Chapter 7
Aldburg, April the 20th, 3018
Runhild tiredly dragged herself up the stairs, panting ever so slightly: after a week spent lying in her bed eating little more than chicken broth, she felt terribly weakened and drowsy.
"Runhild, it's so good to see you! Are you feeling any better?".
She waved a hand and paused to catch her breath: "Better, yes. Though I still feel like I've been run over by a stampede".
"Shouldn't you be home then?", Eofor asked her with a concerned frown.
"Don't worry, I just wanted to check on Lady Lothíriel. I've heard what happened yesterday…".
"Ah, yes. Half of the hall heard their cries. You should have seen Lord Éomer when he left… I think the orcs will throw themselves on their own swords when they see his face!", he chuckled, though she failed to see what was so funny about it.
"Do you know what happened? I heard at least ten different accounts".
"Same here. But I know for a fact that Lord Éomer received a letter from Dol Amroth right before all the ruckus started: maybe it has to do with something that happened back there?".
"Maybe. And have you seen Lady Lothíriel?", she asked, but Eofor shook his head.
"No, I believe she hasn't left her room since yesterday".
"Then I shall better go and see how she's doing", she told him, pushing open the heavy wooden doors that lead into the hall. Inside, it was cool and quiet: preparation for supper had not started yet and on her way upstairs, she only crossed a couple of delivery boys running their daily errands. But she was so engrossed with brooding over what might have happened the day before, that she didn't even care for greeting them.
Against all odds, Éomer and Lothíriel had seemed to be making some progress. Lothíriel especially had looked way more at ease: she had met with Wilrun while she was sick, she had kept going out even if she was not there to accompany her and in general, it seemed like she had finally come to terms with her new life in Rohan and started embracing it instead of stubbornly refusing it. On his side, Éomer too had seemed more attentive towards everything that concerned her, may that be a noisy merchant or the fact that his wife had moved from Gondor with only a few clothes and desperately needed new ones. Ironically, things had taken a turn for the better right after that disastrous dinner in the hall, as if it had somehow triggered a progress in their relationship. And while it was true that most of what Éomer and Lothíriel did was tiptoeing around each other, as if they were still testing the ground and trying to figure out what to do with one another, that was at any rate already a huge improvement, one that had made her hopeful things might get soon better.
As such, she just could not understand what might have happened to get things so out of hands, so suddenly. What she had no doubts about though, was that Lothíriel must have taken it pretty hard, which was why she had defied her father's orders that she rested another couple of days and dragged herself all the way up there: she needed to see for herself how she was doing because no one could do that in her place.
She approached Lothíriel's room, knocked lightly on the door and then, without waiting for a response, made her way in. To her surprise however, the door did not budge: clearly it must have been locked it from the inside. Strange, she thought: Lothíriel never locked her room.
She knocked again, this time more firmly. But still, she got no answer from the other side: "Lothíriel, it's me", she called, but the room stayed eerily quiet and for some reason, Runhild started to feel agitated. She told herself that Lothíriel was probably just sleeping, that maybe she had had one of her crises and then succumbed to a deep sleep like it often happened, but still something felt…odd, out of place. Left of the door, on a low wooden table, stood a plate with a cold chunk of meat and some dried-up vegetables. Runhild took it and walked down the corridor until she found one of the maids: "Ides, what's this?", she asked.
"Lady Lothíriel's lunch, why?".
"Because it's almost supper time and this plate has stood there long enough that there were flies buzzing around it".
"She told me to do so", Ides explained, shrugging her shoulders.
"Lady Lothíriel told you to do what, exactly?".
"Yesterday she called me in and said that under no circumstances were we to bother her. She said she wanted to be left in peace and that we were to leave her meals outside of her room, that she would have helped herself when she felt hungry".
"And? Has she eaten anything at all since then?".
"No", Ides confirmed her fears. "Not yesterday's supper, not today's breakfast or lunch".
"And nobody found it strange? Nobody got worried?".
"I thought it was strange but Meregith said to let her be, so…".
"Ah, of course", she shrieked, throwing her arms in the air and hurrying back towards Lothíriel's room. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands were sweating in an unusual, weird way: "Lothíriel, open this door: now!", she ordered.
But once again, she was met with a worrying silence.
"Lothíriel!", she cried, slamming slammed both her fists against the door and kicking it at the same time.
By her side, Ides was also starting to look concerned: "What shall we do?".
She pushed her aside and rushed to the window, opened it and standing on her toes, leant with half of her body forward: "Eofor!", she called.
The guard's head peaked from behind a pillar: "Runhild? What are you doing there?".
"Come up here!", she ordered.
"Why?".
"Just do it!", she yelled and this time, he did as bid.
He emerged from the stairs a few moment later, a spear in one hand, his cheeks burning: "What happened?", he asked, looking both alarmed and confused.
"Break the door down, Eofor".
He stared at her like she had just grown a second head: "You want me to break into Lady Lothíriel's room?".
This close: she was this close to throttle the man! "Yes!".
Eofor glanced at Ides, who just nodded: "Do as she says".
"Alright: I just hope you two know what you are getting me into", he agreed, before ramming into the door with his shoulder.
The door barely creaked and Runhild sighed in frustration. But Eofor tried again, harder this time and at his fourth attempt the door finally and suddenly yielded, sending him flying into the room. Runhild passed over him and rushed inside, looking frantically around: the room was in disarray, as if someone had turned it upside down. Clothes and papers lied on the ground and the bed had been clearly used but not made up afterwards: "I thought you said she hasn't left her room since yesterday".
Behind her, Ides looked just as taken aback: "That's what I thought. I did not see her leaving her room…".
"…and I did not see her leaving the hall", Eofor confirmed as he rose to his feet, massaging his aching shoulder.
"Then where is she?", Runhild cried, pacing up and down the room and fishing random stuff up from the floor, looking desperately for a clue.
It was then that she saw it: a letter. A letter addressed to her name. A letter written in Lothíriel's elegant calligraphy. Left in the middle of a completely empty desk and held in place by a small velvet pouch, as if to be sure she would not miss it. She took it with trembling hands, holding her breath as if afraid of its content: and the more she read, the more that sinking feeling in her stomach turned into panic.
"Runhild, what is it?".
"Ides, w-where is Meregith?", she asked, her throat suddenly dried out.
"In the cellars I believe, wh…".
She didn't let her finish and run instead out of the room and down the stairs: she felt dizzy and her head was spinning, but she just kept going down and down, until the air became cooler and the light grew dim. Behind her, she could hear Eofor and Ides's steps following her, but she did not stop to wait for them, not until she had reached the pantry and pushed the door open: "Meregith?", she called.
The housekeeper emerged from behind a shelf loaded with wheels of cheese: "Runhild, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in…".
"You have to send a search party, Meregith!".
She stared at her in confusion, then at Eofor and Ides who had finally caught up with her: "And what do we have to search for, exactly?".
"Not what, but who: Lady Lothíriel!", she explained, waving the letter in front her while she tried to catch her breath. "She run off, Meregith. She wants to get back to Gondor and must have sneaked out somewhen earlier today: you have to send men to find her before she gets into troubles!".
Meregith took the letter from her hands, read it, then carefully folded it and returned it back to her: "Lady Lothíriel is a grown woman who takes her own decisions", she just said, her voice and her face void of any emotion.
As it was all normal, as if there was nothing to be concerned of!
"You can't be serious, Meregith. If we don't find her, it's not a matter of if but merely a matter of when, will something bad happen to her! Surely you don't want that either!".
"As I said, she's a grown woman and if that was her decision, then be it. Most of the men rode with Éomer and I won't endanger the city by sending those few who are left on a pointless hunt for someone who clearly doesn't want to be brought back".
For maybe the first time in her life, Runhild felt totally speechless: she just stared at the housekeeper, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth, unable to grasp the fact that Meregith would have rather left Lothíriel to die on her own, than rescue her.
"Runhild is right, we have to find her!", Ides stepped forward, trying to support her.
But Meregith was unmoved: "When Éomer will come back, he'll decide what to do about his wife. Until then, we wait".
"And you think he'll approve of this?", Eofor pressed her.
"If he won't, then I'll deal with it. Besides, that's none of your business: I advise you get back to the post you abandoned, Eofor".
He made for protesting, but Runhild stopped him: "Forget it, Eofor. It's pointless to discuss with her anyway", she told him, then snapped around and started running again. This time upstairs, then cross the hall and outside, down the street that lead to the stables.
Once again, she could hear Eofor and Ides' steps behind her: "Runhild, wait! Where are you going?".
But once again, she didn't stop, not until she had reached the box where Shadow was enjoying a meal of succulent hay and apples' scraps: she threw her saddle on him and arranged his bridles and reins as fast she possibly could without spooking him with her sudden appearance. When Eofor materialized at the doorstep and saw what she was doing, he tried to stop her: "You don't intend to go out looking for her in that state, do you?".
She angrily pushed him out of the way: "If nobody is going out for her, then I will!", she hissed. "But I won't be looking for her: me alone, I'll never find her. I'll ride for the Holbeck farm and tell Lord Éomer: if I hurry, I may be able to reach him before nightfall!".
"Then let me do it, there's no need for you to ride while you can barely stand", Eofor tried to convince her but before he could do anything, she had already jumped on Shadow's back.
"Feel free to join me if you wish, but I won't be left twiddling thumbs while Lothíriel is out there".
Rohiril tossed her head sideways and ignoring completely her orders, slowed down her pace to a walk.
Lothíriel sighed but there was nothing she could do: they had left Aldburg in the early morning, taking advantage of the coming and going caused by the construction of the new orphanage to go by unnoticed. It had been easier than she had expected and not even in the stables, had she been stopped by anyone. A scarf around her head to cover her identity, they had passed undisturbed through the gates: concerned that galloping away might have raised suspicions, they had moved slow at first. But as soon as the city had disappeared behind them, she hadn't hesitated to push Rohiril at full gallop for most of the morning and a good part of the afternoon as well and quite honestly, it was no surprise that her mare was now exhausted and could not keep up the pace anymore.
"It's alright, Rohiril", she reassured her, patting gently her neck: "I'm sure we'll soon find them and then, it won't be long until we make camp for the night and get both some rest".
Rohiril answered with a snort, one that she translated in her mind to something like don't get your hopes high, woman. And she would be right to tell her so: they had passed the village where Harn and the rest of the Gondorian merchants had spent the night in the late morning, and yet several hours later they still hadn't caught up with them and weren't even able to spot them in distance. The sun would soon set and if they didn't manage to find them, they'd be forced to spend the night outside on their own, completely alone.
A shiver went down her spine at the thought of it: don't panic, Lothíriel, she tried to encourage herself but the sight around her, was not a comforting one.
Not long after having crossed the village, the landscape around them had somewhat changed and the road was now often skirted by wooden hills, the type of which she did not recall from the time she had ridden from Minas Tirith. But then again: back then the weather had been horrible and her mood desperate, so it could be that she simply hadn't noticed them.
Yes, surely that must be it, she told herself, because the possibility that she might have gotten lost was something she could not think about. Not now.
Suddenly, Rohiril steered right and it took Lothíriel some effort to bring her back on the road: "I know you're tired, but there's no need to be nervous as well", she told her as she led her back on the path. Ahead of them, the road gently winded to the right and keeping only a few feet away from a thick forest, climbed up a small hill: from the top of it, she might be able to see a few miles in distance and spot the merchants, Lothíriel thought with some anticipation. Resisting the urge to push Rohiril forward, she allowed her to keep the pace she was most comfortable with and waited with bathed breath until the road had reached the peak. Once there, she immediately glanced down, hoping with all her heart to finally see something that wasn't grass or trees.
And she did see something.
Just, not what she had expected.
She froze, and Rohiril froze with her too: in front of them, no further than five or maybe six hundred feet away, a cart was toppled in the middle of the road, the horses which had once hauled it lying on the ground by its side. One of them lied still in the middle of a pool of dark blood, while the other seemed to be moving. But when she looked better, Lothíriel realized she was mistaken: the horse's belly was open, his entrails spread around.
He was not moving. Something was moving him.
Behind his body, half-hidden behind the crushed remains of the carriage, something brown-furred moved, something strong enough to effortlessly drag away the carcass of a full-grown horse. And then, as if her eyes were only able to gradually take in the horror of the scene in front of her, she saw them: the corpses. Two of them, a man whose body was half trapped under the cart; and a woman, her too slumped on the blood-soaked grass, not far from the horses.
At first, Lothíriel told herself that they may have been still alive but only when she looked better, did she see their torn, battered bodies.
She brought a hand to her mouth, fought down the urge to retch: they had to get out of there, as silently and as fast as possible! But just when she was about to turn Rohiril around, someone bolted away from the under cart and started running blindly down the road, away from them: a child, she noticed in horror! He was crying and screaming, his clothes stained red but seemingly unharmed while behind him, two giant hideous-looking beasts emerged from the mangled remains of the horses and Lothíriel had never seen an uglier, more terrifying creature: they resembled wolves, but there was something profoundly evil in their look.
Their eyes fixed on the small boy trying to escape their clutches, the beasts growled and jumped forward and it all happened so fast, that she did not have time to think: "Over here!", she cried at the top of her lungs, standing on the stirrups and waving her arms.
It worked: both beasts stopped dead in their tracks and turned around, the hair on their necks standing, their blood dripping fangs exposed. They eyed her, they eyed Rohiril, and she knew what they were seeing: another meal, another prey. They leapt forward and she just had the time to grab the reins, before Rohiril bolted at full speed down the hill first, into the woods then. The ground was treacherous, uneven, covered in leaves, stones and logs. The trees were close to each other and Rohiril was brushing them so close, that Lothíriel had to squeeze her knees around her back to avoid being hit. She laid low on the saddle, twigs whipping her face and leaving her soon covered in scratches: she tried to steer Rohiril back towards the road, but she had completely lost control and all she could do, was holding tight on her, hoping she'd manage to outrun those two ghastly creatures. She risked glancing behind them, but they were nowhere to be seen and the sound of their steps too, seemed to fade further and further away.
Maybe they would really manage to do it, she thought!
She turned back and her eyes widened at the sight of a low-hanging branch right in front of her, but it was too late to do anything: it smashed her right into her chest, tore her from the saddle and sent her flying down a ravine. She landed hard on her back, then started tumbling down for what felt like an eternity and at every turn, at every twist, something new was crashed until there was not a single part of her body that hadn't been completely wracked.
When she finally stopped, her eyes snapped open but she did not dare moving. She waited in silence as the steps of their pursuers got closer and closer: please, she thought.
The beasts passed far above her but did not slow down, keeping their chase for Rohiril without realizing she had fallen from her saddle. She held on until she could not hear them anymore, then struggled to stand up: "Ride, Rohiril. Don't look back", she whispered, staring blankly at the direction towards which they had all disappeared.
Then, she suddenly remembered: the little boy! She ought to find him, bring him somewhere safe! But where? The closest village she knew of, was a day on foot away and there was no way they could get there before nightfall: what if they camped for the night and were attacked? What if those beasts came back for them? Panic surged through her veins, but she warded it off: "We'll walk throughout the night, if necessary!". Maybe they would meet someone along the way who could help them; or maybe the boy knew the area better than herself and could point her to a closer village.
Yes: what mattered the most was that she found him, then they would figure out what to do!
She headed up the hill, careful at first, wincing at every step, at every movement that would send shocks of pain throughout her whole body; but the more she walked, the more the thought of that child, of the horrors he had witnessed and the terror he must be experiencing while he wandered around all alone, gave her strength, courage. Her steps became faster and though it was hard to keep one's bearings in the middle of the woods, she was fairly sure she was going the right direction.
She pushed herself forward, her breath ragged, sweat trickling down her forehead and soon, she was running.
Fast. Hastily. Blindly.
Until something happened.
Something down her leg.
She stared down and for a moment, she felt like she had floated out of her body or like she was looking at someone else: that surely wasn't her feet, that surely wasn't her leg, trapped between the sharp spikes of a rusty leghold trap! That could not have happened and besides, who would leave a trap in the middle of nowhere?!
Then, came the pain. Excruciating, agonizing pain.
She fell back, bit her cheeks until the taste of blood filled her mouth: if she cried, those beasts were sure to find her. She felt like vomiting and passing out all at the same time, but she couldn't. Not now! Her hands shaking almost uncontrollably, she stretched her arms and tried to force open the jaws of the trap. But all she accomplished, was to send an even more harrowing wave of pain up her leg. She took a piece of wood from the ground, bit on it and tried again but the jaws didn't as much move and now, she felt only moments away from unconsciousness. Calling on the last bit of strength left in her body, she dragged herself forward on her elbows, grabbing on anything in her reach that could help her advancing: a trunk, a stone, the ground itself. Her nails dug into the earth but soon, also that last bit of strength failed her.
She rolled and laid on her back: her limbs were starting to feel numb, the noises of the forest felt muffled her ears and the last thing she saw before her eyes shut, was Runhild's freckled, smiley face…
Six orcs: six orcs were all it had taken to completely obliterate Cenulf and his family.
They had gotten him first, attacked him from behind and slit his throat before he could do anything. Then, they had taken care of his wife: in a desperate attempt to protect their children, she had fought and managed to kill one orc and wound another before being ultimately overcome. After having massacred the family, it had been the turn of the cattle: almost fifty goats, all butchered one after the other. Some had been cooked and eaten, but for the most they had been left to rot on the same pastures where they had once grazed. Finally, the farm had been burned to the ground: when they had arrived, little more than a pile of charred remains was left standing in its place.
Luckily for them, the muddy ground had made it a child's game for Gárwine to follow the tracks the orcs had left behind: they had found them sheltering in a cave not far from the farm itself, probably biding their time to return and scrap some more meat off the bones of the slaughtered animals.
In a sense, he should have been grateful that it had been a small party the one responsible for the massacre: when disposing of it, none of his men had been injured and everyone was getting home to their families. But the fact that such a small party had caused so much troubles and destroyed something that was almost like an icon of the East-mark and their traditions, was hard to accept. Even harder to accept, was the fact that everything could have been easily avoided: had Cenulf followed his orders, had the ealdormen forced him to stay regardless of their dispute, had someone informed him in time…
"We stop here for the night", he yelled to his men.
"I thought you wanted to be done with this as soon as possible. Sure you don't want to ride to Caerdydd?", Gárwine asked him.
"I don't want to risk one of our horses' legs by riding into a pitch-dark night. Not if it can be avoided: we camp here and move tomorrow at first light", he explained and while that was undoubtedly true, he also had another reason for postponing the moment he'd arrive in Caerdydd and face its ealdormen: namely, the fact that were he to do it now, he wasn't sure he'd manage to talk to the man without beating him to a pulp before. True, he didn't know what happened and it could very well be that Cenulf was at fault. But that did not matter, not when a woman and three young children were also involved: the moment they had entered Caerdydd, it had been the ealdormen's responsibility to ensure the safety of Cenulf and his family, or at least to inform him if he was unable to do so.
And the fact that he had failed to do both things, was hard to forgive.
A fire was started and after having taken care of their horses, his men all quietly got together around it: after the sight of the Holbeck's farm and what happened there, the mood was understandably sombre and even Éothain kept for himself, choosing to eat his meal sitting alone in the back rather than with the others.
"Brunwyn baked a carrot cake yesterday and I managed to snatch a couple of slices before leaving: care to join me?", Gárwine offered him before abruptly snapping up: "Wait, do you hear that?".
All the men grew quiet and aside from the crackling of the fire, Éomer too could hear something: horses. Horses moving – no, galloping towards them.
Within moments they were all on their feet, their swords unsheathed. Because orcs did not ride horses, that only left them with one, unexpected possibility: Dunlendings were attacking them, even though those were not lands they usually roamed and their presence there would be strange at best. But then again: those days, nothing could surprise him anymore.
They extinguished the fire and formed three lines. He stood at the front, Éothain at one side, Gram at the other: "That doesn't sound like many horses".
"No, you are right", he agreed, staring into the darkness, trying to catch any sign of the incoming assailants.
The sound of hoof steps slowed down and suddenly, he heard a voice. A familiar one: "It's Eofor!", the voice called, before muttering a half curse. "Wait until they answer, for Bema's sake! You can't rush in there, you'll find yourself at the pointy end of a spear!".
Another voice answered, a feminine one this time and Éomer lowered his sword. Eofor emerged to his right, hands raised in front of him: "It's Eofor, my Lord".
"I can see that. What the …", he started to say, before spotting Runhild following him a few steps behind. What was she doing there? "Runhild?", he called her, already getting a bad feeling. And the closer she got, the worse the feeling got: she wasn't even wearing a riding skirt but rather a normal gown, like she had been forced to leave Aldburg in a rush and hadn't had the time to change into something more appropriate for a ride in the middle of the night. Eofor's cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and though she jumped down the saddle and advanced towards him like a fury, she looked at the same time completely exhausted.
"She's gone, my Lord!".
"What? Who's gone?".
She punched him in the middle of his chest with both hands: "Lothíriel! She's gone, she run off! What did you tell her to cause her to leave this way, eh?", she cried, tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks.
"Calm down, Runhild", Eofor told her, trying to pull her away from him.
"No! I don't want to calm down! I want this one", she yelled pointing towards him, "to tell me what did he tell to my Lady to make her do something so utterly stupid! And then I want him to go find her!".
"She run off?", he stupidly echoed her, somehow unable to process the meaning of those words.
"Yes!", she sobbed, holding up a letter.
Grabbing a torch from Éothain's hand, he frantically read its content and every word felt like a punch in the guts: "When? When did she leave?".
"We don't know for sure, we only realized she was missing this afternoon. Most probably she left in the early morning", Eofor explained, still holding Runhild back.
"How many are searching for her? Where?".
Runhild looked at him like she could have just murdered him, had she had any weapon at arm's reach: "We raised the alarm, informed Meregith. But she refused to do anything until you would be back!".
"She refused?", Éothain asked, incredulous.
"Yes, that's why we came here!".
Éomer stared at Runhild, unable to say anything, unable to move a single muscle: he should have never left Aldburg without first apologizing to Lothíriel. It might have been stubborn of her to refuse answering her father's letters, but she was right that that was none of his business and anyway, he should have never told her those things, he should have never put all the faults for their failed marriage on her. Yes, he had been livid, but that was no justification for targeting his anger at her!
And now, his failure at controlling his temper and at dealing with Meregith on time, might very well cost him his wife's life.
He felt torn between guilt and anger but at the same time, he knew he could afford none of those: not if he wanted to save Lothíriel. He stepped forward and took Runhild by her shoulders, gently but firmly at the same time: "Runhild, I know you're worried but I need you to focus. You know Lothíriel better than anyone else: she is one day ahead of us and I need to know where to look for her. Do you think she might be planning to stop somewhere? Did she ever mention anything? A village perhaps, or a tavern where she might stop for the night".
Runhild thought about it, then shook her head: "No, she never mentioned anything, nor did I. She knows nothing of Rohan outside of Aldburg!".
"What of Lewes?", he suggested. "It's not far from Aldburg and it's on the way South. It doesn't have an inn but maybe she found shelter there for the night".
"I-I don't know. I never heard her mentioning the place, but she might remember it from when she arrived in Aldburg", Runhild sobbed, looking unusually pale.
"Then we'll start searching from there: if we ride now, we'll reach it before the sun rises", he spoke, loud enough that his men could hear him and make ready for leaving. "Eofor, I'll give you a couple of men to escort Runhild back to Aldb…".
"I am not going back to Aldburg! I am coming with you to Lewes and wherever else it may be necessary!".
"Runhild, you are clearly feverish. What is more, your horses are exhausted and wouldn't be able to keep up with us".
"I am perfectly fine! And Shadow has no problem riding until dawn!".
"You'd slow us down, Runhild. And you don't want that, do you?".
"No", she admitted, her fists shaking with rage.
He pulled her to him and held her head against his chest, unsure who needed that embrace more: him or her. "I'll find her and bring her back to Aldburg. You have my word, Runhild".
Author's notes: so, the unimaginable happen and Lothíriel really tried to get back to Gondor on her own. A crazy move, but of course she'd never think she could do it all on her own: catching up with the merchants and then tagging along until Minas Tirith, was the most reasonable plan she could come up with. Unfortunately, a wargs' close encounter is sure to disrupt anyone's plan…
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx: killing you I hope not. Themselves…maybe! :)
SwanKnightoftheNorth: we're all on the same boat I guess. Here in Switzerland we're in lockdown as well, at least until 25th of April. Let's hope we all get to normal as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the extra-time to post updates more often! ;)
Catspector: yes, they successfully managed to obliterate any progress made in the past chapters. They are both impulsive and Éomer surely has an awful temper, which is a recipe for disaster…
AmandaBaker852: though hasty, she was not a complete fool in the planning. I don't think she'd have ever risked travelling totally alone, but what Harn told her in the previous chapter gave her an idea. A decent idea actually, had it not been for the dangers of the road.
readergirl4985: she was going back to Gondor, where to exactly we will see in the next chapters. And of course, Meregith had to do her bit to ensure Lothíriel would never return to Aldburg…
Guest: he surely did. What is more, he did not apologize, choosing instead to ride away and face the consequences of his words later on, when it might be already too late. It's probably no surprise that Meregith is trying to take advantage of the situation and as per Éothain, his perspective will be cleared up in the following instalments!
Guest: she's young and often displays a temper on her own. Éomer well, he just went too far this time. Until they seriously start to communicate with one another and explain the reasons of their behaviours and resentments, they will always continue to clash no matter how much they might have progressed in the meanwhile.
BlueRevolution: thank you! It's always nice to hear, especially given English is clearly not my mother tongue. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the previous ones.
Guest: thanks! :)
rossui: as expected, she made a plan of her own and tried to run off. Let's see if Éomer finds her before it's too late. Hope all will get better soon there as well!
tgo62: very, very stupid and reckless…