And if you are not a king, though you sit on the king's throne and drape yourself in many fine robes of silk and velvet, you are still not the king and you will never be one. - Gannadir of Minas Tirith in "The Account of Kin-strife"
Chapter 45
When they had first left Pelargir, Lothíriel had not known where the road would take them. She hadn't been scared or worried: she had decided it would be all right as long as they just stayed together. But now she knew they would not have been able to continue that way for ever. Sooner or later their minds would turn to yearn for something more. Perhaps this was why their road had again lead back to Rohan... still, as they stopped to regard the town of Harrow, and she glanced at the man riding beside herself, she knew what lonely ways they had gone from Pelargir had been necessary.
For she had left the city by Anduin with a haunted man, but now there was a king with her: his horse was not even Rohirric and his clothing was plain and travel-worn, and yet just by looking at him you knew. Tall he sat on his horse, holding reins in one hand and resting the other on the hilt of his sword, and there was wind in his hair. Somehow this moment he seemed more kingly than he ever had.
Suddenly, she understood the reason why. Éomer of before had always, even before the southern campaign, struggled with the idea of himself being king. He had not seemed to accept it as his life's purpose - rather, it had been thrust upon him by a grievous chain of events. But now, having emerged from the shadow of death and despair, he carried his name and his lineage as proudly as any great lord of Men.
Éomer must have felt her gaze, for he glanced at her. She gave him a smile and asked: "Ready?"
"It is now or never", he said solemnly. Then, a thoughtful look came to his face as he regarded her, "These are your last moments as a princess, Lothíriel. The moment we find Gamling you will be Queen."
"... oh", she managed after a moment of stunned silence. "I hadn't realised that."
Her husband smiled slightly.
"You will do fine. I know you will", he reassured her. "Eorlingas already like you, and once they hear what you did for me... I know you will be loved."
She was able to give him a smile, and then they urged forward their horses. It was time.
So they rode towards Harrow, and Lothíriel breathed deeply as she thought of his words. Really, she hadn't thought of the matter like he did – she hadn't really stopped to consider how Éomer going back home would affect her. She had simply known she would follow him wherever he went. Of course, becoming the Queen was an idea she had needed to get used to when she had decided to marry him, but for so long it had been but a thing in what seemed like far in the future. However, now that future had come, and from this day forward she was princess no more.
And to herself she thought: I will be a queen worthy of him.
Soon they began to approach the edge of the town. From some way Lothíriel could see something odd was afoot in Harrow, because as they rode uphill she could see the road leading through the settlement, and not a single soul was in sight – not except for an ancient-looking woman sitting on the porch of her house, lulling a babe in her arms.
"Where is everybody?" Lothíriel asked her husband in quiet tones. While finding Gamling had been their original intent, this strange quiet was worrisome and they both wanted to know what it was about.
"Maybe she knows", he muttered as a response and lead his horse closer to the porch where the old woman was sitting. "Mistress, might you know where the townsfolk has gone?"
She looked up and blinked her eyes nearsightedly, peering at the two travellers.
"Who's that there? Do I know you, young man?" she asked.
"We're just a pair of travellers", Éomer said. He was keeping his voice steady but Lothíriel didn't miss how tense he looked. And that was no wonder.
The old woman processed the answer and eventually seemed to decide it was enough, because she didn't ask more questions.
"They've gone to the market, all of them. Left me behind, because I'm too blind to even see the whole affair..." she said, shaking her head.
"What affair?" he asked, now with just a hint of impatience.
"Why, the execution of course. It's a disgrace, truly is, but what can be done? They brought an entire éored to make sure no one interferes..." answered the old woman and sounded like she'd have continued talking. However after a quick and very alarmed look to his wife Éomer spoke up again.
"Who is going to be executed?" he demanded to know sharply, the alarm on his face turning into a dark frown.
"Lord Elfhelm and Captain Éothain for high treason", came the answer, and Lothíriel had to bite back her gasp, for she had expected to hear anything else than this. But then she looked at the man beside her.
The change in her husband was tangible. He sat taller and broader somehow, and in his eyes there was a terrible fire; even the old woman, half blind as she was, sensed the fury emanating from him.
"Who are you, stranger?" she asked in a faint voice.
"I am the one who will interfere", he growled, his voice low and stark. Then without a further word Éomer urged forward his horse, and Lothíriel had to hurry in order to keep up with him.
"It could be dangerous. She said there is an entire éored watching the crowd. For all we know Feran will send them on you the moment you reveal yourself", she pointed out worriedly, though she knew there was no way they could just let Elfhelm and Éothain get killed.
"I know. But Feran and his ilk are not the only ones present. Even if Eorlingas just stood by watching and did nothing, I don't believe even he's ruthless enough to attack me on the front of so many witnesses. He won't expect me to make an appearance – hopefully the surprise will disarm him", he said steadily, his face set. "I can't let them kill my lieutenants and friends. I have to do this."
And she knew he was right, and her fingers curled tight about the pale wood of her Elven bow.
"Then we will do what we must."
The cool air of January bit easily through Elfhelm's undershirt. He had been stripped of his armour, of all the gear of a warrior. Oh, the shame! That he'd be dragged to be executed like a common criminal... if he had to die, he'd have rather died with a sword in his hand.
Through the coarse fabric of the bag over his face he could see a little. He saw shapes of men and women in a crowd, but they were quiet. He'd have called to them, told them their king was alive, but being gagged he only managed muffled sounds.
Ceolwen... try as he might, Elfhelm didn't know if he was happy she wasn't here to see this, or if he was sad that she'd have to bear the shame of being the wife of a traitor. Even so, his chiefest grief was now he wouldn't get to tell her goodbye. How unfair it was! She deserved none of this, especially when she had already lost one man she loved in the Ring War. Béma, he should have been more careful if only for her sake!
Then his feet hit what could only be some stairs, and he was dragged up to some sort of a platform; he struggled once more against the grips of men holding him, though it was in vain.
"Eorlingas", spoke the voice of none else than Feran. Of course he'd be here to gloat. A growl rose from Elfhelm's chest and he jerked hard, but still the hold of his guards kept.
"You have gathered here to see what is the price of treason. This grave crime, committed by two men we all took for great and honourable lords, lead to the terrible tragedy that robbed us of our king", Feran continued, proceeding into a lengthy speech on the virtues of Éomer King – which were all true and well, but the account was rather lacking in providing the justification for this sentence. Then he realised just what Feran was saying, talking about two men. Éothain! Éothain was here too!
The former Marshal wrenched once more, fighting to free himself. This was not right! But then someone hit the back of his head with the hilt of a dagger and a white lance of pain went through his skull, and Elfhelm fell limply between the men holding him. Dazed he could only hang there, and feel the last of his hope wither.
"... for these things, with the power given to me as the Protector of the Realm, I sentence Captain Éothain and Lord Elfhelm to death on this day", Feran's voice rang clear and final... now Elfhelm couldn't even fight anymore, but just listen to those unreal words. How could this be happening? What was this nightmare that just kept going on?
Where are you, Éomer? Why didn't you come before it was too late?
Suddenly, a clear voice shouted: "No! He's innocent – Lord Elfhelm did nothing!"
Arric.
Wearily Elfhelm lifted up his head, though he couldn't see much through the bag over his head. Arric yelled again: "Have mercy!"
Odd, that it would be a small lad to try and fight for me...
Somewhere close, he heard the underking's low command: "Go and take away that boy. Make him shut up."
But it was too late.
"Mercy! Have mercy!" came another shout, given in a female voice. And others joined that shout: mercy, mercy.
"Silence!" tried one of the underking's men, but that shout only raised the noise of the crowd. A sudden hope fought in Elfhelm's heart with fear; if only he could free his hands! If he could just sway the crowd to his and Éothain's side, then maybe they would rise and prevent this from happening!
"Continue with the execution", Feran commanded however, heedless to the shouts of the crowd.
And then the bag was pulled from Elfhelm's head, and before himself he saw them forcing Éothain down, pushing the captain's head down on a trunk of tree... there was a man wielding a great axe, rising up the steps to the platform... once more Elfhelm struggled against the hands holding him, but now a blade was pressed against the back of his neck. All he could do was watch the executioner stop behind Éothain. In one dreadful moment he felt like a withering sort of sensation in his breast, and for the first time since hearing Éomer might be alive, he doubted. Maybe it was all wrong, and maybe their king truly was dead... it could very well be he would shortly be joining his friend in the halls of their fathers.
The crowd was crying and several men were struggling against heavily armed men, who stood guard around the platform – they were pushing their spears against the angry townsfolk. About the market there was at least an éored of men.
He caught Éothain's eyes – his friend was on his knees, head against the trunk, and though there was agony on his face he did not seem afraid. The two men stared at each other, determined not to break that eye contact on this last moment of their lives.
Please... don't let this happen...
It was as if suddenly the fates paid heed to his distress, for as the executioner lifted up his axe, there was suddenly a whirring noise. It happened almost too quickly for Elfhelm to see, but he did manage to catch the sight of the arrow that came from somewhere behind the crowd and hit the shaft of the axe, just over the hands of the man who would have taken Éothain's life; in fright he exclaimed and the weapon dropped from his hands, clattering against the boards of the platform as it fell. A shout rose from the crowd of spectators.
"Who did that? Who shot that arrow?" yelled one of the guards, but no answer came... Elfhelm was fast scanning the crowd, until suddenly he caught the glimpse of a slender cloaked figure, carrying a bow of pale wood.
But now Elfhelm's attention was caught by something else. He saw a tall man in hood and a cloak coming towards the place of execution; first he had to push crowd from his way but then they began to make him way, for so vigorous and fierce was his advance... he knew that long stride...
The hooded man reached the platform, and around him there was an empty ring of some three feet, as though people were afraid to go too close. He spoke up in a loud voice:"Stop at once! I order you to release them!"
"By whose command?" asked the executioner, but Elfhelm already knew the answer, and he was laughing even though he was gagged.
"By the command of your king", said the stranger and pushed back his hood.
There stood Elfhelm's king. He was alive indeed, and still even now it was hard to believe when he stood there in the flesh. In some ways he had changed and yet he was the same: he looked thinner and older, but there was the same authority and strength that had made him stand out among men even when he had been a young captain. But there was also something new to that authority, something deeper... Elfhelm could not name it, but on this moment Éomer was more than just a man, and more than just a king.
Such is he who returns from death.
A moment of silence was long and full of wonder, and people fell even further back from around the King of Rohan, as though they took him for a ghost. But then Elfhelm moved, and now his guards did not try to hold him back. His struggles had loosened the ropes around his hands and he was able to pull them free. He tore away the gag on his mouth, and then he leaped from the platform... and as soon as he landed, he fell on his knees before his friend and lord.
"My king", he spoke weakly, unable to hold back his tears of joy and relief, "my king."
And the dam broke. All about him people followed his lead, from old men to young maidens, and even to the underking's riders. A revered hush fell on the market, and Elfhelm spied a look of his liege-lord's face; Éomer's features were solemn and somehow sad. But he had come home, at last he was here, and he was as though a banner of hope and of promise.
So Elfhelm raised his voice: "Hail Éomer King! Hail him who returns!"
All about him, voices of Eorlingas joined his, and all the markets were full of shouts, and finally came that great joy. And people rose on their feet and pushed closer, all reaching towards their king – to touch him ever so briefly, if only to see he was really there, and not just a shade of a fallen man.
But then spoke the villain and noise died once again.
"How are you alive!" exclaimed Feran as he pushed through the crowd, and he hastily added, "my lord!"
Something stark came to Éomer's features, alarming Elfhelm of the fact that his king already knew of this underking's crimes. But other than that his friend did not betray what he was thinking or planning to do.
"That is a tale far too long and strange to be recited here. For now, let it be known that the reason I stand here today is my wife, Lothíriel Queen", he said in a strong, clear voice. It raised a murmur in the crowd and Elfhelm grinned – he had known he could trust her. Blessed be the daughter of Imrahil! And bless the day Éothain had sent her to look for their king!
She came then through the crowd and the former Marshal was not surprised to see she was the cloaked stranger bearing the pale-wooded bow. People made her way as she came, bowing their heads to give their respect. If Éomer was changed then she was too: her hair was much shorter than Elfhelm remembered and her clothing was worn as her husband's was, but she walked straight and proud and the shine of her clear grey eyes was bright and keen. This woman, named Lioness by one brave man, needed no adornment to announce who and what she was. There was queen.
Lothíriel Queen stopped by the side of her husband, and though she then looked less like that wild young princess Elfhelm remembered than she ever had, she did give him a brief little grin.
Feran had now recovered somewhat, as he spoke again: "My lord, the execution -"
Éomer did not let him finish the sentence.
"- will be cancelled presently. I shall attend to the matter as soon as I can. But for now it is my express wish that these men are released and treated with every honour they deserve", he said sternly. A slight frown appeared on his face, "The accusation of treason is a grave one. I will not have anyone facing its consequences lightly."
Elfhelm had to bite back his chuckle at seeing the sour look on Feran's face before the man could suppress it. But then, before anything else could be said, there was a voice calling out loudly: "You!"
The former Marshal turned and saw Éothain, supported by a man he didn't recognise. They were coming as fast as they could, and on the captain's face there was incredulous happiness but tears were streaming down it as well, and a quiet formidable feeling came to Elfhelm when he realised what this moment must mean for his friend.
"You! I already thought you were dead!" Éothain said, his voice coming out more as a sob than he intended. Then Éomer strode forward and not minding the crowd watching he grabbed his friend and captain into a crushing hug.
"And I thought you dead as well", Elfhelm heard his king mutter in wavering tones.
Then, as he pulled back, he patted his friend's shoulder and looked about himself clearly again. The crowd gathered was now very quiet and waiting for his words, and near stood Lothíriel smiling at her husband. As soon as he could, Elfhelm would sit down them both and ask about everything that had happened.
Then Éomer spoke again, his voice strong and steady again: "Send word to all corners of Rohan. The time of despair is over and all things will be restored in the realm. I have come home."
Lothíriel startled to awakeness some time before dawn. She lifted up her head and blearily looked about, trying to see what it was that had disturbed her. However, in the sleeping chamber it was quiet and dark, and soon she realised it was just the feeling of being thirsty. No wonder, because ale always made her thirsty afterwards. And there had been plenty of that tonight, what with all the feasting going on in the town.
"What is it?" asked her husband sleepily. It was a rare occasion that her waking up didn't startle him too.
"Everything's fine. I'll just go and get a drink", she told him softly and kissed him, but the scoundrel had the cheek to fall back asleep in the middle of it. Hoping perhaps she might be able to get his attention again when she had satisfied her thirst, Lothíriel climbed over him and left the warm cover of blankets.
It had been a busy night, what with all the people who wanted to come and see their king up close, and then the make-shift feast that had lasted into late night. Possibly some folks were still out there celebrating the return of the King of Rohan. They had met what had to be the entire population of Harrow, and she had known very few of them, but all had hailed her as the Queen. One face she had recognised was that of Gamling, obviously fighting a powerful emotion as he rushed to meet his king. Apparently the man had been in house arrest since the night Elfhelm had been taken captive, and was only freed when Éomer asked for him. Her husband had frowned at hearing his friend and adviser had been treated so, and Lothíriel had not missed how Feran had gritted his teeth, but he had kept his silence. Altogether it looked like her worry before had been for nothing, and Éomer had been right to assume Feran wouldn't dare try anything in the front of an audience. She knew he would have wanted to take Feran captive in turn, but seeing he had only just come home he did not want to readjust his rule by imprisoning people. However, he fully intended to get to the bottom of this matter of underking, and find out every evil thing the man had committed.
It had been good to meet Éothain as well. The man had obviously gone through some hard times and he was not the same as she remembered... and she had seen the regret in her husband's eyes as he had recognised the same thing. Éomer had obviously wished to keep close his friend, but seeing how Éothain burned to see again his family, he had told the captain to go and ride for Astdun, where his wife and children were now. Lothíriel knew it was not easy for him to leave his king again, but he had ridden out nevertheless – before it he had made a promise once this was over, they would sit down and have a long talk.
She and Éomer had retired early, both wanting nothing more than some rest after the long day. A local nobleman had readily given up his house for the royal couple. It had felt wrong to take the man's home but he had looked like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and so Lothíriel had not tried to say no. A strange moment had followed when one of the guards to stand in watch by the door turned out to be no one else than the young rider named Alger, whom she had seen at Heming and Eadgyd's farm. His eyes were wide and full of wonder as he gazed at his king and queen and he insisted to be allowed to stand guard for them. And looking at him, Lothíriel was certain that though he had been riding with orders from the underking, there was no doubt of where the young man's loyalties really were.
The pitcher she found in the bedchamber was empty, and so she tiptoed into the next room to look for something to drink. It was still dark but moon gave some light from the window, and she spotted a ceramic vase and couple of cups. Thankfully there was some water and she drank two entire cups before the dry unpleasant taste in her mouth was gone.
She lay down the cup and leaned her hands on the edges of the table, peering out into the late night. It was very still and quiet, and for a moment it was even slightly difficult to believe all that had taken place. Return had been easier than she had expected, and what anxiety she had felt beforehand now seemed unnecessary. She had thought being queen would be a lot more difficult... well, it probably was once things went back to normal, but the start wasn't so bad.
As Lothíriel stood there, she thought of all the things that would now follow. Obviously Feran would have to be dealt with, but for now she was hopeful the matter might be settled more easily than she had originally surmised. But beyond this underking... she imagined going to Edoras, not as a guest anymore but as the Lady of Meduseld, all the feasts and celebrations that would come to pass, and settling down in their home. They would finally have the life she and her beloved King had hoped to share. Obviously, word would have to be sent to Gondor and to her family. What would Father say when he heard of all this? Would he demand her to come back to Dol Amroth, or would he accept the news she had married Éomer? Surely he'd not try to make her return... but if he did, then she would have to think of something to convince him. She could understand it if he wanted her to get back for at least a little while, considering the way she had left and been gone for so long. However, this matter was complicated now, because she was a woman married and acknowledged as the Queen of Rohan. And more than that, she knew Éomer needed her here... perhaps he'd always need her to an extent. Just as she had come to need him.
Lothíriel sighed to herself and ran a hand through her hair. It was growing longer now, but she still wondered how she had looked like to the folk of Harrow – if she was the Queen they had expected. And yet... did it matter? The important thing was they were in Rohan now, and what other concerns there remained in her mind... she would deal with it somehow. The future held promise and she was going to meet it with a hopeful heart.
It was then she heard the faint creak of floorboards from the bedchamber. She looked over her shoulder, thinking Éomer had got up as well. But as the seconds passed by and he did not call her name, she frowned.
Her bare feet made no sound against the wooden floor. Silently she tiptoed back into the room she shared with her husband; she had always had light feet that allowed her to move soundlessly. Often it had been her cutting edge in the childhood games with her brothers, to the point of them complaining she must have inherited more of their line's Elven blood than the most members of their kin. So she came to the bedchamber like a shadow... and there, by the sleeping form of her husband, hovered a dark shape holding a pillow in his hands.
With one or two leaps she was on the intruder. A thought of grabbing a weapon never entered her mind – instead she remembered lessons on hand-to-hand combat she had received on Captain Cairon's ship. One particular move came to her mind, and she grabbed her husband's would-be killer in a vice-like grip, arms under the man's armpits and pulling them back hard.
Éomer was up on his feet in seconds. His eyes cleared of sleep and Lothíriel knew he was vulnerable to attacks no longer. So she let go of the assailant's arms and fell back. But even as she did, the door opened and another man charged in. His blade was bared and he came at her, but she flew fast to where her bow was; in one swift movement she grabbed it and an arrow. Her would-be killer she nailed down when he was only a foot away from her.
It did not take long for her husband to push back his opponent. Angrily he growled: "Who sent you? Was it Feran?"
However the man would not answer, and then he tried to leap towards Lothíriel. But Éomer was faster, and it was only seconds later that two dead men lay on the floor.
A moment of heavy silence went by while they both stood catching their breath. Eventually her husband spoke: "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. You?" she asked back, trying hard to calm her heart. Had she not been awake...
"Aye. Thanks to you", he said, and then he crossed the space between them and grabbed her, rough and desperate. She returned the embrace just as tightly.
"I won't lose you. I won't", she mumbled half-coherently, and it was possible they would have stayed so for a long while still had not someone thrown open the door once more. They both startled again and readied for battle, but the man at the doorway was no one else than Elfhelm, trailed by young lad Arric who was apparently squiring for him now. He rushed in and blood was dripping of from blade, and on his face there was terrible dread. However at the sight of his king and queen, he let out a relieved sound.
"You're alive! For a moment there I thought..." he uttered and wavered on his feet.
"What happened?" Éomer asked right away.
"I was just taking a walk because I couldn't sleep, and I decided to make sure everything was all right here... there was couple of lads at the door but Arric here recognised them for Feran's men. So I went to ask what they were doing, considering I had memorised the faces of each man appointed to guard you tonight", Elfhelm explained. "Then I heard the noise from inside. It wasn't difficult to make my assumptions from that."
He practically dropped his sword then and with two long strides he was before his king, whom he grabbed in a bear-hug.
"Can't lose you again, laddie", he muttered and though she didn't see his face Lothíriel could hear the tears in his voice. Arric looked rather surprised and she guessed the boy had not expected anyone to speak to the King in such a familiar way, not even his Marshal.
"And you won't", Éomer reassured him steadily. He glanced at his wife over his shoulder, "For I have Lioness watching over me."
She managed a smile, though she knew how close it had been... how very closely they had brushed by the chance they would now be laying dead in their bed.
Elfhelm moved sharply towards her then and grabbed Lothíriel in a hug too.
"You splendid woman! Blessed be the night my king stumbled across you in Ithilien!" he said weakly. She patted his back comfortingly.
"No one touches him if I can do anything about it", she told him briskly and glanced at her husband, "I don't think we should stay here. For all we know there may be more men out there waiting to take your life."
"Aye, you're right. We must move", Éomer said darkly, and swiftly they moved to dress up and gather their things. Elfhelm and Arric stood guard at the door while the two prepared and Lothíriel thought to herself one would have to be mad to try and get by the Marshal just then.
"Do you think it was Feran?" she asked her husband while she was stuffing clothes into her saddlebags.
"I don't know for sure, but he seems the most likely culprit. Who else has the motive and means to try and kill me now that I've come home?" he replied, frowning as he spoke. "Elfhelm said he and the lad saw Feran's men at the door of the house."
"Aye. I wonder what happened to those men who were supposed to stand guard", she muttered.
"Could be they were his as well", Éomer suggested, not even trying to hide the growl in his voice. She considered the option but somehow it didn't seem right.
"That young fellow, Alger his name was... I don't think he'd betray you. He was that lad who saw me at Heming and Eadgyd's farm, and yet he said nothing to his companions at the time. I believe he is loyal... maybe he was tricked somehow. After all, we didn't expect an attack either", she said and shook her head. She had told him of what had happened at the farm and how Alger had not announced her presence to the men he rode with, and the tale had bewildered Éomer just as much as it did her.
"Hm. Perhaps you are right", he allowed at length. "Still, I do not like this at all, not knowing who can be trusted. I never would have thought to see something like this in my own land."
"It's Feran, twisting up our people with falsehood and fear while you were gone. But he'll see this won't be tolerated any longer", Elfhelm commented from the door, his voice steely and determined.
"Milords will put an end to it", Arric agreed quickly. He was wielding a broom in his hands as though it was a very dangerous weapon. All the same, one could not doubt his heart and Lothíriel could see why Elfhelm had chosen the boy to be his squire.
Éomer made a gruff sound in agreement and secured his saddlebag's fastenings. He looked at his wife, "Ready?"
"Aye. Let's get going", she replied, holding on tight to her bow. If anyone tried to get close with foul intentions... well, she'd nail them to ground, just as she had the man on the floor.
"We should go and find Gamling. He has some men now that he's free again, and there is nothing that could possibly turn his loyalties against you", Elfhelm muttered as they headed for the door. "I won't have you unprotected again."
"Has there been any word of Erkenbrand?" Éomer asked.
"None at all. I assume he was held back as the rest of us by the storms, but he should be here by now... I hope he's all right", said his Marshal; her husband had raised him immediately back into that position when hearing Elfhelm had been deprived of his status as the King's lieutenant.
"Damn it", Éomer growled darkly. "Has everything in this realm gone to orcs since I left?"
"Some things have", his friend said softly, "but I promise we'll fix it. We'll fix it all."
"Aye. We'll do that", agreed the younger man, and they stepped outside. Lothíriel had her bow ready just in case there were more men in wait outside, but aside for themselves no other soul was to be seen. Elfhelm lead the way as he was well familiar with the town and knew where Gamling was staying, and young Arric was half running by his side. Elfhelm and Éomer both walked with their hands on their swords, alert as only warriors weathered in many battles would be. Sunrise was at hand, but what it would bring... she dared not think of it.
The way to Gamling seemed unnervingly long and the feeling of being so exposed was something that appeared to unsettle her companions as well, even if this early hour still remained quiet.
But eventually they did reach the house Gamling was staying at. As far as Lothíriel knew, it belonged to the man's relatives, with whom he stayed sometimes when visiting Harrow. The place reminded her a bit of Heming and Eadgyd's home, though it was bigger and richer – Gamling's kin were of old Eorling nobility, after all.
"Arric, go and run about the neighbourhood. See if you can spot any Feran's folk. But be careful, laddie. If anything happens, you run. Don't try to be a hero", Elfhelm told his squire, who nodded solemnly.
"Aye, milord", he said and speedily leaped away to have a look around.
Éomer was the one to knock at the door while Elfhelm and Lothíriel stood guard, and luckily one early riser was already up and about: it was Gamling's grand-niece who opened the door. Seeing the three at the door her eyes widened in surprise.
"My King! What are you-" she started, but he lifted up a hand to cut her short.
"I must ask you to remain quiet", he said quickly. The young woman nodded emphatically, though the wide-eyed look did not leave her face. Éomer asked: "I'd see Gamling, though I know the hour is early."
"Of course, my lord. Please, come inside. I'll just go and wake him up", she said hurriedly, making way so that the three could enter.
She lead them into what looked like some kind of a parlour and then went on to knock at a chamber's door. She called, "Uncle? I'm sorry to disturb you, but Éomer King is here and he is asking for you."
Apparently the old man was a light sleeper too, for there were sounds of him getting up. In a few moments he opened the door, wearing nothing but breeches and a linen shirt. His white hair was a mess about his face. His grand-niece curtsied and left the parlour, leaving them to talk in peace.
Gamling blinked sleep from his eyes and looked at the three visitors in surprise.
"My lord? What brings you here at this hour?" he asked, smoothing his hair from his face. Elfhelm was the one to answer him.
"There was an attempt on the life of our king", he said gravely. "Luckily, the Queen happened to be awake and was able to prevent it."
Shock was evident on Gamling's face.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to hear this, but... I am. The gall of that man!" Gamling grumbled, obviously having jumped to same conclusions as the others. He looked at Lothíriel, "I must thank you, my lady. The lives of you both are very precious to us."
She glanced at her husband, who met her gaze quietly.
"He is my king as well", she merely said. She looked at him starkly, "We don't know if this was one-time attempt, but it was enough as it is. We were wondering if you could provide us with men, in case that villain tries something once he learns my husband is not quite dead yet."
"Aye, my lady", Gamling said right away. "I shall just put on some clothes."
The man might be old but he dressed with efficiency of a rider called to arms, and in less than ten minutes he was back in the parlour.
"Now, let us go. My men are staying in the tavern nearby, so we must go and get them. I hope they did not drink too much last night... oh, I should have known that demon of a man would try something like this!" he muttered, half to himself.
They ventured out again, striding speedily after Gamling. Arric rejoined them and quietly reported to Elfhelm he had not seen any Feran's men, but they did not dare to take any comfort in that. If the underking really was behind the attempt on Éomer's life, then he would want to know of its outcome quickly as well. Dark of the night was starting to subside from the way of first rays of sun and it was only a matter of time that the town would rise as well. Lothíriel deemed that could be a good thing, because she couldn't imagine the ordinary folk just standing by while their king was threatened by someone like Feran. They would have safety in numbers.
But then, as they were making for the tavern Gamling had mentioned, there was suddenly the sound of running feet. It approached them the way they had come, and all four instantly grabbed their weapons. At that moment arrived the one who had been running from around a corner... it was none other than the young rider Alger. On his face he wore a look of fear, not unlike the one Elfhelm had carried when he had thought his king had been murdered in his sleep.
At the sight of the four he came to an abrupt halt. He called, "My lord! Sire, you're alive!"
Elfhelm moved fast. He took the few steps remaining between them and grabbed the young rider by the front of his jerkin.
"No thanks to you, boy", he growled. "You were supposed to guard the king and queen, and yet you betrayed them the first chance you got!"
"No! No, my lord Marshal!" Alger argued. "I only left my post at your command!"
"My command?" Elfhelm echoed in surprise. "I gave no such orders!"
"Let him speak", Lothíriel put in. "What happened, Alger?"
The young man blinked at her and cleared his throat. Elfhelm was still holding on to him and Arric hovered near as well, as though to catch the young rider if he tried to escape.
"My lady Queen, I was standing guard with my pair when couple of men came some time before dawn to tell me Lord Elfhelm had ordered a change of watch. We thought nothing of it and so we left to get some food before going to sleep, but when I was on my way to bed I heard... there were these two night guards, Feran's men I think, who spoke about some orders... my lady, the underking has sent for more men from Edoras, and then I began to wonder... it all felt really fishy, so instead of going to sleep I went to make sure guards were still watching over you, but there was no one! I only found some dead men, and so I thought to run and find Lord Gamling", Alger explained so fast the words nearly stumbled on each other.
She looked quickly at her husband and saw her alarm mirrored on his face, but also understanding: it was quite clear where the order to change guards had come from. Elfhelm and Gamling looked similarly disturbed. The Marshal let go of Alger; his priorities were very fast rearranged.
"Éomer, we need to get you out of this town", he said fast, but her husband frowned.
"You mean I should run away like a dog with his tail between his legs?" he asked sharply.
"My lord, If Feran is bringing here more men, it can only mean one thing", Gamling said however. "I don't think those men will know what has happened here. And they won't know who they are coming against. Worse yet, they could be loyal to him rather than to you. We can't have your life at risk, even if it means fleeing now. Éomer, we can't lose you again."
"He is right", Elfhelm agreed firmly. "Rohirrim need their alive, if we hope to sort this out. You have to leave Harrow before those men arrive, and I swear to Béma if you won't go willingly, I'm going to put you in ropes and drag you away myself if I have to."
Éomer glared at his friend but did not seem to know what to say. It was obvious how very deeply he disliked this situation.
"Then where would you send us?" Lothíriel asked, bringing their attention back to focus once more. "To Erkenbrand?"
"No, that is too risky", her husband said grudgingly. "If there has not been a word of him since Gamling sent a rider to the Hornburg, then we must take to account the possibility something has happened."
"Ceolwen", Elfhelm spoke up suddenly, making the others look at him quizzically. "My wife is loyal. So are her folks, and I have personally seen to the defences of Astdun her home. Not to mention she can quickly raise an éored if not more to fight for you."
All eyes turned now back to the King of Rohan, to see what he would say.
"Astdun does stand in the East-Mark. People there know and love you well, my lord", Gamling added as Éomer considered Elfhelm's words.
"Very well. We shall ride for Astdun", said her husband at last. "The road will perhaps be perilous, but I am more confident with the lands I used to guard."
"Then we must move fast", Lothíriel concluded. "You've got horses?"
"Aye. I'm sure we may borrow some at my nephew's house..." Gamling replied, glancing about the company, "We must hurry indeed. I still need to wake up my men."
In a quiet agreement they began moving again. Only, Alger was trailing them now, and it didn't seem to have occurred to anyone to tell him otherwise. Lothíriel thought it was unnecessary anyway – the young man seemed loyal and they might need his sword.
Soon they reached the tavern and Gamling looked at Éomer, "I suggest you wait for me in the stables. I do not want you out in the open."
Wordlessly they agreed that was a reasonable idea, and so the rest of the company sought refuge in the safety of the stables. Elfhelm remained by the door to keep watch, with Arric close at hand. The two looked inseparable now and Lothíriel made a mental note of having to ask what was their story.
But soon as they were inside, Alger turned towards Éomer, and wasting no time he lowered himself on one knee before her husband. He unsheathed his sword and offered the hilt to the man before him – by now she knew enough of Rohirric culture to recognise an oath of allegiance when she saw it.
"My lord", said the young rider, "I know I have served you very poorly, and I understand I should not have left my post unless receiving the express command from yourself or your Marshal. I would like to make up for my mistakes, Sire. So I ask for another chance. Let me serve you and show I am better than this."
Lothíriel saw the faintest smile on Éomer's face when he regarded the young man before himself.
"I already know you are better than this, Alger. You protected my wife when you had no reason to do so, and for this only I would give you another chance", he said firmly and laid his hand on the hilt of Alger's blade, thus accepting the service of the young rider. "I take your sword, but do not fail me again."
"I will not, Sire! I shall protect you and your lady wife with my very life", Alger swore solemnly and bowed his head.
His words appeared to have inspired Arric as well, because the lad suddenly approached Éomer and similarly fell on his knee.
"I will also protect you, milord! I will fight for you, if you will have me", he said heatedly. His eyes were large and very bright.
Now the smile on Éomer's face widened slightly.
"Normally I would not accept the service of one so young, but if Elfhelm deems you worthy, then I do too. Serve well, young Arric", he said good-naturedly. It seemed to her the boy swelled with pride.
"I won't disappoint you, my King!" he said enthusiastically.
Elfhelm spoke up then from his place by the stable door, "Gamling is returning."
"Very well. Let us get going", Éomer said, and so they ventured out.
Several of Gamling's men, of whom there were dozen in total, did indeed look like they had enjoyed a bit too much ale. All the same they were on their feet, and they fell about the royal couple in a defensive circle. Now sun was rising and some people were up and about, casting curious glances at their king and queen, and wishing them a good morning. Éomer kept his face calm and so did she, as neither of them wanted to alarm the people something was afoot.
Still, they made haste on way back to the house of Gamling's nephew. No words were spoken among the company. Lothíriel noticed she wasn't the only one holding on tight to her weapon. She didn't know if any violent confrontation might commence, but after the attempt on her husband's life she would not be surprised if it did come to a fight. And yet... she couldn't fight the sadness of knowing there would not be an easy return to Edoras after all.
Despite what she had thought, the journey might not be at its end yet.
They were nearly at their destination when suddenly she heard the noises of men marching, coming the way they had just walked. The entire group around her and Éomer tensed, turning to see who was approaching.
Lothíriel did not feel great astonishment to see Feran on the front of the gang, of whom there was twenty or so. She guessed he was here because he had found the attempt of assassination of the King had gone awry... trying to prevent the damage it could cause to him.
"My lord", he called, feigning relief so it was almost believable, "I am so glad to see you are alive! How did you do it?"
"I'm lucky to have wedded Lioness of a woman. She found their attempts unappealing", Éomer replied firmly. "I take it you found the bodies."
"Aye, the post before your door was seen empty and a word was brought of what happened. I set out right away to look for you, seeing you need protection from further attacks", Feran said, taking a step towards the company around the King of Rohan. The movement had the entire ring of men half unsheathing their swords.
"I thank you for your concern but I am protected, Feran", replied her husband.
"Surely you need a better guard, my lord? It is not acceptable you should be at danger now, when you have only just returned", Feran spoke, spreading his arms in an disarming gesture and smiling at Éomer.
"Am I in danger, then?" asked her beloved calmly, regarding the man in the resolute fashion of a king.
"Sire, I must insist", Feran replied, and Lothíriel could see the smile on his face wavering. Quietly she set an arrow on her bow, though she did not yet draw it... even so, the threat hung heavy in the air.
"Stand back, Feran. This is the command of your king", said Éomer, now just with a hint of steel in his voice.
One moment the underking stood staring at Éomer and looking at his eyes she knew he was thinking fast. But the fact he did not follow the command right away was telling. She drew in breath and prepared for fight.
Feran looked over his shoulder to his men. Then he turned again to look at the King of Rohan, who stood still; she knew him well enough to read the preparedness on his form.
"My lord, I see you are not in your right mind. I must respectfully take you in custody until those guilty for the attempt on your life have been found", Feran said, and turned towards his men, "Lads!"
Then Elfhelm bellowed, his voice ringing stark and clear: "Protect the King!"
Gamling's reaction came only seconds later. He took Éomer by arm, pulling him from the defensive circle, and towards his nephew's house.
"My lord, you must hurry and get out of here! We will hold them back and take as many of them as we can", said the old man sharply.
There was the clashing sound of battle, and Éomer stopped there on his tracks unwilling to go.
"I can't leave you alone against these men, Gamling!" he snapped angrily, but his friend would not have any of it.
"You must go, my lord! You can't think of this like you used to as a warrior. We can't lose you again", Gamling insisted heatedly. He reached to touch Éomer's hand, and when he spoke, his eyes were very grave. "The last thing Théoden told me was to watch over you. I failed him once, and I am not going to do so again. Sire, I'm not afraid of anything Feran can do, and at any rate I would gladly give my life for your sake."
"Gamling..." said her husband, and more than anger Lothíriel could see pain filling his features. "I can't let you do this. I can't allow you to die for me."
To her surprise she saw the old man smiling. Now he held tight his king's forearm, and he didn't look to be afraid.
"I have seen my King alive and returned. That is more than enough for an old man like myself", he said, gentler now. "Please, Éomer. You have to live."
It was then she saw the decision made in her husband's eyes, agonising as it might be. She could only imagine what it cost him. Still and all his features became sharp and set again.
"I will live, Gamling. And I will remember", he said in low, firm tones. One more look the two men shared, and then the old man turned again.
"Elfhelm! Go with the King and Queen, and guard them with your life! You too, Alger!" he commanded, and both men instantly pulled back from the battle, with Arric just on their heels; seeing the road was so narrow Gamling's men were holding well against Feran's men and keeping them so that they could not disengage.
And so the five of them took their escape, their arms at ready and with the knowledge if they did not move fast now, it might cost them their lives... and the very future of Rohan.
The light of new day fell on Gamling's hands.
It was cold light of January that brought no warmth but revealed all the wrinkles and lines of his hands. When had he got so old? It felt like time had run away from him far too soon... there were still so many things he needed to do.
He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to stretch some warmth and life back into his fingers, as ropes around his wrists were so tight it prevented proper bloodflow.
Gamling had not slept for a single minute last night. He had sat awake in his cell, fearing the worst but hoping the best. All the night he had listened in case he'd hear horsemen returning... or if Feran would come to gloat and tell him they had caught the King.
But perhaps the sacrifices made yesterday had their reward, and Éomer walked free and unharmed. Gamling did not know precisely what had taken place, but apparently his king had got out of Harrow, and Feran had been able to send pursuers only when the night fell. That was because Lothíriel Queen had rode out the town, yelling as she went: "Rise and fight! Rise and throw down the man who would murder your king! Take down Feran!"
And it had worked. The very town had risen to fight Feran's men, and so the underking had been busy trying to contain and end the fight on the streets. It had been bloody and many a good man lay now dead... for these were ordinary townsfolk, while Feran had a fully trained éored at his use. And Gamling with his dozen men could not win the day.
It had been a day of tragedy and he had wept bitterly once they had at last thrown him in this cell. Eorlingas fighting and spilling each other's blood... how had it come to this?
At last the door opened and the silence cut. Gamling looked up to see Feran there before him. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who hadn't slept last night.
Silently he lifted up his eyebrows, determined not to let this man see any sign of weakness.
"Where did he go? Where is the King hiding?" Feran asked right away, wasting no time.
"So I take it you haven't found him? Well, at least this day has arrived with some promise", Gamling said pleasantly. There was hatred on Feran's face and the man reached to slap him, but the pain of his strike was very little compared to all the grief he carried in his heart. Was this what his king had gone through in his captivity? No wonder the glance of his eyes held severity previously unseen even in him.
"Hitting an old man will not take you anywhere, Feran", he said calmly, sitting up straight again. The younger man grabbed him by the front of his coat and sneered at him.
"You will tell me where he is", Feran growled.
"You think I will break my oaths for the likes of you?" Gamling asked steadily. Then, turning his tone gentler, "Stop this now, Feran. Stop while you still have a chance to make amends for what you have done."
The underking let go of him then and spat on the ground.
"He's just one man, Gamling. You don't have to die for him", he said, sounding like he was reasoning with someone about to make an enormous mistake. However the old man met his gaze stonily.
"You are wrong. He is not just one man – he's the King of the Mark. And the moment you ordered your men to draw their swords against him, you became a traitor and a usurper", Gamling said, his tone stern and cold.
Feran's eyes flashed when he heard those words and for a split second Gamling thought he might be struck again.
"What makes him so worthy, then? Why should he be king and not I?" demanded the underking angrily. The old man gave him an unimpressed look.
"How much of Eorl's blood do you claim? Did you serve the Mark, protecting people and leading men unfalteringly even as hope was failing? Did you endure the dark days of Wormtongue's shadow with such loyalty and faith as he? And did Théoden King call you his heir, first on the steps of Meduseld and then on the battlefield with his dying breath?" Gamling asked, his voice hard and strong.
One moment there was when he thought he could see Feran's resolve crumbling. It seemed there were doubt in his eyes then, and Gamling dared to hope perhaps this nightmare could stop right here.
But then whatever that flicker had been died and the underking turned. He opened the door and called: "Guards, take him away. It is high time this traitor met his fate."
And so came two men inside, and their faces were without expression; they pulled Gamling up on his feet, gripping his arms tightly.
He was not afraid. What reason has a man to feel scared after a long and full life? Even so, the look he gave to Feran was of disappointment.
"I will pray for you, lad", he merely said... and then he was dragged out into the cold day of January.
Béma keep you and guard you, Éomer King.
A/N: Here is a new chapter at last! Hope you enjoyed it.
This chapter turned out to be 1000 or 2000 words longer than first intended but I really needed to fit his all in one chapter, as the next one will have some other events in store. So this is a pretty big chapter, hope you managed to read to the end of it without falling asleep!
So, Éomer has officially made his reveal, but I don't think anyone had a clue about just how ruthless Feran could be. Elfhelm and Gamling might have, had they stopped to think of it actually, but I'd say they were both so out of their minds with joy for getting back their king and friend that even they did not see the attempt of murder coming. As for our favourite king, he hasn't quite yet settled down and got that crown properly on his head so to speak. But like Éomer said he does have Lioness watching over him!
You, my dear readers, are probably wondering what is going on with Ceolwen and Erkenbrand. I promise we'll get to them as soon as the story allows.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Quote in the beginning originally by C. Joybell C.
Inspiration for chapter: Adrian Ziegler – For the King
Jo - And in time they were indeed! :) Lucky Elfhelm.
Anonymous - Goosebumps are good, if you ask me! :D
Kiiimberly - Glad to hear you liked it. :) And yes, though things look pretty severe right now there are people who do support the rightful king.
Wondereye - It was very nice to at last join Éomer and Lothíriel and Elfhelm's storylines. :) I've been dying to get to write about them together!
And you're right about they were unprepared to meet Feran. They really didn't understand how powerful he has become. We'll see how things turn out now!
MairaElleth - It's good to have them where they need to be at last. :) I know a lot is going on now and it'll probably continue so as well.
Both Elfhelm and Éothain are okay for now indeed!
Talia119 - Yes, it is a very busy time for our characters, and it'll probably only get busier.
Gamling hasn't turned - the very opposite as a matter of fact. I think he just needed that little boost of Éomer coming home.
brandibuckeye - And here it is! Hope you like the new chapter as well. :)
Thalia - I'm glad you at least had a time to write a couple of words. :) Always happy to hear about my readers.
Ceolwen should be back soon, so just wait and see!
Anonymous - I haven't actually read any of the Percy Jackson books, so if there was a reference it was completely unintentional!
almythea - And here is the new chapter!
DanaFruit - Thank you for your review! As a writer it is always a a very special thing to hear that I've invoked such feelings and memories in my readers. My condolences about your grandfather!