If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. - Eldacar, King of Gondor

Chapter 29

Slowly, the world came to a focus again.

At first it did not occur to Lothíriel that anything was wrong, but eventually, as the tangles of unconsciousness fell behind, she started to realise maybe things were not all right. For one, there was the fact that her hands were tied behind her back and attempts to pull them free resulted only in rope chafing against the skin of her wrists.

There was some pain in her skull as well, and she remembered they had hit her in the head. That had been when she had heard shouting from outside and known her companions had realised something was terribly wrong. She had struggled, tried to break free to join her beloved and friends, but she couldn't fight off four men when her short blade had been taken away and one of them was always clinging on at least one of her limbs.

After that, she could imagine how it had gone. No doubt Opash had told her companions that if they fought, she'd suffer. That was the only reason she could imagine Éomer, Éowyn and Aragorn – all three formidable alone and a force of nature together – would possibly lay down their arms.

Unless they were all killed.

Lothíriel did not allow that thought take a hold. Instead, she struggled to sit up and regarded her surroundings. The cabin looked like it had been prepared for some fine noble lady, what with the elegant furnishings, carpets, and veils - all too frilly for her tastes. Opash's work, most like. But how come the man and his minions were here? Why would Captain Cairon work together with him and effectively betray an old friend? She couldn't say she knew the captain but she had thought better of him than this. At any rate, Aragorn and him had seemed to be in good terms, and she really had not taken the captain for the kind of a man to aid in kidnap.

She groaned in weary anger and tried to move her hands to the small of her back, where a hidden blade should be. It required some acrobatics and proved to be in vain, as the blade was gone. Opash had probably had them search her, knowing she'd have secret weapons on her person.

Lothíriel settled down again and tried to think of what to do. Where were her friends? Where was Éomer? Were they injured? Dead? And if they were alive, what did Opash even mean to do with them – in addition to using them to blackmail her, which he no doubt would do?

Her wildly racing thoughts were interrupted when the devil himself stepped inside the cabin. He was smiling in a way that was probably meant to be charming but to her it came across as loathsome.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, my lady. I am terribly sorry for having to hit you – the situation needed to be cleared out, you see, and you were being very difficult", he said lightly. She didn't grace him with an answer but rather chose to glare at him.

"Now, I'm very sad I had to approach you in such a crude fashion, but there was really no other way... I could not let you pass into north, as it would have been quite impossible for me to reach you again in that case", he said, lingering on the door as he regarded her. Somehow he was able to make it sound as though this all was very regrettable for him.

"And I would have been much happier if you had not", she snapped. "And now I demand you release me at once. If you have harmed my friends..."

Opash smiled and sauntered closer, producing a small knife which seemed to have more jewels on it than steel.

"I can release you, but only into this cabin for the moment... after the fight you put up earlier, I'm afraid it is not quite possible for me to allow you outside", he said, making a tentative move towards her.

"If you release me, I'll strangle you where you stand", she hissed through her teeth, but Opash did not seem too concerned by that.

"Oh, I don't think you will do that", he said, toying with the knife. "You see, even now there are men watching your two companions. If you, my dear wild lady, harm me in any way, your friends will receive a similar treatment. In the case of strangling they will of course be killed before you can even think of rescuing them. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

As much as it angered her to comply, Lothíriel saw she had no other choice. She couldn't risk the lives of her companions like that, not before learning what she could of the situation they were in. Again the disgusting man smiled and he reached over to cut the ropes binding her hands, and then as she rubbed her wrists he did the same to those imprisoning her ankles.

"Are they at least uninjured?" she asked gloomily as he cut the ropes.

"Aside from some bruises they are quite fine, those two", Opash said calmly.

"Two? I had three companions with me", she said and a terrible dread was born in her heart.

The Umbarian pretended regret most impressively, but she knew behind it there was no real emotion. He was not a man to mourn death, not when he got what he wanted.

"I'm afraid one of your companions was killed. The big blond brute would not succumb to be taken..." he sighed and shook his head as though in deep regret... and then, even as horror pulsed in her with each beat of her heart, she saw the silver ring in Opash's thumb – the same ring she had given to Éomer when they had pledged their troth.

"If anyone had tried to take it, I'd have killed that man."

"No!" she cried, leaping up on her feet. "No, you can't have killed him!"

"He slew five of my men trying to get to you. In fact he would probably have torn apart the ship had we not stopped him. I had no choice, you see – the man was raving mad. I had to put him down before he caused any more destruction", Opash said and shrugged.

No. No no no... this couldn't be happening, not now! Not after all they had gone through – after all Éomer had gone through. He couldn't be dead!

In fury she jumped towards Opash and she would indeed have killed him right there with her bare hands had he not spoken then.

"Now, surely you don't wish to your remaining companions to suffer the same fate as him?" he asked quickly. That was all it took to beat the fight in her and Lothíriel fell back. Tears, the kind of utter hopelessness and grief, were burning her eyes. She had only just found him again... and he... he was...

Opash was examining the ring in his thumb. She knew she ought to tell him take it off, that he had no right to wear it. But somehow, Lothíriel could not speak from the despair that had engulfed her. What were rings if Éomer was dead for real? She bowed her head, feeling her strength leave her, and all that remained was complete defeat. How far she had travelled... how much she had struggled... all for nothing. She had failed the one she loved most.

"Who was he, at any rate?" asked Opash, not looking at her.

After a moment of silence she lifted up her eyes. It took a moment for her to be able to answer. But when she did speak, somehow she was able to keep her voice steady.

"He was my betrothed, and my lover. And he was a greater man than you will ever be", she replied, staring hard at the loathsome man before her. Perhaps she could not avenge Éomer now... but she surely would, sooner or later. Somehow, she would make this monster pay - even if it were the last thing she did.

Opash's face did not reveal what he thought, but in his eyes there was a flash. A smile made its way to his features.

"How lovely", he commented dryly. Then he put away the knife in his hands and straightened. He spoke again, "Now, I fully intend to make some bargains with you, but that will have to wait for later. For one, I'd wish to learn your true name and parentage, and perhaps the price of those facts could be your friends' fingers, don't you think? Meaning, for every truthful answer they remain unharmed... and every lie shall result in a broken bone. But that will have to wait for now, as I have business with our good captain. Rest, my dear – you are going to need it before we reach Umbar."

With that he took his leave, and when he was gone she let go and collapsed on the bed... and even as Lothíriel sobbed her heart-break and despair, she felt the lulling of waves change under the ship, and she knew a storm was on its way.

Captain Cairon was talking with his first mate when Master Opash of Umbar approached him. Ever since they had set from the City of Corsairs, there had been this worried look on the old smuggler's face, unlike anything Opash had ever seen on those wind-beaten features. He thought it was a sign of some regret the man harboured; suppose even smugglers had an idea of honour. Captain Cairon loved not this task, was not happy to help in catching the northerners. But every man had their breaking points and Opash was rather good at finding those... as he was good at exploiting them. When Cairon had heard his daughter – a fair girl, birthed by some washerwoman – would be sold into slavery unless he offered his services, he had quickly relented.

"Captain", Opash called and gave a smile to the smuggler. The man did not return it.

"Master Opash", he replied nonetheless. "How can I be of help?"

"I was merely wondering why is this ship not making way towards south", he said, still smiling.

"There's a storm brewing in the air. We need to make for the coast and find shelter", the captain answered.

Opash cast a look about him. True, the wind was perhaps stirring, but the amount of clouds in the sky was minimal. He suspected it was some ploy – the man was probably regretting his betrayal of an old friend and was trying to come up with something to delay the voyage. Cairon was not a foolish man per say, so he was like to guess the fates that were awaiting Tangiel's companions in Umbar... especially the man called Nordir. Opash had a lot of contacts who could find use for a strong man like him.

"My friend, allow me to ask a question", he said then, speaking in pleasant tones, "Does the sailing of this ship absolutely depend on you and you alone?"

"No, of course not", Captain Cairon said, frowning. Opash smiled.

"Then it would make no difference if my men here were to throw you over the board and I chose a new and more cooperative captain?" he asked lightly. That made the old sailor pale slightly.

"It wouldn't, I suppose", he muttered and looked away. Considering Opash had brought plenty of his men on the ship, and remembering the daughter whose fate depended on Opash's good will, Cairon knew better than to start a fight.

"Excellent. Then we have an understanding, do we not?" Opash asked.

"Aye. We do", grumbled the captain. He took his leave without another word and started giving commands to have the ship turning southwards again, as Opash happily noted. He sighed in satisfaction to himself and wandered over to the railing, to gaze off to the sea. Things were going after his mind after all, as they usually did. Soon they would be back in Umbar, and then... oh, he had plenty of ideas for that time.

As he stood there, a thought from before returned to him... an unpleasant thought, and slightly embarrassing if one was truthful.

He glanced at the man who had been trailing him – one of his bodyguards, tasked with always following him around. A burly strong man, more than qualified for this, he deemed.

"You there. Go and get one of you peers. Someone you can count on, if you please. Then go and kill that man of Rohan. Do it with his own sword. Make it quick and clean and toss the body into the sea", Opash commanded, examining the silver ring in his thumb. A prized heirloom, no doubt, made by the finest silversmiths of the north. Yet it did not seem like something the blond man would have picked for himself, and Opash wondered if it were some token of affection from Tangiel. Where would a wild thing like her find such piece of jewellery? He would find out the answer to this thing as well.

"But Master, I thought you said you would -" started his guard, but seeing his glare he fell quiet and cowered.

The glare Opash gave him was the only answer he needed.

Éowyn was not certain the cages they had put her and Aragorn were really meant for people. His prison was somewhat larger but in her own she could not even spread her arms without her hands hitting the walls, and wondered if the tightness of it was meant to enforce the punishment, if it was used for disciplinary actions. It was dark in this narrow space under the deck and there was an unpleasant stench as well. It smelled like someone had thrown up here multiple times and no one had bothered to wash the walls properly. If this was what her brother had gone through after Chieftain Sapat had captured him, she could very well understand why he was in such a mental state right now.

They were not alone here, though. Outside the cages two men stood guard, glancing at their prisoners at times with looks she didn't like one bit. When she had tried to kick down the door of her cage one of them had taken Lothíriel's bow and he'd probably have shot her right there in the cage had his companion not prevented him.

"It's no use, Éowyn. Not yet", Aragorn had spoken under his breath. He looked more worried than ever but the man whose name has once been Estel did not give up just like that. For now, he thought it best to bide their time... and especially wait for when their guards' attention would slip.

"Do you think they're all right?" Éowyn asked him quietly now. It had been only with great effort that Opash's men had been able to take her and Aragorn here, and it had been because of two facts. The first was the surprise attack and the nets they had cast over the two of them, and the second was when they had tried to free themselves one of Opash's men had informed them that presently there was a blade against Lothíriel's neck and every slight her friends caused would be inflicted on her as well. However a peaceful surrender would make sure she would not be harmed. Éowyn did not know if that was bluff or not, but they could not afford to find out. Whatever Opash had in mind for Lothíriel, the White Lady was not sure he wouldn't bring her harm.

"Lothíriel most likely is all right", Aragorn whispered to her through the bars of their cages, which were next to each other. "She is what Opash wanted in the first place. He's not going to hurt her – not beyond what blackmailing and threatening us requires. But your brother..."

He hesitated then and she trembled. Please don't be dead. I can't take it if you are.

For one wild moment she had hoped Éomer would somehow be able to outsmart the situation, but even then she had known it was not likely. He had only just been freed from captivity, he was hardly recovered from some terrible and traumatic events, and now he was subjected to same thing. To Éowyn it seemed he had lost it completely when he had stepped aboard and Opash's men had swarmed at him... she had not witnessed his famous charge on the Pelennor Fields, but she had heard enough stories of it and knew what she had seen on that deck was probably reminiscent of the fateful day two years ago. Indeed, his berserker fury was a terrible thing to behold, and deep in her heart she was afraid: what if such madness was something you could not snap out of?

He had still been fighting when Opash's men had dragged her and Aragorn under the deck, and whether he was even alive now she didn't know. At any rate Éowyn did not wonder or blame her brother for his reaction. She could only imagine what horror it must be to be threatened with captivity after everything he had already endured.

Aragorn apparently saw her distress as his expression became gentle.

"Opash always thinks of how he can use people and things to his benefit. He won't kill Éomer, not without a good reason", he said softly.

She nodded, holding on to the reassurances of her friend. Now was not the time of giving up. And yet she wondered: how were they ever going to solve this mess and free themselves? What mockery it was, having come this far and then get caught by Opash! She had thought he was past already.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, trying to sound calm and confident.

"I wish I knew", he said heavily. "I did not see this coming at all... I thought we could trust Cairon. But perhaps we should have known that Opash would find us again. Perhaps it would have been wiser to travel by land after all..."

"It's not your fault, my friend", she told him sternly, but his answering smile was joyless.

Aragorn looked like he'd have said something when suddenly one of the two men, the one who'd have killed her, exclaimed in their own tongue. Éowyn could but guess what was said but she didn't need to understand the words to pick up the anger in the man's voice.

The taller of the two stepped closer to the cages, speaking more loudly now. Aragorn spoke up as well and used their tongue, his tone calming as he lifted his hands in a peaceable gesture. Éowyn's eyes flashed from her liege-lord to their guard, wondering what the conversation was about.

The voices rose even louder, but now there was a threatening edge to the guard's tone. He slammed hands on the door of the cage and his eyes fixed on Éowyn. There was a gleam in those eyes she didn't like one bit. It's meaning dawned to her when he lifted a key to open the door.

"Éowyn, he's going to -" Aragorn said, sounding deeply alarmed. The door opened.

But she wasn't afraid. Éowyn of Rohan had faced far more intimidating and deadlier enemies than the one before her.

"He may try."

In the dark, clarity returned to Éomer once more.

He had never known that calming his mind could be so very difficult. Then again, he had never lost control the way he did when the realisation hit him and he understood they were trying to overcome him – take him as prisoner. His mouth had gone dry, he had seen the bars of the cage, and he had practically felt the ropes digging into the flesh of his wrists... red and fiery madness had taken him, and then he had become more beast than a man.

Éomer had always possessed fortitude, both of mind and body, the kind that had got him through some dark and arduous times in past. It was something that was never overcome by his quick temper or his stubbornness. It was perhaps this quality that had allowed him to endure the time of his imprisonment... but when Opash's men came at him and he understood was happening, that fortitude nearly failed him.

It seemed to him, when the calm slowly returned again in that lightless space under the deck, that he had gone temporarily insane when he had realised what was happening. The battle, the shouting, the blood... it was all a bit hazy now afterwards and he didn't know if he would be able to say how they had disarmed him in the end. But the quiet and the dark had eventually restored his focus. The strength in him was of steel, of old roots, of the unyielding blood of the north, and he would not break now. I did not survive those deserts to die here.

And with the focus came the knowledge he needed to free himself, find his companions, and find Lothíriel.

Below the deck in the empty cabin there was no way to cut the ropes, though. But as at last his mind became cool and focused again he recalled that he was not without a weapon.

I can't lose it like that again. I need to stay calm.

Reaching to his boot with his hands tied behind his back was not easy, but he had the patience and he had the will to stretch himself into a position that allowed him tor each his fingers inside the leg of the sturdy Rohirric boot... and pull out the thin Haradrim blade.

Ever since he had been freed there had not been use for this weapon, but he had kept it in his boot just in case, and now he was glad to have kept it. Even then, a slight tremor ran through him when he remembered the last man who had wielded it before him. Then again, a part of him was reluctant to think of Shaugit as a man, especially when on those last agonizing moments of his life he had looked more like a young boy.

The knife had been Shaugit's and the chieftain's son would have used it to kill him when he had sprung from his grave very much alive and deadly, but Éomer had easily defeated the young man and claimed the small blade for himself. He had meant to replace it in the hopes of trying to forget, but no chance for that had yet come. One never knew when a hidden blade such as this was needed, as these circumstances proved. It was no wonder his capturers had not searched his boots for any weapons – after all, they had been too busy trying to contain him.

And in their negligence they had left him with a way to cut himself free.

He shifted again and sought for a position where the knife's blade came against the ropes, and he began to saw them against the steel. Shaugit had kept his knife in good sharpness and it cut him free fast. Relief flooded Éomer's chest as his hands came free: now that he had use of them, he could work out something. Fixing his mind on his companions and his princess, he was again focused and single-minded.

Just hold on, dear one. I'll find you, just like you found me.

When they came for him, they did not find a beaten man in ropes.

The swell of the sea had been a gentle lulling when Lothíriel had first awakened. Only two hours later it had changed, and though her cabin had no windows she didn't need to see outside to know a storm had risen. The floor under her feet had become an unsteady surface as the ship rocked on the waves. That Opash was not a sailor and did not have a particularly good idea of how to furnish a cabin was quickly proved by the furniture that slid back and forth as the ship battled the waves. She could only wonder why they were in the open sea at this point. An old smuggler like Captain Cairon would no doubt have known that a storm was coming and he'd have sought shelter.

But then, when she thought of it, she decided it was probably Opash's doing as well.

Personally she did not mind the storm. What a fine thing it would be if the storm tore the ship to the bottom of the sea! Grimly she felt it would have been a fitting end to this ill-fated journey.

Somehow, there were still tears left. She thought of her beloved horselord, how he had fought to survive only to die on some strange ship, without even knowing why or having the chance to say goodbye... she could only assume his last moments had been full of horror. What else could it be after the things he had already endured? And Aragorn and Éowyn! It could very well be Opash had designed far worse fates for them than just death.

I should have known, I should have been faster... it's my fault, I should never have... I shouldn't have...

Her guilt-filled thoughts were disrupted by the arrival of Opash. When she heard the lock opening she quickly wiped her eyes, though she knew she couldn't hide the fact that she had cried. But she wouldn't do so before him - she wouldn't give him the pleasure of breaking her. She owed it to Éomer and her friends that she kept fighting.

The loathsome Umbarian entered and even though he was smiling, she thought she could see something tight about that expression as well. Perhaps the storm outside had disconcerted him?

"What do you want?" she asked sharply.

"Does a man need a reason to gaze upon a fair lady?" he asked back, which made her laugh harshly.

"Sweet words and flattery will not take you anywhere with me, you filth", she said and glared at him coldly.

"Must you be so very hateful?" he asked sorrowfully, taking support from the wall when a particularly violent gust of wind had the ship tumbling on the waves.

"After you killed my betrothed, imprisoned me, and announced you mean to use my friends to blackmail me? Hateful doesn't even begin to comprehend what I have for you", she hissed, or tried to hiss – the sad truth that she had failed had her voice breaking. Éomer was dead, she had failed him... and now she couldn't even make Opash pay for what he had done.

"I like that spirit of yours, but enough is enough", he said, his voice just hinting some displeasure. "Worry not, though. We have a lot of time to find our way about it... and I am wondering if it should be started with now. We are alone, after all, and my men will not disturb us – they're all on the deck, trying to get this damned ship to the shore..."

He frowned to himself and took a step closer, "It seems I've made a miscalculation, you see. The old smuggler was right in the end. Let us just hope that Uinen might look kindly upon this ship..."

"Why would she take pity on this ship? What makes you think she would look kindly upon us?" she asked, her mind growing grim. "No doubt Ossë means us to join the man you so viciously murdered!"

He narrowed his eyes, tried to take a step towards her... but then the ship shook and the wooden parts of it moaned as though in agony, and something crashed outside. The violent rocking of the ship robbed them both of their balance and he slammed head first to the wall. She fell down as well but landed on pillows that had fallen from the bed. Her landing was thus softened and she was merely stunned for some seconds.

The mast, Lothíriel realised as she got up on her feet. Glancing quickly at Opash she saw he must have hit his head, as he lay unconscious and there was blood on his forehead.

Touching him was disgusting, but she had to do so in order to get the key to the door – this could very well be her only chance, and she dared to hope the fallen mast had created enough chaos on the deck. I need to find my friends.

She found the key from his pocket and her first instinct was to dash to the door and get out, but then she realised she couldn't just leave the man laying like this, lest he alarmed guards. He had been kind enough to leave her with the ropes they had bound her with... there was irony to it, she supposed as she tied him and stuffed a piece of clothing to his mouth.

"You just stay there", she muttered quietly, though the man remained very much out of it. Only then, certain that he'd stay put for now, did Lothíriel make it to the door.

The corridor was empty when she peeked out, and she guessed even his guards were occupied by trying to get the ship to the shore. But then, as she was about to lock the door again, there was a yell: "Oi! You there! What are you doing out here?"

At the end of the corridor she saw one of the two bodyguards she remembered from Umbar, and without thinking she sprang aimlessly, up the stairs to the deck, and the storm wind roared at her face as she saw the devastation it had left on The Pearl of Uinen. The boats and the mast were indeed gone and it had made clear of larboard railing, and the waves rose to wash the deck. How many men had gone that way, claimed by the fury of Ossë? How many had made it into boats and were now fighting for the shore?

A lightning flashed and in the light of it she saw the coast less than half a league away. The second thing she saw made her understand what had happened to those of the crew that had not been swept away by the storm. For there by the coast, directly on the way the sea was driving the ship, rose tall sharp rocks like giant fingers from the waters... waiting for the storm to smash The Pearl into their deadly embrace.

When Éomer had finished the two men who had come for him, he fully expected more foes to come swarming at him. But even as he grabbed his sword from the hand of a dead man and prepared for another fight, there was no sign of new opponents. The corridor beyond was quiet except for the creaking and moaning of the ship in the hands of the storm. Before he emerged from the small cabin they had kept him in he took a moment to undress the man who had carried his blade of the scabbard and the belt for it, though for the moment he knew it'd probably be unwise to walk with his sword sheathed.

It was partly because of the storm he had been victorious, even though his only weapon had been Shaugit's knife. When they had come, he had been waiting behind the door, and surprise and sheer determined fury had been important factors in his successful attack. Furthermore, the tumbling of the ship under their feet had been to his advantage, as he had better sense of balance than his opponents. It was over quickly, and as he exited his prison he thought: never again. I'll never let anyone imprison me again.

He made way forward cautiously, expecting any moment now to see armed men to come running at him, but he met no soul as he threw open doors in an attempt to find any sign of his companions. Where was Lothíriel? What had they done with Éowyn and Aragorn? He wanted to call out but announcing his presence was not wise, as the chances of his companions hearing him were just as large as was the possibility that Opash or his men would pick up the noise.

The ship was like a maze and he felt like he had been trapped there for years, and each cabin looked the same as the last one. He only halted for a brief moment when he found some water in one of the cabins, preserved in a flagon. At the sight of it he recalled drink would suit him well, and when he had downed almost half of it he felt his mind clearing somewhat. He went on looking for anything – for his friends, for a way out – until at last he came to the one cabin where he found Opash and one of his bodyguards. The man was just finishing undoing the ropes someone had put on the Umbarian and at the sight of Éomer the burly guard charged. But the Rohir was prepared, even welcoming this action.

The fight did not last long: his opponent was not a swordsman he was, and terrible determination was now driving him.

As the bodyguard fell to the floor, Éomer stepped closer to Opash, who had retreated and was now standing with his back against the wall.

"Where is she?" the Rohir asked, his voice coming out as a harsh growl. "What have you done to her?"

"Gone", Opash just said, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. For all his scheming ways, the Umbarian knew when he was defeated.

"Gone where?" he demanded angrily, lifting Gúthwinë to threat the man. The blood of the bodyguard still dripped from the gleaming blade, and in that moment Éomer was ready tear this ship apart, and Opash too, to get to Lothíriel. The ship under them shivered again and Opash tried to take the chance to dash past him, but Éomer's reflexes were faster than that: he grabbed the man by the throat and threw him back against the wall. At the edges of his mind, the red mist was gathering again, but he knew it would turn into utter blackness if this swine had somehow harmed her.

"Where is she?!" he growled. "If you have hurt her somehow, her or my friends, then you will know all the pain they felt thousandfold!"

"I don't know where she is! She got out – the storm's probably already thrown her into the sea..." Opash said quickly. "The others are just fine, they're in the cells and my men have orders not to touch them..."

He lifted up his hand, "You needn't kill me, horsemaster. I can make you a rich man! I can give you anything you want! You can even have her, if that's what -"

The loathsome man would probably have gone on ranting, spewing what could only be lies, but Éomer's eyes were fixed on his hand... or namely on his thumb.

There was the ring Lothíriel had given him.

Without another thought, he thrust the blade into the guts of Master Opash of Umbar.

"No one has her", he growled at the man, his face only inches from that of Opash. "But she has me."

He twisted his sword, saw Opash gurgling out blood, and watched the man die with a question in his eyes.

"You were dead the moment you dared to touch Lothíriel", Éomer told the man he had just killed and crouched to pull off the silver ring. When he put it back on its rightful place he let out a breath he had not noticed holding.

That moment his ears picked up noise from outside the cabin and he quickly straightened up on his feet and turned, ready to face whatever threat was now approaching... but the two faces that appeared at the doorway were not those of enemies.

Instead, there stood Éowyn and Aragorn – both armed, and his sister was carrying Lothíriel's bow in her hand.

"Brother!" she breathed in relieved surprise, flying towards him, and then she grabbed him into one of those hugs that were almost too tight. When she pulled back, she looked at him with some concern, "Are you uninjured?"

"I'm fine, sister", he replied, even managed to smile at her. Éowyn was all right and it relieved him more than he could say. He knew he wouldn't have been able to face Faramir if something happened to her - nor would he be able to live with himself.

"That I'm happy to hear. I was already starting to fear they had taken your life", Aragon said, smiling in relief as well.

"You know it is not so easy to kill me", Éomer grumbled. "But for a moment I thought I might be the only one alive on this ship. How did you get here anyway, and how were you able to free yourselves?"

The two exchanged a glance and his sister looked displeased.

"There was this brute who had trouble keeping on his trousers", Éowyn said, cringing in disgust, while her brother bristled in anger. Her expression was stern and dark when she continued, "Let us just say my slaying days are not yet over."

"And I must say that our White Lady here still keeps impressing me. She strangled the man with his own belt", Aragorn added solemnly, looking at her with quiet respect. "She took care of our guards single-handedly and set me free. We were expecting to have to fight our way through the ship to you, but we have not encountered a single soul then."

"What happened here? Where's Lothíriel?" asked Éowyn, looking about and frowning.

"I'm not sure. She was gone by the time I got here, and... he was here with his guard, but I did not possess the patience to listen to his filth", Éomer replied, briefly gesturing at the corpse of Opash that lay nearby. Neither Éowyn or Aragorn seemed too grieved by this development.

"Well, what are we standing about, then? Let's go find her!" she chortled, and the three made way outside, lead by Aragorn.

To the deck of the ship they found their way at last, and to Éomer it seemed that the storm had already shown most of its fury and was now passing to the west. The ship did not roll on the waves so viciously anymore, but it was on the mercy of the swell of the sea nonetheless, as the mast was gone and the hull had taken some serious damage. No crew remained on the deck, but two people he did notice: his princess climbing up the figurehead of the ship, and the reason for such nonsensical act: a man threatening her – trying to catch her, for she had no weapons to defend herself... and at last he saw it. With each roll of them the waves were pushing the ship towards a deadly set of rocks rising up from the sea, like some monstrous fingers reaching from the waters. And Lothíriel was the first thing that would be smashed against those rocks.

Without thinking, Éomer charged. She was there, her life was in danger, and he was hit with the forceful realisation: if he lost her now, he wouldn't be able to do any of this, he wouldn't heal, and least of all he could ever go home.

I need her to live.

But even as she saw him coming and cried out his name, her hold of the slippery figurehead gave out and she fell into the sea.

Éomer heard Aragorn and Éowyn shouting, but their voices somehow seemed to be far away, and he never hesitated for a single moment before diving right after Lothíriel into the rolling waves of the sea.

A/N: And the cliffhangers continue! I am not sorry. :D

So, a lot of stuff goes down in this chapter. I decided not to make the sojourn with Opash too long, as that would have unnecessarily prolonged this part of the story. And anyway it seemed to me that Opash wouldn't be able to stand the idea of Éomer for long, even if he doesn't really know who he's dealing with. That's also the reason our heroes are able to break free. As to why Opash's men were able to capture them was partly because Opash had the advantage of surprise, and I don't think Aragorn or Éowyn would be willing to risk Lothíriel's life, especially when they know what kind of a man Opash is. As for Éomer, I think for him the moment he realises he's going to be captured again would trigger a violent (and irrational) reaction in him and he would not be able to think coherently before he's left alone to calm down. After all, he has been freed only very recently and as we have seen from couple of previous chapters he's not quite stable at the moment.

At any rate it seemed fitting that Éomer would be the one to kill Opash. I would imagine my readers should appreciate that! Both children of Éomund do some badass things in this chapter. Opash really didn't know what he was meddling with when he chose to come hunting for our travellers. As it was noted in the bit from his point of view he indeed blackmailed Captain Cairon into helping him. To me it seems it was not difficult for him to find out about Aragorn and Cairon's arrangement, which he then used for his own ends. But Opash's arrogance costs him his life in the end: they are caught in the storm. That of course causes part of the crew being swept into the sea, and when the mast breaks causing some serious damage to the ship, the rest take the boats and try to save their lives. But at that point the ship is already so close to the coast that it is a viable option as opposed to just staying on the ship and waiting for the waves to drive it into those aforementioned rocks.

Hope you liked the chapter, my dear readers. And thanks for reading and reviewing!

Quote in the beginning originally by Sun Tzu.

Inspiration for the chapter: The National - Rains of Castamere

UntilNeverDawns - Well, what can I say? I just enjoy tormenting my readers! :D

Jo - Wait, am I the only one who loves these cliffhanger endings? :D

MairaElleth - Here he is dealt with what he deserves indeed, and by none else than our favourite horselord. Hope you liked that development!

Into a rage he goes, but I believe at that point he's so out of control he's not simply capable of coherent planning a rescue would require. But as soon as he gets a moment to calm down he realises he needs to stay calm for them to get out of this alive.

DepthsOfMySubconsciousness - I'm glad to hear I've managed to surprise you! :) He does try to rescue her, but how that turns out will have to wait until the next chapter.

Also thanks for you comments on Cairon. As he was effectively blackmailed into this it's quite true the blame is entirely Opash's.

TX . Bluebonnet - And here's an update! Hope you like it. :)

I'm glad to hear you like the characterization. It makes me happy when my readers tell me I've managed to make the characters feel real!

Talia119 - Well, Opash didn't really have an idea of just who he had captured. And due to the storm there's not much he can do about it when they break out.

We do see Éomer very much functioning here, but I'm not sure it's a sign of recovery as it's just a distraction for him. Meaning, suddenly there's something to completely take his attention away from his trauma. In other words, here he has this purpose greater than himself, and that is freeing himself and his friends. As long as he's concentrated on that he can "pretend" nothing's wrong with himself, if you get my meaning.