Chapter 20
4 Fourth Age, Edoras
Like he often did, Éomer of Rohan was sparring with a Rider of his guard. Though he was not as new to ruling anymore, training grounds and battlefields were still his element. It took a lot more time to take the war out of a man than just a few years.
Not to say that he wasn't trying, though. There were things now in his life that made him appreciate peace in ways unlike ever before. And yet, perhaps that was just the thing that made him a fiercer fighter than he had been in the days of his angry, lonely youth.
He had never had more to lose than he did now.
He was beating back his opponent, throwing strikes in a rapid flow. His sparring partner was left to trying to manage them and holding him at bay. But both knew how this fight would end, and so Éomer began to slow down. He had nothing to prove, except perhaps occasionally to himself. The Lord of the Mark was a warrior king and he could not let himself grow soft.
But then, as he was about to finish, he felt a hand against his lower back, and soft feminine voice: "Got you."
Éomer spun around and the hand fell from his back. There behind him stood the Queen of Rohan, arrayed in her riding attire. She had been outside with a few of her friends, and upon return found it impossible not to sneak up on him. She never used a real weapon, though; she didn't want him to think it was an actual assassination attempt and have him jumping to attack her.
Even so, after all this time, Lothíriel still enjoyed an occasional sneak.
He offered her a smirk.
"Well, now that you have me, you rascal, what will you do with me?" he inquired her. He kept his tone light, even if he felt some annoyance at being surprised by her once again. He had been trying a couple of years now, but still did not catch her as often as he would have liked. It had been articulated between them soon after the wedding when she had caught him in a dark corridor and "finished" him.
"In a fair fight I would never beat you. But you are king and enemies of the Mark will not come at you fairly", Lothíriel had said softly, one hand sneaking under his shirt. She surely had a very unique idea of honeymoon.
"You think there are others like you out there?" Éomer had asked quietly, more than eager to let her win this fight.
"Perhaps. Who knows? Either way, I just want to make sure you are safe... even when I'm not watching your back", she had whispered and tiptoed to kiss him.
Now similar treatment cut the wings of memory. She leant closer to him, wrapping her arms about his neck. And he pulled her close, for he had no weakness such as her.
"I think I will do many things, O Lord of the Mark", she whispered in his ear and let her hands travel across his back. It felt too good to care about who was witnessing this moment of tenderness.
"That sounds just delightful", he told her and would have kissed her, but ever the tease, Lothíriel pulled back and looked at him with that infuriating, enticing smile. Once she had realised how much he wanted her, she had made it quite a delicious game indeed.
"How soon are you done?" she asked him, sneaking her hand between them and brushing it against him. Vixen!
"In ten minutes", he answered and tried not to groan out loud. While he knew his men did not mind knowing the King of the Mark was quite happily married, he usually tried not to rub that fact against their faces overly much.
"Good", his wife whispered and kissed him at last.
Their son looked like her.
When she had finally pushed this little human being out of her body, Lothíriel had felt like she had accomplished a greater thing than anything ever before in her life. Here was something new – a brand new soul to act in the world and to be as good and bright as his father was. In Elfwine's eyes all sins of her past were absolved.
She didn't know what was the thing that got to her most. Was it indeed the resemblance between her and the child, or how he had Éomer's eyes, or the love and the laughter he brought to their home every day? She remembered so vividly the day their son, the heir of the Mark, was born: how Éomer had rushed into their bedchamber, all fear and worry, and then the way he had smiled when Elfwine was given to him... Lothíriel had watched him then, feeling so tired and worn from giving birth to a child, and yet in his joy she had felt like everything was made right. She had chosen right.
She had given Rohan a prince. But to herself and to Éomer, she had given something that was so much, much more.
Now that child was playing with wooden horses his father had made for him. His chubby little cheeks, the dark hair falling across his forehead, the dark focused eyes that so reminded her of Éomer... the boy was precious.
"Da's horsey", he announced seriously, showing her the great standing horse currently in his hand.
"Yes. That's Firefoot", she said softly, looking at the roughly carved features of the toy. Of course his son would be so taken with this thing from the start... but there were moments she saw herself in the child. There was a certain sensitivity in Elfwine that reminded her of her own childhood.
"When ride?" he asked her, eyes wide and shining. She let out a laugh and ran her hand through his soft dark hair. Something told her that once he grew, they would have many arguments over when he could go and ride with his father. But then, could she blame their son for wanting to take his place in the world and help to make it better?
"Soon. Your father said we'll be going to Hornburg in a few days. We'll see what Uncle Gimli has done so far", she told him and kissed his brow. Elfwine giggled and reached his little arms to her, and she caught him, this small but beautiful thing she would never have known without Éomer.
With him she had found so much life. Not just this child, though he surely was the best thing she had ever done, but there were so many people she had come to know in in the Mark. For the first time in her life, she had actual friends who did not lie or manipulate or treat her as an ignorant child. Éowyn had become the sister she never had before and correspondence was frequent between Edoras and Emyn Arnen. And among Éomer's trusted men and their wives, Lothíriel now had many she could laugh and talk with and know that her past did not matter to them. There were some that suspected or perhaps even knew that her life before marrying Éomer had not been what one would usually expect of a lady of Gondor. But it did not change the fact that she was the Queen of Rohan and beloved wife of their lord. To them she was Lothíriel, Lady of the Mark.
It was a role where she didn't have to pretend anything.
The door was pushed open, and there came the King of Rohan himself. Striding tall and golden, as he ever was, he smiled brightly at them. He was happier these days and more at peace. That certain tension she had noticed when she had first seen him in the courtyard of her Father's castle was now gone. And he was smiling so much these days, even to the point where several Eorlingas had come to thank her for making their lord such a happy man. Yet Lothíriel knew his happiness was not just her making. Becoming a father to this lovely little boy was at least half the reason.
"There you are, son!" Éomer said and picked him up from her offered arms, lifting Elfwine high in the air. Their son screamed in laughter and joy. Her horselord had been the natural parent from the start, and he still was better at it than her. No doubt in days to come, he'd be the one to understand the struggles their son would have to go through as he grew. But this was not a competition. They both loved this child above all, this child they had created of their love of one another. Éomer just knew how to be with people... and how to be with their son. He knew light unlike her – she had forsaken the shadow to live there with him.
There they thrived together.
"Da!" Elfwine exclaimed happily, and his laughter only grew when he received a kiss from his father.
"What are you plotting with your mother? Are you going to take down some Dunlending tribes, hmm?" Éomer said, cradling their son against his chest. This boy would never know manipulative family members; he would be raised in love, in light. And Éomer, even if he was king, would not miss being a part of his son's life.
He would be there for every step of the way.
"We were just talking about the trip to Hornburg", said Lothíriel. She grinned when he leant close and they kissed. The bearded sensation of his affections never failed to send a wave of warmth through her.
She was free. And what was most important, she was free with him.
Another evening came. Dinner was had in the great hall of Meduseld, and then the King and Queen retired to put their son to bed. The Royal Nursery had an inhabitant for the first time in many years, and Lothíriel, knowing many songs from her own childhood, lulled their son to sleep. Her voice and the flowing sound of Sindarin never failed to enchant the infant to dreams.
There were times she hesitated, as though she was afraid of hurting Elfwine. Motherhood was not as easy for her as it was for some, perhaps because she had never thought it was possible for her. But it did not mean she didn't want this with all her heart. Éomer had seen the way she looked at their son when he was newly delivered – and still saw at times, when she thought no one was looking. It was the look of a wolf mother... and if any villain ever threatened Elfwine, they would know terror unlike anything they had imagined.
Some of his favourite times were the nights. They would sit together near the fire in the royal chambers, reading correspondence or seeing to their weapons, or talking... or just loving one another. Either way, he was happy. They were together, their son was close, and concerns of the world were away for a few hours. Yet if need arose, he could well picture them jumping from their seats, and then flying outside, side by side, or her as his shade... ready to guard him in whatever danger that threatened this blessed peace.
For Elfwine would grow up with both his parents, without anger, without doubt, and without shadow.
But tonight, that peace he had grown to appreciate these past few years was disturbed. For Lothíriel was reading a letter and it was making her frown in a way that truly alarmed him. What could upset her was not good.
"What is it?" Éomer asked softly, putting aside the letter from Aragorn. His fellow king had been rapturing the joys of being a father, having witnessed the first steps of his first-born daughter. He knew that happiness very well.
"Aunt Ivriniel is dead", said Lothíriel softly as she put aside the letter. He noticed how her hands trembled. In her eyes, he saw a strange look. It reminded him of that lost, broken expression she had worn back in Mundburg, when they had met for the first time after Pelargir.
"Come here", Éomer simply said. He did not feel particular pity for the old woman, but he did worry about his wife. And he knew Lothíriel's relationship with her aunt was something else... maybe some old strands from Ivriniel's webs still held on.
She complied without a word. The letter fell from her hand and she moved swiftly, almost as though she was diving to his arms. He pulled her close, for he would console her griefs no matter the cause. He might never understand how she felt about Ivriniel, but he did know when he needed to be there for his wife.
Lothíriel curled up against him, knowing how and where to fit herself. She knew his lap better than anyone else.
"What happened?" Éomer asked at last in a quiet voice.
"She... she was sick. She didn't tell anyone, not even my father, until it was too late. She was actually on her death bed when she finally summoned him", she whispered. The grip of her hands around him was almost frantic. He ran his hands over her arm in a comforting caress.
"I'm sorry", he said to her, though he wasn't sure whether he was sorry about the sad and lonely end Ivriniel had finally come to, or that he saw how it hurt his wife. Maybe it was both.
"I wonder if she felt regret before the end. I never expected she would try to fix things with me, and maybe it wasn't even possible, but... still. I don't know if it would change anything or help me, but I'd just like to know if she felt bad about how things ended", Lothíriel muttered against his neck.
"She lost you. That is plenty of reason to feel regret. Trust me, I know", Éomer answered darkly and shuddered at the memory of those weeks he had spent thinking she was gone for good.
He felt her shiver too, and so he went on to speak, "She is free now and so are you. The circle is broken. No child of your Amrothian line will have to grow up like her and you did or sacrifice their lives to shadows. Lady Ivriniel was many things, but she was not stupid. Even if she never said it to you, she must have known that you found something better."
"Yes", Lothíriel murmured and relaxed somewhat in his lap. "I did find something wonderful."
They sat so for a while, just listening to the crackling of fire and each other breathing. Slowly, surely, some peace returned to the room.
"How do you feel?" Éomer asked after a long silence.
"I... am just sad for her. I wonder... if someone had intervened with her, like you intervened with me... could she have had a better life? But then, we are different. I wanted your light from the start",Lothíriel said, pressing closer to him as though she couldn't near enough.
"We are all masters of our own fates. And you chose me. I will never forget that... I will never fail to choose you, too", Éomer said softly. Then he pressed his lips against her temple. She was his shadow, his light. No other King of the Mark would ever have a queen like her.
Lothíriel turned to kiss him. Her bright eyes shined when they met his.
"I know."
Her husband slept slow and quiet.
He was so beautiful when he was at peace, breathing slow and even, his golden hair spread on the pillow. One arm lay extended where she had left his side – waiting for her to come back to him. She could be wrong about a lot of things, but not him. Not him.
Not the life they had made here. For in these five years, she had lived more fully than ever before, and the Mark felt like home in ways Dol Amroth had not been. Perhaps it was because here she had finally found a way to reconcile herself.
If anyone ever threatened this fair and good thing, she would become their nightmare.
Éomer sighed in his sleep and mumbled something that sounded like her name. She smiled at the sound and felt something warm swell in her breast. It still astonished her at times, how much love she could feel for this man. Had she ever really used her heart before meeting him?
Maybe it was like the healers said. Heart is a muscle, and the more you use it, the stronger it grows.
Lothíriel added some wood to the fire to keep it going until dawn. Then she slipped under the blankets and the furs and snuggled close to the warmth of her husband. He opened his eyes and sought her lips for a sleepy kiss.
"I dreamt you were gone", he mumbled quietly.
"Silly. There's no other place in the world I'd rather be", she told him, making him chuckle.
His arms wrapped tight around her and he pulled her near. It had taken some getting used to, the bold and unashamed ways he showed his affection. But she liked it all the same. It was a warm, tender thing, not at all like the cold and methodical act she had been taught long ago. These days, the person she had been and things she had know seemed to be drifting further away from her. She imagined it was because spiders and their webs don't thrive in light and free air. And in laughter and songs of the Riddermark, shadows had no place.
"I do love you, Lothíriel", Éomer quietly spoke the words she knew to be true.
"As I love you", she whispered.
And because she did, she was here, with the man she had saved and who had in turn saved her. She was not a spider anymore, but a wife, a mother, a woman... alive.
"Come here", Éomer growled and pulled her into one more kiss. She accepted it gladly.
After a while Lothíriel shuffled around to find a good position, and once her back was against his chest and his arm was securely about her, she decided it was a good moment to get back to sleep. Her husband's soft snoring swiftly lulled her to dreams, where she walked on green paths between the mountains and the great river. He was with her, too.
In a few hours, a golden dawn would rise again upon the Riddermark.
The End.
A/N: So here we are, at the end of another story. As ever, I hate having to end it, but there comes a point when you just know things are done and there's no more plot to make it meaningful to continue. And I think the characters have now reached a place where there's not more to say about them - except that they were happy and kicked some ass.
It's been a fun ride and it gave me a chance to explore some very interesting issues, like how the people we trust most can betray us, and yet how it's possible to grow and change and still find faith in others again. I hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was for me!
I'm not sure when I'll be posting a new story, though I do have something in the works. I'll see how soon I can develop it further into a proper story.
Big thanks to everybody who took time to read this story, to comment on every chapter, and add it to their follows and favourites! You guys are the best. :)
Doranwen - I do think some fluff was necessary to end the story, after the way they had been separeted. :)
EStrunk - Yes, at that point she just really needed to be over. And Éomer and Éowyn regocnise that. They also see how she's right about what Ivriniel's fate will be.
It was also great to write them being like that with one another! ;)
sai19 - I'm afraid not much - like I said in A/N, there simply wasn't story left to continue. But it feels like a good place to finish this.
Anon - I'm glad you liked it! To me it makes lots of sense too, to end the chapter like that. I also feels like something they both needed, in a way. They really are moving on - with one another.
Jo - I take it that you liked it? :D
Merakia - Yes, it was time to bring it to conclusion and give them a break. And you are quite right - the end is now here. It just feels like the natural place to leave this story.
I don't think her change was sudden, though it is a definitive moment for her. It's the point where she finally and truly makes the decision to become this better person and to change her whole life.
