Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. - Queen Melannen, consort of King Turambar

Chapter 48

And there was Astdun at last. The town stood on a hill, much in the fashion of Aldburg and Edoras, though not as large. It was an important settlement nonetheless, especially in the brief time Éomer had been king before the unfortunate events in south. But hopefully with his return things would get back to normal and Astdun too would prosper with new strengthened ties to Gondor.

Éothain had ridden tirelessly since the day of his freedom. While he took no pleasure in leaving his king so soon, there was something that simply could not wait any longer, and that was his family. He had not seen them in months and their absence had gnawed at his heart during the long bitter days of his exile in the Wold. He could only imagine how Scýne had got through this time, with two small children to look after.

Now, however, he was nearing them... and hopefully he'd finally get to dwell with them in peace.

At last he and his company entered the town. Four riders he had with him sent as escorts by Gamling. The name of King had the gates opening before them without delay, and after months of being surrounded by people he didn't trust this made him smile, confident in the knowledge here at least was a place where loyalty thrived. But then, what else could he expect from Elfhelm and the lady he had married?

Anxious to see his family, he urged again his horse, speeding uphill towards the seat of Astdun, where according to Elfhelm Scýne and the children abided for now. He paid little heed to the townsfolk as he rode by, and instead his eyes were fixed on the way ahead. Then at last he arrived at the courtyard of Lady Ceolwen's hall, and he glanced about swiftly, hoping to see a red-haired woman with a small girl and a babe in her arm...

But instead from the hall came an elderly Rohir, dressed well-enough that he probably held some important position in this town. The man spoke up, "Rider, what brings you here in Astdun?"

"I come in search of my wife Lady Scýne and our children. I was told they are here", Éothain replied and in his mind there was a sudden dread that something had happened to his family, though rationally he couldn't imagine a danger that might threaten them in a place like Astdun.

"Aye, Lady Ceolwen took them under her protection before she departed for Harrow to seek her husband Lord Elfhelm there", answered the old fellow. "I'm Ohthere, Steward to the lady of the house. You're most welcome, Captain Éothain."

"Well met, steward", replied the younger man. Impatiently he continued, "My family -"

"Da! Da!" came the exclamation from the door; there was Elva, and Béma be kind how she had grown! Clumsily Éothain struggled down from the saddle, which was not an easy task with his maimed leg, but somehow he was able to get down... as fast as he could he limped towards his little girl.

"Elva!" he weakly answered the call of his daughter, and she came running at him, laughing as one would only in the middle of great joy. Éothain caught her in his arms and held her tight against himself, only vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his face. Here was his child, safe and sound! In a great tumult of emotions he sobbed, "I love you so much, sweetling."

"I love my Da too", Elva replied, covering his face in kisses.

When he at last looked up it was his wife Scýne that he saw. There she stood at the doorway of the hall, staring at him and Elva silently. Tears were in her eyes, but whether these were because she was so happy to see him, or if his appearance had shocked her, Éothain did not know. There had been little time to make himself more presentable and he knew he had lost weight, and then there was the woeful matter of his maimed leg.

But none of that mattered, not to himself at least, because there stood his wife at last... his dear, brave Scýne who had endured all this time without a word of explanation from him.

"Scýne", Éothain called gingerly, limping towards his beloved. Elva remained in his lap, her arms about his neck.

"Éothain", his wife replied, her eyes still fixed on him. "You come at last."

"Aye. I'm sorry it took so long", he answered, and fear struck him; why was she so quiet? He had thought she would be angry with him – that she would yell and rage at him for leaving his family so... the anger he could have handled, but not this quiet lack of reaction.

But then, even as he feared he had lost her love and despaired, Scýne let out a cry. Then she spread her arms and ran to him, and she grabbed both him and Elva in a crushing hug.

No words were exchanged in a long while. Éothain knew he'd not have been able to speak at any rate, and so he just held on to these two he loved and cherished the feel of them in his arms after so many months. Elva seemed to sense the meaning of this moment as well, because she did not start to fidget, but instead remained quiet and content in the middle of her parents.

At long last Scýne spoke, "I was starting to think we'd never see you again."

"I'm so sorry", he uttered faintly, though he didn't feel like that was a sufficient apology. He'd have to think of something... soon as he had seen his son, had something to eat, and slept for a day or two. He would spend his remaining years apologising, if that was what she wanted.

At last, he was with his family... and wherever they were, there was home.

Soon after first light the company was on the move again. Éomer had thought to move the encampment to a place more easily defended, and also with a better vistas about the lands around, in case Feran would dare and try an open attack. To Lothíriel and the others he had deemed it was of no use to try and hide now.

"Feran knows I'm out here. And I want him to shudder at the thought", he said sternly, gazing ahead, "The time of hiding and laying low is over. I can't go meekly against usurpers."

Indeed, there was nothing uncertain or meek about him as he mounted Silfren, once more clad in chain-mail and armour of boiled leather, and his hair flowing down his shoulders. His gear was not as elaborate as what he had lost in south but in kingliness he had grown since then. And the stallion he rode only added to the sensation of power and dignity that emanated from him.

They did not make haste, and so were reached by more riders from beyond Aldburg before midday – these were not the first to have hearkened the call to arms, and ridden to join their king who had come home. Some of them looked like they had only showed up to see if the stories were true and found themselves irrevocably persuaded. Lothíriel did not miss the wonder on the faces of the newly arrived riders when they regarded Éomer, but it was an expression she already recognised. The word about the King returned was one thing, but seeing him was another thing entirely... especially with the great stallion of mearas that now was his own steed.

But soon as the company, now two and a half éored strong, was settled down, Éomer called those closest to command to him in a tent – much gear had already been brought from Aldburg, and more kept coming. Lothíriel was by his side of course, but others consisted of Elfhelm and Ceolwen with her own captain, and Alger was there, and a man called Deorwine – he had ridden with Colborn and was of Aldburg, but Éomer knew him and Elfhelm also said he was a man to be trusted. Deorwine was presently in charge of the riders of Aldburg, but he was not named Marshal. Perhaps the most unexpected participant was Arric. The lad had without anyone's command assumed the task of running errands for them, and also announcing riders who pleaded to approach the King.

"Now, seeing the events of late I would hear your counsel in the matter of Feran the usurper", Éomer began when all were gathered about him. "What are your thoughts? What do you suppose he will do now?"

"Sire, you saw what happened back in Harrow. Though no doubt he'd claim it was for your protection, he did draw swords against your command. This makes him guilty of treason", Elfhelm started in a strong voice. "He knows it as well. There is no clean way out for him now. And if he is in league with Dunlendings, then I would assume he'll take his chances and challenge you in battle."

"Besides treason he has many wrongs on his account", Ceolwen said for her part. "He has favoured men like my cousin in all parts of the realm, unjustly taking and giving what's not his to give. Those who have received his favour will most like support him, and they will all have a reason to go into war on his side. Feran will use this to his advantage and convince them they either fight with him, or go down with him."

"He holds the West-Mark and Edoras. We must assume the Hornburg is his as well, and he will have support from Dunland", Deorwine spoke, staring down at the map of Rohan spread on a collapsible table before them.

"Aye, he holds those places. But what of the people? Are the folk of the western parts of the realm more inclined to follow him than the King?" Lothíriel asked. The others exchanged uncertain glances, as none had a clear answer to her question.

"Time will show that", Elfhelm said at last. "Some may follow him out of fear. But I would think Eorlingas won't abandon their rightful lord just so easily."

"I hope so as well", Éomer said gravely. "We will know more of what goes in the West-Mark once Edelric returns."

"All the same I'm certain the East-Mark you will have behind you almost completely, except for those like my cousin. The love and loyalty of the people in these parts go far beyond your kingship, and they remember well Éomund your father", Ceolwen spoke then.

"But is it enough to beat Feran, with his following and his Dunlending allies?" asked the King, frowning slightly as he spoke. Another silence followed.

"We could ask for the help of King Elessar. He's a friend of the Mark and especially yourself, Sire. He'd come marching with the might of Gondor behind him if you just asked", said Deorwine hopefully, which raised some agreeing mutters.

"Aye, he'd do that. And we would crush Feran in no time", Éomer said, but he was still frowning. "But I can't ask for Aragorn's help."

"Why not, my lord?" Elfhelm asked. Lothíriel had long since noticed how the Marshal always kept to formal speech when they had company, but in a smaller circle of friends he had no qualms about calling Éomer in his own name.

Now her husband sighed and stared hard at the map, as though the answer was somehow locked in the letters and lines of it.

"Because this war is not just for the kingship of the Mark. It is also a fight for the soul of our people. I need to win it on my own and without Aragorn's aid. If we bring foreign forces to the soil of this land..." he said, shaking his head. "No. I can't do that. I can't have Gondorians fighting against and killing my own people, especially if Feran has gone raising prejudice and hate towards them... if a southern army marches on this soil, he'd have a perfect opportunity of making claims it is but a ploy of Aragorn to get back the lands Cirion once gave to Eorl and drive away our people. To win this war – to truly win it in the minds of Eorlingas – it has to be our own victory, unaided by outsiders. There has to be as little bloodshed as possible. That is the only way I can unite the Mark again."

All around him recognised the sense of that statement. Éomer was right: this battle was not just for whoever got to sit on the throne. And so he did need to win it on his own.

"What of Gimli and his folk in Glæmscrafu? Do we need to worry about them?" Alger asked then.

"I do not believe so", Éomer said at length. "Feran's folk will never get in his realm if Gimli doesn't want him there. Not to mention it would be unwise to anger a dwarf who lives just next to the Hornburg – I don't even want to imagine the damage his folk could cause there. Moreover Legolas would come raining death and fire on Feran if he ever made the mistake of harming Gimli, perhaps even bring his own kin from Ithilien. Feran can't afford raising more foes right now."

"So it is ourselves against the usurper and his supporters", Elfhelm said, his brow furrowed. "We need more men."

"And more arrive each day. The word is spreading", said Ceolwen's captain, a man named Bedwig.

"Not fast enough. We don't know when Feran might make his move", grumbled the Marshal darkly.

"I would have some faith in Eorlingas. They may be scared and discouraged. But if they just saw their King... it could be all they need to rise. Do you remember that morning and the first sight of him riding Silfren? The way all of you would have ridden to the ends of the world had he just asked?" said Lothíriel then, glancing from one face to other. "My lord husband once told me of mearas and how Eorlingas hold them in reverence. But I've also seen how Rohirrim love him, and I think that love is not yet completely forgotten – just as you, my lords and lady, did not forget. I believe these will make for a powerful combination."

She thought she saw then some hope on the faces of those gathered in the tent, and her beloved gave her a smile. Soon afterwards they brought the council to an end, and the company in the tent dispersed.

When the others were gone, Éomer heavily sat down in a chair and let out a weary sigh as he rested his forehead on his hand. Lothíriel approached him and lowered a hand on his shoulder.

"I had forgotten, how draining it can be", he muttered quietly, rubbing his temple. "It's one struggle after other, and... does it ever end?"

He reached for her then, and gingerly she settled down on his lap, cradling him close to herself.

"I don't suppose it ever really does. Not when you're king. There's always something else waiting in the shadows", she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "But just so you know, I think you're doing fine."

"You do? I actually thought of grabbing you and dashing out... going back to wandering. But don't worry. I'm not going to do that. I can't abandon my duty again, be it for better or worse", he said quietly, resting his head against her shoulder.

"I think it will be for better", Lothíriel commented. She looked at her husband, "I don't believe Feran can really win against you."

Then she lowered her face to kiss him, slow and tender. When she pulled back she saw him looking consoled.

"You are the reason I made it this far. Don't you ever forget that", Éomer told her and held her tight. Then his face settled resolute again, "I must write to Aragorn. He should know what is happening in the Mark. No doubt he'd also appreciate the knowledge I've come home and am trying to fix this mess... and Éowyn would probably want a word of me as well."

He considered her gently, "Seeing I'm sending a rider to Gondor... it would be an opportunity to send a letter to your father also. He must be anxious to hear tidings of you."

"Yes, you are right", she agreed and kissed his brow, fighting the feeling of longing that came with the thought of her father. "I will write to him once you are done."

Then, before any bittersweet thoughts could take a hold of her, she got up.

"I should probably go and let you write in peace", she said and touched gently her husband's shoulder. "Say hello to Aragorn and Éowyn for me."

"Of course", he promised, and as she left his side, he turned to look for a quill and some parchment, brought from Aldburg among the many other things. Lothíriel left her husband in the middle of composing the letters and exited the tent. Guards posted at the entrance bowed their heads at her as she passed.0 It seemed everyone in the camp had already accepted her as the Queen, but this was no doubt enforced by what had taken place a few days ago; as they had emerged on the morrow before the camp, Éomer had wrapped the cloak about her again, and many eyes had been on them to witness the moment.

A voice called to her then, distracting her from her musings, "My lady Queen."

Lothíriel turned to see the Lady Ceolwen standing nearby. She was indeed an impressive sight: she was tall and strong-looking, always clad in chain-mail and carrying a sword on her hip. It was encouraging to the young queen, as it made her feel less like an odd bird, the way she often had back in Dol Amroth. In some ways Ceolwen reminded Lothíriel of Éowyn – the thought of her cousin's wife came with a bang of longing for her friend – but in others Ceolwen was entirely different.

"Lady Ceolwen", she greeted the blonde woman, and the Shieldmaiden smiled.

"Please, call me just Ceolwen", she said, lifting up her hand.

"Of course, but only if you return the favour and call me by my own name", Lothíriel replied and returned the smile.

"I wanted to properly talk with you, my lady, as there has not yet been a chance... and I would also like to thank you for all that you have done and are still doing", Ceolwen said, her face solemn. "The gift you have given us in saving the King... I can't stress enough how much it means."

"He is the one I love", Lothíriel said simply. "I may give up on everything else but not those I hold dear."

"So I have heard", Ceolwen stated, "and so I have seen, when I've watched you with him. And only a great love would drive one to such dangers as you must have faced... even so, in bringing him home you have given us more than just hope."

Briefly something dark appeared on her features and she shook her head. She went on, "Elfhelm has most like told you of what demands the underking had placed on me. Though I was determined to fight him, I did not think I would long last in such a war... but now Éomer King has returned, and I believe all things will be put right again. And I may keep my home, and my husband."

"As is only right. Someone ought to keep an eye on Elfhelm", Lothíriel deemed with a smile, making Ceolwen laugh. She continued then in more serious tones, "The Mark is my land as well – perhaps not by blood, but by the love I bear for her, and for her King."

The other woman smiled hearing that, but then the seriousness returned to her features, "How is he, if I may ask? You know his mind like no one else."

"He is better... more at balance. And now he has hope", said the young queen. Ceolwen studied her quietly.

"And you?" asked Elfhelm's wife.

"I'm fine. It has been a long road but I have hope as well", Lothíriel responded. A small, gentle smile appeared on Ceolwen's face.

"I am glad to hear that", she said, reaching to pat her queen's shoulder. "You can count on me, my lady Lothíriel. You are my queen just as he is my king, and if you ever need anything, you only need to ask. And it would be an honour to be your friend as well."

"And I would value your friendship, Ceolwen. Especially now and in years to come. I may be the Queen but there is much I still have to learn of the Mark", said the younger woman.

Ceolwen's smile widened and she looked at Lothíriel quizzically, "Some of my men were asking if they could meet you. They are very curious about our new queen... would you like to come with me and let me introduce you to them?"

"Aye, that is a good idea", Lothíriel agreed, and soon as she had couple of guards with her, the two women made together through the camp.

Making rounds about the camp had been Elfhelm's habit for as long as he had possessed any position of command in an éored. Sometimes he had wondered if it made him a fuss, but on the other hand he knew the well-being of the men and horses was something every decent leader should consider carefully. So, instead of joining his wife right away he made one more walk through the encampment.

During this walk he came across his king. There stood Éomer, fully concentrated on the task of brushing the coat of Silfren. Even now Elfhelm did wonder whether it was just his eyes betraying him, or if there truly was a faint shimmer on the horse. He shook his head and thought that one never really got used to pure-blooded mearas horses. So it had been with Shadowfax, so it was with Silfren.

The stallion prickled his ears and nickered softly, which alarmed Éomer. The King of the Mark looked up to see his friend and a slight smile appeared on his face.

"Having your evening walk, friend?" he asked good-humouredly.

"Not at all. I have decided to stalk you day and night", Elfhelm replied just as lightly. He lifted his hand up to pat Silfren's neck but changed his mind in the middle of the movement. Only the King could ride this horse, sure, but what about patting? He decided best not to try, as he didn't particularly fancy the idea of losing his fingers.

"I'm almost done here, so I could join you and considerably ease your stalking, if that would suit you", said his friend. Elfhelm grinned, though half of it was to himself. It was good to see the King in this mood. He did not know exactly what horrors his friend had gone through in captivity, but there were moments when he caught something dark and grim about Éomer's eyes, and those glimpses made him appreciate all signs of good humour. While he sensed his king had already come a long way, perhaps there were still some parts that were not healed. And that was all the more reason to see this thing through and defeat Feran.

"Most helpful of you, Sire", he commented, at which Éomer snorted. Then the younger man turned his attention back to Silfren and murmured some words in Rohirric. The stallion nuzzled his face and Éomer smiled, patting the horse's neck.

Silfren was left free, bearing no bridle on him; most like he would wander to the plains and return by sunrise. His rider watched him pass, and if Éomer had seemed to be on a light mood before, it now turned into something bittersweet.

"What is it, old friend?" Elfhelm asked, having noticed the look on the younger man's face.

"One moment I feel this mad joy, looking at him and knowing what this means... riding him is something I could never have imagined, though I have been sitting in a saddle for the greater part of my life. And I needed him to appear when he did. But then... then I remember Firefoot", Éomer sighed and looked down. "He was but a foal when he came to me. The first battle we rode to... he saved my life then. And we rode to the Pelennor fields together, and to the Black Gate. In both battles he kept me alive. He should have died old and fat on some green field."

He glanced at Elfhelm then, his brow knitting in a frown, "Does that make me unworthy of Silfren?"

"You are the King of the Mark", said the Marshal simply. "If that doesn't make you worthy of him, then nothing will. Béma sent Silfren for you, Éomer. Just as he gave you Firefoot."

At those words his friend smiled, and Elfhelm knew he had said the right thing. So he smiled as well and reached to clumsily pat his king's shoulder.

"Come along, laddie. I have a feeling our wives are already missing us. I don't know about you but I don't want to keep mine own waiting."

"Weren't you supposed to stalk me? How undedicated."

"Sorry, but she's a lot prettier than you."

Laughing and bantering, the two men made way back to where their hearts rested.

The first skirmish took place on the day that followed. Some thirty men clashed against those of Marshal Elfhelm, who was out patrolling; fifteen of them were brought back to the camp in shackles, and though Lothíriel and Ceolwen were busy making sure the returning injured had the care they needed, she did have time to see regret and wonder on many of their faces when they saw her husband. Because of that she was not discouraged by the spilling of blood. So far it seemed Feran's following was not so solid that the appearance Éomer in the flesh would not have a profound effect.

It was because of these events that Ceolwen approached her and offered her own spare chain-mail to Lothíriel. The blonde woman's face was grave when she said: "Béma knows what dangers lay ahead, and it is very possible there are battles yet to come. I would have properly protected, my Queen."

Usually, Ceolwen did use her own name – that she'd speak so formally Lothíriel knew how very seriously her new friend took the matter. She didn't argue either as she could very well see the sense in Ceolwen's words. Chain-mail and the jerkin of boiled leather she received a bit later were unfamiliar and heavier than she had expected, and she needed Éomer's help every time she put them on or undressed. Still and all, she couldn't help but imagine the proper Gondorian courts if they saw her now, with braids in her hair and tottering about a war camp in chain-mail while trying to get used to the heavy Rohirric gear.

Then Edelric returned at last from his scouting mission to the camp, bringing tidings from the West-Mark. To hear his news, Éomer and his captains gathered together. Lothíriel was present as well – she was taking part in all councils now, which was another thing she had not expected. However, in taking this journey she had resigned herself to a rather strange fate.

Once they were all together, Éomer looked at Edelric sharply, "Now, what goes in the West-Mark?"

The young man glanced about the company and a shadow passed on his features.

"I should perhaps begin with the bad news", he said gingerly, which had the company tensing. Edelric swallowed and spoke out loud, "In gathering tidings I heard something awful. The day the King and Queen made their escape from Harrow, the underking had... he captured Gamling from the site of battle. The next morrow he... Gamling was executed. He is dead."

Silence hovered heavily over the scene. Almost everyone present had known the old man, at least by reputation. He had dedicated his life to fighting for Rohan, and though Lothíriel had not been as familiar with him as she'd have liked, the news of his death still came to her as a grief. Quietly she reached her hand to touch her husband's arm, to offer him what comfort there could be at the face of such loss. His face was downcast and she knew how hard it must be for him... but even so, he hid his grief and looked up to regard his captains.

"We will make sure he did not die in vain", Éomer declared in strong voice, and even as he spoke Lothíriel reached to a table nearby, where there was a flask of strong Rohirric liquor. She opened it and lifted it.

"To Gamling. May we all grow as wise and brave as he was, and be as loyal to the end", she spoke and offered the drink to her husband. As he accepted the flask he echoed her words, and then sipped it. He passed the flask then to Elfhelm.

"To Gamling", said the Marshal, and once he had taken a sip as well, the flask was handed over to each of those present in this council. Each repeated those words in the old man's honour. Last of all she emptied the flask, feeling the burning of the strong liquor as she swallowed it.

"What other news do you bring from the West-Mark?" Éomer asked Edelric at last.

"It seems Feran is meaning to challenge you into a battle, my lord. He is mustering éoreds, forcibly if need be", began the young man. "Some do indeed follow him willingly, but there are also many of those who have been terrorised into obeying."

"What of the word that our king lives? Has that no impact whatsoever?" Elfhelm asked.

"It's not meaningless at all. Some people have been abandoning their homes and are fleeing east, to look for refuge in towns known to support the King. I should imagine such folk will be joining this very company soon", said Edelric. He frowned then slightly, "That is not all, however. Apparently Feran and his henchmen have been spreading this story that the news of our king's return are but lies. He is saying that you, Sire, are but an impostor found and elevated by Marshal Elfhelm, trying to pose as Éomer King in order to usurp power."

This statement roused some angry growls among the gathering. Edelric shook his head, "Unfortunately there are many who believe this falsehood. They are quite convinced the King could not have survived... they may not love Feran per say, but he's the least bad option in their point of view. I conversed with several of these people, and they would not believe me though I swore to them I had seen Éomer King alive. My lord, I'm afraid they will need to see you in the flesh before they believe you have indeed come back."

"So the West-Mark truly is in Feran's command? How fast do you think he will be able to ride to war?" asked Éomer, his voice steady and unemotional, but his dark eyes were burning.

"I'd say week, Sire, or little over it", Edelric replied after a moment's consideration. "It is true, he does have most of the West-Mark with him in addition to Dunlendings – their number I did not yet find. But I would not fret over much. His hold over them is not complete, and there are many who just need to see you."

"The Queen was right when she said the love we have for our king and our reverence of mearas are a powerful combination. We must trust in that", Ceolwen added, glancing about the doubtful faces. "You all know what you felt when you saw him and Silfren."

"Even so we can't leave it just for chance. I need the East-Mark in arms as soon as possible, but it must not take longer than a week", Éomer said for his part, straightening from his place by the map of Rohan. He regarded Ceolwen, "My lady Ceolwen, you are well familiar with the lands east of Aldburg?"

"Aye, Sire", she replied. "You mean to send me to muster more riders?"

"I would do so. As I recall your family has always enjoyed respect in the eastern parts, and your father was a trusted man of my Uncle. I need to send someone of such stature on the task, so the people will know how dire this matter is. They need to know these are not just rumours, and that they must move before it is too late to save the Mark", he said, considering the map again like he could see the very movements of men on its surface.

"I shall make for the road before first light", Ceolwen said. Then Lothíriel heard her muttering to Elfhelm, "You'd better look after them both. And yourself too."

"We do not know yet if Feran will ride against us in an open battle. Edelric, pick some fast riders who know the lands. Tell them to look for places easily defended. Elfhelm, prepare groups of riders ready for testing Feran's strength. We will not challenge his main force, but I would like to see how good his men's nerves are", Éomer gave orders, which were received with sharp aye, Sire.

"My lord", spoke up Deorwine then, "may I ask a question?"

"Of course. Go ahead", Éomer said, looking at the man.

"Is treating with Feran an option?" Deorwine inquired carefully; he seemed to know this was not a simple thing to ask. And indeed it instantly roused dismayed sounds among the company. Elfhelm outright growled.

"It is not. Not only has he ruled wrongly our people, he also drew sword against his king and killed Gamling, and now he is challenging me into battle", said the King of the Mark, his voice cold and sharp. "The time for making treaties is long past."

Deorwine did not seem completely reassured, though.

"How are we then to proceed if the unthinkable happens and Feran wins? If we lose you again, Sire?" he asked, looking at Éomer in concern. His question made her husband sigh.

"Then the Riddermark as we know her falls, and I doubt our people will ever rise again", he said at length. "However, if we win but I die anyway, then you must call back Lady Éowyn my sister. She is of the House of Eorl as well."

"I will die before harm comes to you, my lord", Elfhelm proclaimed hotly, and his words had the rest of the company voicing similar statements.

Then Lothíriel lifted her voice, "Calm down, everyone. It is not written that the battle should go so ill, or that my lord husband will die."

Her words had the company falling silent. She gave them an encouraging smile, summoning it from some place she had not known in herself.

"We must hold on to hope. But we must also do our very best, and be ready to harness all the strength we have. If we do this, I believe we can put things right", she said firmly. At this Ceolwen smiled at her, as did Elfhelm. Rest of the company seemed at least somewhat encouraged as well, and the mood on them was hopeful when Éomer dismissed his captains.

Once they were alone Lothíriel approached her beloved and pulled him close – when she went to him she saw the King disappear and make way for a man who had lost yet another friend. He let out a heavy sigh and buried his face in her hair, and though he remained quiet and still she knew the depth of his grief for Gamling.

"I'm so sorry", she murmured gently, holding on to him tightly.

"It's like I said. I can't let his death be in vain", he said, his voice thick with tears he wouldn't let fall.

"And it won't be", she told him. "You will make him proud."

Her beloved let out a long, heavy sigh and he fell to sit down, pulling her with him. They remained so for a while, she idly running her fingers through his hair and he going through whatever dark thoughts there were in his mind. But at last Éomer spoke again.

"When Elfhelm sends those companies out there... I must go as well. They need to see me and know my return is not a lie. Perhaps we can then win over at least some men to our side", he said, his voice low but resolute.

"Then I will ride with you", she said right away. Elfhelm would most like argue, and perhaps Ceolwen too if she had time to hear before she left to attend to her own task, but Lothíriel knew Éomer was right. His people needed to see him. And it was a very good point his appearance could afflict Feran's support in the West-Mark

"No. You shouldn't", he said suddenly and looked up, and she saw that determination make way to concern.

"And why shouldn't I? My place is with you, be it in war or peace. I have come this far with you, and I am not going to stand back now", she told him and couldn't really hold back her glare. He stared at her in silence, obviously trying to come up with words that would persuade her.

"But you must understand how... Lothíriel, if something happened to you, I don't know what I would do. You are the one thing I can't bear to lose, because there is no possible way I can do this without you", he told her, trying to hide the fear in his voice but not succeeding.

"Don't you see, beloved? It is the same for me!" she said forcibly, reaching to cradle his face with her hands. "Losing you is the thing I fear most, and how should I stay behind when you ride into battle? How am I supposed to sit and wait for you, dreading the worst?"

Before he could say anything, she went on, "I'm a very good archer, beloved – I could help you. And since what happened on the plains when I was injured... I've learned my lesson. I will know to be more careful."

Gently she held his face, running her fingers over his cheeks in a caress. She met his gaze calm and steady, "You're my King and I'm your Lioness. And you may very well come to need me out there."

She could see him yielding then and there was nothing more he could think of to say. Éomer sighed again and leaned back his head.

"What was I thinking when I let myself fall in love with you, stubborn woman?" he asked exasperatedly.

"You were thinking about how lucky you are to finally find someone who can and will put up with your nonsense", she told him lightly. He snorted but did not make further comments. Lothíriel reached over to kiss him, soft and long, and by the end of it she felt at least some of the tension in his form disappear.

She looked at him gently, "Why don't we go to bed? It's getting late already, and I think you're in the need of some cuddling."

He made a soft grumbling sound.

"You are far too good in the art of persuasion, dear one", he told her, but did not try to prevent her from opening the clasps of his cloak.

"Don't you remember? I've told you it's a natural gift", she said unaffectedly. "Get up and help me out of this chain-mail."

"You can't command a king like that."

"Yes, I can. Now lift your royal arse from that chair, O Lord of the Mark, and help me to undress."

"... aye. Have I told you I love it when you use foul language?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

A/N: Here is a new chapter at last! Hope you enjoyed it.

This is a slightly slower chapter, because both sides are now gathering their strength - taking a breath before the plunge you could say. I must admit I'm eager to get to some action, though!

Éothain is finally reunited with his family, but whether he'll get to enjoy their presence for long remains to be seen. At any rate I did think this chapter required some light things, seeing the sad tidings Edelric has brought with him. I know it was a cruel thing to kill Gamling but there was no really a way to save him once he was in Feran's clutches. Still and all it wasn't easy to kill him, but that is a sacrifice a writer has to make every now and then.

I don't know if you have been expecting Éomer to make again contact with Aragorn and ask for his help, but at least to me it seemed like he would not resort to that as the first option. Like Éomer, I believe this is a battle he needs to fight on his own if he truly wants to reunite his realm. Gondorian forces on Rohan's soil would probably only confound things further.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Quote in the beginning originally by Khalil Gibran.

Inspiration for the chapter: 30 Seconds To Mars - Alibi

Thalia - I imagine even Feran would have had hard time fighting Éomer if he had been there to see his appearance! :D And the way Ceolwen met Elfhelm really seemed like the most probable outcome. She really wasn't very happy with him.

At the end of the last chapter Éomer did indeed have some 200 men with him, but now that the word is spreading, the numbers are growing as well.

DanaFruit - He's definitely in a lot better place now, though I don't think the news about Gamling's death do him much good. But he is well enough not to let it break him.

brandibuckeye - There have been some arduous times lately, so light-heartedness was in order!

Jo - Glad to hear you liked it! The part with Éomer and Silfren is something I had actually been planning from the very start of this story, and I was ridiculously excited when I finally got to show it to my readers. :)

Bowmaiden - I'm happy you had time to read and review at least! :)

Presently Elfwine shows no signs of being on the way yet... we'll see how that goes. I know the scene of reunion with Éothain and his family was not from Scýne's point of view, but for some reason or the other I really couldn't do it. For me the easiest - or most natural - way was to write it through his eyes.

I hope you had goosebumps at listening to that song as well! And I have to say, reading your description of the painting just made me so frustrated I can't paint. It would be epic indeed.

MairaElleth - They had some really good timing! Things would probably gone from really bad to horrifyingly worse if Feran had captured the wife of his enemy. And yes, there are many in the Mark loyal still to the rightful king.

Talia119 - It was a high time she returned! I'm glad to have been able to bring her back in such a way. Hopefully soon they will be able to kick some underking butt!

As to why Firefoot wasn't yet discussed in the last chapter, I'd say it was because Éomer was still too much in awe and wonder of what had happened. But hopefully the exchange in this chapter between Éomer and Elfhelm does give what was lacking before.

Shadowstorm – I really don't agree about children destroying the souls of men. I've seen more proof of the opposite. Of course, raising children isn't always easy, and sometimes one has to make painful sacrifices for them. And most assuredly letting go of them is hard. But in turn children can provide great happiness, give purpose to one's life, and teach this truly selfless love. Granted, having children means you're probably have to change and grow as a person, but all our experiences in life have the same effect to lesser or greater degree. If anything, I believe – if one wants children, that is, and I'm aware not all do – that children can provide valuable growth and experience that by no means destroy you but give you a chance of life's richness.