In thy face I see the map of honor, truth, and loyalty. - Ecthelion, The Bard of Lossarnarch

Chapter 43

Elfhelm was ready for departure by dawn.

It was not an easy thing for him to leave at this time, but he knew he had to go. Had the clash of duty and heart ever been more cruel? He doubted it – after all, though in his life he had seen many mornings when he had to ride away, he had never done so while leaving behind so many beautiful things.

Ceolwen and Scýne were there to send him on his way. Both women looked very serious, and he could tell his wife was not glad to see him go. Even so, Ceolwen had not told him what he should or shouldn't do. When he had asked if it truly was fine with her, she had met his gaze steadily.

"You are his Marshal and friend. If he has come home indeed, and you think he needs you, then how could I possibly tell you to stay here? Just be careful, will you?" she had said the last night. But though her voice had been firm and resolute, the way she had held him until morning revealed her concern.

Only a few riders would depart with him, as Elfhelm did not want to leave the town unmanned and taking a large company with him would surely catch unwanted attention. The riders were making ready for the road as well, going through their things for one last time.

"Elva will be so disappointed to hear you've gone again. She was looking forward to having all these adventures here in Astdun with you", Scýne said, wrapping her cloak tighter about herself to keep away the chill of the morning.

"Tell her I'm very sorry", Elfhelm replied, knowing there was not really a way he could have made it better for the little girl. To her, it probably felt like she was abandoned all over again. But hopefully soon Elfhelm would be able to return... and if everything went well, Éothain might be with him.

He turned towards his wife then, and wordlessly she reached to embrace him.

"It'll be all right", he promised her gently. "I'll be back in no time."

"Just find him, husband. And please don't get hurt", Ceolwen murmured, holding on tightly to him.

"Of course I won't", he said and gave her a cheerful smile to reassure her. "I'm a grown man, wife, and I survived the Pelennor fields. Compared to that, this should be something like a nice little picnic."

She made a non-committal sound at the back of her throat and kissed him. When she pulled back, she said, "Go now, Elfhelm, before I tell my men to chain you up and lock you in our room."

Soon he and his riders were on the road. Astdun fell behind, but he did not look back – leaving the town was difficult enough already as it was. Even so, he could not help but think he had ridden into the town and found a home there. A real home after many years of wandering.

They did not make a stop at Aldburg, as Elfhelm did not want to risk the chance of meeting the so-called Marshal. No doubt his henchmen had brought Feran a word of what they had heard and seen in Astdun, and Elfhelm did not trust the underking one bit. He did not want to give the man the opportunity he was obviously waiting for.

So they rode straight towards Harrow, which was a journey of several days. For Elfhelm it felt longer however, what with his anxiety and hope and fear. What then, if he could not find his friend? Worse yet, what if the south had so changed Éomer that he'd not want to return? After all, he had wondered to himself: if his king had returned, then why hadn't he revealed himself yet? Then again, Elfhelm could not imagine a torment that would so dramatically change the dutiful man he had known.

Many questions were in his mind indeed, and he also thought whether his friend was on the road all alone... or if his princess accompanied him. The latter sounded more likely at any rate, if Elfhelm knew Princess Lothíriel at all. She'd have insisted to come along, and Éomer would not be able to tell her no. And the idea that she was with him was a hopeful one. She would take care of him, in ways the man himself didn't even understand.

Rationally Elfhelm knew it was unlikely he'd find his king the minute he and his riders arrived in Harrow. Even so, as they rode the main road of the town, he couldn't but glance around restlessly, looking for a tall man whose bearing and stride he knew well, or perhaps a slender Gondorian woman whose eyes would sparkle and burn.

Had he been alone, he'd probably have started with the search right away. However, before that he needed to see to the well-being of his riders and their horses. So he gave them orders to go and get something to eat, but Elfhelm himself was much too anxious to follow with his own advice. He could as well as start already with the search, and what would be a better place to begin than to try and find the lad who had allegedly seen the King?

It took some asking around, and he could see his questions were not entirely welcomed, until he came to the markets of the town. Apparently that was where one could usually find the lad in question, hanging close by the stand of his mother, who tried to earn a living by selling vegetables. One young fellow, who got noticeably excited when Elfhelm asked about "the lad who saw Éomer King", eagerly pointed at the stand of the boy's mother. Though the general mood seemed worried for his asking, there were those who like him fully welcomed the idea that perhaps their king had returned from the dead. To Elfhelm it seemed more people would have celebrated that idea had they not been scared, and knowing this made him quite angry.

But he would have to think of that later, because now he had to concentrate on finding out all that he could, with the hopes of receiving some hint as to where he should look for his lord.

He made way to the stand in question, but saw no young boys about it. He frowned slightly to himself and thought of asking the standkeeper herself if she knew where her son was, but when he gazed about, his attention soon fixed on a narrow pathway leading from the markets. And there he saw a small gang of boys.

Call it a hunch or what you will, but Elfhelm took that direction instantly. As the noise of the markets fell and he approached the scene, his hunch proved right. One of the lads mockingly exclaimed: "I'm the King of Rohan come back from the dead!"

That exclamation was followed by a burst of laughter from the other boys, of whom there was five. The oldest of them was perhaps not older than fourteen summers, and the youngest had to be nine. In the middle, stood the last one: a small, skinny boy of ten, his messy dark blond hair falling on his face as he tried to shelter himself from the push that came inevitably.

"Oi! Lads!" Elfhelm raised his voice. He did not need the full force of it, which he knew to be impressive, and it still had the hoped effect. All heads snapped towards him, and judging by the way they began to insinuate away he knew no more was needed.

"Get you gone, you little villains, before I thrash the lot of you", he threatened, which made the gang speed away. Their target was left standing where he was. The boy had dared to lift up his eyes at last and he was staring at Elfhelm as though what he had just slain a mûmak right there in the alley.

"Are you all right, boy?" he asked, his voice falling softer now.

"Aye, milord. Thank you", answered the boy and shook himself to get rid of dust on his clothes. "I should get back to my Ma."

"Do you mind if I accompany you? There is something I'd like to ask you", Elfhelm said. The boy looked curious now, but he nodded, and the two returned to the market area of the town. Once they were close to the stand of the boy's mother, he looked up at the former Marshal.

"What did milord want to ask?"

"Just whether you'd be willing to earn some coin", Elfhelm replied, offering a friendly smile to the boy.

"Of course, but how?" asked the boy, looking even more curious now.

"I'd like to hear what you saw", Elfhelm asked, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. The lad blinked at first but then he smiled and opened his mouth as though to speak.

But then there was the sharp call of a woman: "Arric! What did I tell you about spreading those tales!"

Elfhelm turned to see the woman selling vegetables striding towards the boy, her face twisted in a dark frown. Her hair was some shades darker than her son's, but they had the same blue-green eyes. The look of having missed several meals was also something the two shared. Where Arric's face still had some hope, hers appeared to have died long ago.

"But Ma! The lord promised me coin!" Arric objected. His mother wasn't impressed, however – even if some extra money could not have hurt her either.

"I don't care what he promised! No coin is worth risking yourself! Isn't it enough already to have those little demons tormenting you?" she argued back. The woman started half-shouting, but then in the middle of the sentence her voice fell quiet and a concerned look came to her face. She glanced about, her eyes wide with some nameless fear.

However, this exchange had already gathered some spectators, and Elfhelm could feel many eyes on them. He did not pay heed to them but instead regarded Arric's mother calmly.

"Did someone tell you that speaking truth is not advisable?" he asked, and the question roused a soft chatter in the crowd.

"Too many questions, Lord Elfhelm. It'd be better to keep quiet", she muttered, again glancing about as though expecting to see some hostile eyes staring at them.

"In this matter there can't be too many questions. He was my king, and yours too. He deserves to have these questions asked", Elfhelm said steadily. Arric was nodding eagerly at his words. and despite his mother he spoke.

"I saw him, milord. He was here, and though he was trying to blend in, I know it was him. I saw his sword – the horseheads on the two sides of the blade. And no one else I've ever seen is so tall or so... kingly", he said, and Elfhelm's heart leaped in joy, because now he was certain this lad had seen their king. Who else could warrant such description as Éomer himself? And he saw no falsehood on Arric's features.

"The lad is obviously lying", called one elderly woman now, joining the scene unasked. "Everyone knows he died."

"But he was here! I saw him! I'm not lying!" Arric argued; to Elfhelm's experience, only someone telling the truth would defend their witness like so. The old woman would probably have made her own argument against that, but Elfhelm spoke before she could.

"I don't think this boy is weaving any false stories. He obviously saw something. Whether that is our king or not, Béma can tell", he said, laying a hand on Arric's shoulder. "Let this boy be an example to us all. We are an honest people, and it breaks my heart to see how quickly we have forgotten that. Don't be scared, my friends! I say the Riddermark will rise again, and then each and every man will have his due."

It seemed to him those words did not fall on entirely unappreciative ears, but clearly the folks in these parts had been threatened and bullied rather efficiently. For though he saw some hope in the eyes of many of those at the markets that day, he also understood they needed someone else than him... namely, someone back from the dead.

"I hope you are happy now, milord. If something happens to my boy because of you..." started Arric's mother. She looked worried, but he offered her a comforting smile.

"Don't worry for your son. I'll look after him myself... that is, if he'd be willing to become my squire", he said. This brought made her snort in disbelief, but Arric's eyes grew wide and amazed.

"Really? I can be your squire, milord?" he asked and looked like he could not believe what he was hearing.

"Aye. You seem like a good lad, as long as you promise not to raid and empty my purse", he said with just the slightest crease on his brow, and the boy flushed.

"I promise I'll be good! Ma, can I be a squire?" he asked his mother. The woman snorted again.

"Go ahead and see for yourself. It's a folly, I tell you. Most like the only thing you'll be squiring is tankards of ale", she muttered, shaking her head. She glared at Elfhelm, "If anything happens to my boy, I will have your skin – high lord or not."

"He'll be all right", he promised with a smile.

One day before Yuletide Lothíriel finally asked Eadgyd something she had been pushing to the back of her mind ever since she and her husband had stayed in that inn and she had been sick. The men were presently outside, fixing the roof of the stables, which left her with a good opportunity to talk some womanly business with the mistress of the house. She was nearly healed already, but the time it had taken had also her mind running with things she had been too busy or tired to think of until now.

So, after hesitating for a while and fidgeting her hands, she finally decided it wouldn't do to keep just wondering. She looked up at Eadgyd, who was darning one of Heming's socks.

"Eadgyd? May I ask something?" Lothíriel started carefully.

"Of course, my dear. What is it?" inquired Eadgyd, smiling as she spoke. She had assumed a motherly approach towards both the guests, and it did not feel intruding at all. For a chance, it felt actually good to be taken care of in such a way. It reminded her of Aunt Ivriniel, but it also made her miss her father's sister even more.

"I was just thinking... you know something of healing, don't you? You patched me up, at least", said the princess.

"I'm not a healer exactly, but I know bits and pieces. What is on your mind?"

"Do you... do you know much about childbearing?" she asked carefully, feeling the heat on her cheeks. Though she knew she could trust Eadgyd, speaking of this still felt awkward. She was not used to talking about something so intimate and personal, unless it was with Éomer or perhaps Aredhel.

"I'm not a midwife, but you can ask, and I will try to answer", said the older woman. Her expression had become solemn but empathetic, and it further strengthened the feeling as though Lothíriel was talking to something like a mother figure.

"I was just thinking... you see, one could say my relationship with my husband has been very, hmm, Rohirric. Even before we were married. We tried to be careful, though, and I thought it was because of that I didn't... I didn't conceive. But now I've started to wonder if it's not about being lucky at all", she said, lowering her eyes and frowning as she stared at her hands.

She could feel Eadgyd's eyes on her, but now she couldn't meet them – for all her confidence, this was a vulnerable spot, even more so than she had thought.

"May I speak frankly?" Eadgyd asked softly, and Lothíriel let out a nervous little laugh.

"You may. I wouldn't have married an Eorling if I couldn't handle forward talk", she said.

"Of course. I just needed to make sure, because you're of noble Gondorian family, and even though it is obvious you're not an ordinary lady, I'm not always certain how much of our Eorling ways you can stand", Eadgyd said slowly, but with a slight smile. That smile sobered when she went on, "As I said, I'm not a midwife or a skilled healer. One of those might be able to tell you more. Still... to me it seems that you don't have very good birthing hips. I'm not certain your body is well-suited for carrying a babe."

A moment of silence went by, and Lothíriel tried to swallow the hard lump that had formed in her throat. She had not thought this would be so difficult... or that Eadgyd's words would hurt so much.

"So I won't be able to have children?" she asked, her voice nearly breaking down.

Eadgyd moved sharply and came to sit beside her. Gently, the elderly woman placed an arm about her shoulders.

"I do not think you should despair, Garafiell. I did not say it would be impossible for you to conceive – just slightly more difficult than for some other women. There are some potions that could help, but you will need a proper healer to mix them for you. It could be all you need is just a bit of outside help", she told her. The princess could but nod at that, as she wasn't sure she could have even spoken without the threat of tears. Eadgyd appeared to sense her mood, for she gently rubbed Lothíriel's back.

"If you ask me, bearing a child is not just a matter of the body – it is also a matter of the mind. And you have travelled a long weary road, aye? It has asked much of your strength and endurance?" Eadgyd inquired gently.

"That is true", Lothíriel agreed. The older woman smiled and patted her shoulder.

"Then it could just be that the energy a babe would require has gone to supporting yourself on your journey. It may just be a question of time now. When you settle down for good, and you both are in better health, perhaps children will come too", she said comfortingly. The younger woman nodded again quietly and wiped her eyes, to get rid of the stubborn tears that had come to her eyes anyway.

Eadgyd gave her a tight hug. When she pulled back, she asked solemnly: "Are you going to talk with your husband about this?"

"No. Not yet at least. He has enough things to deal with as it is, and I don't want him to worry about this on the top of everything else", Lothíriel said, shaking her head. She remembered their conversation the other day, and how Éomer had finally agreed he needed to go back as soon as she had recovered. If she brought up this matter now... who knew what effect it could have on his resolution? Rohan needed him and she couldn't interfere with that. He might be her husband, but he was a king as well – and the latter was what he needed to become now more than the former. Strange, how it had never been more real than this moment...

"You will have to tell him sooner or later", said the other woman, interrupting her line of thought.

"I know. But not just yet. I can't drop this on him before I'm sure it's the right time", Lothíriel said. She worried her lip, hoping she was making the right decision here. He deserved to know, and yet...

She managed to smile somehow, and she spoke, "Maybe I'm overthinking this. It could be just like you said and I need to get back my strength before a child can come."

"Let us hope so, my dear."

Arric's first task as Elfhelm's squire was a proper meal. The way his eyes lit up at a mention of food confirmed what the former Marshal had already suspected: the boy and his mother were near starving. That was yet another addition to the ever-growing list of Feran's crimes, and Elfhelm had to wonder how many others like Arric there was in Rohan now.

The lad followed him much in the manner of a very loyal puppy, and apparently it didn't even bother him that he had to half-run in order to keep up with Elfhelm. Try as he might, he could not quite fall into a stride slow enough for the boy with much shorter legs.

They stopped at the same inn he had left his men, and they had just finished their meals upon Elfhelm's arrival. They gave some curious looks to the boy, but he ordered them to go and find themselves chambers. He reckoned these fellows had earned a bit of rest after the vigorous way they had made from Astdun.

So, when he and Arric were seated at a table in the inn, and the boy had already emptied almost a half of his bowl, Elfhelm decided his new squire was maybe full enough now to answer some questions.

"About those lads from before", he started, watching closely the boy before him, "that wasn't the first time, was it?"

"No, milord. It wasn't", Arric said, looking darkly down at his portion.

"Is that their usual occupation? To torment those who are smaller and weaker?" Elfhelm asked.

"I'm not small or weak!" Arric argued heatedly. But then he frowned, "well, maybe I'm a bit small."

"Trust me, you won't be small forever", said the former Marshal. "Would you answer my question?"

The boy shrugged.

"They do what they want, milord. And no one dares to tell them they can't. Except for you – I think they're scared of you. They were scared of Lord Gamling too, but then they noticed he's getting old, and he can't keep up with young lads", he replied, and his words made Elfhelm frown. Gamling, getting old? Far as he knew, the man was indifferent to the passage of time.

"Why would people tolerate such behaviour?" he wanted to know. Was there anything going on in the Mark that wasn't somehow wrong?

"Because they say they're the éored of Harrow. They say the underking gives them their orders", Arric said and made a face. Elfhelm grumbled in displeasure.

"That villain in Edoras does indeed have a lot to answer for", he said darkly. "Don't worry, laddie. It'll get better soon."

Arric made a sound at the back of his throat, and it didn't exactly clarify if he believed Elfhelm. He dug again into his meal and for a while they both ate in silence. After a while, Elfhelm spoke up again.

"Now, do you know what is required of you as my squire?" he asked. The blush on Arric's face was telling enough and he suppressed a sigh.

"I... look after your horse?" the boy tried at least.

"You threw that from the top of your mind, and at any rate Monster would not let you touch him", Elfhelm said wryly and sipped his ale. "As a squire, you will be expected to care for my gear. Not for the sword, though. My own father once taught me that no true warrior ever surrenders the duty of caring for his sword to another man. Same goes for our horses. We are not Rohirrim if we do not take care of our own steeds."

Arric listened to him so intently that the boy had even forgotten about his meal. With a slight smile, Elfhelm continued, "But you will be required to help every now and then, like with fetching him food and drink. Most like you will be fetching those for me as well. When we are on the road or camping with an éored, your task will be to wake me up every morning. If I were a Marshal still, you'd be responsible for seeing my tent has everything I need."

"So in other words I'll be running every little errand that comes into your mind, milord", the boy stated doubtfully.

"Aye, that is it more or less", said the man. His smile widened then, "And as a reward I will provide you with the best battle-training you can imagine. Perhaps one day I will also give you a horse, if you prove yourself worthy."

Now the lad's eyes widened again and filled with enthusiasm.

"I will gladly serve you, milord! I will prove myself worthy!" he said happily.

"Hmm. I will probably have to teach you a great many things besides waging war", Elfhelm mused half-audibly. "Tell me, have you ever held a sword? Or fought with one?"

"My Da taught me some. He was a real proper rider", Arric replied. The mention of his father lessened the joy on his face and turned his expression into a frown.

"What happened to him?" Elfhelm asked, though he already had an idea about what the answer would be.

"He died in the Ring War", Arric said indeed and lowered his eyes. A pang of sympathy went through the former Marshal as he regarded the lad.

"Why didn't you join one of the Marshals' éoreds?" he asked gently. He had no recollection of seeing this boy in his own éored at least. Though he had taken in many orphaned boys, he remembered each of their faces.

"I would have, but they told me I was too small", Arric said, now with some spite in his voice.

"Let me tell you something. I was pretty small too, when I was at your age. But that made me fiercer than all the rest", Elfhelm told him, lowering his voice as though he was telling the lad some great secret.

Arric looked at him disbelievingly.

"Small, you?" he asked doubtfully, and Elfhelm had to laugh.

"I grew bigger", he said and reached over the table to pat the boy's shoulder. "And you will grow too. In fact, we will make a real proper rider of you as well, and make sure your father can be proud, wherever he is."

The boy beamed at him, and he could not tell whether something he had promised had ever before made anyone so happy.

We will take back Rohan... even if it is one child at a time.

The morning routine had taken its shape fairly quickly.

Usually, Éomer was up and about at the same time as Eadgyd. Lothíriel would still be asleep – she was sleeping more than usual these days, though she was getting better. He judged she just needed all that rest after the long road they had travelled.

Heming would be sleeping as well, and so Éomer and the mistress of the house were left to their early morning labours alone. He'd bring water and wood for her and she would thank him, smiling warmly.

That morning greeted them with some heavy snowfall, which would mean he and Heming would not be able to get anything done outside. Eadgyd said her husband would should enjoy some extra rest, "and you would do well if you did too, Éðelléas... if I did not know better, I might think you were his son, what with the way neither of you ever really stops..."

She made them breakfast, and while she did Éomer sat by the table. He had meant to fix some broken tools, but for once his mind had wandered and now he considered the snowfall with a frown while his fingers restlessly tapped against the window board.

"What is on your mind, my dear?" Eadgyd asked, distracting him from his thoughts. For one reason or the other, she had called him and Lothíriel both "my dear" from the very first night. It wasn't that he minded, but it felt strange. No one had called him so after his mother had died.

"I'm that obvious?" he asked sheepishly, turning to look at her. She smiled softly.

"You can't sit tapping your fingers like that and go unnoticed", she affirmed, and he let out a small chuckle. However, that sound ended rather quickly and made way for his concerned thoughts again.

"It is just... there is some place I should be. But I can't go, not before my wife is well again. And I imagine it would not be the best idea to go riding in this weather", Éomer said carefully. Indeed, past few days concern had never really left his thoughts. He supposed it meant he was really starting to be ready to go home. It was an unexpected thing to realise, because back in Pelargir it had seemed like he would never get to a place where he'd be well enough to even consider taking up his place once more.

"Aye. Even those with the very best sense of direction can easily get lost in a snow storm", Eadgyd agreed and offered him a cup of tea, which he received with thanks. She sat opposite him, holding a cup of her own between her hands, and considered him quietly for a while. Eventually she spoke: "You're thinking of going home."

"How did you know?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows. He had been careful of what he told these people, despite the ever-present wish to just tell them the truth. But what she spoke next showed he didn't need to.

"Where else would you be going... Sire?" Eadgyd asked, her voice falling so soft it was almost a whisper.

Éomer sat frozen. For a moment, he could not speak, even though he had known all along there was a good chance someone would recognise him. However, from Heming's words he had made the assumption these people did not much interact with the world beyond their farm, and so he had not thought this would be the place where he'd be known for who he really was.

But even as he tried to decided how to react, he took notice of her expression. In Eadgyd's face there was no wonder or judgement. She just regarded him the way she had from the start, her blue-grey eyes warm and friendly.

"How did you know?" he asked at last, when he had recovered his voice. Eadgyd smiled.

"I realised who you are rather quickly, my lord. You look a lot like your father... though you are taller than he was", she said, keeping low her voice. "Your wife was a clue as well. A young woman with those sea-grey eyes of Westernesse... and with a spirit unlike anything I had ever imagined a Gondorian lady would possess. Who else could you two be?"

"You knew him?" he asked, still unsure of what he should feel. What were the odds he'd be recognised for the resemblance between himself and his father?

"I used to live in Edoras many years ago before I married Heming. I often saw your father when he came to Meduseld - we lived close to the main road, and I loved to watch Riders as they passed by. Lord Éomund had a way of standing out, whether he was coming or going. Always laughing, he was..." Eadgyd said in the soft tones people used when speaking of those who were gone.

"Aye. I remember that as well. When he lived our home was full of laughter", Éomer said. He sighed, "We never really laughed again after he died. Not until after the Great War."

He glanced at the door of the small chamber he and Lothíriel shared, remembering all that laughter she had brought into his life. But then he shook his head and met Eadgyd's gaze again, this time warily.

"I wonder what you must think, that I should be here of all places, and still be letting people think I'm dead", he said, unable to hold back his frown. It sounded even worse when he said it out loud. However, if Eadgyd thought so, her face did not betray it.

"My lord, I have heard of what happened in the south and based on that, I can't even begin to imagine what kind of a road you must have travelled. As I do not know the whole story, who am I to judge your choices? And even now I can see your duty is calling you", she said and her tone was comforting. She went on, "Seeing how concerned you were for your lady wife... I know you had to care for her before doing anything else. It is not wrong to be human, Sire. Not even for a king."

"But right now I can't afford to be human. I should be on my way home and see to this underking", he muttered and rubbed his forehead.

"He is not going anywhere, my lord", Eadgyd reminded him. "Rohirrim are resilient, and need you as they might, they can wait until you are ready – both of you."

She reached over the table to pat his hand, and she said in tender tones, "You can't have your mind in two places when you go to reclaim your birthright, Sire. First make sure the man has his feet steadily on ground, and then let the King take over."

"Aye. Perhaps you are right", Éomer had to agree. He looked down on his cup of tea, which sat forgotten before him. He glanced at Eadgyd again, "Does your husband know?"

"No, he doesn't. To him you are just two travellers – strange maybe, but ultimately not as extraordinary as I know you to be", answered the elderly woman.

"Why didn't you tell him?" he asked with some confusion.

"Out of respect towards you, my lord. Revealing yourselves should be your own choice", Eadgyd said, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"I'm thankful for your discretion", he said and thought it had been some stroke of luck that it was this woman and her husband who had offered their help to him and Lothíriel.

"It is an honour to be able to help you and your lady wife", Eadgyd said nonchalantly, like it was no great thing she and her husband were doing for them. "Don't tell her that I know, though. It is better for now, I would deem."

The conversation came to an end then, as Heming appeared from the old couple's bedchamber, yawning and scratching his beard and overall bearing the look he had not heard a word of what had been said in the main chamber. With a sleepy smile, he bid good morning to his wife and his guest as he sat down at the table.

The discussions that followed were perfectly ordinary, but in the quiet of his thoughts Éomer felt oddly relieved by what had transpired between him and Eadgyd.

Truly, strange was the path the fate had prepared for him.

On the morrow, Elfhelm started with the task of trying to find his king. Arric accompanied him, while four of his riders he sent out to search out of the town while the remaining would work in two pairs, based on the boy's description of the man he had seen.

When the former Marshal had sent the boy home last night, his eyes had been full of light and hope, though Elfhelm had also warned him: "If your mother's doubts prove correct and someone does come for you, then don't even think of trying to fight them. Instead, run to me as fast as you can."

But perhaps she had been just paranoid, because the lad returned just as cheerful on that morning as he had been last night.

They started the day in the inn with some breakfast, and as they sat eating, Elfhelm considered the boy before him thoughtfully. Arric was eating with the healthy appetite of a growing child who had known hunger. Still, the boy had time for a question.

"When will you start training me, milord?" he asked, not even trying to hide how much he looked forward to that.

"As soon as I can, but today we have more urgent business. We will have to ask around about the man you saw", Elfhelm replied.

"Why is it so important to find him quickly?" the boy wanted to know.

"Because he's my friend and my king. And because I fear what might happen if someone else finds him before I do", Elfhelm said solemnly.

"Why?" the boy inquired curiously.

"Sad as that is, there are people in the Mark now that may not want him to come back. And Béma only knows what they might do to prevent it", said the former Marshal. Arric didn't need to ask more – instead his expression became serious. Elfhelm went on, "That is the thing about being a Rider. You never abandon a brother in arms. Some men, especially our greatly esteemed underking, have just forgotten it what it means to be a Son of Eorl."

When they had eaten they headed out, ready for the day ahead. Both felt hopeful, but soon as they stopped the townsfolk passing by to ask for information, it became clear this was not a topic they eagerly discussed. An observation he quickly made was that even those who obviously knew nothing of the matter became uneasy when hearing the questions about a tall hooded man. It was worrisome, especially because he had no idea what might be the reason behind that evasion.

At midday, he met his riders as agreed on the morrow. They reported similar reactions among the folk they had questioned. So Elfhelm decided to send two more men out of Harrow as well. It was a risky decision of course as it left him more vulnerable, but something was telling him they needed to find Éomer as quickly as possible.

In the end, it took the entire day to find the explanation as to what was happening in Harrow, and why their inquiries were met with such cold shoulder. That explanation came to them in the shape of Gamling himself.

At that point, Arric was already starting to get tired, but as a testimony of his resilience he did not complain. Elfhelm was thinking he should maybe send the boy home and check one or two more haunts of the local types he knew to have looser tongues when helped with ale. This fearful atmosphere was truly starting to vex him: how difficult could it be to find a man?

They were about to enter one alehouse at the edge of the town, and Elfhelm was about to turn towards the boy and tell him to stay close – he didn't need Arric to go wandering in a place like this – when suddenly the voice of a friend alarmed him.

"There you are, Elfhelm. How can a man of your standing and reputation be so difficult to find?" Gamling asked from behind him, and the former Marshal turned to see the old Rider. The man seemed somehow more ancient than the last time he had seen him, and there wasn't that lightness in his step he remembered from times before. With some concern, Elfhelm wondered if those orphaned boys Arric had spoken of hadn't been so wrong to think Gamling was getting old at last.

"I've been asking the same question myself all the day, old friend", he replied and thought of his king. He reached to give the old man a friendly pat on his shoulder. "I thought you were on your holdings, not here in town."

"Aye, I was, but I came to run some errands here. So I heard you're in town, and that you're asking questions", Gamling said, lowering his voice. Elfhelm picked up the hint and they moved to put some distance between themselves and the door of the alehouse. Arric followed quietly and the old rider looked at him curiously. "Who's this?"

"He's Arric, my new squire", Elfhelm said and the boy stood straighter. All mentions of his new position continued to fill him with pride.

"Greetings, milord", he said and made a clumsy little bow he may just have been practising entire last night.

"Greetings, young master Arric", Gamling said and smiled slightly. But then he looked at Elfhelm again and his expression sobered. "What brings you in town, Elfhelm? The last I heard you were in Aldburg."

"That I was. It is a long story but I sort of got married and then I heard the news about our king, and so I rode here", answered the former Marshal.

"Sort of got married?" Gamling asked in surprise. "You, married?"

"Oh, I know how it sounds. I'll tell you all about it some time", Elfhelm promised. He looked at his friend sharply, "Did you hear the news?"

"That some lad had seen our king? Of course. I don't suppose you could really not hear about it", answered the old Rider. Elfhelm patted Arric's shoulder.

"And this is the lad who saw him. I'm convinced what Arric saw was real. Our King has indeed come home", he said, unable to hold back the note of cheer that entered his voice then.

"Then where is he? Why hasn't he revealed himself?" Gamling asked doubtfully.

"I'm sure he has his reasons. Could be he's decided not to reveal himself before he has found out what has happened in the Mark during his absence", Elfhelm replied and shrugged. His faith in Éomer went deep, and after all these months he couldn't just give up on hope. He sighed, "What annoys me is how unhelpful people are here in Harrow. We've been asking about a tall hooded man all day, but no one seems to be willing to speak with us."

The old man's eyes widened slightly and he looked like he was just realising something dreadful.

"It is because you're not the first ones asking that question", he said, his voice not much more than a whisper. Elfhelm frowned in confusion, but then he saw Gamling's eyes filling with something he could only call fear.

"Who else would be asking it, then? Why are you looking at me like that?" he demanded to know.

"It is because the men who were looking for a tall hooded man were from Edoras, riding with orders from the underking... and they rode north-west from the town only yesterday", said the old man gravely.

One moment went by, heavy and long with the dread that must be filling all three of them. When Elfhelm recovered his voice, it was still weak... even if he knew what had to be done. He said: "We need to find him fast."

"I'll just go and get my horse and riders", Gamling said, his tones solemn. He added, "I shall also send a word for Erkenbrand. I'll be bringing my own household guards, but he has to know what is happening, and we may need his éored."

"I'll meet you at the north gate", Elfhelm said sternly.

Without a further word, they parted ways. The former Marshal had to remind himself not to fall into a long, speedy stride – Arric had enough difficulty keeping up with as it was. Yet speed could mean the world right now, for if Feran's men knew who was the man they were looking for... he did not know if they would recognise the King of Rohan when they saw him, or which loyalties might prove the strongest for them, but he wasn't willing to leave it for a chance. He wasn't sure how many men Feran had sent to look for Éomer, but he evaluated they should be able to hold their ground long enough: himself, Gamling and his riders, Éomer and Lothíriel providing them cover, and the men of Astdun made up a force to be reckoned with.

He was awakened from these musings by the voice of Arric when they were taking a short cut to the inn where Elfhelm had left his horse and his things.

"Can I come along?" asked the boy eagerly, half-running to stay on his side on the narrow pathway they were walking.

"Absolutely not", replied the man strictly. "It's too dangerous."

Unsurprisingly, Arric's face fell.

"So I'm just supposed to wait here while you ride out to have adventures, milord? I thought being a squire would be more exciting", he complained.

"It's not an adventure. And it is not an exciting game", Elfhelm said, more sharply than he had intended. The boy flinched and looked taken aback, and the eager glint in his eyes died.

Realising he had been too harsh, Elfhelm stopped to regard the boy. He lay a hand on his squire's shoulder.

"I promise you will ride with me some day. But it will have to wait, because I haven't even started to train you in the arts of war, and if it comes to a battle, I can't be worrying about you", he said seriously but not ungently. "The safety of our king may very well depend on this, Arric. You have already been a great help, and I'm certain you will have your chance of proving yourself."

The boy clearly wasn't completely consoled by this, but he did seem to understand. He nodded quietly and Elfhelm offered him a comforting smile.

"Now, let us continue. I should make haste and meet Gamling, so that we can-" he said, but never got to finish his sentence. For from the way they had been going came four men, each heavily armed and armoured.

He had been a warrior long enough to sense danger when it approached him head first. The hair at the back of his neck stood up and there was a surge of fire in his blood, preparing him for battle.

But before he could fight, he had to care for one innocent life. So Elfhelm leaned closer towards Arric, and said quietly: "Get out of here, boy. Run to Gamling and tell him I was hindered."

The lad looked up at him in distress.

"But milord! I can't leave you alone!" he argued.

"I can hold up against four, but you have no place here, not now. Arric, if you mean to be my squire, you will have to learn to obey – even the difficult order", he said steadily. The boy seemed like he was trying to come up with some argument, but quickly realised there was nothing he could say. So he darted from Elfhelm's side, leaping like a startled deer. Small he may be, but he was fast. The men coming towards the former Marshal would never catch him.

Content with the knowledge Arric would be all right, Elfhelm turned to meet the four men.

"Oi there. Do you have business with me?" he asked calmly, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword and evaluating his opponents. They had spears which was a problem, but on a narrow street he might still be able to make his stand.

But then there was a sound of hooves behind him, and at the end of the narrow pathway he saw two riders.

This is bad.

One of the men on foot stepped forward. Elfhelm had a vague memory of seeing him back in Edoras, though he couldn't name the place or time.

"Lord Elfhelm", called the man, "by the order of Feran Underking I am here to arrest you for high treason."

A/N: Here's an update at last! Sorry it took so long, but life remains hectic until unforeseen future. Hope you enjoyed the chapter at least!

Lots of Elfhelm's POV in this chapter. I needed to move his thread a lot in this chapter for certain reasons that should be explained in the next installment. At any rate things aren't looking so good for him for the moment. But I just like my cliffhanger endings, okay? ;)

Lothíriel is getting better, but that doesn't mean her worries are yet over. The matter she and Eadgyd talk in this chapter was first hinted at in Chapter 38, and at least some of my readers had paid attention to the scene where she is bathing. It's a troubling thing for her, but she judges it would not be a good idea to talk about it with Éomer now, because he needs to concentrate on becoming a king again.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Quote in the beginning originally by William Shakespeare.

Inspiration for the chapter: Gary Moore - Over the Hills and Far Away

Kiiimberly - At this point they've been there just short of two weeks. :) And yes, Éomer is definitely getting at it!

brandibuckeye - Sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Good to hear I have managed to create such a suspenseful atmosphere.

Jo - Yes, mearas definitely are something else. I wish Tolkien had written more about them, and their relationship to the House of Eorl.

MairaElleth - I'm glad to know my readers are so excited! :) That is always good news to the writer.

Elfhelm is definitely doing his best to get to Éomer, but presently it doesn't seem like going too well for him.

Wondereye - No gestures yet in this chapter, and I can only say: wait and see! :)

It was pretty bad for Lothíriel indeed, but she's getting better now.

Thalia - Thank you! I try my best to keep things exciting. :)

I'm trying to work out something with Éothain - maybe he'll make an appearance some time soon!

Shadowstorm - Yes, there's definitely a lot going on right now. For now things aren't going so well for Elfhelm, being accused of high treason and whatnot. And maybe Éothain will be back soon.

Talia119 - Things are indeed suspenseful with Unferth and his gang. He definitely has a headstart to get to Éomer, but we'll see how that goes. Also Elfhelm is doing his best but as you can see, Feran has pretty much had it with him and things aren't so great for him right now.

As to whether Feran hasn't yet made any approaches towards Ceolwen yet, it's because she is supposed to give her answer after Yuletide, and after his men visited Astdun a couple of chapters ago he has figured it's not smart to keep pushing her. And yes, he definitely wouldn't like the news she chose Elfhelm instead. That may just play a part in Elfhelm's arrest...

sylverlilias - Thank you! Glad to hear you like the story, and hopefully it will continue to entertain you! :)