Chapter 16

Light of early afternoon glowed warmly in the great halls of the castle by the sea. Summer was growing old, but here in the southern coast of Gondor, weathers were always mild. There was no other place in the world Imrahil loved as well as his city by the sea, but this day he hardly paid enough attention to admire the beauty of his ancestral home. He was thinking of his daughter.

Lady Éowyn's words only yesterday had not left him since the moment they had been uttered. Save your daughter while you still can, she had said, startling him in some profound and unsettling ways. Yes, he had noticed at once upon his return that Lothíriel seemed paler and thinner than usual. He had thought maybe she had contracted something in Pelargir and was ill, or a disagreement with Éomer had left her listless – so he had explained to himself her abrupt departure from Pelargir. And so, up until the moment Éowyn had pulled him aside and in solemn tones told him to take his daughter away from this city, Imrahil had remained as blind as he had been for a long time now.

Too long, he thought to himself grimly as his pace grew faster. He was headed to the west wing, where all apartments of his family were located. In his mind, he was bracing himself for the confrontation he would soon have.

He suppressed a sigh. It was no wonder Éowyn had seen through it all. Like her brother, she was not easily deceived when it came to one's true character. But Imrahil knew her history, and that made her more perceptive to perils of mortal mind in ways most people were not.

His chief misgiving was that one who had never met Lothíriel before had figured it out right away, when he had not. He had not seen his own daughter's distress when she most needed him.

However, he was not ignorant anymore.

At last, Imrahil reached the door of his sister. He knocked lightly and was called inside by her smooth voice.

Ivriniel was seated by the window and she was reading a small book – perhaps a volume from their own library. Her silver-streaked hair was in elaborate braids proper for a woman of her status and age and her night-blue gown was simple but distinguished. She looked like any elderly lady of Gondor. He had never seen her in action, and so it was at times hard to believe who she had once been. Perhaps it was also part the reason he had so easily given her free reign over Lothíriel.

When he entered, she put aside her book and looked up.

"What is it, Imrahil?" she asked him. "If you have some mission, I'm afraid I must decline. Lothíriel is not in the state of mind to take action right now. She would only get hurt."

"No, I do not require the services of the Hidden Blade", Imrahil answered quietly. "I simply came to tell you that I am travelling to Minas Tirith again, and I'm taking Lothíriel with me."

Ivriniel tensed visibly on her seat and her eyes flashed, as though one challenged to a fight.

"It would not be wise at this time", she said slowly, evenly. "She is confused. She needs my guidance and mentoring, now more than ever. If you should take her away at this critical time, it would undo all our recent efforts."

"Your efforts to do what, exactly?" asked Imrahil. He folded his hands behind his back and met Ivriniel's gaze calmly.

"That, I cannot answer. I told you long ago you are happier not knowing our secrets", Ivriniel replied readily. Once, he might have believed her. But now Imrahil did not trust this was not some kind of a excuse she had made up in haste.

"Well, if you cannot give me a valid reason, then I won't be able to grant your request. She comes with me", he stated. Though his voice was steady, inside he felt a sting of sadness. To have to confront his own sister like this, and not trusting anything she said... once, she had been as innocent and bright as anyone.

"Imrahil, you must have seen how she is. She is not fit to leave Dol Amroth. If you take her away now, you risk doing permanent damage. Do you really wish to lose one of your deadliest assets?" Ivriniel asked him heatedly. Her grey eyes sparking in a rare bout of emotion.

"I risk doing permanent damage if I leave her here, Ivriniel. And she is not just an asset to me – she's my only daughter: I would sacrifice the former for the sake of the latter in a heartbeat", he answered. How far would his sister go to keep Lothíriel here? Was it enough he used his authority as her father, or did he have to give an order as the Prince of Dol Amroth? He hoped it would not come to that. After all, Ivriniel was still his own sister.

"That is dangerous thinking. If she abandons her post, then who will carry on our work? Who then guards Dol Amroth from the shadows?" Ivriniel asked.

"Hidden Blade was invented once", said Imrahil slowly, "and it can be invented again, if need be. But I will not let it be my daughter's only choice. She was never given a chance to truly make up her mind, and the least I owe her is a chance to consider having another life. You owe it to her, too."

The sparks in Ivriniel's eyes became colder than before. Her mouth was a thin line now, and her displeasure was as though a tangible thing.

"You have no right to do this, Imrahil", she said and her voice almost sounded like a hiss.

"I have no right? I am her father. Who has right if not I?" he asked loudly. Her words stung him more than he could have expected. How could she say something so hurtful, and so untrue? That he could not care for his own child?

"You gave her up to me, brother. You gave me your blessing. Are you now taking back your word?" she asked and slowly rose up on her feet.

"To help my daughter and try to make her happy again? Absolutely", he answered without hesitation. Somehow, this made him even more determined.

Ivriniel's expression was not pretty, and she looked like she would have said something, but he continued before she could open her mouth again.

"I will not hear another objection from you. Lothíriel travels with me and that is my final word on the matter. For she is still my daughter, and you have no right to wield this power over her, especially if it is making her miserable. I advise you to stay away from her for the time being... or I may have to forget that you are my only living sister", said Imrahil, loud and clear. And though his heart ached for having to be so harsh and stern with Ivriniel, he knew it was the only way. Éowyn had told him to save his daughter and he would do so, no matter the personal cost.

So he turned around and left, and deep down he knew he had done the right thing.


After Éowyn and Faramir had gone, Lothíriel expected things would go back the way they used to be before her mission to save his life. But soon enough she was to realise that their visit had started something, like a stone dropping in water and sending rippling waves that grew larger and larger as they spread. Like she would consider later on, Rohirrim were still bound to disrupt her life. Or, maybe not Rohirrim in general, but just the House of Eorl. For it was not two days later after the visit by her cousin and his wife that Father came to Lothíriel while she was sitting with her sister-in-law Aredhel, and announced that he was returning to Minas Tirith in a couple days of time.

"But you only just came home, Father Imrahil!" said Aredhel in dismay. "Is it because of corsairs, then?"

"Well, I believe it would be prudent of Dol Amroth to be present when they are interrogated, and I wish to show how grave this matter is to us. But it's not my only reason", he answered slowly. He directed his gaze at his daughter, "It would please me if you joined me, Lothíriel."

Lothíriel was at first too surprised to say anything, until she opened her mouth and was about to say that Aunt would probably disapprove. But Father must have guessed her thought, as he went on to speak before she could get one word out.

"And don't you worry about your old aunt. We already talked this over, and I reminded her that you are my daughter. I have withheld that right for a long time, but there are a few lessons father may share with his children. While I do not doubt the usefulness of your aunt's education, it's seriously lacking in the matter of politics and court life, and where better to learn those than in the White City?" he said, smiling as he spoke. But there was steel in his eyes, although Lothíriel could tell it was not directed her or Aredhel. She could only assume Aunt had put up a fight.

She sighed to herself; sometimes she felt like she was being pulled apart in some kind of a tug of war. But then she remembered she ought to answer something, and so looked at her sire, who looked at her expectantly.

"If that is what you have decided, Father", she said simply. He looked at her with a strange expression, as though he had half expected her to object, and was surprised that she didn't.

But then he seemed to shake himself and smiled a little.

"Very good. We'll be leaving the day after tomorrow. Aredhel, will you help her pack? You'll know the proper attires for the royal court", he said, looking at Elphir's wife, who was much more understanding with matters like this.

"Of course, Father Imrahil. When I'm through with her, you won't recognise your daughter", Aredhel said and smiled.

This answer seemed to please him well enough and after excusing himself he was gone again, leaving the two women to their devices. Aredhel looked at Lothíriel expectantly, but the younger woman sat silent.

"Are you all right, sister?" Aredhel asked at last in a soft, wary voice.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Lothíriel asked back and shrugged. Why did everyone keep asking her that?

Obviously it was not the answer her sister-in-law hoped for, judging by her frown.

"Aren't you at all excited? You get to go to Minas Tirith! And your father is close friends with King Elessar and Queen Arwen. No doubt you'll be spending time with them, too. Many a young lady in the land would envy you!" said Elphir's wife as though in an attempt to raise Lothíriel's own enthusiasm.

"Well, I suppose it won't be so bad, though cities are cities and if you have seen one, you've seen most of them. Maybe it will be different than the last time I was there", Lothíriel said at last, though this too did not seem to please her sister-in-law.

Aredhel sighed and shook her head.

"I think it will be good for you, sister. Get away from this place a little and spend some time with your father. I know it's not always easy when you are an only daughter and the youngest child…" she said and shook her head. She let out a small sigh before a smile rose to her features once more. "But you needn't worry about a thing. I will help you make everything ready."

Lothíriel returned the smile, more out of courtesy than genuine enthusiasm. Deep down she felt guilty. Her father wanted to be with her – something she had often hoped as a young girl – and yet here she sat like it was all the same to her! Why was it so hard these days to get excited even about things she knew were good?

Indeed, it felt like Aredhel was more enthused about the matter than herself, and as the woman flitted back and forth between her wardrobe and a travelling trunk, Lothíriel eventually sat back – she would just be in her way. Soon enough her brother's wife announced her dresses were fit for the court, a bit outdated perhaps, but it would not matter particularly when Lothíriel had never been a social butterfly. Then she continued to move around, making a few wry and wondering comments about the pieces of garments she found in her kinswoman's wardrobe, and the princess could not help but laugh a bit.

Some of Aredhel high spirits infected her at last, and before the day ended, she considered the idea with an ounce of hope instead of just numb acceptance.

Curiously enough, Aunt Ivriniel made no appearance, and Lothíriel did not go seeking for her. She imagined the old woman would be in ill mood after having a disagreement with Father, and she didn't want to poison her own expectation with what were surely going to be some very bitter words. Momentarily, she even wondered if Aunt was angry with her, too – if she thought this had been Lothíriel's own idea, and that she had been sneaking behind her mentor's back.

But truth was, for the first time in many years, she was not worrying so much about what Aunt would say. If her father wanted her to come with him to Minas Tirith, then she would do just that. Maybe Ivriniel was not always right about everything.

With these thoughts, Lothíriel was able to get some real rest the night before the departure, and so felt a little more ready for the journey in the morning than she had expected.

A maid arrived to help her get ready. Travelling formally with Father meant not making appearances in breeches and tunics that had seen their best day many years ago. Instead, she slipped on a gown of blue and silver and fastened her mother's string of pearls around her neck. When the maid was adding finishing touches in her hair, Lothíriel regarded her reflection in mirror and wondered at how different this young lady appeared. What would he think if he saw her now? Would he say she looked beautiful, or angrily ask what role she was playing now? Not that there had been time to properly think it through, but she would have liked the idea of enticing him… being considered beautiful by him.

But there was nothing beautiful about her. She was ugly in all the ways that mattered, crooked and grown twisted, and it meant next to nothing what face she wore. All of them were wrong by him.

"My lady, are you quite well?" asked the maid suddenly, making Lothíriel almost jump. She could only guess what expression of hers had caused the woman break the silence and inquire after her well-being, for no trace of it remained on her face when she glanced at the mirror. Unless, of course, you counted the hollow look in her eyes.

"Yes, of course. I just got distracted", said Lothíriel and conjured a smile. Apparently, it satisfied the maid, for no more questions were made after that awkward little moment.

As her trunks were packed and sent down to harbour, thanks to Aredhel's efforts, there wasn't much else to do than to go and join her family for breakfast. Lothíriel expected until the very last moment for her aunt to make an appearance, but the old woman remained absent. It had not troubled her before, but now she did feel a little uneasy and also hurt. Why wouldn't Aunt even come to tell her goodbye? Was she truly so angry with her going?

Well, it couldn't be helped now, and Father's fussing prevented her from going by herself to seek for Aunt Ivriniel. He was watching her like a hawk, asking questions whenever he deemed she was growing distracted, and even going as far as employing Aredhel in keeping her attention. Lothíriel said nothing but she did wonder.

All three of her brothers and her sister-in-law came to send them on their way. Such a company caused bit of a stir in the port, but Swan Knights kept order while the family of Prince Imrahil said goodbyes. Aredhel hugged her tightly and Elphir looked even more serious than usual. Amrothos too seemed to notice for once that something was unusual. It made Lothíriel feel self-conscious: she wasn't used to people making a fuss about her.

As such, it was a relief to get on the ship and away from all the attention. But Lothíriel also felt lost and directionless when her father lead her there. She had no situation to deal with, no plan to carry out. She had nothing to hope and nothing to expect in Minas Tirith, just long idle days of an ordinary noble lady. Well, maybe it was not kind of her to think so. What did she know of that life? After all, she'd get to spend some time with her father, perhaps meet Faramir and Éowyn again if they could travel again so soon after their trip to Dol Amroth. And finally be introduced to the famous King Elessar and his legendary wife, Queen Arwen Undómiel…

She glanced at her father, who was still by her side.

"Do you think they will like me? The King and Queen?" she asked him softly. What good could such high and bright people see in a spider like her? She imagined the King Elessar, whose adventures and heroic deeds were widely spoken of in Gondor, had vanquished many like her in his time.

Father smiled gently at her.

"Of course they will, my dear. You are a delightful young lady and they will love you", he said fondly to her. She managed to give him a smile. At least someone thought there was something genuinely positive about her.

Father was needed on the deck and so Lothíriel went below by herself. Her cabin was small but comfortable and it was situated close to his own. Her trunks were already there, but Lothíriel left them closed; she'd doubtlessly just wrinkle the dressed Aredhel and a couple of maids had so delicately folded and laid in place.

With a sigh, she took seat by a narrow window and gazed out. The ship was already on the move, leaving the city of Dol Amroth behind. She could see a small strip of her home through the window. Why did she feel so little at leaving this place? Shouldn't one be sad to see one's home behind them? But for so many days now, there had been a numbness about her thoughts that was only pierced at times, and most often by the memory of him. It made sense, she supposed. He lived so boldly and truly, making the world a little richer just by existing in it, that one could not feel empty even when one was simply thinking of him.

Lothíriel rubbed her eyes and quickly turned the direction of her thoughts. He was a dangerous memory and he would never go away as long as he had this power over her.

It was smooth sailing all the way until evening. Lothíriel had expected to spend the night alone, but Father asked her to dine with him, which invitation she was happy to accept. In fact, the idea caused a burst of warmth spreading in her chest, and she felt like when she was a small girl and had her father's attention all to herself. It was odd, how after all the things Aunt had told her and all the nastiness of human nature that she had witnessed, she could still feel like she used to as a child.

So Lothíriel joined her father in his cabin, where a table was already set for them. He smiled warmly when she came and hugged her before they took seat. For the first time, she began to feel instead of just knowing it had been a good idea to take this journey with Father to Minas Tirith.

And perhaps it was because of this, and because of her earlier numb indifference to whether she stayed or travelled, she did not guess what Father's motive truly was, not until he finally revealed the reason for their leaving Dol Amroth so soon after he had got back.

Once they had their meals before them and their glasses were filled with drink, Father looked at her straight and serious.

"Daughter, I would like to ask you something. And please, answer me truthfully. You needn't be afraid of saying anything. I would like us to be honest with one another", he began, much to her surprise. She couldn't imagine what reason would he have to say something like this – like he thought she was scared of telling him the truth.

Scared… or incapable? That was a disturbing thought.

"Of course, Father", she said, masking her wonder.

He considered her for a minute before saying anything. A faint crease had appeared on his brow and she thought he looked concerned. She tried to smile at him in the hopes of easing his worry.

"Lothíriel…" he began, gentle as ever, "Are you happy in Dol Amroth?"

Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn't this. She shrugged.

"It's my home", she merely said. At once, she saw his frown growing deeper. Obviously her answer had not been to his liking.

"Indeed it is", Father said heavily, "But I would like to know if you feel glad to be there. Or… if there's something about it that makes you less than content."

Lothíriel looked down and tried to think what to say. Though she didn't feel very hungry anymore, she lifted a piece of steaming fish in her mouth just to get some time. She really didn't know how to answer. Well, she was not so deaf and blind that she hadn't noticed her own mood as of late. But none of that had anything to do with Dol Amroth. All of her sadness was over letting herself think she could have another life, and finding that it was not so… it was him she missed and grieved for, not the city of her birth. And there was guilt over the way she had betrayed him, let him go and believe that she did not think the world of him.

That it was her own unsuitability, not his, to make her leave.

"All that I do, I do for Dol Amroth. If I hated my home or was not content there, why would I put myself at risk?" she said at last, unsure if this was the answer her father was expecting.

"Maybe you do it because someone told you to", he said slowly. "Because you feel you have no other choice."

She bit her lip. Aunt had made it very clear she didn't have a choice… or, that it would at least be a very poor one to go some other way. But that wasn't the same thing, was it? It worried her that she couldn't tell.

"Is it bad, then? Me doing what Aunt did before me?" she asked her father and noted he had touched his own food as little as she had hers.

"Not in itself, perhaps, though I have wondered about it as of late", Father said and sipped some wine. He put the glass down again and let out a sigh, "I'm more worried about what is going on between you and your aunt."

"Why would you be?" Lothíriel asked warily. Part of her felt like running out of the cabin, as though she was going to have to admit something shameful if she stayed too long. But he had asked her to speak truthfully, and even if she lied to whole world, her father she could not deceive even if she wanted.

"I spoke with Éowyn before she and Faramir left", he answered in a strong voice. "And she brought some concerns to my attention – concerns I should have realised before she made any mention of them. I am worried about you, Lothíriel, just as she was."

She didn't say anything right away. There was a strange sensation of betrayal, as though Éowyn had somehow failed her trust. Well, she had known from the start that the White Lady did not walk with her eyes closed. Aunt had known that too when she had said it would be prudent to stay away from the woman. But that Éowyn would go tattling to Father…

On the other hand, wasn't everyone asking her if she was all right these days? Wouldn't anyone worry about their friends and family if it looked like something was wrong? No, Éowyn hadn't done anything wrong to reveal her concerns to Father. She was just… she just did what a friend would do.

Lothíriel looked down again. How confused she felt! It was like parts of her were at war with one another. There was the deadly spider trained by Aunt Ivriniel, loathing the merest implication she was weak, that she needed to be worried over by people. But there was also a girl who had grown up with teasing, loving brothers who lifted her up from a tidepool when she fell in and comforted her when she scraped her knees. There was the woman who had fallen in love with a brave, honest man and knew the value of the things he stood for... the woman whose heart was broken.

"You needn't worry about me, Father", she said at last and forced herself to meet his eyes. "I… I will be all right. Perhaps not yet, but some day it's going to be fine."

He looked at her as though something she said made him sad.

"My dear daughter", he said softly, "Don't you see it doesn't have to be that way? You don't have to try and reconcile with something that causes you pain. If this life of carrying on your aunt's work makes you unhappy, then you don't have to go on. You don't have to take your orders from her, Lothíriel."

She looked at him in confusion.

"But doesn't Dol Amroth need me?" she asked unsurely.

"Others can take your place. I know how your aunt thinks about your position, but maybe she's not right. You don't have to carry the weight of Dol Amroth on your back. Especially not if it's starting to break you", Father said, stern almost. Then he reached over the table and touched her hand, and spoke in a gentler voice, "Lothíriel, I have treated you as an asset for too long. But I see now that I was wrong. You are my only daughter and I will not sacrifice you… the way your aunt was sacrificed."

She stared in silence, and he went on. His voice grew strong and steadfast again.

"Lothíriel, I have been blind. I have ignored the way she treats you, the way she pulls your strings to keep you in line and complacent. She's turning you into something as cold and terrible as she herself is, and it's a wonder you have fought it so long… and I see now that if this goes on, I'm going to lose the daughter I love, just as I lost her. And you have so much in life to do and to see, and I wish you to have a chance to enjoy all of it, if you so wish. This should not be your only choice. If that's what she's been telling you, then she's wrong. Lothíriel, it is not and it has never been her choice to impose on you."

Tears had begun streaming down her face and there was nothing she could do to stop them. All of her training, all the ways Aunt had taught her to control herself and her emotions… it was as though none of that had ever happened. She was crying and her heart ached like it never had before. And her mind was so confused, because she was so lost and uncertain; nothing made sense anymore, she had no idea of who she was supposed to be, and how could she choose anything when she knew nothing?

She covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobs. But then a pair of gentle arms wrapped around her and her father picked her up like she was a lost, scared child. Then she could not hold any of it back anymore, and was at last weeping uncontrollably. Father held her tightly against his chest.

"I am so sorry I let this happen to you. I should have protected you, my dear daughter… I should have known what she was asking when she first wanted to train you", he murmured against her hair, almost making her cry even harder. It hit her then, the hardest and yet the most obvious realisation in the world: she had a father who loved her. And he would never put her through things like Aunt would, he wouldn't demean her when she failed, or tell her what she could or couldn't choose. Had it been him to hear Éomer had proposed to her, he would have received those news joyfully.

All she had needed to do was ask for his help and guidance. And maybe if she had, things would have gone vastly different.

It took her a while to calm down, but at last her tears ceased and she awkwardly smoothed the now wet spot on the front of his coat and mumbled an embarrassed apology. Father regarded her with a sad little smile.

"You go to your missions so bravely that sometimes I forget how young you are, daughter. And I wonder what you could be now, had I acted as I should all those years ago", he said softly.

"But if you had, some who live now would have died", she said half-heartedly and thought of him. The idea of a world without him living in it was unbearable and she quickly dismissed it, as she did not want to suffer another crying fit.

"Maybe so. I do not say you haven't done a lot of good for our people. But still… it is my wish that you take a break from it all. Think things through, Lothíriel, and decide if you really want to keep doing what… what your aunt trained you for. Only know that I do not expect you to choose either way", Father said and awkwardly rubbed the remnants of tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He frowned slightly, "My chief concern is that you don't have to be near your aunt for a while."

She thought of this as they took seat once more. She really wasn't sure what to think of all this.

"Father… if I stop doing this, then what am I supposed to do with my life?" she asked at length. It was all she knew, after all. For a brief while, she had seen a glimpse of light in her horizon – a promise of finding a new life beyond all shadows. But that chance had passed from her grasp when she had betrayed him. And he wasn't coming back to raise her from this dark place.

Father gave her a wry little smile.

"No one has that answer, Lothíriel. We all must figure it out for ourselves. But you are still young and there is much that you can achieve, if you choose so. Don't think you must do it all today or tomorrow. Take your time and find your own way when it feels right", he told her solemnly.

"And this is why you are taking me to Minas Tirith", she concluded at length. Both their portions had already cooled down, but she suspected neither of them felt truly hungry for food.

"Indeed. But like I said, it's to get you away from your aunt. It is clear her company is not good for you, and you should make your decision without her to influence it", Father answered and a stern tone appeared in his voice as he poured himself some more wine. He even started to eat again, and looked like he hardly noticed his food had got cold.

"What will happen if I want to quit?" Lothíriel asked. She couldn't imagine Aunt Ivriniel giving up without a fight, though she was also unsure of what the woman could do in that case.

"Then we will make arrangements to keep her away from you. You could stay in Minas Tirith; I'm sure Arwen would be delighted to have you as her handmaid. On the other hand, Faramir would no doubt have use for a scout with your set of skills", Father answered confidently. She couldn't say she was opposed to either of these ideas, but Lothíriel decided it was too soon to consider it further.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Granted, world would probably never be so bright as it had been in his presence. But that didn't mean she couldn't learn to appreciate the stars, for that was still more light than she had seen until meeting him. And maybe one day she would find someone who would make her feel some of the good and the fair that had been so abundant with him. Perhaps, in a way, he could still teach her how to be free, even if he was gone.

And no matter happened to her after now, this would always be his gift to her.


It did not take long until the rumour spread: Éomer King was looking for a bride.

He had rather expected it would be quick to become common knowledge. Leofstan would talk about with the other members of the royal council, they would discuss it among themselves, and eventually make mentions to their wives, perhaps ask for their suggestions. After that, half the realm would know, until it became a matter of national interest. The continuance of the House of Eorl was a dire question, as Éomer knew very well.

But as the word spread on those weeks before his trip to Mundburg, he carefully avoided bringing it up himself, and if he received offers – some more thinly veiled than others – from hopeful fathers of Eorling ladies, he was quick to change the topic. He was not going to make up his mind before Leofstan and the council had compiled a list; in this matter, he trusted their judgement more than his own. For when he thought of the young women of the Mark, he soon found himself comparing them to her… at least until he realised what he was doing. And then he would fiercely think of how the qualities he had admired in her were not real. They were just things she had shown him and wanted him to believe. As such, his own considerations were bound to fail. An imaginary woman still held him captive.

Be that as it may, it would not be until after his trip to Mundburg that Leofstan had his list ready, and there would be a few months to make up his mind. Or, if decision proved to be hard, he could always postpone it until Yuletide. Yet sooner it was made, the better.

Perhaps then he could truly begin to forget her.

As days passed and the topic came up in various circumstances, Éomer found himself at times wondering about what it would be like. He worried, too. Could he be a good husband or a father? What did he know of happy homes? His experience of family was broken in many ways, for his own childhood had ended the day his father had died, and by the time Mother followed Father to grave, things were already so badly out of order that nothing could fix it. Not that Uncle and Théodred had not treated him and Éowyn well; to this date, Éomer thought of them as much as his family as his parents. But it had not been normal. Uncle had his duties as king and he had grieved for his late wife too long to know how to make home. As for Théodred, he was often away, and being the King's only son raised first by a nurse maid and then men of war, there had been hardness and distance in him unlike most people. Théodred had not known how to talk about his feelings, and even less about those of his angry, temperamental young cousin. When Aunt Elfhild had died, her passing had left behind two men who were equally wounded, just in different ways.

Something about her had made him feel these things didn't matter so much. Or, that they were something they could learn and figure out together, because she too had been raised in a very unusual way. There had been a promise of a kind of companionship he had not thought possible, at least not for himself. But when he took a bride in the Mark, there would be certain expectations she would have for him, and Éomer had no idea if he could meet them. He could only hope he would find the wisdom he needed in this matter

It was not long that Éothain brought the matter up between them. The young king had rather expected it, knowing his recent actions would make up a confusing picture. Only Éowyn knew the full tale, but he assumed Éothain already guessed much of it. And so it was inevitable he would wonder out loud.

The captain opened his mouth one day after their sparring session. It was a hot day and both were sweating hard by the time they finished. Éomer threw a water-skin to his friend, who had taken off his shirt, much to the enjoyment a few young lasses who had stopped by to admire the view. Of course, Éothain was oblivious to them, as he generally had been since the day he had met his wife. Some people got to be so lucky.

Éothain splashed some water on his head as they took seat near the training ring. Further away Éomer's master at arms, Guthlaf he was called, was fast at work as he barked orders to young Riders of the Muster of Edoras.

"So", Éothain began in his let's-have-a-conversation -tone, which was well known to Éomer. They had been friends too long and the captain could not mask his intention even if he wanted. The man looked at him thoughtfully, "How soon are we riding back to Mundburg?"

"I'm thinking of second week of August", Éomer answered and accepted the water-skin from his friend. He took a long sip of the cold drink before continuing, "Hopefully Aragorn will have got something out of the corsairs by then… they have been reluctant to answer his questions so far. I did suggest they might be more willing to talk after half an hour with Éowyn."

His wry comment made Éothain laugh.

"If Éowyn was allowed to spend time unsupervised with them, they wouldn't be talking, my friend – they would be singing", he quipped. Éomer laughed as well at the idea. He had no doubt the name of his sister was whispered in fear and awe as far as Umbar.

"Indeed", Éomer said, but his chuckles died when he went on to speak, "Either way, I need to know if the southern armies are stirring. I hope not, at least. We need more time to rebuild."

"Surely Aragorn knows that?" Éothain asked carefully.

"He does and he won't ask my help. But we both know it would be smart to make our move before Umbar is ready to make theirs", Éomer said grimly. His captain grunted in agreement.

"So it's going to be all business and no pleasure", Éothain noted and brushed back his damp hair. "I admit, Scýne and I wondered if you were going to ask Aragorn for another list like the one Leofstan is compiling."

His words were delivered delicately – at least, as delicately as Éothain was able.

Éomer tried not to grimace. He fixed his eyes on Guthlaf as the man demonstrated a move to disarm one's opponent. Some of the younger Riders looked like the master at arms had just performed some kind of a magic trick.

"I am not. It will be difficult enough to choose without a bunch of Gondorians sticking their noses in it", he muttered under his breath.

"Well", Éothain started slowly, "If it's difficult, why are you doing it now? I know people keep pressing you to get married, but if it doesn't feel right..."

His voice trailed off, but his implications were clear enough. Éomer let out a groan.

"You know it's not that simple for me. I can't go dawdling much longer, and it has not got any easier with time. I need to try and move on, even if I have to make myself", he said, still staring at Guthlaf's figure but not really understanding anything he saw. Even so, he felt Éothain's eyes on himself.

"It's because of her, isn't it? You still want her?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Now the younger man could not hold back his cringe. He hated how close to home his friend hit with his guesses.

"I want the woman I thought she was. But she doesn't exist", he stated, trying to sound angry but not quite succeeding. He just sounded miserable and it made him twice as frustrated. How much longer would she hold on to him and prevent him from moving on? How many more weeks would he have to battle his disappointment and keep feeling like something was fundamentally broken?

"Not to say I know her better than you do", Éothain began carefully, "but when I briefly saw her in the harbour of Pelargir, she was concerned about you. Uncommonly so, I thought – until you said that you liked her."

"Of course she was concerned. The honour and good name of her family were at stake", Éomer said and drank some more water, if just to give himself something to do.

"Is that the full truth? You must know I don't say this because I want to twist the knife. I just need to make sure you're not moving too quickly. That you're not leaving things unresolved because you're letting your pride get in way. When you fast your hand with someone, it's a choice you can't unmake", Éothain said gravely.

Éomer got up on his feet in a swift, sharp movement. He knew where this conversation would go, if he let it continue. Once Éothain got some idea in his head, he'd stubbornly cling to it. And he would know no peace while his captain went on and on.

"It is finished, Éothain. She is gone and I would be foolish not to accept that. I must move on whether I want it or not, and this is the best way I can think of right now. Leofstan and the royal council will only consider the most qualified alternatives and they won't be hindered by some misguided sentiment like I am", he stated in determination and picked up his sword.

But his captain was not impressed. He looked at Éomer with narrowed eyes.

"Listen to yourself, laddie. You sound heartless. This is not like you at all. Béma's balls, only two months ago you would never have left this question for your council to decide", he said very seriously, rising to his feet as well.

His observation cut deeper than Éomer would have expected. Did he sound heartless? He couldn't say.

"You're not my mother, Éothain", he growled and grasped the training sword tightly in his hand. "So quit nattering already. I told you it's finished. It's time to move on. I have to find a way to banish her."

"Do you?" Éothain asked. He was grasping his sword as well, but his eyes revealed his doubt. "Do you believe you'll forget her if you bind yourself to some unsuspecting young lady who probably expects you to be a caring husband who will give her his heart as well as the world? Do you think you will stop loving Lothíriel of Dol Amroth by denying her?"

The young king did not give other answer than a growl and a sudden strike of the training sword, which Éothain met readily as ever. The man dared to use her name! No, he wasn't about to explain that he did not mean to lead on whoever got the dubious honour of becoming his wife, but make it clear from the start it would be a marriage of convenience… and he wasn't going to be talking about her any longer.

She was not coming back. Yet she would never leave if he kept giving her ways to cling to his every thought. The captain was more right than Éomer had wanted to admit. The reason her betrayal had so hurt him was because he loved her – because he still loved her. And as long as he did, no amount of denial would ever drive her away.

Damn Éothain and his wagging tongue!

To be continued.


A/N: And here's an update! It was great writing this one, especially parts with Imrahil. His eyes are open now and Ivriniel is not going to fool him again! But him bonding with Lothíriel in an entirely new way, and her realising how much he does care about her almost made me tear up. I don't think she herself even understands yet how much that means.

I also wanted to toss in something from Éomer's POV. He's not moving any direction as much as her, though he is trying. However, I think Éothain is very correct about his observations. Éomer has little hope of moving on while he still loves Lothíriel.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!


lovelykxz - For me, it is this emotional struggle that makes them human. Without it, it would indeed be too easy to write them off as a bad ass ninja and an alpha male. But this loss and grief and confusion shows that they both have uncertainty and vulnerability, but also that there's something exceptional they can give one another.

Even at the risk of venturing into the "love at first sight" territory, I do think there was love between them already, or at least first stages of it. I hoped to convey the sense that they connect with one another almost immediately, and somewhere deep feel that this is the person they could fall in love with, and keep falling in love with even after years have gone by. It would not hurt them so or be so hard to move on from, if there was not something real about it. I do believe people can connect in a powerful way even when they have not known one another for long. But it absolutely does take time and investment to keep feeling that connection and make it grow into something lasting.

Tibblets - We'll see! ;)

heckofabecka - I think Éowyn would have that kind of sensitivity after her own ordeals. She knows how to deal with a person who is in a delicate mental state. And that is indeed the reason Lothíriel warms up to her; at that point, she is not yet ready to see what her aunt is doing to her.

And you are correct: Ivriniel's reactions stem from her fear of losing Lothíriel - the only person who can in any way understand her. But I don't think she expected Imrahil to take action like this!

It would be great to see Florence one day!

Doranwen - Oh, he has no idea of what a crafty woman she is! And I hope you liked what Imrahil did in this chapter. :)

EStrunk - Éowyn's own situation was in many ways different, but I think there are certain similarities, too. And seeing how she finds resolve to become a healer at the end of ROTK, I think she has deep understanding for these kind of things and a desire to help out where she can.

Ivriniel definitely did not foresee that Éowyn might actually take action and talk to Imrahil, too! But that's the flaw in her own character. She was conditioned to despise people interacting like that, so she doesn't see it coming, either.

No relief for Éomer yet, but at least Éothain may have put some ideas in his head...

Jo - If anyone could figure it out, Éowyn would!

Wondereye - I hope you liked the bit with Éomer and Éothain in the end!

Boramir - Ivriniel is probably counting on it never being discovered. And, even if it did, she is either cunning enough to save herself, or she trusts that her position as Imrahil's sister grants her immunity. Granted, such deed can't do any good for relationships between Gondor and Rohan. But is it going to start a war? Doubtful.

RubberKidney - Indeed, Éowyn is a kind of opponent Ivriniel does not understand!

Anon - Of course, their situations are not identical. But there are many similarities, and Éowyn knows when someone is in a cage of their own mind. But I'm not sure she would employ such tactics, not when she doesn't know Ivriniel's full capacity.

I hope you liked the exchange between Imrahil and Lothíriel. I think it was really important for them both.

Merakia - We can only wonder about that! ;) But I think she does know even without reading what it's about.

Hopefully you liked what Imrahil does in this chapter! I also enjoyed writing those shifts in perspective. They allow me to write a fuller story, if you get what I mean. :)

sai19 - You are quite right! Éowyn can't save Lothíriel, but she can be support and a shoulder to cry on. I think she is important in showing Lothíriel that there is a world outside her little sphere.

Indeed things can't be too easy, but at least Lothíriel is now away from her aunt!