Part 4: Hope

"When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing." - Rabindranath Tagore

I know only
of the stars that fell
and the moon
that set
and the sound
of your sleeping
beside me.
- Skalkisham of Umbar

Chapter 38

Late September 3021, Minas Tirith

Though it had been over two years since the War had ended and the King had returned, Prince Elphir of Dol Amroth still sometimes expected to rather meet Lord Denethor in the great royal study. His uncle had been a formidable figure, steering the realm with unfaltering hand even as the years darkened. Denethor's authority had been of a very tangible nature, as only such a proud man could be, and for that Elphir was not quite yet used to King Elessar's more subtle appearance.

The prince knew his father was a steady supporter of Elessar, but personally Elphir had harboured his doubts about the Ranger of the North who now sat on the throne of kings. Even in the quiet of his thoughts had he remembered a time many years ago, when the heirs of Isildur's line had tried to claim authority in Gondor without particular success.

But of these thoughts he had not spoken out loud, for King Elessar was widely loved and respected, and after the War and the time of Shadow, the return of Elendil's descendant to the throne of Gondor had been like a promise of new glory. When the said king had disappeared with Lady Éowyn and no one else than Elphir's own sister, he had only felt his doubt turn deeper.

Now, however, he was about to enter the study of the King of Gondor and Arnor, as he had been summoned on the morrow; apparently Elessar wished to speak of something important with him.

At his arrival, a guard in silver and black announced his arrival, and Prince Elphir strode into the study.

King Elessar stood by the window gazing out, but hearing him enter he turned around. The prince had been there to see the return of the king from the south. Though the man had been dressed in an attire fit for a man of his station, the tan he had got revealed where he had travelled. Then again, Elphir did not think if had been much of a mystery in the first place. However, what had exactly happened did remain quite an unclear matter – at least to the public. Elphir himself had already received an account of the quest... but even then, there was this slightly paranoid feeling at the back of his mind that made him wonder if it all was true, and the story of Lothíriel running away with Éomer in the middle of night was just ruse to cover up some horrible truth.

For the moment he pushed away that thought and bowed stiffly.

"You summoned me, my lord?" he spoke out loud.

"That I did, Prince Elphir. There was something rather important I wished to talk with you. Please, take a seat", King Elessar said, gesturing towards the chair before his desk.

As they sat down, Elessar let out a soft sigh. He regarded Elphir silently for a moment; those instances when he was looking directly at you, even the prince had to agree there was uncommon strength in this man.

"How can I be of help, my lord?" asked Elphir at length. The King of Reunited Kingdom wasted no time before he began to talk.

"Since my return I've been neck-deep in reports and councils and receiving audiences, and it must be said I have not had much time for attending to the matters outside the realm. However, the diligence of your father and cousin have at last helped me up from that bog and I have had some time to look about ourselves again. And so my gaze has finally turned towards Rohan", he explained carefully. Elphir listened quietly, wondering where this was going.

Elessar continued, "It was my understanding King Éomer had left a couple of his trusted men in charge while he was gone. These men I happen to know personally and while we were in Pelargir I had complete faith they were still guarding Rohan in their king's absence. However, I have received reports that a new man wields power in the Mark. This man they call Underking Feran."

Now the King Elessar leaned forwards on his seat and looked at Elphir with a slight frown.

"I have not even met this Feran and I have no idea what sort of a man he is. And it's not good for a king to be so uninformed of his most important ally. I don't know when my friend the true king will return, or if he ever will, and I can't just base my hopes and plans on some vague date in the future", he continued and his voice had now become rather grave. "What I need is to find out what is happening in Rohan right now."

"I can see the need for that, Your Grace. But why are you speaking of this to me?" Elphir asked with some curiosity.

"Prince Elphir, I hold all of your family in a rather high regard. Your father speaks well of your abilities, and he says that you possess similar keen perception as your uncle the Lord Denethor did", said the King. "This is why I would ask you to travel as my emissary to Rohan. Your official task will be to negotiate on whether they would be willing to sell us horses, or at least if a contract could be made for some Rohirric stallions to be used for breeding here in Gondor. Perhaps it's too soon after the war and they will not agree, but you must try at least, if only for the sake of talking. For I have another and secret task for you, which I feel is the more important one."

"I'm listening, my lord."

"If you accept this mission and travel to Rohan, I want you to keep your eyes open. See and hear what you can. I wish to learn what is truly happening in that land, and if there is something very severe afoot there that I should know about. Truth is I do not like having to scheme like this when it comes to our brothers in arms, but I feel it in my heart that something ill is happening in King Éomer's absence, and we must know what is it", King Elessar concluded.

Elphir sat in silence for a while, thinking through what he had just heard. He had not exactly taken King Elessar for such a shrewd man... perhaps there was a lot he still had to learn about his liege-lord. And though he'd not be glad to leave behind Aredhel and their son Alphros, he recognised this was an important task. If trouble was brewing in Rohan, then Gondor had to know about it.

"My lord, I will agree to this task, but only for the exchange of truth. That truth is of course if my little sister really ran away again, or if you are trying to hide something bad that happened to her", Elphir said solemnly.

"I told you the truth. We sought and found King Éomer, and we walked that road unscathed. Your sister was hale as ever when I last saw her, and she was determined to follow her betrothed wherever he would go", sighed the King of Gondor and Arnor.

"And will she ever return?" asked the prince.

"I don't know. It depends on what news you bring to me from Rohan... for if it seems there is something bad happening in the land of the horselords, I will spare no effort to find Éomer again... and I have a feeling if we find him, we will find her as well."

October 3021, Aldburg, Rohan

Standing before the well-kept house, Elfhelm wondered if it had been Aedre or Scýne who had placed the flowers in the ceramic pots by the door. Then again, it was probable they had done that together; even in Edoras, about Éothain's dwelling there had always been this touch of beauty distinct from others.

He breathed deep then, just before knocking at the door. It did not take long until he could hear the patter of small feet nearing the door and the voice of Elva yelling: "I'll open it!"

Scýne called to her daughter, sounding like she was saying no, but it was too late. The door was thrown open and there stood Éothain's little daughter.

"Unca Ellem!" she cried happily and leaped at him. With a laugh, he caught the little girl and lifted her up. He was just glad Éothain and Éomer had never heard the girl calling him "Ellem". He just hoped he could teach her his proper name before his friends came back, otherwise they would never let him hear the end of it.

"My lady", he said as he kept her up in the air, "it appears you have learned how to fly."

"No, Ellem! You're lifting me up!" she giggled.

"I am?" he asked and placed her to sit on his shoulder. It was broad and strong enough for a small girl like her.

He then turned to look at Scýne, who had been watching them quietly. She was a lovely woman, slender and tall, with long red hair in braid. The green of her gown went well with that colour and with her freckled skin. Strong she was as well, as only a woman going through a hard time could be. Where smile had reigned her face in times past there now was something of a permanent frown on her features. She and Éothain had been together for many years and they had wedded well before the Ring War had started. She and Elva had lived with him in Edoras, but when Éomer King had ridden south, the two had come to stay in Aldburg with her mother. The arrangement had turned into a far longer one than first expected... but Elfhelm was hoping it would soon change, and these people could go home again.

"Hello, Scýne", he greeted her, his voice solemn this time.

"Hello to you as well, Elfhelm", she replied. A faint smile touched her face before her expression became grave once more. "Would you put my daughter back down? It is already her bedtime."

"No! Unca Ellem just came! I wanna play with him!" Elva protested.

"We'll play some other time. You must listen to your mother" Elfhelm told her and lay her down on the floor.

"Mother is stupid. I want my da", she said stubbornly.

"Elva!" called the voice of Aedre from the other side of the room. In her arms, she was holding the infant boy of Éothain and Scýne. "You mustn't speak to your mother like that, and least of all before Lord Elfhelm!"

The little girl looked up to the tall man beside her, as though for support. He gave her a slight frown.

"Listen to your mother and grandmother. Not to mention your father would not be pleased to hear you're behaving like an orc-girl", he said in solemn tone. Elva's shoulders fell and she looked down. Gently he patted her back. "It's time for bed, my lady."

Quietly the girl walked over to her grandmother, who took the children to the room behind the one they were in.

Scýne sighed and shook her head, but then she tried to smile and gestured towards the table, to bid him take a seat there.

"Please, sit down. Can I get you anything, my friend?" she asked as he claimed the chair by the table.

"No, no. Don't bother yourself. I just came to see how you are doing", Elfhelm said, lifting up his hand. Scýne sat down as well. She sighed again.

"You can very much see how it is. We have everything we need, at least as far as material needs go. But Elva is... well, I can tell you this wasn't a rare occasion. She's whinging all the time, and I'm starting to run out of ideas of how to handle her", she said in a tired voice and rubbed her forehead. "She's missing her father, of course. It's not easy when I can't make her understand why he can't come home."

"He would come if he could. He does love you and the children very much", Elfhelm said softly, though he knew that was not much of a comfort.

"Would he? There are days now that I wonder. What reason could possibly keep him away from us? Doesn't he know how much we need him?" Scýne asked, her voice rising slightly until she seemed to notice it herself too and fell quiet again. She gave him a sharp, straight gaze. "Why is he not home? Do you know something I don't?"

It took all Eflhelm's restraint and willpower to keep hidden what he knew and control his expression.

"You know why. If he tried to leave the Wold, it would mean death or worse things to you and your children", he said as evenly as he could.

"Aye, you have told me that before. But I still don't understand the reason. What deed of his is so evil he must be punished so? That his children must be punished?" Scýne demanded.

"I wish I could tell you. But I swore to him I would stay quiet", Elfhelm sighed. She cringed as an answer and looked away. She didn't have to say anything in order to make him feel guilty and regretful.

"Scýne, I... I'm really sorry about everything", he said after an awkward moment. "I wish I could make it better. But... hear me out."

She looked sharply at him, her blue-green eyes narrowed.

"Just endure a little while more. It's going to get better. I promise. And you'll understand soon", he told her, his voice not much more than a whisper, as though some unfriendly ears could hear his words even here.

Scýne stared at him, her face blank now. When she spoke it was in a quiet, sad tone.

"I wish I could believe you."

Not long after, he said good night to Scýne for the night and ventured out, unable to bear the atmosphere in her mother's house for much longer. Of course he understood it, and it was all the worse when he could not tell her the truth. Soon, he told himself; soon all things would be made right.

So he walked on, thinking on past few weeks.

It was strange to be back in Aldburg after all that had happened. The last time he had seen the old town had been months ago, when he had returned from the south with the Rohirrim. The sight of it had been a bitter reminder of things lost, and when he had entered the Marshal's Hall, he had half expected to see his friend there... risen from the dead, and welcoming him back with a smile. It was no wonder to him that the night spent in the Marshal's Hall had been the one when Elfhelm had finally succumbed to the grief for Éomer. Half-drunkenly he had sobbed like a child, cursing the bitter fate that had taken his friend and king. Sometimes he wondered how had he been able to hold himself together until that time, and especially lead the men left in his charge.

There were good memories in this town, but bad ones as well. However, at this time it also brought some kind of a comfort, unexpected as that may be.

He had not come to Aldburg out of his own volition. This time he had been assigned there to serve in the new Marshal's household. He wasn't sure what had been Feran's reason this time, but perhaps the man just thought it'd be a sufficiently humiliating task for a man who had been a Marshal himself. At any rate Elfhelm did not think it had to do with his recent meeting with Erkenbrand and Gamling, because he did not believe anyone had got wind of it. But even if it had been to put some space between him and those two men, he could have said how futile it'd have been. Erkenbrand and Gamling would not make a move before Éomer came back... but when he did, there was no stopping them.

So Elfhelm was now in that town Eorl the Young had first raised, and where his grandson's line had lived until the time of Éomer. Days were long for a man impatiently waiting for something to happen - especially when there was still no sign of the King's return. Be it as may, he did his best to lay low and just wait.

The day so far had been a cold one. Winter would soon be upon them and the townsfolk were busy preparing for that season. Elfhelm had observed there was a kind of sadness on them, something more than just bittersweet goodbyes for another summer, and he did not wonder. Éomer had been respected and loved by them, just as Éomund had been in his time, and their affiliation with him went longer than his kingship. No wonder, when one compared them to the man who now held their seat. Seeing that atmosphere there were days when he just wanted to climb on the rooftops and bellow out what he knew.

After the visit to Scýne it was still early and he didn't feel like returning to the barracks (if he did he'd only brood away the night), and after wandering about for a while he more or less found himself in an alehouse. Well, in all honesty he had tried to drink less as of late because drunk men were not the most clear-minded, and his king did not need such useless fools. However, after yet another long day one tankard was a tempting thought. After all, up in the Hall he had to watch all days how that mockery of a Marshal paraded about... it was a disgrace to the memory of Éomund. Elfhelm had been able to keep quiet only by imagining the situation where Éomund was still alive and came home to see that fool thinking it was his house. Picturing the consequences in his mind, he had ended up grinning so stupidly that the chatelaine had nearly sent him for a healer.

Stepping into the crowded alehouse he breathed warm air into his cold, stiff fingers and gazed about. The clientele was another good reason for coming here, because these people hated the new Marshal even more than he did. Indeed, it did not take long for one local fellow to notice him and call him to join his company.

The evening was mostly pleasant and it lifted up his spirits for the most parts – except for one thing. For the men he sat with had some tidings from Harrowdale, and apparently things were becoming more dire there. Not only were some thugs bullying and driving people from their homes these days, but apparently there had been sightings of a gang of boys terrorising those on road – mostly orphans dismissed of their training with Marshals. It all could be traced back to Edoras of course, and it was clear who was really pulling the strings even if there was no proof of it. The news had Elfhelm gritting his teeth in frustration and he hoped he could have ridden to Harrowdale, find those lads, and give them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget. Moreover, he worried for his friend Heming and his wife Eadgyd, who lived in those parts; their farm was north-west from Dunharrow and as such was located on a slightly more isolated part of that area, but still...

From that the conversations turned to other and more light matters, but after one tankard of ale Elfhelm decided to make his leave well before it turned into night. He had duty on the morrow after all, and his earlier resolution not to stumble out of the alehouse drunk out of his mind very much kept still. So he bid goodnight to his company and started for outside.

The streets were considerably quieter now and he passed by only a few people. Feeling tired already, and thinking of his bedroll, Elfhelm decided to take a short-cut to the barracks near the Hall, where he was currently residing. An idle thought came to him as he walked, making him wonder if there would ever be a time he'd settle down in his own home. Granted, he was of a noble line, but the hall of his fathers had burned down when Dunlendings and orcs of Isengard had ravaged Westfold. And he had decided not to rebuild the place, because it would not be the same. He had decided to seek his life elsewhere – to make new memories rather than trying to build those that were irrevocably gone.

Elfhelm was halfway through one narrow street when he became aware he was being followed. The steps were light but he heard the faint clink of chain-mail, trailing after him... he had been a warrior far too long to panic at this development, but he would have liked to know what this was about. Was this an attempt on his life? Did Feran have something to do with it?

He kept walking. He had almost reached the end of the small street and his heart was already picking up speed, preparing him for battle. Inconspicuously he turned right but did not continue – instead he stopped just behind the corner to wait... and then, as the cloaked and hooded figure following him came around it, he charged.

The steel of his sword clashed with another, pulled out to a parry with just enough speed. Then came the hiss: "Elfhelm, you idiot!"

The stranger pulled back the hood, revealing the face of none else than Lady Ceolwen. His eyes went wide and he stepped back.

"My lady! What are you doing, sneaking after me like that?" he growled. "I thought you were some assassin!"

"Could you please not make such noise!" she snapped and pulled him back to the narrow street.

"Is there some particular reason for acting like we are common robbers?" he whispered as she more or less dragged him into a shadowy corner between two homesteads.

"If the lord of this town was supporting the cause of taking away your home, you'd be cautious as well", she grumbled. "And anyway I don't want anyone to get wind of this just so quick."

"Get a wind of what?" he wondered out loud. Now Elfhelm was starting to feel confused. Lady Ceolwen was looking more anxious than he remembered ever seeing her, and he did not think such emotion really suited her. She seemed pale as well, though her eyes burned fiercely.

"You dislike Feran too, don't you?" she inquired rather than answering his question.

"Dislike is not really a strong enough word, my lady", he snorted. A slight crease had appeared on her brow and she stared at him hard.

"Can I trust you?" Ceolwen asked.

"Have you been drinking? Of course you can trust me! What is it, my lady? What is on your mind?" he asked back. Now his confusion was slowly being replaced by concern for her. He remembered what she had told him back in Edoras, when he had last seen her. If he was any judge, this probably had something to do with that visit...

"Elfhelm", Lady Ceolwen spoke, "please help me."

November 3021, Calembel

The smell of fresh broth was what awakened Lothíriel to a new day. Her belly answered to the scent with a loud grumble, which apparently was information enough for her husband that she had woken up.

"Good morning, dear wife. How are you feeling today?" Éomer asked as he sat by the side of the bed, holding a tray on his hands. She rubbed her eyes to rid herself of the remnants of sleep and smiled at him as she sat up.

"Almost like one of the living", she replied. "I can even smell something again."

"I'm glad to hear that. It should be good to leave soon. That innkeeper is starting to give me looks I don't like", he commented as he carefully placed the tray in her lap so that she could eat. He had brought her hot broth and fresh bread – had even found an apple for her from somewhere. The man was obviously a wizard.

"Hmph. I just look forward to when you're not fussing about me anymore like some hypersensitive mother hen", she chortled and bit into the bread. He made a face at that but said nothing, and instead picked up some food as well.

"We'll spend one more day here. See how you're feeling tomorrow, and if you're well enough, we should carry on", he suggested, at which she nodded in approval, having her mouth full of bread so she she couldn't say anything.

It had probably been inevitable that she should catch cold. After all, those nights under the late autumn sky were not the warmest, and streams where they washed were always freezing cold. Luckily, they had been close to the town of Calembel, and Éomer had found them an inn there before she got too sick to travel. It had been a persistent sickness and so they had lost an entire week of time – Lothíriel spent it coughing and sneezing, and he sat it by her side, only leaving her to check on the horses or to get some food.

Now her head was clear enough to consider what it all meant. Was this a sign he was starting to be well enough to function as normally as anyone, or that just his concern for her had overcome what aversion he felt towards interacting with strangers?

"I'm still wondering why you didn't get sick too", she commented when she was halfway through her bowl of broth. He just shrugged.

"Thick skin, I suppose. I rarely got sick even as a child", he answered.

"Hmm. Maybe it's that northern blood of yours", she said and chewed at a piece of bread as she considered him.

Her husband. A sense of wonder still clung to that thought, even if they had effectively been living like a married couple for a while now. Moreover, it was not like during the weeks after the simple ceremony things had really changed between them.

From Dol Amroth they had travelled northwards. It was not by any determined choice that they had come to the valley of Lamedon, where the town of Calembel was located. They still journeyed whichever direction seemed the best at the moment.

Of course, Aunt Ivriniel and Amrothos had tried to ask them to stay, but for all their pleading they had not prevented the newly-married pair from leaving. So, when they had said their farewells on the next day, Aunt and Amrothos had hugged Lothíriel for a long while and gifted her with yet another purse of money – "I don't suppose I can help you further in any other way", Aunt had said – and then Imrahil's sister had lectured Éomer and informed him if he didn't keep his wife safe, she would personally come after him.

Over her shoulder, Lothíriel had watched the figures of her aunt and brother grow smaller, until she could not see them anymore... and then the towers of her home had disappeared as well. She had sighed and turned to look ahead.

"You may want to show your face outside the room, dear one", he said then, looking up at her when she was finished with her broth. "I feel like people are beginning to think you're dying here."

"Hmm. Was there a bathing chamber here? I think I should like to wash up", she mused.

"I will find out", he promised.

The rest of the meal they spent in quiet, and when they had eaten he took away the dishes. When he returned, it was with the information bathing was indeed an option in this inn, and the innkeeper's wife was presently heating up some water for her.

She gave him a kiss of thanks and told him to get some rest. He surely deserved it after taking care of her so diligently.

"We don't want you getting sick too", she said when she grabbed her saddlebag and headed for a bath.

The chamber meant for that activity was small one, but it was clean. And after weeks of travelling and laying in sickbed it was a welcome opportunity. Lothíriel evaluated Éomer had not been wrong to consider these people were getting suspicious of them, what with the way the innkeeper's wife lifted her eyebrows at the sight of her. The sooner they could get on the road the better.

Hot bath had become a luxury one rarely encountered on the road, and so she only started to wash when water was already lukewarm. By the time she got out of the tub she was shivering and hoping it would not be bad after being sick. But as she dried her limbs she suddenly felt warm, wet trickling down her inner thigh.

Oh.

She wasted no time finding clean undergarments and a rag to soak the blood. Good thing they were not meaning to travel today, as the road in south had already proven how uncomfortable that could be. Frowning to herself, she wondered if this was a good or a bad thing. On one hand, she didn't want to end up having a baby by the side of the road, but on the other...

She pushed away those thoughts, reminding herself neither of them were fit for being parents at the moment. That was a consideration for some other day, and some other place. In any case, her husband did not seem to think anything of it when she said her moon blood had come; instead, he just went to get her some tea, and afterwards rubbed gently the small of her back to ease the aching.

"Mm. I am quite convinced I have the best husband in the western realms. Why didn't I marry you sooner?" she murmured softly when she settled in his arms.

"Because you're a pig-headed thing", Éomer answered good-humouredly.

She snorted into the side of his neck and thought perhaps they could continue that conversation after a nap.

The next morrow, she was indeed well enough to continue the journey. It felt good to be on the move again, even if she still had no idea of where they were going.

Lothíriel had not thought much of the future when she had ran away with her beloved, but before she had got sick a notion had first occurred to her. That notion was of what would come next. They had been travelling for a while now, but not even once had they sat down to speak of what they should do next. Was this wandering the answer, then? Were they going to aimlessly follow the roads and paths of Middle-earth until they were both old and grey?

That thought might have continued to grow had not Lothíriel got some news couple of days after they had left the town of Calembel behind. They had passed over the river Ciril and would head towards the pass of Tarlang's Neck, and to the Blackroot Vale beyond. But before they could pursue the road through the pass, they stopped by a farm on the road; prosperous it seemed, and Lothíriel suggested they buy some provisions there, to make sure they had enough food for the journey ahead.

The mistress of the house was a talkative woman. Her brown hair was in a thick braid, and her eyes were bright and lively. She chattered cheerfully away as she filled Lothíriel's bags with foodstuff, from grain to salted meat, honey and cheese, some dried fruits, and so on. The house itself was a light and homely place, and for some reason or the other, it brought her a pang of longing.

But the woman's chatter quickly brought back her attention.

"... past two years, we've got a lot of travellers, you see – with that dreadful road through the mountains open to Rohan, many merchant sort of people came from there or travelled to see the wonders of north... but these months you see less and less people on the road", she said.

"Why is that?" Lothíriel asked, her curiosity sparked by the mention of the Mark.

"Well, they say it's not such a welcoming place anymore, and their new lord is not fond of Gondorian strangers..." said the farmer's wife.

"New lord? I thought King Éomer had left some of his own men in charge", the princess wondered out loud, frowning at these news.

"I don't know about that. I'm just saying what I've heard", the woman replied and shrugged.

"Do you know who this new lord is?" Lothíriel asked carefully, watching closely the woman's face.

"I keep hearing the word 'underking', whatever that means", she answered. But then she narrowed slightly her eyes, "Why are you so interested in this, traveller?"

Now it was Lothíriel's turn to shrug.

"I was just wondering. I have some friends up north", she merely said, and fortunately her answer seemed to satisfy the other woman.

By then the farmer's wife had already filled her bags with food, which was exchanged for some coin, and she bid a good day to her. Then she headed out, mulling over the tidings she had received.

Éomer was with the horses by a well, where a young lad – a son to the farmer, she presumed – was helping him water the steeds. Her husband only needed to cast one look at her to know something was on her mind. He did not ask any questions yet, though. They would return to the matter as soon as they were on the road again. Lothíriel was certain he should know what the farmer's wife had told her.

"You got everything we need?" he asked as she approached.

"Yes, and then some more", she replied with a smile and glanced at the lad watering their horses. "Your mother is a generous lady."

"Too generous, if you ask my father", he answered. He looked at Éomer, "Will you be needing anything else?"

"No thank you", he replied, receiving one bag from Lothíriel to load on his horse. As she fastened her bag to the saddle, she took note of a smaller boy next to the well, dressed in an over-large shirt and watching her husband with wide eyes.

"Is that your little brother?" she asked the older lad.

"Yes. Cyll, stop staring at him like that!" he hissed to the little boy, but that had little to no effect. Apologetically he turned back towards the travellers again. "I'm sorry. He's always staring at Rohirrim when they pass this way. I think all those stories about the Riders of Rohan have made him want to become one."

"It is all right", Éomer said curtly and turned back to his horse.

Soon the two were on the road again, and when the farm had fallen behind he spoke up again.

"Did something happen while you were getting the provisions, or why were you frowning in such a way?" he inquired.

Lothíriel had to give him a smile.

"You always notice, don't you?" she asked warmly. Then she frowned and when she spoke it was in more solemn tones, "I just got some tidings from Rohan."

"Here, of all places?" her husband wondered out loud.

"Apparently travellers from Dimholt Road pass by their farm often. Or used to, at least", Lothíriel said. She glanced at him, "The farmer's wife says Gondorians are not welcome in Rohan anymore. Moreover, according to her some underking is keeping rule there now. Didn't you leave Erkenbrand and Gamling in charge?"

"That I did, and I can't think of any reason why they would surrender the command for anyone else than Éowyn", Éomer said. The expression on his face proved he was just as troubled by these tidings as she was.

"That's what I thought too", she said. He looked at her sternly.

"Did she say anything else about this underking?" he asked.

"No. I would have asked, but she started to get curious about me. I didn't want her to start wondering who I am and why I would be so interested in the Mark", Lothíriel replied and shook her head.

He grunted as a response and looked ahead, his mind already in matters entirely different than the road before them.

"I must think of this", Éomer said in a low, colourless voice. Then he fell silent, and he did not speak much for the rest of the afternoon. Whenever she glanced at him he seemed to be deeply engrossed in his thoughts. So she tried not to disturb him, or offer him her opinions. He would ask for it if necessary.

He continued to be quiet when they had found a sufficient spot for night camp and began to attend to the everyday tasks of settling down for the night's rest. Though Lothíriel hoped she could have somehow helped, she knew the only way she could really do anything was to let him have his peace and wait for when he wished to speak.

"Lothíriel", he spoke at last when they had eaten and they had cleaned up the remnants of the supper. She looked up sharply.

"What is it?" she asked carefully. He watched her, not even trying to hid the troubled expression from his features.

"Would you be opposed to us returning to Rohan?" he asked quietly. Those words did not exactly surprise her, even if she didn't know what was the meaning of them.

"What exactly do you mean by returning?" she asked back.

"To be honest I'm not sure yet. At least I'd like to hear more specific tidings than what you heard from that woman, and... I suppose it depends on what those tidings might be", he said at length and looked down.

She moved closer to him and lifted up her furs, which they had purchased when the weathers had started to grow cold, to make room for him. Then as they were side by side she spoke.

"You know I'll follow you wherever you choose to go. If that is Rohan, then fine", she said steadily and picked up her husband's hand in hers. "Just... are you ready to go home?"

"Aye. I think so. And if something ill is happening in the Mark, then I should like to know about it", he said slowly. "We will not make any decisions, not before we know more."

"Mm. Yes", she agreed and was about to lay her head against his shoulder when another thought occurred to her. So she looked up at him and asked: "How probable do you think it is you'll be recognised, though?"

Éomer hesitated at first and frowned.

"It is difficult to say. If we are to use the Dimholt Road... there should be some people in Dunharrow, but building a more permanent settlement there was only starting when I left for south. And there is no telling what this underking might have done after that..." he said slowly.

"Do you think maybe we should use yet another disguise?" Lothíriel asked.

"What do you suggest, then?" he asked back.

"I suppose I could pose as a young man again. My hair hasn't grown that much yet, so if I just bind my chest it should be enough. As for you... the safest option is if we could somehow cover your face. Otherwise, they might recognise you the moment we step into the light", she stated after a moment of consideration.

"It might not help me to blend in, love. No doubt they'd take me for some sort of an outlaw", he pointed out.

"Not necessarily", she said when suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You could pose as a blind man. Do you think covering your eyes with some cloth might hide enough of your features, so that they won't know you right away?"

"That is not a bad idea at all. We could try it", Éomer agreed and leaned closer to kiss her brow. "Hmm. I wonder what I'd do without you."

"Let's not find out", she murmured back and held his hand a bit tighter. "It is decided then? We will go to Rohan?"

"Aye. We will... and see what is this matter with the underking."

A/N: And I return at last with an update! I'm sorry it took so long, but I continue to be really busy, and I don't presently have much time for writing. But as I said in the last chapter's Author's Note, I've got no intention of abandoning this story! I'll just be slower than before.

Prince Elphir's slight suspicion towards Elessar isn't canonical as far as I know - I just thought it'd be an interesting little thread and would show not everyone is Aragorn's biggest fan. Still, whatever Elphir's personal thoughts might be, he does recognise the reason in Aragorn's wish to learn what is going on in Rohan. As to the reference of heirs of Isildur's line laying claim on Gondorian throne before, that is actually canon. In 1944, King Ondoher died and left only one living child, Fíriel who was wife to Arvedui, the King of Arthedain in North (which was originally a part of the northern kingdom of Arnor). The claim was denied and instead Eärnil became the King of Gondor.

Also we see more of Elfhelm in this chapter. It seemed some of my readers were wanting to see Éothain, but as I felt I didn't have much else to say about him except that he's waiting, I decided to show a bit of his family instead. And having Elfhelm visit them made it possible to write both about him and Éothain's family at the same time. Furthermore, Ceolwen appears again for an instance, but I promise in the next chapters I will have more of her.

And in case you wonder who were the people called Heming and Eadgyd, we first met Heming in the chapter 26 when Elfhelm encountered him in an inn.

So, Lothíriel and Éomer have decided to return to Rohan. Maybe in the next chapter we'll see them come home at last. I decided to add a bit more of small gentle moments between them because of all the angst before.

There were some questions about the family of Éomer and Lothíriel in the Fourth Age. I made a family tree to explain the family relations, and I'd link it here but the site doesn't allow that. Instead, I'll add a link to my profile. In case you're interested, go and have a look!

Hope you liked the chapter, and thank you for reading and reviewing!

Quote in the beginning originally by Tyler Knott Gregson

Leah - We Will Go Home (Song of Exile) (Cover)

UntilNeverDawns - Glad you liked it! :)

brandibuckeye - And here comes the first chapter of part 4. Also I'm rather fond of the old Lothíriel as well.

Anonymous - I hadn't realised it was so conveniently timed!

Thalia - It was lovely to write as well! And at any rate I really wanted to see the mother and the son interacting.

Canonically we indeed know only of Elfwine, but personally I always thought Éomer and Lothíriel would have more than just one child. In this story, they have three children: Elfwine, Elfhild and Elred. For the sake of convenience I've made a family tree which you can find in my profile, if you're interested.

Here's a bit more of Elfhelm as well, and hopefully we'll see Ceolwen again in the next chapter!

Shadowstorm - Lothíriel and Éomer had three children together. Their names are Elfwine, Elfhild and Elred. And Elsunn is indeed Elfwine's daughter. I think she was something of an evening star of her parents, if you get what I mean.

Starlight - You do have an elaborate idea there! I will have to see what I can do about that. :)

Wondereye - Here's a bit of married life! Hope you liked it. :)

Talia119 - Glad you liked it! :) It was enjoyable to write as well, if kinda bittersweet. I hadn't realised the resemblance between the dream scene here and the reunion in Heart's Desire!

I think mostly Lothíriel and her daughter-in-law have a normal relationship. But it's not always easy, I believe. I mean, Lothíriel is such a strong and central figure, and people still consider her the Queen. So Elfwine's wife falls often in her shadow in many ways. Mostly I'd say she handles it well, but sometimes it strains their relations - like in that scene in the last chapter.

Oh yes, this is a long one indeed! I did know it'd be so when I started writing this, but I don't think I really understood what that would mean.

MairaElleth - If you ask me, goosebumps is a good reaction! :) And yes, Lothíriel is very much loved by her family and her people by the time that she tells her story to Elsunn.

Kiiimberly - I'm happy to hear you enjoyed it.

The "present day" parts take place in April of 65 Fourth Age. According to the canon Éomer died in the year 63, so he has been gone for almost two years.