A man's measure is his will. - Hyarmendacil II, King of Gondor
Chapter 30
"Please. I can't go any farther..."
"It's not far now. It's only a little while more."
"I can't – it's too much -"
"You're not giving up now, Lothíriel. We're almost there."
"My feet – I can't move my feet... so cold..."
"Look at me!"
"Éomer..."
"Just hold on to me. I'll carry you to the shore. Do this for me, if not for yourself. Hold on and don't let go. We'll survive – I promise."
The cries of gulls eventually brought Lothíriel back to the waking world. It was a familiar and a safe sound, as was the rise and fall of the waters of Ulmo; those were the sounds of her home in Dol Amroth, where she had grown up breathing in the air that came from the great sea.
So comfortable she was in these sounds she knew that it took a long while for her to come back to her senses and wonder why should she be by the sea just now. The dry roughness of sand under her cheek, her clothes damp and stiff from the salt water...
Lothíriel rolled over to her back and sat up. The day was bright and fair and the storm had passed, and she lay on the shore of Uinen knew where. Beside her, Éomer rested, in such deeply exhausted sleep that her moving about did not wake him up. Usually these days he was sleeping so light that smallest movements close to him would have startled him.
He carried us both to the shore. He has earned his rest, Lothíriel decided. At first she could remember very little of what had happened: chief thing in her memory was the numb and cold and the knowledge she couldn't go on any longer... as she sat there, she eventually recalled the roar of the waves about her, the terror of dying, and then a strong hand grabbing her and lifting her up to the surface. How he was there – how he was even alive – she didn't know, but that didn't matter. He had commanded her to swim, and when she couldn't move any further he had told her to cling to his back. She had wanted to tell him her arms were too stiff and her fingers numb, but he wouldn't take no for an answer... and his determination had helped her to find one last resource of strength in herself. She had wrapped her hands about his neck and somehow, Éomer had got them to the shore. There, both of them had fallen into a deep dark sleep.
Now storm was gone and they were all alone on this stranded beach. As she looked about herself she saw bits and pieces of wreckage that could only be the remnants of Captain Cairon's ship. She saw a bloated corpse as well when she struggled up to her feet, and fear and concern rose in her. Where were Aragorn and Éowyn?
She felt like having taken a proper beating and she nearly crashed down as she stumbled by the shore. Her voice was raspy when she called: "Aragorn! Éowyn!"
It hurt her throat to shout the names of her friends, but she had to – she had to find them...
But no voices replied to her calls and her feet gave in under her. Lothíriel's yells turned into hoarse sobs and she collapsed on the sand as strength left her. Her friends...
"Lothíriel!" called the voice of Éomer suddenly, and even though she heard his alarm she could but weep, feeling utterly spent and beaten.
She saw him stumbling towards her, his sword unsheathed – he had thought she was in some danger. Then he fell next to her and grabbed her, pulling her to him with force that was almost violent. But it was welcome to her, because these graceless sensations reassured her at least Éomer was alive.
For the longest moment, all she could was lay there; her strength had left her and her mind was numb. For the moment, all she could do was just cling to him, and to the knowledge she hadn't lost him after all. Opash lied. I should have known.
"Are you hurt?" he asked eventually, having regained his voice.
"No... no", she mumbled. "Is there any water? I'm thirsty..."
"There's none safe for drinking", he answered. "Which is why we need to get away from this place. We need to find some shelter."
"Éowyn..." Lothíriel said, her voice barely more than a whimper.
"I'm sure she's all right. Aragorn too. They have probably already found food and drink and are waiting for us", he reassured her, but he couldn't mask the doubt that was in his voice.
Even so, with his coaxing she was eventually able to get up. He murmured softly in Rohirric, the sound of which was strangely comforting in this place. And just like the night before, when she had been at the end of her endurance and almost let the sea carry her into death, she kept going... if only for Éomer.
How long they wandered and stumbled on that faraway shore, she couldn't say. The sand under their feet was soft and giving, making it harder to walk. Sometimes, Lothíriel nearly felt her feet giving in under her, but each time his arm was there to catch her and to steady her before she fell. He'd keep telling her soft quiet things, telling her to hold on.
But it was difficult to keep going, because her mouth felt like parchment and she couldn't remember the last time she had even seen food. Had she ever been so thirsty? If only she could have a drink, if just a small one...
At some point, she fell again and this time he didn't catch her before her knees already touched the sand. He fell there beside her and said something about resting for a moment.
"I'm so thirsty", she muttered, wondering if she could even get up if she couldn't have some water.
"I know. But there's no safe water here, and we must keep going. You don't want to die here, do you?" Éomer asked, touching her shoulder gently.
"No", she murmured, but all the same she rested her cheek against the sand and let her eyes fall close. If only the sun would not scorch the back of her neck so bitterly... why had she cut her hair again...
"Please, my dear, don't fall asleep... open your eyes – don't leave me here alone, I can't... I can't do this if you're..." he demanded and there was a tone to his voice that got to her, even through the dull haze that was slowly settling on her mind. It unsettled her, the way he sounded – like there was something very, very wrong with him. If he was in distress then she had no choice but to lift up herself and see what she could do. For how could she possibly leave him if he needed her?
It took some fight, to open her eyes and sit up again, but she was able to lift herself once more. She tried to smile at him but concern was plain on his face.
"I'm not leaving you", she told him and tried to get up – she was only able to do that when he helped her.
Onward they trod. Each step felt more difficult than the last one and it seemed to her they had been walking forever, and yet there was no sight of an end to it. Still, her horselord's hand was always there to steady her, and she could but wonder where did he get his strength at this point. When she looked at him, his face was set and his eyes held a sharp, cold light as he gazed ahead.
But even with his help it got harder and harder as they walked and by the midday she was already nearing the very end of her strength, and only Éomer's coaxing voice telling her to keep moving still sustained her.
Then as the Sun was nearing her zenith, they came to a small sheltered bay and actual human sounds – children laughing! – penetrated the despairing thoughts which had been growing on her mind. There by the shore they saw six or seven children at play, digging seashells and splashing around in the shallow water, and to Lothíriel it somehow looked like they all had the faces of her brothers... she blinked and stumbled, and for a second she thought she was in Dol Amroth, but the hand of her beloved pulled her back from the vision and into the present.
"Oi! You there!" Éomer called, but even as he shouted those words the children gave yells of alarm and started away, running as though scared deer. "Please! We mean you no harm!"
However, the children – whoever they were – had already gone, leaving them alone there on the shore. Lothíriel already felt disheartened, but when she looked at her horselord, he looked relieved.
"Don't worry", he told her gently, "Those children did not appear from nowhere. There has to be some settlement close now."
She had no strength left for speaking, so she just grunted as an answer, leaning heavily against him. He let her rest there for a little while.
"Shall we try again? Just behind those hills?" he asked, wrapping an arm under her shoulders to keep her standing. Somehow, she was able to move her feet again.
It was not long that noises began to grow and approach them, straight from the direction where those children had run. And indeed, in a few minutes a group of some dozen men approached, all armed with everyday household objects such as fishing rods and axes and alike. These were common fisherfolk, calm and not at all warlike, but living in these parts had probably taught them a thing or two about strangers.
"Who are you, scaring our children on our own shores? What business do you have here?" asked a greying man who appeared to be something of a leader. He spoke the Common Speech very well for a man who unlikely had many dealings with northerners.
"Our ship wrecked in the storm last night. We mean you no harm", Éomer replied, and he sounded calm and collected - in fact, it surprised her somewhat. She hadn't thought he could keep it together like this when they were facing a crowd which could turn hostile towards them any moment.
"Corsairs, are you? Is this some pirate plot?" inquired the old fellow, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"No! My latest business with pirates was of hunting and fighting them", her beloved answered steadily. Then he spoke again, with more distress this time: "Please, I need your help. My wife – she's getting weaker, she needs water... I only ask for your help!"
Her feet gave in under her then and she leaned heavily on the man beside her, and perhaps it was that in addition to his pleading that finally convinced the villagers before them. Their leader exchanged a glance with his companions, his figure clearly relaxing as he evaluated two haggard, famished strangers were hardly a threat on their folk.
"Perhaps you're not pirates", he stated. "The old man will know. You come with us."
After the storm the sea sparkled in sunlight as though a million jewels were caught in the gently lulling waves. The day was fair and clear, and Prince Erchirion felt they would be making swift way today, if the wind favoured them. That was all good and well, considering he was already late from seeing his father in Minas Tirith.
They had taken shelter from the storm in a small natural harbour; even there it had at times felt like the furious winds might tear apart their ship and throw it into the sea. But Ossë's fury had passed eventually and today Uinen was gracing the sailors with a most favourable weather.
It was early in the morning still and the winds had not quite risen yet, and so they glided northwards gently about a league from the coast, but as was his habit Erchirion was up very early. He made rounds about the ship, making sure the vessel had made it through the storm undamaged. A man had to know his ship and care for it diligently, unless he wanted to end up in the watery halls of Ulmo.
After his rounds Erchirion came to the brow of the ship, enjoying a moment of calm before the day's labours. His second-in-command came to stand next to him.
"All is well on board. Shall I have the sails hoisted, my lord?" he asked.
"I'd have a bit more wind, but I wonder if any might rise so soon after that storm", Erchirion said. "We would probably do well to make haste, though."
"Yes. We could be in Pelargir in a few days, depending on the weathers. Your father the Prince must be expecting tidings of you", replied the man standing by his side.
Erchirion nodded, frowning to himself. Father would no doubt be livid with worry, and to his second-oldest son it looked like it was all the more pronounced in Lothíriel's prolonged absence. Again for the hundredth time he wondered what strange paths she was now walking, and most importantly if he'd ever see her again.
He sighed and turned towards his second-in-command, meaning to give orders, when suddenly the lookout called to him: "My Lord Erchirion! Two souls stranded on a small island up ahead on the starboard side!"
The prince turned to seek the seas for what the lookout had seen, and indeed, he sighted two castaways on what wasn't really an island, but more of a rock sticking from the sea. He sheltered his eyes but the rock was still too far for him to see much more than the shapes of two people. Nevertheless, he turned again towards the man beside him waiting for commands.
"Have the ship turn towards that rock. We should investigate this matter", he said, though Erchirion had a fairly good idea of how the two strangers had ended up on the rock. They were probably survivors from some shipwreck and had not dared to defy the fates to try and swim for the coast. The only thing he did wonder was how had anyone dared to face that storm. But perhaps the two on the rock could enlighten him on that matter.
The ship's course was turned slightly to the starboards, but they remained mindful of not going too close: this region was well-known for its treacherous skerries. To get to the rock they'd have to lay down a boat.
But as the ship slowly glided towards the rock and came close enough for Erchirion to see the faces of the two castaways, a feeling of amazement and disbelief came to him. What were the chances?
And if those two were there... then where was she?
"Well I'll be damned", he muttered out loud, frowning to himself.
"What is it, my lord?" asked his second-in-command, who had returned to his side. It took a moment for Erchirion to shake off his quiet stun to be able to speak.
"Make ready a boat and be quick about it. And give orders to prepare two of our best cabins. We're about to go and get some very high-ranking passengers."
For the last stretch of the way to the village Lothíriel simply could not walk anymore, and so Éomer lifted her up and carried her; how he had any strength left for that she didn't know, but in the quiet of her thoughts she judged perhaps he couldn't stand seeing anyone else doing this. On the other hand she was not certain anyone would have dared to touch her when Éomer was nearby. The villagers held on tightly to their makeshift arms, and escorted them much in the fashion one might have escorted prisoners. Even so, they had not tried to take away Éomer's sword, but she mused if that was mostly because these people did not guess how deadly he was wielding that weapon. With some regret she thought of her bow, which had probably gone down into the sea with the ship. It had been a treasured gift from Legolas and it could not be replaced.
Fortunately for them both the "old man" was not too far away. He was seated on a driftwood log, his back towards them. But even before she saw his face Lothíriel noticed his blue robe and she sucked in a breath in surprise. For a moment before they saw him face to face, she wondered if lack of drink and food were making her see things.
The man did not disappear and she had to trust what her eyes perceived. There on the log sat none else than Luinion, the strange old man she had met in Chieftain Varanat's camp.
He looked up smiling and his expression was not at all surprised when he saw her. One might even have thought he had expected her. Before any had chance to speak he chuckled softly and rose up on his feet.
"There you are, young one. I was wondering if our paths might cross again", said Luinion; his words seemed to come as a surprise to everyone else but her.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded to know. As she spoke she could feel Éomer tensing, doubtlessly wondering what was taking place and how she knew this man.
"Oh, I move about a lot", said Luinion and shrugged. "Still, one is glad to see you were able to find what you sought. 'Tis well for all."
He glanced about the company escorting them and frowned at the elderly man who had lead the band of villagers, "Kartart, why have you brought these two here? Don't you see they're quite famished? They need drink and food, not the prattle of an old man."
"We thought they might be pirates", said the man called Kartart apologetically.
"Pirates? Hmph. I've never seen anyone who is more obviously not a pirate than these two. You're starting to lose it on your old age, my friend", Luinion muttered and shook his head. He looked at the two travellers, "Go and follow Kartart. He'll see you receive all the care that you need. We will speak when you have rested."
The fisher village was located in a small sheltered bay and consisted of some dozen huts. People there were not a wealthy folk but they were tenacious. They were the kind that had endured corsairs for a thousand years, carrying their meagre belongings to their secret hideouts inland, and returning when the danger had passed. They would rebuild their lives over and again, and though they might be suspicious towards strangers, they were generous when they deemed someone was worthy of their trust.
That was why water was brought to the two castaways, along with thick fish stew and some dark bread, and Lothíriel was certain she had never tasted anything as delicious. She consumed two entire bowls and what seemed like a bucketful of water, and slowly started to feel like her strength was returning. With it also came her focus and she gathered a long and mindful look of their surroundings; they were seated on a log of driftwood and were evidently the target of the entire village's curiosity. The adults were at least trying to mind their labours, but several children were nearby, watching the them with unveiled fascination.
A glance of Éomer's face confirmed he did not enjoy being watched so, but he kept his eyes on his bowl of food and remained quiet. Still, the way he was frowning told her enough. Lothíriel considered it would perhaps be a good idea to distract him for the moment, so she explained to him who Luinion was; he already knew of the odd words she had received from the man while at Chieftain Varanat's camp. Her explanation seemed to bring him some clarity.
"There is something about him... he reminds me of someone", Éomer said after considering her words in silence for a while.
"Of whom?" she asked, looking at him with some surprise.
"Of Gandalf the White. The way he looks at you – it's like he sees right through you. And the way people listen to him, like Chieftain Varanat and now this folk here", said her beloved.
"You're right. They are alike, though I didn't know there were more of their kind among us", she agreed, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Do you think he knows Mithrandir?"
"You should ask him that", Éomer merely said and poured himself more water. A silence fell between them and her mind turned towards the way they had come. She asked about what had happened to him during the hours they had been parted, and he curtly explained how he had been imprisoned, and how he had been able to free himself. When she told him that Opash had lied about having him killed, Éomer's face darkened with a frown.
"That bastard", he muttered grimly, half to himself.
She thought of those desperate minutes on the deck of the ship, and how she had tried to climb the figurehead to get away from Opash's remaining henchman. Then she recalled that bewildering moment when Éomer had appeared again, very much alive, and the sight of him running towards her. At that point her strength had failed and she had fallen, but he had dived right after her. Somehow, he had located her in the boiling waters and brought them both to the surface, as though sheer determination was guiding his hand and arm.
"When we were in the water... I was convinced we'd die", she said quietly, reaching over to briefly touch his hand. He made a coarse sound at the back of his throat as he reached to his side for a cloak one kindly woman had brought them; somewhat clumsily he wrapped it about her shoulders. She let him do that as she realised it was probably a good idea to let him feel like he was taking care of her. Well, that was precisely what he was doing. Had he not taken care of her she would probably be dead by now.
After a moment, she spoke again.
"I didn't know you are so strong. That you'd be able to carry us both to the shore and still keep on going", she said softly, pulling the edges of the cloak more tightly about her shoulders. A dark, humourless smile touched Éomer's face.
"Torment and starvation are nothing new. I'd have perished long ago if I couldn't endure it", he said quietly. Then his expression softened, "Your life was in danger. I couldn't just give up and let you die."
Lothíriel had to smile at that: in this, Éomer remained unchanged. He was just as stubborn as before all this, and just as steadfast on things he had set his mind on. It was a hopeful thing, she decided. It meant perhaps the things he had been were not gone.
Content with this idea, she leaned her head to his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment. Despite all, there was calm in this moment.
"I owe you my life", she murmured at length, and then she felt his lips pressing against her forehead in a soft, gentle kiss.
"No more than I owe mine to you", Éomer said just as quietly and touched her hand. She intertwined her fingers with his and looked down at them. In his third finger, she saw the ring she had given him.
"How did you get that back?" she asked. "I saw it in Opash's hand."
"I ripped it off from his dead fingers", he growled darkly and his words had her flinching in surprise.
"You killed him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.
"Aye. He deserved nothing less", he said, his voice stern as he spoke.
"Hmm. I'm just glad to know he's not out there anymore... I don't think he would have stopped hunting us if he thought there was a chance of capturing us again", she muttered, placing her head against his shoulder once more. For a while they sat in silence, both just resting after the arduous road. But Lothíriel's mind did not remain peaceful for long, as her mind turned back to the sea, and their two companions who were lost.
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, wondering if it would be their bloated corpses they'd find. The idea made her shiver, which Éomer noticed before she could mask her reaction.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's just... what if Éowyn and Aragorn are dead? It was my idea to look for you, and... if they went down with that ship, it's my fault", she mumbled miserably, but then he gently turned her face towards himself, so that he could see her eyes.
"Do not give up hope yet. I'm sure they're still alive. We made it through the storm alive, didn't we? There's no reason they can't have done the same. We were close to the coast, after all, and Aragorn and Éowyn both are strong and capable", he told her.
"But Éowyn once told me she's not a good swimmer, and -" she stammered, her eyes burning with tears.
"Lothíriel", he spoke her name steadily, cradling her chin with his fingers. "You're not responsible for my sister or Aragorn making the choice of coming with you. It was their decision and they both knew the risks. But we mustn't fall in despair just yet. They may very well be out there still, and the best we can do for now is rest and regain our strength. Then we will go and look for them. We'll tear apart this coast, if need be."
Unable to speak she just nodded and wiped a hand across her eyes, trying to calm her mind. She couldn't fall apart now, not when the lives of her friends could depend on it. And she had to be strong for Éomer too - he had enough to deal with as it was, and he shouldn't have to be worrying about her as well. He patted her shoulder gently and looked like he'd have said something more, but then came Luinion towards them. Remembering what Éomer had said earlier she looked carefully at the man now. As far as his appearance went he did not seem much like Mithrandir, though they both seemed old in years. His hair was steel-grey that picked up a bluish tint under the sunlight and around his eyes there was an entire web of laugh lines.
But though he may not share the appearance with the Wizard Gandalf, she could see what Éomer had meant when he had said this man reminded him of the Grey Pilgrim. There was similar discerning intelligence about his gaze, and wisdom that went beyond the years of ordinary men.
"Now, are you two feeling better already? Are you certain you do not need a healer?" he inquired gently.
"We are fine. Food and drink was all we needed", Éomer replied. "You have my gratitude. Not only for standing up for us, but also for sending my betrothed to me when I most needed her."
Luinion smiled.
"I did what I could, my friend. Flames of war have burned this world quite enough, and your death in the hands of that misguided chieftain would have twisted the future into something no one would like to see", he said, his face turning solemn.
Lothíriel saw Éomer frown at that statement.
"How did you know at any rate?" he asked.
"I see many things, and I have travelled the deserts of Harad and the coast of this land long enough to know every rock by its name", Luinion simply said. He glanced about then, "But what I do not see is your friends. In this I must ask tidings from you."
"We were travelling by sea with them, but there was a storm... our ship went down, and if there are other survivors than ourselves, I do not know", Lothíriel said quietly, shivering under her cloak.
"And I was wondering if any bodies had washed to your shores", Éomer continued. His features had become stern, as though he was preparing himself for something difficult, which likely was true.
Luinion's expression was now grave as well. Lothíriel sat quiet and the thought was chilling her beyond the point of even feeling anything.
"Kartart should know the answer to that", the old man stated at last, and his eyes remained gentle.
"May I ask you to take me to him?" asked the Rohir, his voice bearing little to no emotion... but she saw his hands had become fists, and knew it demanded a lot of him to do this.
"Of course. If you'd follow me..." Luinion answered. Lothíriel meant to stand up, but Éomer lay a hand on her shoulder.
"Stay here. You needn't see this", he said steadily.
"But I -" she tried, but he leaned down to kiss her brow briefly.
"Please. Stay here and rest", her beloved murmured, and with a sigh she relented, though the dreadful feeling inside her remained. If there were bodies, and they indeed were Aragorn's and Éowyn's...
A shiver ran down her spine and she trembled under the cloak. There she sat watching Éomer follow Luinion towards the shore of the bay, wondering what it might be he'd find. He had told her to not give up hope, but watching him she wondered if he even reserved much of it for himself... and if it was her hope he was counting on now. The thought was slightly disconcerting, but also necessary. If he used his physical strength to keep them alive, then she would have to be the one who guarded their minds and souls.
The minutes dragged by, turning into what felt like hours. She tried not to think of the worst alternative but instead attempted to convince herself Éowyn and Aragorn were out there, perhaps rescued by villagers not unlike Kartart and his folk. They'd be resting and making their own plans of finding her and Éomer, they would find each other, and then they'd go home...
She wrapped the cloak tighter about herself and lifted her eyes, seeing Éomer return from the shore. Anxiously she searched the face of her dear horselord, and seeing a faint smile on his face she felt a moment of relief. But it was only for a moment. That the bodies washed on this shore were not those of Éowyn and Aragorn did not necessarily mean they were alive either.
Lothíriel lowered her face and let out a heavy sigh. She heard Éomer sitting beside her again, and quietly he placed an arm about her shoulders. She leaned closer towards him and closed her eyes, allowing her mind wander to gentler paths if just for this one sweet instance. At least we are together.
After some time, she opened her eyes again and looked up at him. He was watching her with troubled eyes, and behind that concern lurked darker things. She understood then that in many ways, right now she was his only link to anything that resembled balance and home and normalcy.
"Earlier, when we came here... you called me your wife", she said, smiling at him to ease his mind.
"It just slipped", he confessed, looking away. Before she had time to think anything about those words, he went on, "I suppose it made sense as well. We can't pretend to be kin by blood, and if you were right in something when you started to look for me, it was about the idea you shouldn't tell people who you really are."
He glanced at her then and she didn't miss the uncertainty on his features.
"Was it wrong of me to say that?" he asked, but she reached for his other hand and gently squeezed it.
"Of course not. I liked that", she told him. Her brow creased as she thought of it and remembered something Éowyn had said, when they had still been on the way from Umbar and they had talked about him. In soft tones, Lothíriel spoke, "I suppose you could say I already feel so close to you that... sometimes I kind of forget that we didn't have time to wed. And marriage means to me only declaring to the world what I have felt in my heart for a good while now."
She watched his face closely in hopes of seeing some sign of what it made him feel and think – and if he returned the sentiment. But Éomer sat silent and if there was anything on his features it was just a slight frown.
"Lothíriel, I..." he started slowly, searching for words... and it was so obvious how difficult it was for him, to open up even to her. She understood: in his struggle to survive he had built walls of such height and thickness that he did not know how to emerge again from behind them. Maybe it was not wise to try and make him do so now.
So rather than trying to force him to speak she leaned closer to him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. She remained there, close to him, and whispered: "It's all right. "
And he sighed softly and rested his head against hers. He did not say anything, but she felt then he was allowing himself to be more vulnerable than ever since his imprisonment. She held his hand and whispered ever so gently: "No matter what, I love you."
Of all the things Erchirion had expected when he had set from Dol Amroth, the event of finding King Elessar and Lady Éowyn on a stranded rock was about the last. Objectively, he had known the two had travelled with Lothíriel and were somewhere in this part of the world, but up until they were standing on the deck of Wrath of Sea there was a part of him convinced they were but deceiving visions that would disappear with closer scrutiny.
However, when the boat was lowered to the sea and Erchirion went himself with some of his men to get the two castaways, they remained quite real.
"Prince Erchirion!" called Aragorn as the boat came at last to a shouting distance, "you can't know how very glad we are to see you!"
"And you can't know how utterly bewildered I am to see you!" Erchirion shouted back, well aware he was speaking for the entire crew when he said that. A dark thought rose in him and he asked, "Where is my sister?"
Aragorn's face turned grave at that question. He glanced at Lady Éowyn, as did Erchirion... and looking at her the prince noticed the object in her hands.
It was Lothíriel's bow. Seeing the weapon she had prized above most things she owned, Erchirion felt like his heart dropped into the bottom of his stomach.
"Is she dead, Aragorn?" Erchirion asked as the boat glided next to the rock. The weight inside him was twisting and turning and he felt like he might just throw up any moment now. Yet he was searching the face of his liege-lord frantically, desperate for any sign that the unthinkable had not happened.
"I do not know", said the King of Gondor and Arnor, though he did not seem at ease. "Please, let us leave behind this dismal place. I will explain everything."
Seeing he had to be patient for now, the prince held back the questions that were springing to his mind, and quickly the two castaways were helped to the boat. They both looked weathered and haggard and carried looks of concern, and Lady Éowyn never let go of the bow in her hands.
Once they had reached the ship and the two castaways had got something to drink and eat in addition to dry clothes, Aragorn finally started with the tale of how the two of them had ended up on that stranded rock. Éowyn still would not surrender the bow, as though holding on to it would somehow bring back its owner. Seated in Erchirion's own cabin, Aragorn told him the tale of how they had travelled south, found information on Éomer's location, and then journeyed to find him. He spoke of the tribe that had kept him captive and how he had been freed. And at last Elessar came to the fateful voyage... and he described how Lothíriel had fallen into the sea, and how Éomer had dived after her. If they had survived Aragorn did not know; he and Éowyn had saved themselves on that rock Erchirion had found them from, and in thirst and starving they had waited and hoped that some ship passing by might rescue them.
"Do you think that my sister and Éomer could be alive?" Erchirion asked after a while, having processed the wondrous tale with some disbelief. Aragorn exchanged a glance with Lady Éowyn.
"I would hope so. I do think they could have made it to the shore. The worst of the storm had already passed, and we were close to the coast. He... I do not think Éomer would give up, if there was a chance of survival", he said at length.
"He wouldn't. I know my brother, and I know he's alive. He would never give up if it meant Lothíriel would die", Éowyn spoke up, looking at Erchirion with blazing eyes. "And that is why we need to search the shores. They are out there, and they might need our help."
Seeing that determination the prince realised there was nothing he could say to change their minds. And who knew? Perhaps they were right.
Perhaps his sister and her beloved horselord were still among the living.
It was agreed the two of them would spend the night resting in the fisher village by the sea. At Luinion's suggestion Kartart – who was something of a chieftain of the village – offered Lothíriel and Éomer a small hut that had been empty for a while. It had a slightly musty smell but it was better than sleeping under the bare sky. She was grateful for getting to share the hut with her beloved, as Lothíriel did not think she would have slept at all had she spent the night alone. The knowledge that Éomer was close was the reassurance she needed.
But even then, with him resting not far from her, that night she was cold. A wind had come from the sea and there was a chill in it, even though they were far in the south. But perhaps it was not really because of the weather or any of the physical conditions. Maybe it was just something of a weariness, of longing for home, and of feeling small and scared.
At any rate, it was the night Lothíriel felt more miserable than the day she had first learned Éomer was presumed dead - even surpassing what she had felt when Opash had kept them captive. So the tears overcame her and she sobbed quietly, trying not to alarm her beloved.
But he heard and soon she was glad that he did. For Éomer quietly turned towards her, and then he pulled her into his arms, under the cover of his blankets. It was warm there and she hid her face against his neck. Her sobs died shortly after and her heart calmed down. And somehow, though they were far away from home and Éowyn and Aragorn could very well be lost in the sea, she felt peaceful and reassured. So she fell asleep again, curled up against the man she loved.
However it turned out the night spent in the hut had demons in store for them both. For a couple of hours before the dawn she awakened when he tossed restlessly beside her, and she could but imagine the horrors that were pursuing him through his dreams.
She shook his shoulder gently as she could, hoping it would not cause a violent reaction in him.
"Éomer. Éomer! Wake up. It's just a dream – you're safe, I'm here..." she called him and he woke up, and on that moment before he understood where he was, she saw in his eyes the wild look of a caged beast, clawing at the walls of its prison. It terrified her but she knew she had to stay calm and steadfast for him.
"It was just a dream. You're free", she told him again, keeping gentle her voice. Slowly, she saw him calming down, though he still remained tense.
"Aye. Just a dream", he agreed quietly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "I am full of them now."
"And you'll be free of them too. Come here", she murmured and wrapped arms about him, hoping to bring him comfort and consolation. One hand she placed on his back, and she rubbed it gently in order to help him relax.
Eventually she did feel tension leaving him, but she kept massaging his back if just as an act of affection and care. And in any case it was a rare moment of tenderness, as before tonight there had not been so much of touching and closeness between them. At times it had troubled her, as she was not used to holding back with him. One of the last memories she had of him before he had ridden south was the night she had climbed into his chamber and they had shared a bed with the firm belief they'd soon be married. But now they were here, in a small village by the sea in the far away south, and nothing was like before anymore.
But those thoughts were then interrupted as her hand suddenly came in contact with the bare skin of his back. During sleep, his shirt had rolled up to his waist, and now her hand rested against naked skin of his lower back. It was warm and the texture and feel were familiar, reminding her of times before when they had been together. And now, she wanted nothing as much as to be so close to him once more.
Lothíriel looked up at him carefully, but his expression could only be called blank as he stared silently back. Then, ever so gently, she moved her fingers over his skin in a caress.
He moved so quickly she nearly gasped out startled. He rolled on the top of her, took a firm hold of her legs, and the look in his eyes made her blood rise with desire. For a split second she expected him - she wanted him - to tear off her clothes, and...
However, that never happened. Instead, the look of primal hunger disappeared as fast as it had come, and heavily he moved away again. A stinging feeling of disappointment nearly stunned her breathless, but she knew it was not wise to push him now. Taking a slow breath she told herself: he still wants me.
That was the important thing. Perhaps he had backed down but she had seen the want and she knew it still existed – it had not vanished on those deserts. Maybe now just was not the right time. Well, it would have been the right time for her, but they needed to do this in his terms, if it were to happen.
"It's not yet dawn. We should both rest while we can", he muttered quietly.
"Of course", Lothíriel murmured and reached towards Éomer to give a small gentle kiss to his cheek, if only to show she wasn't upset. Then she placed her chin on his shoulder and closed her eyes... and she felt him turning towards her, wrapping an arm about her.
And for now, it was enough.
A/N: Here is an update! Hope you, my dear readers, liked it! :)
So, our characters have survived the storm. That is partly because the worst of the storm had already passed by the time Lothíriel fell into the sea, and because they were fairly close to the coast, thus making it possible for them to swim for the shore. Aragorn and Éowyn probably did something similar, only they took shelter on that small island/rock rather than trying for the coast. If you're wondering what happened to Captain Cairon, I'm thinking he and his surviving crew took a boat and made for the coast, and I'm inclined to believe they survived.
I decided to toss the company apart for at least this chapter, if only to give some time for Lothíriel and Éomer alone. As a result here we see some tender moments between them, as I felt those were needed. There's also something of a struggle as they try to redefine their relationship and figure out what has happened to them as lovers and if it's something they can overcome.
I also decided to bring back Luinion, as to not let him just completely disappear from the radar. We'll probably see a bit more of him in the next chapter.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Quote in the beginning originally by Ali Ibn Abi Talib.
UntilNeverDawns - He had it coming indeed! I must say it was a relief to get him out of the story.
And now Éomer and Lothíriel are out of the sea! We'll see how this develops. :)
Vilwerin - Glad to hear you like it! Hopefully this story helps with the stress, if only a little.
MairaElleth - I don't enjoy it usually either, but it did feel good to get him out of way and especially because it was Éomer who took care of the matter.
Here's a bit calmer chapter - that seemed necessary after all that went down in the last one.
Talia119 - Good to hear you liked it, and hopefully this one is enjoyable too. :)
It did seem to me that in the situation Éomer would indeed fall back into a mood more like his old self. After all, he has been a warrior for a long time and I don't think even trauma would take that out of him. So at the event when some action is needed I think it'd be actually very easy for him to react to it in this way.
Wondereye - Hopefully this chapter answers your question at least! Due to being moderately close to the shore - and the fact that he's fiercely determined to save her life - they are able to swim to safety.
No Rohan in this chapter, but I'm thinking the next one may have something of that sort!