Chapter 25
Aldburg, September the 5th, 3018
Lothíriel flew past the guards standing by the doors and halted briefly atop the stairs, staring incredulous at the black-haired man dismounting his stallion. She covered the distance between them in hurried steps and when he picked her up like she was still the young girl he'd carry to bed every night, she couldn't help but crying and laughing - all at the same time!
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Erchirion", she sobbed, marvelling at how - even now that he was leagues away from the sea, her brother still smelled of wind and salt.
He pulled back from her embrace and gave her a good look, like he wanted to ensure she was still whole. "I came as soon as I heard the news. You didn't think I'd let anyone else come in my place, did you?".
"I didn't know anyone was coming at all!", Lothíriel said wiping her cheeks. "How long are you going to stay? Oh, please don't tell me you have to leave too soon!".
Erchirion crooked an eyebrow. "Actually, I was hoping to leave tomorrow…".
"Tomorrow? But you've only just arrived!".
"As far as I'm concerned, one day spent in this cursed place is already one day too many!".
He spoke with such careless hatred, that Lothíriel was taken aback. Why, that was not like him at all! The quick to judge and – even more so, to speak, had always been Amrothos. Erchirion was far too smart and cautious for that! "Why would you even say such thing?", she asked while behind her, she could feel the glares of the guards boring into her back.
Erchirion remained motionless for an agonizingly long moment, his features finally twisting into an angry snarl: "He hasn't even told you, has he?".
"Who is he? And what was I supposed to be told?".
He pulled a bundle of papers out of his saddlebag and held them out: "Your husband has called for the annulment of your marriage. I'm here to take you home, sister".
Lothíriel quickly flipped through the pages and found their content to be so absurd, that she almost laughed. On the bottom of the last paper, three signatures were lined up one next to each other: one belonged to her uncle, one to her father, and the third shaky handwriting must have been King Théoden's. Next to it, were two blank spaces: one for her signature, the other for Éomer's. "You were in Edoras?".
"Yes. I arrived there yesterday evening, collected the King's signature and left today at dawn".
"Did you meet him in person?".
"I did".
Lothíriel's head jerked up. When she had visited the capital, she hadn't even been introduced to the King - officially because he was indisposed, unofficially because the least the man left his room, the more power rested in Grima's hands. "And? What did he say?".
"What do you think he said. He apologized on behalf of his nephew and convened that you'd be better off in Dol Amroth than by the side of a man who almost got you killed twice".
There were so many outrageously false statements in that short sentence, that Lothíriel felt on the verge of bursting out. "What of Grima? Did you have the chance of meeting him? He is…".
"The King's chief councillor. And a hard one to forget at that. He was always by the King's side but rarely said anything at all - at least not until I sought him out to find out what exactly has been going on around here".
"You don't say", snorted Lothíriel. She took her brother's arm and guided him impatiently inside the hall, where they could at least continue their conversation in a somewhat more private setting. "This must be his doing", she muttered.
"The King's doing?".
"No, Grima's".
Erchirion halted and his expression changed to one of grief, pity almost: "He did not inspire trust, I give you that. But there is one man - and one man only, who is responsible for all of this: your husband, Lothíriel".
"You don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about! That Wormtongue has been trying to undermine Éomer for months now! It's true that I almost got killed twice, but in all likelihood it was him – Grima, the man behind my second close encounter with death".
"He warned me you might have said so, that you might have tried defending your husband. Valar, has that man brainwashed you?".
"If there's someone who has been brainwashed, that's you!", she rebuted him, "You've only been in Rohan for a couple of days and you already pretend to know everything! Haven't you received my letters? Haven't you read them?".
"Which letters, Lothíriel? I know you're angry with father and trust me, I am too. But for months you hardly sent word at all, save for the few short letters you wrote Aunt Irviniel. And it doesn't take to be a wizard to guess their content was less than reassuring, given the way she has been nagging incessantly at father, saying he ought to bring you back home before it's too late. Your husband wrote us often to assure us you were doing fine, but then back in June we received a letter from Edoras informing us that you had almost been mauled by a warg! A warg!", he yelled, the vein on the side of his neck popping out like it always did when he was getting angry.
"Y-you knew about it?", asked Lothíriel, feeling like she had just started to scratch the surface of what had really been going on behind her back.
"Yes. Neither you nor your husband had the decency to inform us, but at least someone at court did".
"Grima?".
"Why does it even matter? After I read that letter, I started immediately making preparation to travel to Rohan to bring you back home. But then, on the eve of my departure, another courier arrived, carrying something we had been hoping to see for months: a letter from you, written by you! I did not trust your reassurances, not for one second. I insisted on coming anyway, but father and Uncle Denethor decided otherwise".
Lothíriel took a long, deep breath: "Things are more complicated than you know", she said guiding Erchirion inside Éomer's study.
"How can you defend that man after all…".
"Please, let me finish", she begged him while walking in circles around the desk. "What happened with those wargs… you are right when you say I should have told you, but you also need to understand that while me and Éomer are at fault for the utter failure our marriage was at first - and for the events that led to my foolish escape, a big share of responsibility falls on our father's shoulders too, for the way he married us in the first place. I wrote all about it in that letter I sent you back in June, and I'd rather say no more about it, other than I'd be dead if it wasn't for Éomer. As for the second time I was brushed by death, in my letter I spoke cautiously about it and I see now that it was a mistake. That day when the orcs' assaulted us, we were on our way to Edoras at Grima's request: we shouldn't have even been there, we should have been in Aldburg celebrating midsummer but instead, the man summoned us".
"Are you insinuating the King's chief councillor is colluded with the enemy, to the point he'd send orcs after you?".
"I am, though I obviously have no evidence to prove it whatsoever. The day we arrived in Edoras, he immediately cornered me and very conveniently offered me a not better defined way out of my marriage with Éomer…".
"Which you refused, I know. Grima said you defended your husband strenuously and that as such, he was left with no way to protect you from him".
"Protect me from him?", scoffed Lothíriel. "Please, the man is a traitor! Don't you see he's just desperately trying to get rid of Éomer? First, he thought he could use our failed marriage against him; then, when things started to work between us, he tried to have me killed. But that didn't work either, so now he came up with this farce of a marriage annulment. But I will not fall for it!".
Erchirion regarded her silently, his head tilted on one side, his eyes two narrow slits. "You love him", he said at last.
A statement, not even a question.
"You tell it as if it's a terrible thing to love one's spouse...", mumbled Lothíriel, her eyes fixed on her toes, her fingers fiddling nervously with her braid.
"It is, when the other person does not reciprocate your feelings".
"For someone who has never even met my husband, you seem to know him pretty darn well, brother".
"I do not need to make his acquaintance to know the type of man he is, for his words speak louder than your passionate defense".
He pulled an envelope out of his tunic and handed it over. It bore Éomer's seal and when Lothíriel unfolded the smooth, white paper resting inside, the world spun so dangerously fast, that she'd have flopped like a ragdoll, had Erchirion not helped her to the couch: "Is that his handwriting?".
It was. Neat and elegant, if a little hurried around heading and salutation. Éomer had no patience for pleasantries and she often teased him that if it were for him, his letters would consist of body and signature only.
"Is that his seal?".
It was. A red lion surrounded by a pattern of prancing horses - she had always thought it fitting, what with his golden appearance and fierce stance. But even more relevant than handwriting and seal, Lothíriel knew that was just the type of letter Éomer would write, the kind of words he'd use, if he ever decided to call for the annulment of their marriage. He put all the blame on himself, mentioned time and again the incident with the wargs and how he had come to the conclusion that the only way to ensure her well-being, was to allow her to return to her beloved home. At the end of the letter, a short, simple sentence.
Owing to the fact the marriage has not been consumed, I hereby request its immediate annulment.
The letter slipped out of Lothíriel's finger and glided gracefully at her feet. Inside her otherwise utterly empty skull, one question echoed dangerously loud: had she really gotten it all so terribly wrong? Yes, the past two months had not been sunshine and rainbows, but what of those earlier weeks she and Éomer had spent together? What of that day at the old watchtower, or that night at the camp? Someone who's planning to end a marriage, surely wouldn't waste his time organizing picnics!
And what of that evening when she had returned from the Westfold? Lothíriel thanked the Valar that she was sitting, or else the memory of Éomer's pillaging kisses would have surely caused her knees to buckle!
And yet he had written that letter, sent it to her father…
It was then that words she had hoped she would never have to think of again, treacherously resurfaced.
… he was intrigued by you… but intrigued is not enough, and look at how fast he has grown bored of you…
Was that it? Was that all those past months had been to Éomer? A fleeting thing, a short-lived infatuation and nothing more? Was that why he had always refused being intimate with her, why all their encounters had never gone beyond a few heated kisses? Because if they had, he wouldn't have been granted the annulment he wished for?
… he's getting his share of intimacy elsewhere…
Did Éomer really have a mistress? Had she really been as blind and deaf as Trewyn had accused her to be?
Erchirion's hands covered hers. They were callous, hardened by too many days spent sailing in the waters of Belfalas: "Say something, Lothíriel".
"Éomer, he… he left for the Eastemnet and won't be back before ten days at least. It's a long journey from here, you know? Well over a hundred miles, across the Entwash and then further East. That's also where the herdsmen live and…".
She was babbling and her brother knew it. "That would be the first good news I've received since entering Rohan. By the time he'll be back, we'll be in Minas Tirith and you won't have to see his sorry face ever again".
"No, I can't leave like that…".
"Why not? What do you owe him?".
Lothíriel pulled herself up and headed for the door. She didn't even know why, but she needed to get out of that room. "I must speak to him", she said in a trembling voice.
"What do you think he'll tell you, that is not already written in that letter?".
"You wouldn't understand. Besides, you need his signature too, so we can't leave until he has returned".
Erchirion was growing visibly impatient: "I can leave one of my men behind, there's no need for us to stay too. Just sign the damned paper and let's be done with it!", he insisted, but Lothíriel simply walked away. He grabbed her arm then – with more strength than he had intended, and before he even knew it, Balláf had already materialized behind him.
"Is everything alright, my Lady?".
He spoke calmly, but his hand resting on Erchirion's shoulder was a clear warning. And when all of a sudden two of her brother's men appeared in the corridor, followed shortly afterwards by Eofor and Runhild, Lothíriel feared the situation was about to escalate quickly: "All good, Balláf. I was just about to show my brother to one of the guestrooms, so that he may rest and recover from his long journey".
Erchirion tried to pull her back inside the study - no doubt to continue that pointless discussion, but Balláf did not let him: "Perhaps I should escort the gentleman to his quarters", he suggested glaring down at her brother.
"Get this hound off of my face, Lothíriel", growled Erchirion.
Balláf grinned as if he had just been paid an unexpected compliment. "Anything else I can do for you, my Lady?", he asked.
And indeed there was one.
"Actually, yes. I know Éomer took most of the men with him, but do you happen to know whether among those who travelled with him to the Hornburg last month, there is someone who stayed behind?", Lothíriel inquired him and judging by the way he frowned, her request must have come unexpected.
"Only Léod".
"Léod is here?".
"Yes. He's had a bad fall last week and broke his leg. He's staying at the barracks: I can walk you there, if you need to speak to him".
"No. I will go on my own".
"You know we can't let you…".
"I suggest you learn how to distinguish a suggestion from an order, Balláf", snapped Lothíriel, "I will go to the barracks alone, while you, Eofor and Runhild will remain here with my brother and his Swan Knights. Is that clear enough?".
A small nod was all the answer she got before darting out of the hall and rushing to the other side of the city, where the training grounds were located. She kicked the barrack's door open, causing all the lads who had assembled inside to fall suddenly silent: "Out of here, all of you!", she cried, and she must have looked like something awfully scary because in the blink of an eye, they were all gone. All but one, who could not move because bedridden.
"M-my Lady?".
Ever since the ride from Minas Tirith and in spite of her repeated apologies, Léod – Éomer's squire, still couldn't help but turning into a bundle of nerves whenever she was around. It was something that normally upset her but now, it might have just worked to her advantage: "Léod, there is something I need to ask you. But before I do, let me remind you that in Éomer's absence I am in charge of the city, and that you owe me the same allegiance you owe him. Were you to lie to me, you'd pay dearly for your disloyalty. Do you understand?".
The boy looked like he wished the thin mattress of his cot could swallow him whole.
"You travelled to the Westfold with Éomer. Not only this last time, but also earlier this year".
A frightened little nod.
Lothíriel moved closer, until there was nowhere Léod could go, nowhere he could look at, if not her. "Do you know of a tavern called the Putrid Hunter? Has Éomer ever been there?".
At the mention of the place, the boy shrunk. He tried scooting over, but she had him cornered. "H-he has, my Lady".
"Has he ever met a woman named Lúfa there? And if so, what happened between them?", asked Lothíriel, and the way all colour instantly drained from Léod's face, was an answer on its own. "So it's true, he does have a mistress...".
The boy tried making some ridiculous excuse to save his Marshall's reputation, but she heard none of it. She rushed out of the barracks and run as fast as she could back towards the hall. She tripped and fell at same point, badly bruised her palms and ripped her skirt. Someone offered to help her, but Lothíriel pushed the person away: Trewyn had said the rumours about Éomer and his mistress had been running wild for months, so for how long had the people of Aldburg known about it, she wondered? Did Runhild know? Probably not, but what about Éothain? He must have surely known: for how long had he been smiling to her face, while knowing perfectly well that the marriage she was trying so hard to make work, was nothing but a travesty?
Her whole body shaking with anger, Lothíriel sought her brother and signed the annulment with unsteady, clammy fingers.
"What are you doing?", shrieked Runhild.
She tried to snap the papers out of her hands, but her brother's men were keeping her at distance: "Please don't do it! Éomer can't have asked for you to go, there must be an explanation for all of this!", she insisted, but Lothíriel ignored her plea and just looked the other way.
"I will go to my room and pack my things", she informed her brother, "We leave tomorrow at dawn and until then I… I don't wish to see anyone. Can you see to that?".
"Let me come with you. I can help …".
"Can you or can you not?", she yelled.
Erchirion winced, his grey eyes veiling with a weary sadness: "I can. I'll put some of my men by your door and see that no one disturbs you until we leave".
Only vaguely aware of Runhild crying her name, of Eofor and Balláf quarrelling futilely with her brother, Lothíriel retired to her room. Her blue silk dress and her mother's necklace were the only things she tossed in her bag: everything else, everybody else, she did not wish to carry back with her.
Indeed, she only wished she could simply forget all about them.
A red sun had just started to rise when Éomer and his men caught their first glimpse of Aldburg. And it was not the sight they had expected: no flames rose from the city, no smoke blackened the sky, no sign of foul creatures storming the streets. All the dreadful images that had crossed his mind as he pushed his men on a frantic rush back home, dissolved into the clear air of a late summer morning. Éomer was relieved of course, but when he rode by the stables and noticed a group of foreigners busy saddling their horses - among them Ethelfola for some unfathomable reason, once again he felt like he had no idea what was going on.
He had almost made it to the hall, when someone came out to greet him. Only, it was not the person he had expected to see.
"Well, this is… unfortunate", spoke the stranger.
He wore a plain brown tunic, the kind of which one would normally wear under the armour. Something about him felt vaguely familiar and the moment Éomer stared into his green-grey eyes, he knew who he was speaking with: "Erchirion?".
"I was hoping you'd not return, not until we had left. But perhaps is better this way".
"Where's Lothíriel? What is going on?".
He did not bother to answer. Instead, he walked him to his own study and once in there, he tapped his finger on some papers and handed him a quill. Éomer growled and the only thing that kept him from throttling the man for his insufferable manners, was that he was Lothíriel's brother – and her favourite one at that. He tore the quill from his hand and tossed it away: "I spent the past three days riding like a madman. I am exhausted and in no mood for riddles, so I'll ask you once more: why is a Gondorian fop welcoming me home, and where is my wife?".
Erchirion's arms were hanging by his sides, his fists clenched like he was dangerously close to start beating him: "My sister is making ready to leave and I give you my word, you'll never as much as lay eyes upon her ever again".
"Care to explain where you are planning to take her?".
"Cut the charade, Marshall!", he said slamming the papers against his chest with enough strength to force him back, "Just sign these and we'll all be out of your way: for good, I assure you".
Éomer's first instinct was to crumple the paper and stuff it in his brother-in-law's mouth. But he doubted Lothíriel would have approved of such treatment, so he glanced quickly at the document in his hands: a lot of pompous words, and something about him having to return Lothíriel's dowry. His confusion only grew with each further word he read, until he reached the very first page and noticed those three, painfully simple words: annulment of marriage.
"You seem disappointed. Something in the agreed conditions is not to your liking? Perhaps you were hoping to get rid of your wife while keeping at the same time the very generous settlement my father paid you. A beggar and a scoundrel, that is what you are!".
Éomer paid those insults no heed, for they were nothing compared to the hardly recognizable signature he found on the last page of the document: "Lothíriel signed this?".
"Obviously. What did you expect her to do: wait for your return, kiss tour feet and beg you not to send her away, when all you've done since she has arrived here is humiliating her and...".
The rest of the rant was lost to Éomer as he sped out of the room. He headed for the stairs, but found his way blocked by four Swan Knights.
"The Princess does not wish to see you".
The man who spoke was unusually sturdy for a Gondorian. He held himself with the confidence of someone who doesn't make empty threats but alas, the same could be said of Éomer too: "Crawl back to your Prince", he hissed to his face, "or I swear I'll send you home in tiny little pieces".
"You can try", the man challenged him, and the only thing that prevented the whole situation from turning into a bloodbath, was Erchirion and Runhild's simultaneous arrival.
"Girdir, stand down!", ordered the Prince, while Runhild jostled towards him. She looked like the girl who had come to warn him of her lady's disappearance many months ago, Éomer realized: exhausted, frightened, angry. "I've been trying to speak to her, but she wouldn't even let me in!", she said in a panicked voice, "Tell me this is all a giant misunderstanding, tell me you are not sending her away, or I swear…".
Éomer shoved her aside and climbed the stairs three steps at a time. When he found the door to Lothíriel's room locked, he kicked it until the hinges yielded.
"I'm practically done, don't worry", Lothíriel informed him when he barged in, the aloofness of her stance blatantly clashing with the dark circles around her puffy eyes.
"Did you sign this?", he asked waving the paper in front of her nose.
She ignored his question, collected her cloak and made for leaving. "Don't touch me!", she yelled when he tried to stop her.
"Then explain to me why you signed this!".
Lothíriel laughed a humourless laughter: "What is it, you grew tired of your mistress already? You had a change of heart and now want me to stay and expect me to comply with your every wish?".
"I don't even know what you are talking about!", he shouted, loud enough for the whole city to hear him. "All I know is that I feared Aldburg was under attack and rushed back, only to find out the only thing that happened in my absence is that my wife is gullible enough to sign whatever piece of crap her brother ask to!".
"Oh, I am a gullible indeed, for how else could I not see what was going on around here, how else could I ever believe our marriage to be anything more than a blot of ink on a contract I've never even signed myself! But you", she said pointing a trembling finger at him, "you are the vilest, most cowardly two-faced snake I've ever met! You didn't even have the guts to tell me you wanted to end our marriage and went behind my back instead!".
She slipped something out of her pocket then – an envelope with a letter inside, and just like her brother had done moments earlier with their marriage annulment, she slammed it against his chest. Éomer unfolded the letter and recognized what he was holding. He recognized it right away. "Where did you get this?".
"Where do you think I got it, my brother gave it to me".
"How could he…".
"Are you going to deny writing it? Are you going to say someone forged your handwriting and signature, not to mention your seal?".
At that last word, something clicked inside him. He turned the envelope over to inspect the seal and the moment he noticed the horses' blurred outlines and the dent on the lion's head, for the first time in over three days things slowly started to make sense.
"Meregith".
Little more than a growl, before a blind fury took hold of him and drove him downstairs.
Lothíriel stared dumbly at the door of her room leaning dangerously outwards. Without fully understanding what was happening, she retraced Éomer's steps until Meregith's room and once there, for the very first time since she had met him, she witnessed a side of him which genuinely scared her.
Éomer had already ripped half of the place apart, he had unmade the bed and torn the mattress open with a knife: "Find her!", he kept yelling while wrestling with the straw. He knocked over the nightstand, opened one by one all the drawers and inspected frantically their content before tossing them away. His frustration grew as he could not find what he was looking for. Left with no more places to search, he took a chair and crashed it repletely against the wall until it had been reduced to a pile of splintered wood.
Someone draped an arm around her shoulders – her brother, realized Lothíriel, who was watching Éomer's rampage with a worried glance. Behind him, Éothain looked no less troubled: "What happened?", he asked.
Unable to answer, Lothíriel just shook her head. More and more people were gathering around, yet no one dared uttering a single word. It was a frightening, disturbing silence, only broken by the sound of smashed furniture and Éomer's rapid breathing.
Until finally, someone spoke.
"I'm here".
The crowd parted to reveal an unfazed Meregith standing in the corridor. Éomer advanced towards her and the expression on his face, was the one of someone going to war. "Where is it?", he asked glaring down at her in a way that would have scared anyone to death.
And yet the housekeeper seemed totally unperturbed.
"I'll have you body searched if needed be. Where is it?", he asked again.
Meregith scoffed and opened her palm. When Lothíriel recognized the tiny object resting in her outstretched hand, she let out a low, hissing breath: what was the woman doing with Éomer's seal? Where did she get it? Surely not from her, for she jealously guarded the one Éomer had given her, always kept it locked away!
"I had to do it, for you have been blinded by this…".
"Silence!". Éomer's cry pierced into the awakening hall. "You have until the end of today to vacate your room and leave the city. Should you ever set foot in Aldburg again, I swear I'll throw you in a filthy cell and bury the key so deep, no one will ever get you out!".
Meregith gave him something in between a nod and a bow, before locking herself inside the wrecked remains of her room. Éomer walked briskly away and as the sound of his booted steps faded into a distant, feeble clicking, Lothíriel chose not to trust the hope kindling inside her chest: even if there might have been some sort of weird explanation behind his letter, there was at the same time too much evidence against him to dare hoping all she had learned about him in the past few hours was nothing but a lie. One thing was clear though: she needed answers and the only one who could give them to her, was Éomer.
She darted after him, but found herself caught in Éothain's arms instead: "Give him some time".
"No! I must speak to him, I need to…".
"You need to let him calm down first. He's out of his mind and if you go after him now, he's bound to say things he does not truly mean, things he'll regret dearly in a few hours. I know that, and you know it too".
"But I don't understand. What happened? What did Meregith do? And…", she looked up to Éothain and realized there was something else she had no explanation for, "What are you doing here? You were supposed to have just reached the herdsmen's camp by now, you should not be in Aldburg".
"There was no attack. It was all a diversion to lure Éomer and as many of us as possible away from the city. When we found out, we feared Aldburg was in danger and rode back as fast as we could. I've known Éomer for many years, Lothíriel, and I've never seen him as terrified as when he realized he might have unwittingly put you in harm's way. He had us riding throughout the night and once we finally got here, what's the first thing he learnt upon entering the city? That you were safe and sound and about to leave him for good?!".
"You don't know what he did! Or perhaps you do, but are simply covering up for him!", she yelled as she remembered Trewyn's words and Léod's pale face.
"What in Bema's name are you talking about?".
Runhild appeared by her side. After an entire night spent trying to sneak into her room only to be promptly caught by her brothers' knights, her friend looked both knackered and upset: "She thinks he called for the annulment of their marriage", she commented drily.
Éothain chuckled like he thought she was jesting, only to turn suddenly grave when he realized she wasn't: "You can't be serious… so that's what this is all about? They made you believe he wanted to annul the marriage and without further ado, without even giving him the benefit of the doubt, you make ready to leave?".
His words felt like a slap in her face. "They showed me a letter he wrote…".
"One he'd probably be able to explain, if only you gave him the chance to do so!".
"Would he also be able to explain why he kept a mistress?".
Éothain looked at her like she had just grown a second head: "A mistress?".
"Yes, some woman named Lúfa who lives at the Hornburg! And don't you dare denying it!".
At the mention of that name, Éothain's eyes widened imperceptibly. He muttered a long string of curses and rubbed his face: "There's a woman named Lúfa, yes. And if you want to know more about her, then I suggest you ask Éomer. But one thing I can assure you: there never was a mistress. You are the only thing Éomer has been holding onto, Lothíriel, and if you can't see it, then you are indeed a fool".
And with that, he just turned and left.
"Where are you going?".
"I'm riding after Éomer to see that he doesn't do anything stupid". He lingered at the far end of the corridor, his back to her: "I trust you'll still be here by the time we come back".
After Éomer and Éothain left, an unsettling silence descended upon the hall. Lacking both the strength and the courage to face anyone, Lothíriel locked herself inside the solar and only opened the door once to let Endien in. She barely noticed the passing of time, until darkness enveloped her and she was forced to light a candle in order to continue wearing a hole in the floor.
Nothing of what had happened seemed to make sense, but the more she thought about Éothain's words, the more she realized he was right: she owed Éomer the chance of explaining himself.
In a rare moment of clarity, she asked a maid to bring her some food. She consumed her meal perched on the sill, her eyes fixed on the square below. She spotted a few people coming and going, but none of them were either Éomer or Éothain. She fell asleep at some point and awoke with a start some hours late: she could not remember what she had been dreaming of, and it was probably better that way.
Deeming it unlikely that Éomer would return before the next day, Lothíriel moved to the couch and tried getting some more sleep. But her heart was thundering in her ears and after much tossing and brooding, it dawned on her that something felt terribly off about Meregith's intentions.
She returned to the housekeeper's room, but of course the woman was no longer there.
"She left in the late morning", informed her Ides. A rider's cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and judging by her drowsy eyes, she must have been sleeping.
Lothíriel snooped around and noticed most of Meregith's things were still there. A few dresses, a crochet, a brush, and even a small chest containing - among other things, a painting made by her late husband. "She left all of this behind?".
"Yes. She refused taking a cart and left on horseback".
The same odd feeling that had brought her there in the first place, now carried Lothíriel outside of the hall, a map tucked under her arm. Ides must have warned Eofor of her whereabouts, for the young man was soon following in her footsteps. His presence was actually welcomed, as Lothíriel realized she needed his help to locate the respective houses of two young ladies. After that, the quavering song of a tawny owl followed them until they were standing in front of a door like many others, waiting patiently for someone to come open.
"Lothíriel?". Brunwyn's voice was raspy and deeper than usual.
"I need to speak to Gárwine".
The woman let them in and returned to the next room. When Gárwine joined them shortly afterwards, he looked just as sleepy and surprised to see her there: "Is everything alright?".
Lothíriel unrolled the map and using a couple of mugs and knives she retrieved from the kitchen, she fixed its corners: "There's something I need to ask you".
"What is it?".
"Say you want to ambush and kill a group of heavily armed, well-trained men. Say those men happen to be travelling on the Great West Road and you want them butchered while still on Rohirric ground and reasonably close to Aldburg. Where would you do it?".
Gárwine frowned like he had no idea why she would ask such question. "It depends. Would these men be on horseback?".
"Yes. There would be eighteen of them all in all".
"There are a couple of spots. The most suitable one is just a half-day ride from Aldburg, right over here", he said pointing at a bend of the road just a few miles South of the town of Lewes.
"What makes it a good spot?".
"The terrain is rugged and the road wedges for almost a mile between tall rocks. It's an ideal place for an ambush: it provides the assailants with a vantage point from which they can rain arrows down, and for those on the road, the only way out is to either retreat or push forward, presumably ending up in both cases in the jaws of more enemies".
"Were the assailants to be orcs, how many would you deploy in order to be sure they'd get every last of those eighteen men?".
"To be really sure, probably thirty to forty".
"And how many riders would you need in order to get rid of those forty orcs?".
Gárwine raised his hands: "I'm not following you. Why are you here, and what are you talking about?".
Lothíriel sighed and poured herself a glass of water. "About two weeks ago, my father received a letter from Éomer requesting the annulment of our marriage. I can't explain how exactly this happened, all I know is that Éomer did write that letter, but he did not send it. Meregith did. She sealed it and sent it to Gondor without his knowledge, and it must have been her who arranged for an alleged herdsman to ride into town and lure Éomer away: had he been here when my brother arrived, he'd have quickly realized what was happening and the whole thing would have been reduced to a minor diplomatic incident and the removal of a disloyal housekeeper. Meregith needed him away, far enough to make it impossible for anyone to ride after him and inform him of what was going on – like Runhild did when I run off months ago. And I suspect she needed you out of the way too, for you might have been the only person able to stand to my brother and knock some sense into my head".
"And she knew the threat of eighty orcs scattered around the Eastemnet and chasing after our herds, would have likely prompted Éomer to take a spare tracker with him".
"So far, a remarkably well-orchestrated plan: had you not realized the threat in the Eastemnet had been made up, by the time you had returned to Aldburg, I'd have already been in Gondor. But then what, Gárwine?".
The man scratched his beard and contemplated the map: "Éomer wouldn't have given up on you so easily. Based on what everyone – and Runhild especially, have witnessed, he'd have smelled foul play from a mile away and one way or the other, he'd have found a way to let you know he had never asked for the annulment".
"And it might have taken some time, but once all the pieces of the puzzle had been put together, once Éomer had been able to look at the letter he wrote but never sent, we'd be back to square one: Meregith's role would have been uncovered, her plan failed. Unless…".
"… unless there were no pieces to put together…".
"… unless me and my brother never made it to Gondor, unless we'd be both dead. Then I'd be out of her way – for good this time, and nobody would ever know for sure what happened: Éomer's letter would be lost and given how supportive Meregith has been during these past few weeks, I doubt anyone would have ever suspected her involvement in my death".
"If what you say is true, luring as many men as possible away from the city also served the purpose of ensuring the ambush would succeed and granted the enemy enough time to flee to safety afterwards. It makes sense, Lothíriel – uncomfortably so, but then this would mean Meregith was not alone in planning all of this, that she…".
"… that she was in league with Grima". Lothíriel walked to the window and glanced outside: "Did you know she left yesterday morning already? That she took almost none of her belongings with her? I went to her room, found clothes and family heirlooms everywhere, like she left in such haste that she had no choice but leaving everything behind".
"With her plan gone awry, she probably feared the true extent of her betrayal would soon be uncovered. And had she been around when that happened, Bema knows what Éomer might have done to her…".
"There's more to that, Gárwine: if I am right, she might have had letters, evidence of Grima's involvement. Enough for Éomer and his cousin to move against him and have him finally removed from the King's council!".
"You think she'd go this far? You think she'd put Éomer's reputation at risk, just so she could get rid of you?".
"I do. Maybe she's just beyond reason. Or maybe in her own twisted way, she was truthfully convinced she was doing Éomer a favour and that in spite of what consequences my demise would have brought upon him, he'd have anyway managed to retain his role. But make no mistake: with me and my brother dead and the diplomatic relations between Gondor and Rohan compromised, Éomer's days as a Marshall would be over".
Gárwine's movements were orderly and swift as he started putting on his armour. "What would you have me do?".
"Take as many men as you deem necessary and ride to Lewes. If I am right, the orcs will still be there - or not too far away anyway. Also, we need to send someone after Meregith: she's one day ahead of us and perhaps beyond our reach, but we should at least try to track her down and see if we can squeeze something out of her and her accomplice".
"Accomplice?".
"I have reasons to believe Trewyn might have gone with her".
Gárwine's expression darkened: "I see. What of Éomer?".
"He left - where to, that I do not know. Éothain went after him. Do you think they might be in danger?".
"I hope not, but I believe I know where they might have gone. I'll send someone after them, don't worry".
It was still dark when Gárwine left the city with forty riders in tow. Erchirion observed them passing through the gates with a concerned frown, but refrained from saying anything - for which Lothíriel was immensely glad. Though she didn't believe Aldburg to be in danger, she anyway doubled the guards manning the walls and ordered scouts to be sent out. She ensured everything was in order and then, she retired to Éomer's bedroom.
She tidied up the place, folded his clothes and stowed them away. Once satisfied with the state of the room, she sat in his chair, clasped her hands together and then, she waited.
Author's notes: most expected Aldburg to be under attack in this chapter, but hopefully this turn of events has not been disappointing. I see Grima - and his allies, to be still in a more subtle and less brazen phase at this stage of the story, and sieging a city located in the heart of Rohan and not too far from Edoras would have been too risky. I know the chapter was a bit convoluted, but that's exactly how Lothíriel feels right now. Her brother shows up out of nowhere holding a marriage annulment and while of course she would immediately suspect Grima's involvement, the fact that Erchirion bore a letter written by Éomer's himself was enough to have her convictions waver. And Trewyn's words paired with Léod's weird reaction at the mention of Lúfa's name, did the rest. On one hand I feel like it's understandable why she'd decide to leave without waiting for Éomer, on the other it's just inconsiderate. Even though their relationship hasn't been going great, he has showed her enough care to deserve better than that. Alas, Lothíriel is smart but also terribly insecure and weeks of barely any dialogue between them, have left their mark. At this point, she knows Éomer didn't want her to leave, but she doesn't know why he'd write such letter in the first place nor whether he's really keeping a mistress. In this climate of uncertainty, she's trying to focus on what she does know, and that is that something feels off with Meregith's plan.
As usual, don't forget to leave me a review to let me know what you think of the story! ;)
Katia0203: I imagine it would be, but luckily it was not needed ;)
pineapple-pancake: it was cruel to cut it that way, I know :) But if anything, Éomer managed to return in time.
almythea: a party of Swan Knights is still better than one of orcs at least!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx: no siege or attack, but an almost perfectly executed plan to get rid of Lothíriel.
Catspector: I believe Aldburg must have had some protection (walls, etc.). Even without the eored to fight back, an attack on the city would have been a bold, dangerous move, one Meregith would have likely refused supporting. Getting Lothíriel out of her way on the other hand…
Wondereye: since it was the old seat of the Kings of Rohan, I guess Aldburg must have had some sort of basic fortification which would allow her to hold for a few days if attacked - depending how big the party sieging the city is of course. I doubt however that a too big number of orcs could make it to Aldburg completely unnoticed.