If you fight with all your might, there is a chance of life; where as death is certain if you cling to your corner. - Eldacar, King of Gondor
Chapter 44
After a bitter fight, Elfhelm had gone down.
Accusations of high treason had filled him such mindless rage that it had taken some effort from his captors to force him to surrender, and even when they had taken away his sword, he had still been kicking and cursing and biting everything that moved. In the end, they had gagged him and tied all four of his limbs, and he had no choice but to acknowledge his defeat. Still, anger had throbbed with each beat of his heart. That these villains dared to accuse him of something so ludicrous!
Nevertheless, when he slightly calmed down, he could only worry for Arric and Gamling and hope they would not receive similar treatment.
He was taken to a homestead at the edge of the town, as prison cells were not in abundance in these parts. The space he was tossed into smelled of some animal and had no light beyond what little came from tiny windows above the door. At least armfuls of hay had been spread on the floor, and so he wasn't left on the bare ground.
His captors left then, leaving the former Marshal fume to himself. At least the piece of clothing around his mouth had come loose enough during his struggle that with some effort, he was able to at least get it from way.
"You bastards", he muttered to himself, though he knew no one would hear the words.
At least he thought so.
"Elfhelm? Is that you?" came a question from one shadowy corner, and he hauled himself up as he could, trying to see in the dark. He knew that voice, low and melancholy as it might be.
"Éothain?" he spoke in wonder. "What in the name of Béma are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I suppose", answered the captain with a sigh. There was a clink of shackles and as Elfhelm's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see those villains had even taken the cane and wooden leg from his friend. It had his anger rising anew, but he gritted his teeth against the red hate.
"You were accused of high treason?" he asked, which made Éothain sigh.
"Aye. There was some talk about how I did not guard our king well enough, but in truth I guess it is because of that lad who they say saw Éomer here in Harrow. Feran probably thinks I sang the exact songs he forbid me from sharing... looks like he's a man of his word", he answered at length and his voice turned heavy with grief and pain. "I've yet to receive a word on my family, but I suppose Feran has already dealt with them... after all, he did tell me they would suffer if I did not stay quiet."
"Your family is fine, Éothain. They are staying in Astdun for now", Elfhelm told him, which had the other man's head jerking up in the shadows.
"Really? How is that? When did they travel there?" the captain demanded to know. So, the former Marshal briefly explained how he and Ceolwen had resolved to bring Scýne, Aedre, and the children to a safer location. Éothain listened in silence and when he spoke, Elfhelm could hear the tears in his voice.
"Thank you, Elfhelm. Thank you so much. I have no care or fear anymore, knowing they are safe and sound", he said weakly.
"I'm sure you'll see them soon again", Elfhelm tried to comfort his friend. He attempted to move his hands in ropes, but the knots were too tight.
Éothain sighed.
"Will I? Perhaps I was wrong to believe Éomer survived, after all... maybe he was killed indeed, and I sent the Princess Lothíriel to her death as well. It has been months and yet he has not come home", he spoke quietly. Elfhelm would never have expected to hear such words from the captain, but on the other hand the man had spent months surrounded by people who took him for a traitor or were watching his every move. He had not seen his family since he had left for the southern campaign, and all he had was a vague hope that their king might come home one day. Such a thing could break anyone's spirit sooner or later.
"He lives, Éothain. I know he is out there and it's only a matter of time before he returns", Elfhelm said firmly. "And I'm sure the rumour is true. I've met the lad who saw him and what he told me convinced me. We can't lose hope, not when our King could be about to return any day now."
"Hmm. That is a nice thing to think of", Éothain said, his voice falling softer. "But even if it is so... we are here behind a locked door, and accused of treason. We can't help or defend our king if he comes home, and doesn't know what he is returning to... all Feran needs to do is catch him."
"Not if Gamling and Erkenbrand get to him first", Elfhelm argued. "Have faith, my friend. Feran is not invincible... and if he tries to harm Éomer, and even if whole of the Mark lost their nerve all of a sudden and did not stand with our king, I know at least of one person who will stand fearless. And I have a feeling Feran will not know to expect her."
With Elfhelm's departure, the Hall of Astdun felt more quiet. Ceolwen did not know why that was, because the daily comings and goings of her household did not change that much with his going. Moreover, housing Éothain's family did bring life in her home. Ultimately, she supposed it was just because she had grown accustomed to having him here, and so the absence of the man she had married did not seem right. Elfhelm's cheerful personality, his loud laughter, and his unfaltering faith were something she missed as soon as he had left.
For the longest time, Ceolwen had thought maybe she'd never marry, especially with how she had grieved for her betrothed when he had died in the war, but then... it was very easy to love Elfhelm. And asking him to marry her was just as easy.
It was good to have Scýne, Aedre, and the children in the house. She hadn't really known Captain Éothain's family before, but now she did, and found them nice folk. Little Elva was a sweet girl, though the absence of her father and "Unca Ellem" did obviously trouble her, and Scýne and her mother were pleasant company. Moreover, seeing they were all worrying for the men in their lives, the mutual support was more than welcome.
Had she been in any other situation, Ceolwen would have insisted to go with her husband, to make sure the dear oaf didn't get into trouble, but being the Lady of Astdun left her with responsibilities she couldn't abandon. In addition with the situation as it was in the realm, she was also reluctant to leave her seat just so; her idiot cousin would no doubt seize the chance if he got wind of it.
So she was left waiting for a word of her husband, and whether he had found the King, and all the while Yuletide was growing closer.
One day about a week and a half after Elfhelm's departure she and Scýne and Elva walked together to the market of Astdun. Aedre stayed behind with the little boy, whom his mother had named Getrúwian. In the markets one could see Yuletide was near, what with the busy atmosphere. The celebrations for the ending of one year and the arrival of another were dearly beloved by Eorlingas. Even now, when the future was uncertain and the townsfolk knew not what would happen as soon as the underking heard his intended bride had already married, Yuletide was a time everyone looked forward to. Perhaps it was just the uncertainty which created this abandon.
They had a pleasant time at any rate, and for a while Ceolwen was able to forget about the ever-present worry for her husband. When they had done their shopping, and she had bought hot chestnuts for Elva, they decided to turn back for the Hall.
"Has there been any word of your husband?" Scýne asked as they made way uphill, keeping slow their pace so that Elva wouldn't wear down.
"Not yet", Ceolwen replied. "For now, I take no news as good news. It would be very easy to drive myself mad with worry if I allowed all the possibilities enter my mind."
"Aye, that is perhaps for the better", Scýne agreed. Watching her daughter, she wondered out loud, "It could mean he has found what he left to seek. I hope the things would be so well."
She had been explained already what Éothain had truly seen on the southern battlefield where Éomer King had allegedly died, and that the Princess Lothíriel had gone to find him. These tidings had apparently brought her at least some ease, as it helped her to understand why Éothain couldn't come back to his family yet. But it had also re-ignited hope in her heart.
"I hope so as well. Yule is almost here and I'm supposed to give my answer to Feran after it... the return of our king is really the only thing that could prevent violent consequences", Ceolwen said, shaking her head.
"You think Feran truly is so wicked, that he'd declare war on you for refusal?" Scýne asked.
"I do not put it past him", answered the Lady of Astdun, frowning at the thought of the hateful man. She should just have taken him out the moment he had made the insane proposal - that might have spared all of them a great deal of headache.
"Hm. Well, he is someone who keeps a man away from his family... his newborn child even", Scýne said and her voice grew dark. Ceolwen considered the red-haired woman had more reason to hate Feran than anybody did; he had effectively taken her husband away from her at the time of her son's birth, leaving her alone with two small children.
"I'm sure Éothain will come home soon", Ceolwen comforted the other woman. No matter how much she missed her own husband, she knew it had nothing on what Scýne had been going through for months now.
"I hope he does. He's been gone far too long", sighed the red-haired woman and shook her head.
For a while, they walked in quiet, both lost in their thoughts of their husbands. Ceolwen tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong, but fighting the worry was not easy. Rationally she knew Elfhelm could take care of himself, and still...
It was then her ears picked up the sounds of a horse galloping up the hill. She turned and gazed back the way they had come, and saw the four riders approaching. The moment she recognised their faces a stone fell on her heart, for these were some of the men who had gone with her husband. He was not with them, nor were the rest of the riders who had originally gone with him... instantly, she thought a battle had taken place.
"My lady!" called one of the riders when he saw she had noticed their arrival.
"Where is my husband?" she asked right away. Please, let him be alive...
"My lady, I bring some ill news from Harrow. Your lord husband has been arrested. The underking blames him of high treason", replied the man.
In that one moment before she was able to gather her calm again, Ceolwen wanted to scream at the four men, accuse them of not protecting her husband. But she knew it was not their fault. She couldn't expect just four men to go against Feran – most that would achieve was they'd be arrested as well or killed. Not to mention this was a far more hopeful thing than what she had thought at first. Elfhelm was alive still...
She gritted her teeth and determination grew on her mind, cold and clear. She already knew what she would do.
"Ceolwen?" Scýne asked, sounding shocked at this news.
"There is something I need to do. I'll speak with you later", Ceolwen said. Glancing at the four men, "Go and find something to eat. Get some rest. You will be needing it."
She turned then and began striding fast up towards her hall, already busy making plans. Her folk knew her well enough to jump from way when she came, and as soon as she was in the courtyard she gave out a shout: "Ohthere! Get here at once!"
The steward appeared from the stables, where he had been talking with the stablehands. He only had to take a look at her face to know something was afoot.
"My lady, what is it?" he asked. His words echoed in the courtyard, which had fallen silent. She could practically feel the entire hall holding their breath.
"Send word to all corners of my holdings and muster the éored of Astdun", Ceolwen said, her voice ringing stark and clear. "My lord husband is in trouble... and we are going to take him back."
January 1 Fourth Age, Harrowdale
The time of Yule came with a heavy snowstorm unlike anything Lothíriel had ever seen before: snow fell thickly almost without a break, covering the plains like a voluminous blanket. The poor weather meant first and foremost a delay for them. They had been hoping she'd be well enough to travel before Yule, but when snowfall began two days before and did not show signs of slowing down the day after, they had to admit the truth. There was no possible way they could leave before the storm had ended. Even then, depending on weather, they might have to wait for the snow to melt.
It obviously frustrated Éomer to no end, but also worried him. For as long as he stayed in the dark, the underking remained free to terrorise the people of the Mark. She tried to console him the best she could: "The chances are the weather is just as abysmal in all of Rohan, and that underking won't have a chance to come up with any shenanigans while it lasts."
The celebrations for Yule were small, as could be expected. Eadgyd made some special effort for the supper, and despite the storm Éomer went through the trouble of heating hot water enough for all inhabitants of the farm. As the wind howled outside and they sat after the dinner, freshly bathed and their bellies full, stories of times past were shared. Lothíriel too was asked to tell them tales from Gondor, and all three Eorlingas listened in quiet wonder as she spoke of the Fall of Númenor as it was preserved in the traditions of her own kin.
It was a peaceful evening, but late that night, when she was curled up against her husband and listened to his breathing, she could not escape the thoughts that came with the quiet. There was a surprising sting to the knowledge that if things had gone otherwise, they would now be in Meduseld. She imagined the celebrations there, the laughter and song and the taste of mead, and the untroubled joy free of painful memories. The last thought in her mind was if they would ever see the Golden Hall in a time of Yule... and if there was a day in future when neither of them were haunted by any ghosts of past.
Yule came and went. It left behind the weary old year and welcomed the new one. It was strange to know this time last year, Lothíriel had been back in Dol Amroth, unsuspecting of what lay ahead. She had been waiting for the day of wedding and all that the future would bring, so hopeful and a lot more innocent in many ways. Now thinking back to the Yule spent in her childhood home, she felt like more time had passed than just a year.
The storm died eventually and the weather got warmer as well, which was promising; there was a promise of snow melting and they would not be stuck at the farm until unforeseen future.
With her injury healed and the snow melting, it was at last a time to move on. They had wandered, and perhaps it had been more about looking for things they had lost than just an aimless travel, but now was time to leave that behind.
But before they could take the road of going home, preparations were required. Neither Lothíriel or Éomer wanted to leave just like so after all the help they had received from the old couple, especially because their visit had significantly tapped into the food stores.
So, to make up for the provisions their upkeep had required (and to prepare for the journey), Éomer and Heming rode out one day with the intention of going to buy some foodstuff. Not from Harrow of course, because after his last trip Éomer was doubtful he could make another appearance without being known immedieatly. Instead, the two men would ride to another farm northwest, possibly even more remote than Heming and Eadgyd's home. It was a larger one however, so it was likely they would have spare food to sell. Not only that, but it was occupied by the old couple's daughter and her husband, and so could be trusted to retain discretion for what small time there remained before Éomer and Lothíriel could arrive in Edoras.
Meanwhile, she was busy with packing their things – surprisingly much had gathered into their saddlebags during their journey – and making sure all equipment was fit for travel. With the help of Eadgyd she inspected and cleaned the saddles and reins; the elderly Eorling woman huffed to herself and shook her head.
"As soon as you get a chance, please purchase yourselves proper Rohirric horses and saddles", she insisted and Lothíriel knew to tell her it was exactly what they'd do. Eorlingas and their standards when it came to horses and riding! It reminded her of a certain afternoon back at the markets of Minas Tirith almost two years ago. The memory of Éomer finding her there, his promise of Rohirric reins in exchange for a name, and ale they had drank in an inn nearby made her smile but also brought her a sense of bittersweet. It felt like a lifetime had passed since those carefree days after the Great War.
I wonder if I could have spared him from all this, if I had just said yes sooner...
By early afternoon, she had the most of their things packed, and Eadgyd suggested she go out and catch some fresh air and bit of sun, as the weather was clear for once.
"It'd do some good to you, my dear. You still look a bit pale", said the elderly woman. The wound was now a scar on Lothíriel's side and she was fully healed, but the time of recovery still showed on her face. She deemed Eadgyd had the right of it, and so she put on some warm clothes and headed out, taking her bow with her. She would have loved to inspect the lands more closely, perhaps go for a hunt, but it she would probably just get lost. So, in the end she decided she could use some practice with her bow.
It did feel good to be outside and just concentrate on her archery, and so she nearly lost all measure of time. When she turned to return inside to ask if Eadgyd needed help preparing dinner, the afternoon was already growing old.
Having trudged through banks of snow, she stopped to regard the scenery: there was still some snow here and there, especially in the laps of the valleys, but most of it was gone already. She gazed towards northwest in the hopes of seeing Éomer and Heming on their way back, but she could not spot two riders anywhere near. She sighed and shivered under her cloak... until she turned her glance eastwards.
There were riders indeed, but instead of two she saw a dozen, speeding over the plain. An ill feeling came to her and she turned, hurrying towards the farmhouse. She did not wait to properly enter and announce herself, but called the old woman as soon as she had the door open: "Eadgyd, are you expecting guests?"
Heming's wife was just in the middle of peeling some potatoes when Lothíriel hastily arrived and her head shot up in alarm.
"No, I'm not expecting anyone", Eadgyd replied. "What is it, my dear?"
"A dozen riders are coming this way. They will be here soon", Lothíriel answered quickly. Her heart was picking up speed and her instinct was telling this could not be a good thing.
Eadgyd appeared to think the same. She got up on her feet as quick as she could.
"You must hide, Garafiell. They can't find you here", she said sharply.
"You think they're hostile?" asked the young woman, though she too had a bad feeling about the approaching riders.
"I don't know, but we shouldn't risk it. You'd better be out of sight when they arrive", Eadgyd said, ushering her outside. "The stable attic should do – you'll be safe and sound there."
But even as Eadgyd lead her towards the stables, Lothíriel looked at her with some wonder, because why should the elderly woman take this matter so seriously? For all they knew, the riders could be just ordinary travellers. And yet... what if they were not?
So, when she had climbed on the edge of a stall – from where she could reach the trapdoor to the attic – she briefly stopped to look at the old woman.
"I should stay with you. I could fight them if they are hostile... what if they hurt you?" she asked worriedly, but Eadgyd's expression was stern and sober.
"No, I will not have it. I will not have your life at risk for my sake, my Queen", she said in solemn tones and turned before Lothíriel even had time to process what she had just been told. With wide eyes, she stared after the woman who had saved her life. She knows.
However, she could not think of this any longer, because the sounds of horses were approaching now and she had to get out of sight. Lothíriel hauled herself up to the attic and had to muffle her sneeze in her hand. It was very dusty up there, but the darkness of it should provide her with enough cover. Still, Lothíriel held on to her bow tight; if Eadgyd was right and the riders were of the kind to search the house, they would no doubt wonder as to why a simple old farmer would have Elven-made weaponry.
She tried to calm down her breathing and listen to what was going outside, but the voices were muffled and her racing heart had become almost like loud noise in her ears. She could just about make out Eadgyd's voice but the words were lost to her. In concern, she bit her lip and hoped Éomer and Heming would not arrive any time soon... she dared not think what might happen then.
The moments crawled by and she sat holding her breath, waiting for something to happen. Then at last came a shout that sounded like an order, and instinctively she tensed... ready for a fight even though for now she remained safe in the dusty dark of the stable attic.
There were speaking voices below her then, and she guessed they were searching the stables. Eadgyd had been right to suspect a foul intention, because why else would they be sniffing around? But she still had to wonder what was the intent of these men. Was it just like that instance on the plains when she and Éomer had come across Heming and the riders harassing him? Or were these men looking for something specifically? With doubt growing inside her heart, Lothíriel thought whether the riders somehow knew about her husband and were looking for him. Surely, the news that some lad in Harrow had seen Éomer would stir up something – would unnerve the underking at least. Be it as may, she knew it was for the better if she was not seen.
The sounds from below seemed to fall quiet, and she already thought they had left the stables... when suddenly, someone threw open the trapdoor. Light flooded in and seconds later, a bright-haired head peeked in.
In the dusty attic there was nowhere to hide – no way to conceal the fact she was here. So Lothíriel did the only thing she could, and she lifted her bow and took aim; the trapdoor being the only way up she had at least the chance of holding them back... unless they decided to torch her out.
The rider stared at her, making no move as to shout in alarm. He was a young fellow, with flaxen hair and no sign of beard on his smooth cheeks. His eyes were wide and amazed in a way that made her wonder if he knew her. Lothíriel drew small sharp breaths as she stared at him, the point of her arrow aimed so that should she release, it'd penetrate his forehead. However, all he had to do was just yell, and everyone would know she was here. And yet he remained silent.
A voice called from below: "Alger! Do you see anything up there?"
"No! It's empty!" answered the young man, which made Lothíriel blink in surprise. What was this? Why was the lad protecting her?
"Then get down and stop wasting our time!" called the voice again, and Alger's head dropped back to the stables below. Lothíriel could still not let go of her bow, but instead remained where she was half-expecting Alger to change his mind and let his companions know she was here.
However, the voices grew quiet again and seemed to leave the stables, but still she didn't dare to move. She remained there all the way until it was Eadgyd's voice below: "You can come down now. They have gone."
Lothíriel's hands trembled when she climbed down from the attic and her breathing remained erratic. There was something of a disarray in the stables, signalling the search that had taken place.
"What did they want?" she asked.
"They were looking for a hooded man, my lady. I don't suppose I'm wrong to assume that is your husband the King?" Eadgyd inquired gently.
There were many questions in the younger woman's mind, but she decided to start with the most obvious one.
"How did you know?" she asked in a helpless voice, knowing it was no use to try and deny it. Eadgyd smiled.
"I recognised Éomer King rather quickly, for he is much like his father. Once I had realised who he is, there was no question about your identity, my lady", she explained. Guessing her next question, the old woman went on, "He is aware that I know who you are. I asked him not to tell you... I thought perhaps you might feel awkward, especially because it was very soon after we had our conversation about childbearing."
"And Heming? Does he know?" Lothíriel asked after mulling over these words and agreeing Eadgyd had done well keeping the secret for a little while more.
"He doesn't. It would be very overwhelming for him, I fear... I suppose I'll have to tell him now", said Heming's wife, half to herself.
"Those riders... do you think they know who they are looking for?" Lothíriel asked carefully.
"I don't know. Their leader seemed very dissatisfied not to find anything – especially not Heming. They wanted to question him about the two of you. I have a feeling they may be back again", Eadgyd said, her voice turning serious again. And Lothíriel knew what that meant. Not that it scared her really, for she was ready to move on. Whatever awaited them once they took that road... well, she'd deal with it then.
"You have been a tremendous help, and I am grateful for all that you have done for us. Saving my life is not the least of those things", she said at length. "But it has come a time for me and my husband to carry on, and sooner we do the better."
Lothíriel frowned then and she couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that came to her.
"And it could very well be we don't have much time left now."
The King of Rohan and his wife were ready to depart by the morning.
He and Heming had returned so late last night that it had not made sense for them to leave before the next day, but Eadgyd could tell both travellers were anxious to go when she and Lady Lothíriel had explained the events of the day. And it was a good thing, to see them having such burning for the return home and all things that came with it. Soon, she hoped, there would again be a king and queen in Meduseld.
Even so, she found there was a choking feeling in her throat as she watched the two readying their horses and making sure they had everything. In a way, it was like saying goodbye to her own children.
Heming appeared to notice her mood, as he wrapped an arm about her shoulders. She spied a bittersweet look on his face and knew this had been a precious period for him as well; during the time their guests had stayed with them, he must have felt a bit like when their son had still lived.
At last everything was ready, and the travelling pair came to bid their farewell to the old couple. Both were dressed warmly for the road, as January air was chilly, and Lothíriel Queen wore a dark blue cloak Eadgyd knew to be a special one. Even knowing who they were she could not help but reach her arms towards the young woman and hug her tight, and then give a similar treatment to the King beside her. Indeed, the tall man looked surprised at first, but then he smiled at her.
"Stay safe, you two", Eadgyd said softly and wiped an errant tear from the corner of her eye.
"We will be careful", replied the King of the Mark. She knew he couldn't promise they'd be safe, what with everything that was happening in the realm. Still, she thought there was no chance Feran could oppose his return.
"And try and not run into those fellows who were here yesterday. I don't like the sound of them at all", Heming spoke. He frowned slightly, "I just hope they won't be coming back."
Hearing those words, Éomer King smiled wryly.
"Trust me, Heming. They won't have a reason to return", he said, and Eadgyd knew he was probably right. Once these two before her announced themselves, all of Rohan would be in uproar, and some old couple would not be a priority to the band of men looking for strangers.
Lord of the Mark glanced at his wife and she quietly returned that gaze; one thing Eadgyd had noticed about them how these two always communicated so much between themselvse even when they did not speak. It was a language they alone understood.
Then Éomer King looked again at Eadgyd and Heming. A slight smile returned to his features, which were somehow sharper than his father's had been – she didn't know if that was only something caused by the road he had recently travelled.
"You have both our thanks, my friends. I dare not think how things might have gone without your help... it will be remembered and rewarded", he said seriously
"I'm glad we could help", Eadgyd said. She almost added my lord to the sentence, but was able to keep it back.
Then, as they had exchanged their farewells, the King and his Queen mounted their horses. A breeze came from the eastern fields, catching in the long blond hair of the son of Éomund; he shared a glance and a couple quiet words with his wife, and then they started forward.
Silently the old couple stood watching them go, and Heming asked: "Do you think we shall ever see them again?"
"I do not know if we will see them", Eadgyd said at length. She allowed herself a small smile, "but I am fairly sure we will be hearing about them."
He turned to look at her quizzically.
"What do you mean?" Heming wanted to know.
The smile on her face widened now as she met her husband's eyes.
"Because Éomer son of Éomund is going home."
In imprisonment, days merged to one another. Elfhelm did not know much of what was going on outside the walls of his prison: for now, his world had been reduced into the homestead that served as his cell. Once a day someone brought him food – stale tasteless stuff that mostly left him feeling hungrier – but otherwise he was left alone.
Éothain was moved away quickly. The former Marshal suspected they had rightly guessed he'd have planned their escape otherwise. They also had him shackled to the wall, though his kicking and struggling made the task difficult. His demands for justice and to see the underking to argue his case fell on deaf ears, and the only effect his cursing and shouting had was that they gagged him.
And so Elfhelm was left fuming in anger and frustration. This was outrageous even for Feran, not to mention how ludicrous his accusation of high treason was. Be it as may, Elfhelm knew what was the real reason behind this: the underking wanted him gone for good.
In the end his greatest concern was not his own life. Rather, it was Ceolwen he was worried about. Did she know what was happening in Harrow? There had been four men with him in the town and he had not heard of them since his arrest, so it was possible at least one of them had got away... and perhaps bring a word of what had happened to Elfhelm's wife. In that case he could only imagine what she would do.
There were no news on Gamling or Arric either. It was maddening, being left in the dark like this and only guessing if his friends had suffered the collateral damage of his downfall.
The days went by, and apparently Yuletide came with heavy snowstorms. Elfhelm guessed it was because of the weather his judgement was delayed. Being left to wait, and seeing few other people than his jailkeepers, his anxiety only kept growing. But even more he was sad and bitter. This was his first Yule as a married man, and instead of sharing it with his wife he was rotting away as a prisoner! How he was able to retain his sanity he wasn't certain, but perhaps the knowledge he had committed no crime, and the hope he might yet walk free helped. For as the snowstorm raged outside, he began to think maybe this delay was a good thing: Gamling had spoken of sending a word to Erkenbrand, and if Ceolwen heard of this... if those two appeared in Harrow with their éoreds behind them, then even Feran would have to reconsider his accusations. He certainly couldn't imagine Ceolwen taking any of this nonsense just like so. Not to mention, there was the chance Éomer would come home, and as king he had the ultimate authority of judging cases of treason.
Then at last, after what felt like many weeks of waiting, something happened.
Since he had more or less lost his sense of time, Elfhelm could not tell if it was day or night when they came for him. At any rate the bright light from outside briefly blinded him. When his eyes adjusted he saw four men there were at the doorway – all were in full gear and heavily armed. The former Marshal straightened up where he had sat, knowing he looked haggard and less than dignified after his imprisonment. Still he met their gazes with the indignation of a man terribly slighted.
"Well? Have you come to your senses and realised what a ridiculous thing I'm being accused of?" he asked sharply. The faces of the men before him remained stony.
"Lord Elfhelm, the day has come for you to face the consequences of what you did", said one of them. He looked like he was in charge.
"And what is that precisely?" Elfhelm inquired, tilting his head in mock curiosity.
"Feran Underking has deliberated your case and judged you accordingly-" started the leader of the group, but the former Marshal interrupted him before he could continue.
"What kind of justice is that supposed to be? Since when was it our way to leave people rotting in prison without giving them a chance to speak for themselves?" Elfhelm demanded to know, but the man before him paid no heed to his words.
"- and he has deemed you guilty of unlawful and undisciplined conduct, of provoking the common folk,, and most importantly, of the grave crime of high treason. After long and serious scrutiny Feran Underking, the Protector of the Realm, has reckoned that those responsible for the death of Éomer King shall have to pay for their crime", continued the man. For a moment, Elfhelm could but grit his teeth in anger and glare at him... until he heard the rest of what his accuser had to say: "For these things, you have been sentenced to death today."
Elfhelm leaped up on his feet. He'd have charged as well, had his shackles allowed him to take more than a few steps. What he felt then went beyond anger and loathing, and though he had greatly disliked Feran from the beginning, now that feeling became a hatred so deep and black that he had not known a human heart could contain something so terrible.
It must have shown on his face as well, because all four at first took a step back, until encouraged by the spears of their companions two men grabbed his arms.
"I demand justice! I have a right to be heard!" he growled, struggling against the grips of the riders holding him.
"You lost that right when you let our king die", snapped one of the men. "You were sworn to protect him, and yet you allowed a bunch of scumbag pirates murder him."
In mute fury he stared at them, and now he didn't even know what to say – except for cursing them, and above all cursing Feran.
"Gag this villain. People needn't listen to this", ordered the rider in charge.
And so they did, and even as he fought they bound his hands, a filthy-tasting rag was forced in his mouth... and last of all, an empty bag of grain covered his head.
Then, with a spearhead pressed against his back and two men dragging him, Elfhelm at last left his prison.
And so fell behind the farm of Heming and Eadgyd. Looking over her shoulder, Lothíriel gave the place one more glance before turning forward again. The road she and Éomer had travelled had taken some unexpected twists and turns, but mostly she was glad for the time spent under the roof of the old couple. Though the talk with Eadgyd was something that would no doubt return to trouble her, altogether it had been a chance to rest and gather their strength for what could be a yet another challenging task.
But if it was so indeed, they would deal with it when it came. And who knew? Perhaps things would go smoothly, and less than week from now they would be in Meduseld... they would be home. After the long road they had walked, it was hard to wrap her mind around the idea.
Lothíriel looked then at her husband riding beside herself. He was staring ahead, his face set and his eyes alight. She had seen how he struggled for a peace of mind, but now there was no sign of torment on his features. Once they made themselves known, people might notce that he had changed... but they wouldn't see a caged man. Instead, they would know their king had returned. With a smile, she imagined their relief and joy and the welcome he would receive when he rode to Edoras. Would anyone ever believe half of what had happened?
"What are you thinking of, beloved? How does it feel to be going back at last?" she asked then, and Éomer answered her gaze. There was something of a softening on his face, but she saw no trace of doubt or uncertainty.
"It is curious, really", he said at length and let out a small sigh. "This is not how I thought I'd go home... but it is the right thing to do. I have been gone far too long. In a way, it feels like... like I'm picking up the threads of someone else's life."
"It'll get easier once we've settled down and things go back to normal", she comforted him and reached over to pat his arm, though she wasn't so certain anymore what precisely was normal. "We are going home, Éomer. And we can finally start the life we always wanted to have before the southern campaign."
That made him smile.
"Aye. With you there, Meduseld will feel like a true home", he said softly. "I've looked forward to it, beloved. I remember that now. I suppose I just forgot about the good things for a while."
"It's fine. You have a perfectly good reason for that", she reminded him, and he made a quiet noise at the back of his throat.
They rode in silence for a while, until she spoke up again.
"How do you think we should proceed? If you're going to announce yourself... should we just head for Edoras right away?"
"I've been thinking about it, and it does not seem to me like we should go straight to the capital", Éomer replied and frowned, the way he did when he was considering something deeply. "It is clear this underking can't be trusted. After all the ways he has terrorised our people, he won't risk the chance of having to answer for it, not if he can somehow prevent it. And that would be very easy if we meet him alone and unprepared."
"So we need men", she concluded. "What do you suggest?"
"We should ride for Harrow. Gamling has holdings near the town and he is a loyal man. So are his own riders, and I would imagine he'd be glad to give us shelter... I'll send word for Erkenbrand and Elfhelm. Even if they are not in charge anymore, they should be able to raise a few éoreds at least – enough to take Feran by surprise, if we move fast enough. Then we will ride for Edoras and reclaim the throne", Éomer answered thoughtfully. He went on, "And as the word of my return spreads, it should not be difficult to take down Feran... if he insists on fighting back, that is."
"I hope he doesn't, but something tells me it could be a fool's hope", Lothíriel muttered and shook her head. It was a sad thing to think of, and she sighed. "I wonder if there might ever be peace again in our life..."
"There will be", said her husband determinedly. "I promise you that – even if we have to make that peace on our own. We did not survive the south just to resign ourselves to misery."
Somehow, those words cheered her up, and she straightened in her saddle. She smiled at her horselord.
"You are right. We have travelled too far to be content with anything else. We will have the future we dreamed of", she agreed.
In this agreement they continued their journey to Harrow. It felt good to be on the move again, especially because there was now a destination before them and not just a road that might take them anywhere. Even so, there was a sense of excitement and wonder as well. Of course, it would probably take a few days still to prepare, and the actual reveal would not be made before they reached Edoras, but this day would be the start.
This was the day the King of Rohan would return.
A/N: And here's a new chapter! I hope you liked it. :)
So, Éomer and Lothíriel are at last on their way home. It has been a long road and perhaps it is not yet at an end, and they will have to move fast if they want to save Elfhelm's life! But I have a feeling stuff might go down when and if Éomer hears of what has happened to his friends. I believe Elfhelm is right in guessing this isn't really about any treason (which accusation is indeed ludicrous), but more because Feran very much wants to get rid of him. Lothíriel was more right than she realised when she said to Éomer that the news of Arric seeing the allegedly dead king would startle Feran: it has alarmed him so much that he takes the first excuse he can come up with to remove those he knows to be Éomer's closest allies. As for Éothain, people have been asking to see him again, but I bring him back only now because not only was he mostly just waiting, but also because I wanted to save the surprise of seeing him in that prison as well. He's probably right to think Feran believes he sang songs he wasn't supposed to. Really, it was a good idea to move his family to Astdun where they are safe.
As for the incident at the farm, you might remember from the chapter 42 that the young rider Alger at least is a fan of Éomer, and I believe he is a sucker for stories. So though he probably hasn't seen Lothíriel, he has heard enough tales that coming across a young Gondorian woman aiming an Elven bow at him would ring some bells in his mind. I have a feeling the fact he keeps his silence isn't because he fears for his life.
Lots of pieces are moving now, but I'm afraid we will have to wait until the next chapter to see what will happen to Elfhelm, if Ceolwen can get to him in time... and if Éomer's return will be timely as well. Stay tuned!
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Getrúwian = to trust hope
Quote in the beginning originally by Sun Tzu.
Inspiration for the chapter: Jesper Kyd - Ezio's Family
Kiiimberly - It's not really something that can be explained, because Elfhelm is of course innocent. But like I said in this chapter's A/N, Feran really wants to get rid of him.
Éomer is on his way now, but we'll see how putting end to Feran goes!
Anonymous - And you're right - Elfhelm is completely innocent for everything except for being Feran's enemy.
Bearing children is not really a concern Lothíriel or Éomer can focus on now. He needs to be a king again and she must be his queen. And right now being a queen might require her some unexpected things!
While I support the idea of Éomer resembling his father (it is canon that he is like his forefathers), I also prefer to think he's not like Éomund in every respect. I'd like him to be his own person, really.
And yes, that one is going to confuse Gamling a lot, especially now that Elfhelm can't tell him what really happened!
Jo - Glad to hear that! :) This is perhaps my favourite part of the story, and I certainly am enjoying writing it a lot!
Wondereye - It's not really that they've waited for very long. It's more about him being a person who, when he has made up his mind, would just like to carry on with it. When he accepts the fact he can't escape who he is and who he was born to be, it is difficult for him to bear having to wait.
Seems luck was for a bit on their side for this chapter, seeing Éomer wasn't at the farm at the time when Feran's men came there, and Lothíriel was seen by someone who could be sympathetic towards their cause.
I do think Lothíriel has a reason to be worried especially because they are in Rohan, considering it's starting to look like there's something wrong with the realm. Moreover, I'd think the fear she might not be able to have the things she dreams of (i. e. raising a family with the man she loves) should be something to dampen her mood.
Talia119 - Glad to hear you liked it! :)
Elfhelm has committed no crime of course, and that's pretty much why Feran won't give him a just trial. Everyone would see just how wrong the accusation is. But Feran perceives Elfhelm as dangerous, and hearing the mutterings about someone seeing Éomer has truly startled Feran to this point. And Éomer is on his way now!
MairaElleth - We'll see who finds and whom! :)
Feran has indeed had some special luck on the way, but seems he wasn't lucky enough to catch what could have been an unimaginable prize: the wife of the king.
I guess I could have been more clear about why Lothíriel was worried about childbearing in the last chapter. She's definitely not late on her cycle, which is the reason she is concerned. Though she and her husband have tried to be careful when sharing a bed, I'd think sooner or later this precise thing would come to her mind.
Thalia - And I can't help myself with cliffhangers - I just enjoy writing them too much. :D
Having children is not the main concern of our characters right now, but we'll see how that thing goes.
Elfhelm is innocent indeed, but for Feran he is an unreliable element he needs to get rid of. And you're quite right in saing Ceolwen isn't pleased at all to hear about this development!
Shadowstorm - I'm happy to hear you think so! :) Also glad that you liked the joke!
Sadly, Elfhelm couldn't fight out his way, and Gamling may just have his own problems right now so he can't come to help. But Ceolwen is definitely not going to just sit idly by now that she knows her husband is in trouble. We'll see what happens to them in the next chapter!
Anonymous - I'm afraid I've got no idea what you're talking about.