faintest accusation in her tone. But it was more than enough.

"I'm sorry. It's just… when I'm with them, it's easier not to think of him", Lothíriel admitted.

"Hmm. Perhaps there is some virtue in their friendship, then. But do not grow over attached to the company of your cousin and his wife. One never knows when Dol Amroth has need of you", Aunt said, serious but not entirely without gentleness.

"Yes, Aunt", Lothíriel said and folded her hands in her lap.

"Go to sleep, child. You do seem tired", her mentor commanded and bid her good night. Then the old woman swept away once more. Lothíriel was too weary to try and make anything of this late evening's visit.

When she had blown out candles and put out the lamps, she crawled under the sheets and curled up on her side. She pulled her knees close to her chest, as though that could make her feel a little less hollow, and sighed long and heavy into the darkness.


It was late and Faroth's duty was almost over.

His guard shift had been longer than usual: he had been covering for a friend who had got ill earlier today, and as he owed the poor bugger a favour, Faroth had grudgingly agreed to take over his duty as well. He knew his wife would not be happy, because she thought he was too much out of their little home anyway, but he told her it wouldn't be wise to make his commanding officer doubt his dedication to the House of Dol Amroth. Soldiers serving in Prince Imrahil's guard earned much better than mere city watchmen did.

He was itchy in his uniform and his feet ached. Such a long, unpleasant day! There was more hassle in the castle than usual, for Prince Faramir and his wife the famous Lady of the Shield-arm were visiting. He had managed to catch a few glimpses of them and couldn't wait to get to boast about it to his circle of friends. When one looked at the tall Rohirric woman, one could easily picture her taking down the feared Witch-king on the fields of Pelennor.

Such tales were not entertaining him much now, though. Minutes passed by so slowly that he even wondered if the very passage of time had been altered somehow.

Faroth was waiting for the bell's toll to announce the end of his shift, and was sure it would be sounding any minute now. But it was then that one door down the hallway opened, and there bearing a lamp and something white in her hand appeared Princess Éowyn. She was quite the vision with her hair open and dressed in a robe, but her proud manner and brightness of her eyes would discourage a man from improper thoughts very quickly.

"You there", she spoke to Faroth, who was quite astonished to be so spoken to by a living legend. "May I ask you to send a letter for me? I would take it myself but I am told it would cause quite the scandal if I were to wander the castle like this."

Her eyes glinted in a way that suggested she was amused by this idea, but Faroth did not dare to feel much anything about it. Prince Faramir could very well be listening to this conversation, and there was one man whose challenge in battle he did not need!

"Of course, my lady. Who is it for?" he asked, extending his hand to receive the letter. He hid his vexation. Having to deal with letters at this hour! It was sure to make him even more late. However, Princess Éowyn, the Slayer of the Witch-king, was not someone you just told no.

"My brother the King of Rohan. It is important this leaves this very night, for I have some urgent news for him. Please, make haste with it. My heart is anxious", she said and indeed, some shadow passed across her eyes. Faroth shuddered. Whatever could make this lady anxious simply terrified him.

"Yes, my lady", he answered and to his pleasure, felt a coin pressed in his hand along with the letter. In dim light, he saw the flash of silver.

"Thank you, good master", she said and offered him such a smile as no woman had ever given him. He held back a groan. What a lucky man that Prince Faramir was!

His dazed observation faded soon enough when he had turned and the bell tolled. Damn it! He really was going to be late because of a foreign lady who could not send her letters at a more reasonable hour!

Faroth was muttering oaths under his breath when a shadow materialised from darkness. He nearly jumped before he saw it was just the Lady Ivriniel. Now there was another sort of woman entirely. Sometimes he could swear the Prince's unmarried sister was some kind of an unnatural thing of song and myth. Maybe she was some kind of a changeling? He had heard about creatures switched at birth and raised among Men. At least the way she moved in the shadows even with her limp was positively occult.

"It is late, soldier", she spoke very softly. "Wouldn't you like to be on your way home already?"

"Well, yes, my lady, but I need to deliver this letter first", he said warily.

Lady Ivriniel smiled slightly in the light of a lamp. It occurred to him that as a younger woman, she must have been quite a beauty.

"Why don't you let me do that? I prefer night-time anyway, and no one is waiting for me. I'll make sure the letter leaves Dol Amroth this very night", she offered gently.

It did not take Faroth long to make up his mind. Princess Ivriniel was Imrahil's own sister and it was true what she said about not having to be anywhere. If she was willing to do this favour for him, who was he to deny her? His wife was waiting.

"Very well, my lady", he said at last and handed over the letter. "It is for the King of Rohan from his sister."

The old woman's fingers closed around the letter in a way that, for a split second, almost looked greedy. Faroth wanted to shake himself, but did not. He really was tired and starting to imagine things.

"Of course. It is right and proper for a sister to look out for her brother, don't you think…" said the Lady Ivriniel and she let out a low, hollow laugh as she slowly made her way down the hall.

He shuddered. Something told him whatever had amused the strange old lady, he did not want to know anything about it.


Éomer was relieved by how quickly things got back to normal in Edoras. Of course, there was an uproar initially upon his return. First they had received the highly distressing news of his disappearing, and the capital had been a veritable bedlam for a couple of days, until Gamling and Elfhelm were able to calm everybody down. Gossiping had raged on, though, and there had been talk he was already dead, some spoke of Éowyn's coronation day as though it was already set, and others were preparing for war although orders to muster the Rohirrim had not yet been given.

But then a Rider had sped like a tempest from the east, bringing joyful tidings: the errant King had been found and he was safe once more. Reportedly, this caused yet another outbreak, but at least things had cooled down a little by the time Éomer himself got back.

It went much in the way that he had expected. Questions from many sides, varying from what had happened to whether Rohan would retaliate, had to be answered. There were long conversations with his council. Not only did they want to hear everything, they were also demanding for some guarantee or safeguard that nothing like this could ever happen again. Like Éomer had expected, he would be having a much heavier guard with him from now on whenever he left the Mark. But he swallowed his complaints and dealt with it. At least, all the politics kept him too busy to be thinking about some dangerous subjects.

Life went on. But Éomer did not feel the same as before his visit to Dol Amroth. He felt restless for something he couldn't name, and there were moments his mind wandered far away, so that voices around him were but meaningless noise. Often he thought of those events, the days on the run, nights spent in the safe house, and especially his young, unusual, deceitful companion. At times, a thought pierced his mind suddenly: where was she now? What was she doing at this moment? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget her. She clung to him like his own shadow.

Éomer wondered why it was so hard to forget somebody who, in the end, had proved false and untrustworthy. Only answer he could come up with was that even if she was not honest, whatever he had felt for her had been real.

And maybe because a part of him still felt it.

So he buried himself in work, of which there was plenty. He took this task so keenly that it was in no time at all he was up to date with everything that had piled up during his absence. Then he was planning extensive trips to the different parts of his realm, to meet with local chiefs and see how the rebuilding was going on. The West-mark in particular weighed on his mind, for that part of the kingdom had suffered greatly from Saruman's attacks.

But there were some hopeful news in the land, as he learned in a council meeting with his advisers: there had been no orc sightings since spring and if good weathers would continue, harvest could be expected to be better than in years. Afterwards, he lingered in the now quiet chamber, seated by the table and staring in the distance as thoughts flitted across his mind. Like the King's study, Éomer had not changed these rooms much after Théoden, except for throwing out such small garbage as would gather dust in the corners: empty inkwells, a few broken quills, pieces of drafted answers to letters Théoden had sent years ago… Éomer was more of an outdoor person himself, so he had not made great effort either here or the royal apartment to mark them as his own. This was one of the things he most disliked about being a king. He didn't get to be out as much as he wanted or do what he was best at: protecting the Mark from the back of his horse.

Not that a king was not required to protect his people. But it was so different when one was sitting on the throne: it was more about ideas and politics and diplomacy. It was finding that struggle did not end where battles did. Where marshals used their shields and swords and commanded their men, king had to wield his wits, trying to see into future and calculating possible outcomes even when you didn't have all facts at your use. And it was having to learn to put your words fairly and wisely, even when your heart was boiling in anger. Of course politics had been a thing he had needed to learn about as the Third Marshal, but his understanding had hardly been so intricate at the time.

Éomer sighed and leaned back in his chair. He raked a hand through his hair and thought about reports he had waiting for him in the study. He had no hope of getting it all done until after supper, when most sensible folks would go to their friends and families already. But he was not sensible and had no family, whereas most of his friends did. He knew none of them would hesitate to keep him company if he just asked, but he may as well tackle some work tonight instead of going to bother some poor soul. After his misadventure in south, he felt like he somehow owed it to people to work harder than ever.

But he was not allowed to entertain this line of thought further. For the door to the council room was opened and inside stepped his secretary, a noble lord or the Mark. Tall he was, but leaner than most Rohirrim, and with shoulder-length hair of dark gold. His eyes were blue and sharp, seeing deeper into things than people would normally care to look. He was named Leofstan and was only a few years younger than Uncle had been. He had served the court back in Théoden's day and been a confidant of the old king before Wormtongue's influence began to grow. Éomer had appointed him as his secretary almost as soon as he had returned from the Ring War, for he liked the man well enough and was very much aware there was probably no one else in the Mark who knew as much about ruling the land. Not to mention, Leofstan was in good terms with Éomer's own trusted men.

"Sire", the man greeted him, "You wished to speak to me alone?"

"Aye", Éomer said and straightened on his seat. "I am riding to Gondor again in a few weeks. I imagine the council will not like it after what happened the last time, and I hoped you would aid me in consoling them."

Leofstan did not seem like he liked either the idea of Éomer travelling again so soon, or helping him to make his case with the royal council. Of course, the young king could just have said he was going and hear no objections, but he preferred to stay in speaking terms with his council.

"Is it necessary, Sire? You must see how your people will be uneasy", Leofstan pointed out warily.

"Don't understand me wrong, Leofstan. I'm not indifferent to your concern. But I will not be going further than Mundburg – I need to speak with Aragorn, you see. At that time, his officers will have interrogated the corsair crew that took me prisoner, and he will know more about what is going on in Umbar and whether it means they are planning war. It is a matter much too important to be discussed in letters. Moreover, both of us agree I should be there when the pirates are brought before justice. To refuse participating would mean I hold a grudge, and most of all we need to make sure things get back to normal", Éomer explained his reasoning to his secretary. Leofstan listened in silence, and his reluctant expression mellowed at length.

"Well, I suppose you are correct, Sire. Someone must go and observe that justice is properly executed, and who is better for the task than yourself? And it would be unseemly to turn our backs after all the aid Gondor gave us after the war", he agreed, as Éomer had expected he would. Leofstan had a mind for diplomacy unlike most people – and most Rohirrim, who were so fond of their blunt and straightforward attitudes.

"Aye. That is very true", Éomer said and grimly remembered the hardships of last winter. There was hope that this year would not be so difficult, but he knew as a king he would always have to be prepared for the worst.

"If you promise not to be away for too long, I believe it won't be too hard to reassure your council", Leofstan remarked. He frowned a little, "Say, are you planning other trips beyond our borders?"

Éomer met the eyes of his secretary with a wry smile.

"Not at the moment, Leofstan. But you were not born yesterday. You know that it doesn't take something as unexpected as a crew of pirates to end a man's life. I could very well die in my own Hall", he pointed out darkly. Not that he often contemplated his own demise, but it seemed like his advisers constantly did.

"I do know that. We all do, Sire. Which is why it would make us feel easier if there was some safeguard against the grievous event of your death", Leofstan said carefully. His meaning was not lost to the young king.

"In that case, the second thing I wanted to talk to you about should make you glad", Éomer said. The words that he spoke next came out with more difficulty than he had expected, "I'd like you to consult with the royal council and compile a list of those unmarried ladies of the Mark you feel would be qualified for the position of the Queen."

Leofstan looked surprised, which was quite an accomplishment; Éomer did not believe the man had ever been astonished by anything in his life. It would have amused him had the topic been different.

"Of course, Sire. How soon do you expect me to deliver the list to you?" the secretary asked as soon as he had mastered his reaction.

"There's no haste, yet. I want you to consider it well and thoroughly. The choice can't be made irresponsibly. I need a companion and a partner, not a pretty ornament who can't stomach duty", Éomer said, perhaps a little harder than was necessary. He sighed and softened his tone, "I was thinking of announcing it at the Harvest Feast, if all goes well."

"That should indeed please everyone, Sire", Leofstan said and made a small but respectful bow. He even smiled as he said, "I am glad you are considering this, my lord. It has been a weight on us all, especially when you went missing."

"I can imagine", Éomer said and refrained from grimacing. "Maybe I should have thought about this before… it might have shielded me from some very stupid actions." And some very unwarranted feelings.

"Hesitating is understandable, Sire. It is one of the most important decisions a man will make during his life. In your case, it is even more so: you are not only choosing that voice which will speak in your absence, but also setting the course of the future. Your son by her will be our king one day", said Leofstan, still with that same smile. No doubt he couldn't wait to get to talk with the council about this matter.

"Yes. It is a staggering thought", he agreed and tried not to sound resigned. Not all could expect to live such happiness as Éowyn and Faramir… or his own parents.

But then, maybe his heart would change in time. Maybe eventually he wouldn't be dreaming of black hair and grey eyes anymore. There was no reason he couldn't grow to be content, at least. There was still friendship and working together and accomplishing great tasks that would be insurmountable alone. And children… well, in children of his own he might find the happiness that had so long eluded him.

It was not the worst idea. But even so, he knew it would be long, maybe forever, before the little voice at the back of his mind would cease with the question: what if.


The week spent in Dol Amroth was eventful and it passed quickly. Too soon, it seemed to Éowyn, came the day that she and Faramir were set to leave.

It was indeed too soon. She knew she was needed here – needed by one who did not seem to understand the magnitude of her own plight. And because she was still so deep in the shadow, she did not know how to ask for help.

Éowyn worried. What would become of Lothíriel when she was under her aunt's mercy again, without any outside interference? For there she had been able to locate the true reason of the young woman's distress: in so many ways, Lady Ivriniel kept her niece as a prisoner. And no one seemed to be aware of this, not even her family.

But then, she reminded herself that she had keener perception in these matters than most people.

She had sent a letter for Éomer, explaining him all that she had seen here and what she thought had happened – what was the truth about his fallout with the princess. However, the letter would be on road for some weeks, and still more time would pass before Éomer could do anything about it. And that was only if he chose to act.

Yet maybe there was something Éowyn could still do for the young lady she had met and befriended in Dol Amroth. Faramir had suggested it all along, and she deemed he had been right from the start. For it seemed to them both that whatever her aunt had taught Lothíriel to be, she was not limited by it. Why else would she react like this when her mentor tried to contain her once more and cut out what growth there had been during the time she had been away from the old woman? She could be so much more, if she were free. Éowyn guessed this was the very fact that had made Éomer fall in love with the unusual maiden.

On the day of their departure, Imrahil's family came to escort her and Faramir to the harbour and Lothíriel was there as well. Past few days, Éowyn had seen her opening up a little bit and growing more cheerful in their company. However, now that look had returned to her eyes… the one Éowyn had perceived the very day they had met for the first time. Like she had later told Lothíriel, it was until that moment she had not known for sure what was the truth about this young woman. Though Imrahil's daughter was good at pretension, this she could not hide: her eyes looked like those of a prisoner might when staring up from a deep, dark pit.

Éowyn knew about cages and pits where you couldn't escape. She remembered what it was like to feel trapped and desperate and lose hope to the point where only death held promise anymore. Of course, her own situation had been different, and maybe her new friend was not yet that far gone. Memory of that darkness had not bothered her in a while now, but she had not forgotten it. And she could tell Lothíriel was in a cage and her aunt was keeping the door firmly closed. Ivriniel would not let her go, if she could do anything about it. Without help, Lothíriel might not find the strength or the will to break free.

The White Lady hugged her new friend tight and long and felt like the young woman was clinging to her – as though on some level, she knew what was wrong with her, and that it would be better to come along instead of staying.

"You know, if you do want to come visit us, we would be happy to have you", she reassured once more, and Lothíriel managed a tiny smile that did not reach her eyes.

"I will keep it in mind. Have a safe journey home", she said as she pulled back her arms and hands. She looked awkward, like she didn't know what to do with herself now. But Faramir came to speak to her, giving Éowyn a chance to turn to Imrahil. He stood close by and smiled at her warmly. They all had the same eyes as him – even Faramir did. And she still felt gratitude whenever she looked at this man who had rescued her from the fields of Pelennor.

"May I have a word, Imrahil?" she asked in a low voice.

"Of course. What is it?" he inquired and looked at her curiously.

Éowyn looked around and then grasped the man by his forearm, pulling him a little away from the crowd. His wonder only seemed to grow at this action.

"I've tried to think of a right way to do this, Imrahil, but nothing seemed adequate, and now my time runs short. So I suppose there's no better way than to just say it out loud", she started, frowning a little. She hoped Imrahil's pride would not get in way, but that he would listen to her – truly listen and understand how worried she was.

His brow furrowed and he looked at her sharply. Éowyn sighed.

"I do not mean to be disrespectful or criticise you, Imrahil", she said in a low voice, "and I assure it is only out of concern for the new friend I've made while staying here that I speak of this. If you have eyes and you know how to use them, you will have noticed the same as I: your daughter is in distress. For her own sake, you must send her away. Be it in Minas Tirith or Emyn Arnen, it does not matter as long as she leaves this city as soon as possible. For my part, I can promise we would treat her well."

The noble face of the Prince had become very grave as she whispered her concern to him. It seemed to Éowyn that he had noticed his daughter's unhappiness and wondered about it. But it was not her place to speak of these matters without her friend's confidence. Perhaps she was still so hard in Ivriniel's clutches she would consider even this an intrusion of her privacy.

"What do you mean to say, Éowyn?" Imrahil asked, though it did not feel like he inquired this out of ignorance.

She met his eyes, hoping to convey the uneasiness she felt over this situation. So much was at stake: a young life could be lost if something was not done soon. And yet much was to be gained. Not only happiness of two people who had struggled alone for so long, but also forming new ties between two kingdoms.

"Imrahil, if you love her, you must get her away from this place and from her aunt. Save your daughter while you still can."

To be continued.


A/N: And here's a new chapter! I truly enjoyed writing this one, and it was also effortless in many ways. It was fascinating to explore the conflict inside Lothíriel and her growing distress, but also Éowyn's subtle observations about her new friend.

Previously, I had some difficulty in figuring out what would be the key to this situation. Éomer was out of question for the reasons I listed in the earlier chapter's A/N, but eventually I realised it was really quite obvious. Éowyn was in fact a very canon-compliant answer, because in the Lord of the Rings, she too struggles with despair and feeling like she's trapped in her situation. She has a very unique perspective to demons of the mind, and it allows her to see straight into the core of Lothíriel's troubles. But I had another reason to bring Éowyn to this situation: I wanted Lothíriel to have a positive relationship with another woman. Her aunt has been such a powerful influence in her life, it also takes a powerful character like Éowyn to be able to stand against it.

Although she sees what's wrong, Éowyn doesn't make a direct move, except for inviting Lothíriel to stay with her and Faramir. I don't think she would interfere straightforwardly. She wouldn't feel it's her place, and she thinks it should be a member of family or someone who is already very close to Lothíriel. Like with herself, it was Éomer in The Return of the King that called her back from the shadow where she fell after her battle with the Witch-king. Hence the reason she asks Imrahil to take action. He definitely knows his daughter is not all right. But he doesn't figure out the reason behind it until Éowyn points it out.

Meanwhile, Éomer struggles to move on and Ivriniel is far from being ready to give up the fight...

Thank you for reading and reviewing!


heckofabecka - You are indeed right! This is not the kind of situation where Éomer would even know that he is needed. Of course everyone hopes for a happy ending, but to be in any way satisfying, it needs to make sense and be true to the characters.

I am glad to hear Lothíriel's situation seems authentic. It's something I worried about, because it's such a complex situation and it was not easy to answer the question of what would a person feel while caught in this? She has indeed been in caught in this abusive relationship for a long time, and so she can't effortlessly break free from it, even when Éowyn is offering her an easy way out.

Also I hope you had a good time in Italy!

Tibblets - She does what she can! :)

Anon - Yes, you are very right. That was a very confusing moment for him and it simply didn't make sense in any other way than she must have lied to him all along.

And you are right to assume Imrahil as not actually realised any of this until now. I think he sees the darkness in his sister, but on the other hand I believe we can be blind to that kind of thing in people we care about, and not see how it can be damaging to ourselves and loved ones. Not to mention, Ivriniel is subtle and manipulative, and he has been manipulated, too. On the other hand, his duties as the Prince of Dol Amroth distract him to a degree. I think of him as a loving father, but he's also simply human in the end, and it's not like Ivriniel's abusive behaviour has been very obvious until now. Meanwhile, Lothíriel thinks very much as you describe: she just assumes her father approves of whatever Ivriniel tells her to do.

Anyway, I hope you liked that last bit between Éowyn and Imrahil!

sai19 - Slow burn is so frustrating and so delicious at the same time! :D But this is a kind of situation that can't be resolved quickly, not at least in a way that makes sense.

I think Éowyn in this matter has a more sensitive approach, due to her own experiences. But I definitely think she has not been ineffective!

EStrunk - Glad to hear it made more sense, in the end! I think he needs a nudge in the right direction, as maybe do some other characters in the story.

Éowyn was great to write, both in last chapter and here. As much as I imagine she would enjoy straightening things out ala slaying of the Witch-king, I think her own experiences have supplied her with sensitivity and understanding that this is a matter that must be dealt with carefully.

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

Wtiger5 - Yes, she is really very reluctant to let Lothíriel go. In the beginning, I didn't realise she bore any resemblance to Denethor, but maybe they are indeed alike in a number of ways!

It's indeed going to take some work for Lothíriel to get through this. But we'll see how that goes for her!

Doranwen - It is great to write, too! It's a kind of situation I haven't explored in writing before, so it's very fascinating. I'm glad to have managed to convey it so well! But it really isn't going so great for Éomer. Poor man is really having hard time picking himself up again!

Nerdanel - I'm glad you liked it! I enjoyed writing it very much, too. :) I think Éowyn would very much have liked to take Lothíriel with her and Faramir, but at the same time, she knows she can't force her to do anything. She knows very well this is a path Lothíriel must walk on herself, and the best chance of doing that is with someone who is already close to her.

Catspector - She knows things are wrong, but she hasn't yet been able - or she hasn't dared - to locate the source of it. And so she still goes to Ivriniel for guidance. You are quite right this can't just go away. And I think Ivriniel sees Lothíriel is in no mental condition to go on a mission. But she probably just sees this as a last step to a situation where Lothíriel's last fighting spirit dies and she becomes like her aunt.

I hope you liked the bits with Éowyn! :)

Merakia - I'm not sure she sees Imrahil that way. Ivriniel is not completely absolute in her views - she has her soft spots, however small they may be.

When I first realised what had happened to Ivriniel, I did wonder whether to go with the version I had written, or to alter the story to keep her as more of a "cool aunt". But then I decided to take this route, because of the complex conflict and relationships it introduces.

Éowyn definitely has already connected a lot of pieces, and I think her impact may put things into motion Ivriniel did not foresee!

Wondereye - I hope this chapter answers what's going on with Éomer!

Dunlander - I'm sorry to hear the story was not able to make you curious enough to want to find out how the situation is resolved. It seems strange to me to read all fourteen chapters and then give up when the writer introduces some real conflict. I do think Éomer is decent and flexible enough to be able to see that there is a huge difference between a deliberate insult and being manipulated by an abusive family member into doing a hurtful thing.