Chapter 28
Pelargir, October the 15th, 3018
Erchirion had missed that landscape. And perhaps that landscape had missed him too – he thought, for how else could he explain the glorious weather that had welcomed him home? Alas, not everything could be perfect and while Pelargir had embraced his return with a warm, sunny day that resembled more summer than autumn, someone else had been way more lacking in his manners.
"I swear I'll throttle him", he growled as he paced back and forth on the pier. He had sent word almost three weeks before to announce his return and asked Amrothos to meet him in Pelargir but of course, upon arriving there he had found no ship docked at the harbour waiting for him. Really, what was so complicated about sending someone to pick him up - or at least to let him know what he shall do!? Should he wait? Should he ride with his Swan Knights back to Dol Amroth? Should he meet him somewhere else?
Behind him, Girdir stood with his arms crossed: "Have you decided what to do?".
Get rid of you, Erchirion drily thought. For the whole length of the ride from Rohan, the man had been like a bird of ill omen and though he had not dared speaking openly against Éomer, he had found plenty of ways to hint at what dangerous times were surely awaiting his sister now that she had decided to remain in Aldburg. And Valar, one more word and he'd put a millstone around his neck and throw him into the water! "You and the rest of the men can ride home. I will stay here and take the chance to visit my aunt while I wait for Amrothos".
"Is there a message you'd like me to relay to your father the Prince?".
"Nothing that I haven't already written in my last letter or that cannot wait until I am myself in Dol Amroth".
"Very well. We still have a few hours of daylight so if you don't mind, I'd like to leave immediately".
Erchirion dismissed him and as soon as the man was out of earshot, he breathed an exaggeratedly loud sigh of relief: alone at last! Glancing over his shoulder, he checked the dusty pink house located on the promenade behind him: the windows were open, the curtains swaying gently in the lazy afternoon breeze. He hadn't visited aunt Irviniel in almost a year and she was surely going to be delighted to see him. She wasn't going to like the news he brought though, so he should better get her a consolation gift. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. His aunt was not an easy person and the risk of showing up with a completely inappropriate gift was always around the corner: she wasn't fond of jewellery, she detested fragrances, she deemed herself too old to care about dresses and was only interested in her books and exotic plants. And given that it was practically impossible to find a book she hadn't already read and that exotic plants were not easily found around there, Erchirion was running out of ideas.
As he looked around for inspiration, he spotted a small boat berthing to the jetty. A young man was manoeuvring it and after having secured it to the quay with a tight knot, he climbed out and placed a small crate on the ground. He returned to his boat then, and Erchirion took the opportunity to take a look at what he had fished.
Oysters! And not just normal ones, but rather the biggest, most succulent ones he had ever seen! "Hey, lad! How much do you want for these?".
The fisherman halted and turned slowly around. A ragged hat was pulled down on his head and with the sun shining brightly behind him, Erchirion couldn't make his face at all. What he knew though, was that he was scanning him head to toes. "Two silver pieces", he spoke solemnly, his soft voice betraying his young age.
"Two?!", he chocked, "That's more than four times the price they are sold at the market!".
"Then that's where you should go. Of course, you can never know how fresh those oysters really are, while these", he said nodding at his catch, "have obviously been in the water until not long ago. But if two silvers are too much for you to pay…".
The nerve of the boy! Erchirion stepped onto the boat and searched his pockets. He had just enough coins on him and those oysters were better be as tasty as they looked like, or else he was going to chase that little brat and make him spew every single penny he was extorting him! "Here", he said pressing the agreed amount in his hand. The lad had the decency to thank him and staring at his slender hands, Erchirion was suddenly beset by a doubt. He looked up and sure enough, it turned out he had just been robbed by a lass – not a lad!
"It was a pleasure doing business with you!".
"Oh, I'm sure it was", Erchirion scoffed while he collected his bounty and retreated back towards the promenade. Still grumbling about how unreasonable it was to have paid two silvers for some oysters, he reached his aunt's house and was let in by one of her maids. He tiptoed to the upper floor and the moment aunt Irviniel saw him materializing on the doorstep, she dropped the book she had been reading and rushed to hug him.
"My dear child!".
Erchirion laughed. He was almost twenty-nine years old but to his aunt, he'd always be my dear child. "Hello aunt Irviniel".
"I had not expected to see you, what a pleasant surprise to have you here!", she welcomed him. Upon noticing the crate he carried under his arm, she gave his unshaven cheek a good pinch: "You still remember how much I like oysters, I see!".
"Of course I do. I caught a fisherman docking at the harbour and couldn't resist buying them. Can your maid make us some sauce?".
"Shallots, pepper and vinegar?".
"And two glasses of white wine to accompany?".
"You spoil me, child!".
Aunt Irviniel handed the box to a servant and left the room. While he waited for her to come back, Erchirion looked lazily around. Being the daughter of the late Prince Adrahil and sister-in-law to the Steward of Gondor, his aunt could have easily afforded a big estate in the countryside, or perhaps a luxurious home located on Minas Tirith's uppermost level, where all the highest nobility resided. Instead, she had opted for that small house nestled right in the heart of Pelargir, facing the harbour, the river and – beyond it, the open sea. Many considered the place below the standards for a woman like her, but aunt Irviniel did not care and loved deeply how cozy and intimate her dusty pink house felt, with heavily loaded bookshelves hanging on almost every wall and strange looking plants adorning the marble sills overlooking the Anduin.
When she returned to the sitting room, she was carrying a bottle of wine and two beautiful goblets made of amber glass. "I think you'll like this one. It's quite crispy and refreshing, perfect with oysters". She poured him a full glass, but settled herself for a much smaller portion: "Have you only just returned from Rohan?".
Erchirion slowly sipped on his wine, his mind racing on what was the best way to tell his aunt that her beloved niece was never going to return to Dol Amroth. But as it turned out, the news had already reached her ears: "Do not fret, I know Lothíriel has decided to remain there".
"You do?".
"You wrote your father, and your father wrote me".
"Perhaps you're disappointed, but she's happy, you know?".
Aunt Irviniel sighed. "Is she?".
"Yes. Happy, surrounded by good friends and so madly in love, you'd hardly recognize her!".
"And what of him. What of this… Éomer?", she asked, waving a hand like she found it difficult to utter that name.
"He's a good man. And he loves her just as madly".
"I find it hard to believe, after everything he has put her through".
A maid entered the room and placed the oysters - already dressed with the fresh shallot sauce, in front of them. Erchirion slurped one down and for a moment, he forgot all about Lothíriel and his aunt: they might have costed him a fortune, but he'll be damned if those weren't the best oysters he had ever eaten! He took two more and upon feeling aunt Irviniel's intense gaze fixed on him, he wiped his hands clean and pulled a bundle of papers out of his tunic. "I wouldn't have left Lothíriel in Rohan, had I not been sure it was the right thing to do. But I knew it wouldn't have been easy for me to convince you, and so did Lothíriel. So, she wrote you this: she called it a letter, though it seems more like a book to me…".
Aunt Irviniel flipped quickly through the pages and smiled sadly. "Am I being unreasonable, Erchirion?".
"Just a teensy bit", he grinned, and was surprised to see her putting the letter away. "I thought you'd have wanted to read it right away".
"You said Lothíriel is happy and for the moment, that is all I need to know. I will read it later. For now, I just want to enjoy the company of my dear nephew who can so seldom visit me but when he does, he always makes sure he doesn't show up empty-handed. How are the oysters, dear?".
"The best I've ever had", he proclaimed while he gulped down the eighth or maybe ninth. Who was counting anyway?
"Oh my, you are right!", aunt Irviniel convened, going as far as pouring herself another glass of wine in spite of how diligently moderate she normally was. "I've already asked for your room to be prepared. You're welcome to stay for as long as you wish".
Erchirion suppressed a groan. Your room was the one he used to sleep in when visiting Pelargir as a child. It offered a lovely view over the harbour and always brought back many good memories of the weeks he had spent there with his aunt. The issue was that it hadn't changed one bit over the course of the past twenty years and when it came to bed sizes, that was quite the problem: the mattress was way too short for him, so much he always ended up sleeping with his shins hanging from the footboard and his head squeezed against the bedpost. It would have been way more comfortable for him to take a room at one of the nearby inns, but that would have surely broken aunt Irviniel's heart. "I'll be happy to stay with you for a few days. Amrothos was supposed to meet me here. I'm not sure how long it will take him to show up, but until then I'll be your honoured guest".
"Splendid. You might be interested to know there's a banquet planned at Lord Thalador's villa tonight…".
"Is there now? Well, it would be rude if one of the Prince's sons was in town and did not even have the kindness to show himself around, don't you think?", Erchirion said with a wink.
Truth was, he had always enjoyed Pelargir's festivities and his aunt knew it. Unlike Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth, mundane life in the harbour city was a way less strict and more sparkly affair. There was almost every night a different banquet to attend and guests would normally include high nobles as well as knights, vassals and small merchants. There was an etiquette to be followed of course, but no need to be overly concerned about causing a scandal because of a word spoken out of place or a dance too many with some pretty lady.
Yes, coming to think about it, Amrothos' delay was not all bad news!
After being dealt the umpteenth bad hand of cards, Erchirion stood and gave up his seat to someone who was hopefully going to have better luck than him. He had lost all but one of the seven games he had played, his pockets had grown considerably lighter and his appetite for gambling thinner. Luckily, he spotted some familiar faces at the far corner of the room and gladly joined the merry group for another round of ale.
"Erchirion, long time no see!", Ruinir greeted him. The man had grown plumper since the last time they had met but aside from that, he still looked like the same old rascal he remembered.
"I'm just passing by, will probably only stay in Pelargir for a couple of days. How's life, old friend? I heard you got engaged…".
"Aye, aye. And to the prettiest lady in town!".
"Is she here tonight?".
"No, she had to accompany her father to Minas Tirith. But we'll be married by the end of the week and I intend to enjoy my last nights as a bachelor!", Ruinir declared in a booming voice.
A young man wrapped his arm around his neck and gave him a good squeeze: "Don't fall for his bravado, Lord. He acts as if he's still into courting any woman he sees, but the other night he got drunk and you should have seen how lovesick he was, sitting in a corner all mopey and sullen".
Erchirion burst out laughing. It was indeed hard to imagine Ruinir as a lovesick fool! As the rest of the group continued teasing the poor man, he scanned the hall and the guests who had just arrived. There were a few nobles from Minas Tirith he should probably steer clear of if he wanted to enjoy himself, but otherwise it seemed that Lord Thalador's feast was all he had hoped it would be – and more!
"Looks like our princeling has already caught the eye of some of the ladies'…", Ruinir poked him pointing at a group of women busy chatting and giggling at his direction, "Fancy anyone?".
Erchirion had no intention to start a gossip by showing interest in any fair lady, but that didn't mean he couldn't feast his eyes on some of the beauties in attendance! As inconspicuously as he could, he glanced at the five ladies in question, his gaze indulging on the one standing in the back: she wore an ivory-coloured gown, her light brown hair was braided at the nape of her neck. He was positive he had never met her before and yet, something about her felt strangely familiar. He kept staring at her and the moment their eyes locked, she paled and hurried outside.
"Looks like little Míririen isn't fond of his royal highness…", Ruinir laughed.
"Míririen? Do I know her?".
"I doubt it. Her father owns a small fleet of fishing boats, if I remember correctly. I don't think she has ever been in either Minas Tirith or Dol Amroth, and she only recently started partaking in Pelargir's social life".
The discussion soon shifted towards other topics, but Erchirion remained mostly silent as he tried to figure out who the girl reminded him of. Unable to solve the dilemma on his own, he snatched two goblets of wine from the tray of a passing server and headed towards the gardens. It was a beautiful night and many guests had gathered outside, making it difficult for him to locate Míririen. He eventually found her sitting all alone on a bench by the rose garden and approached her quietly, but the pebbles crunching under his feet gave his presence away and Erchirion observed astonished the girl leaping on her feet and running away: "Wait!", he called rushing after her and spilling half of the wine on his tunic.
Left with little choice but halting and turning around to face him, Míririen ducked into a low curtsy. "My Lord".
She was very conveniently standing in the light of a lantern, which gave him the chance to take a better look at her. She was pretty, with full cheeks and a slightly upturned nose, but was wearing way too much powder for his taste. Under his blunt gaze, she shrunk back and tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, revealing arms that were way browner than her face. And that did it: suddenly, a picture formed in his head and he knew where he had seen her! "You're the one who sold me those oysters!".
Míririen looked at him in horror and bobbed down into an even lower curtsy: "I'm so sorry, my Lord. I-I can pay you back!".
Pay me back?! Erchirion smiled and helped her up: "Now, why would you ever do that?".
"Two silvers was a lot…".
"It was. But they were also the best oysters I've ever eaten and besides, I doubt you'd ask anyone for that amount. You knew exactly how much you could squeeze me for, didn't you?".
Míririen stifled a grin. She looked up at him, obviously unsure whether she could speak freely or not.
"And?", he encouraged her.
"You have royalty written all over you face. So, yes: I figured I could pretty much ask you for any price".
It was Erchirion's turn to hesitate. Why, no one had ever told him such thing! "Is that a good thing to have written on someone's face?".
"Depends whom you ask, I suppose".
"True", Erchirion laughed. He offered her a goblet of wine and seeing there was a group of drunk youngsters headed their way, he decided to walk her back towards the bench she had been sitting on: "Have you ever been here before?".
"No, it's the first time I visit Lord Thalador's villa. The garden is quite beautiful".
"It is. There's a cherry-tree lane past those hedges which looks absolutely stunning during the blossoming season". They sat next to each other and gazed for a while at the starry sky above them. "Why did you run when I approached you?", he asked, eventually.
"I hadn't expected you to be here, Lord. I saw your Swan Knights leaving Pelargir earlier today, and I assumed you had gone with them. Had I known coming here tonight I might have run into you, I'd have carefully avoided this place, I assure you".
"So, you're fine with robbing me of two silver for some oysters, but only as long as you don't have to deal with the consequences of it?".
"Pretty much. I mean, that I go fishing is already weird enough in the first place. I really don't need the Prince's son to scold me about my ruthless bargaining".
"Scolding was really not my intention. I hadn't even recognized you at first".
"What gave me away?".
"Your tan", Erchirion admitted, "very unusual for a lady".
"I know. My mother says it's disgraceful…".
"Please", he snorted, "the only disgraceful thing I see is that thick layer of white powder you put on your face".
The moment the words left his mouth, Erchirion almost chocked: what was that for a thing to say?! What had gotten into him?! He was not one to put his foot in his mouth in such shameful way! "What I meant to say is that I see nothing wrong with your tan and that you shouldn't cover it!", he tried to save himself, but his attempt only appeared to embarrass Míririen even more.
Erchirion set aside his goblet – he had obviously drunk more than enough already, and tried his best to break the awkward silence that had fallen upon them: "Do you go often fishing?".
"Once, maybe twice a week".
"What do you normally fish?".
"Depends on the season".
"Is autumn good for oysters?", he struggled to keep up the conversation.
"Normally, no. But it hasn't rained in over ten days and the weather was just too good".
"Very true. Where did you harvest them?".
"Nearby one of the stacks between here and the open sea, where freshwater and seawater blend".
Erchirion scratched his chin: "The tide had just started to drop when you returned to the harbour. Did you have to dive to collect them?", he asked, and the grin on Míririen's face was an answer on its own. "You did?!".
"That's the best part! Dive underwater, feel your body grow weightless… it's strange - I know, but somehow, I've always loved the feeling of it. I don't even eat oysters, I only fish them for the fun of it!".
Her earlier embarrassment suddenly forgotten, Míririen was smiling and waving her arms around while she taught him all there was to know about his favourite food. Amused by her enthusiasm, Erchirion completely lost track of time and didn't notice the garden growing quiet and the lights inside the hall faint. It must have been well past midnight when someone behind them coughed discretely to get their attention: "My Lord? My Lady? All the other guests have left…", a young servant informed them and Erchirion realized they were indeed all alone in the garden. He thanked him and escorted Míririen out of Lord Thalador's villa.
"I think I should call it a night. My mother will be worried, I normally do not retire this late".
"In case you need a scapegoat, you can blame it on me. Say you had to teach a fishing lesson to some ignorant princeling".
"Will do", she laughed softly, "Goodnight, Lord".
"Míririen, wait", Erchirion called her before the dark alley could envelope her. "Will you go again fishing tomorrow?".
"Probably. Why do you ask? Planning on wasting some more silver on shellfish?", she taunted him.
"No. I'd actualy like to come with you".
When the sheet that covered the last pile of chests was removed, a white cloud of dust engulfed the cellar. "Bema, for how long have this place been neglected? Centuries?", Runhild complained.
Lothíriel coughed and tried beating her skirt clean. "As far as I know, it's been about fifteen years since the last time someone stepped into this room. Come, let's see what's in there", she said. Her eyes were burning and so was her throat, but she was surely not going to give up now that they were almost done with cleaning that place!
As she had come to learn a few weeks earlier, Aldburg's basements were a maze of corridors and storage rooms and while Meregith had ensured that the ones where food was stored were kept in pristine conditions, the same could not be told of the rest of them. Some were empty, others so full of stuff that even just opening the door was a challenge and a risk, for you never knew when something was going to come down and bury you alive. After discovering it, Lothíriel had spent a few sleepless nights mulling about it, the awareness that there was such cluster of mess resting a few feet below her stripping her of her sleep. Eventually, she had decided she could no longer stand it and once Erchirion had departed for Gondor and Éomer had left for the Eastemnet to meet with the herdsmen, she, Runhild and Beyrith had gotten down to work.
And Valar, they had made some unexpected discoveries!
While most of the trunks they had meticulously checked during the course of the past few days had proved to contain little more than worthless junk accumulated throughout the years, a few had revealed worthier surprises: rusted silverware, dusty tapestries, ancient ornaments, broken chandeliers, yellowed parchments. Lothíriel had expected cleaning the cellars would be an exhausting, tedious task; but after a week spent working dawn till dusk, she had to admit she was bone tired but definitely not bored! Inspecting those rooms had been a bit like a treasure hunt and naturally, the best discoveries had been reserved to the very last room they had gotten to clean, the one located in the furthest, darkest section of cellars. There, they had found a whole storeroom packed with things that had belonged to Éomer's parents, including some jewellery and old dresses that she had no idea how they could have been forgotten down there.
To Lothíriel, it had felt like being able to time travel: Éomer rarely spoke of his parents and going through the content of that room, she had gotten to know them a bit better. She had found more books that had belonged to Thédowyn and even a collection of short children's stories that Éomer's mother had written herself. Reading them had brought a smile on her face and a lump in her throat, for her words spoke of such care and unbounded love for her children, that it was hard to believe what terrible fate would have befallen her family only a few years later. Inside a half-rotten basket, she had also discovered a whole collection of wooden toys: horses, bears, wolves, warriors. Many were worn-out, a testament of the long hours of blithe fun a young Éomer must have had with them.
The last two trunks that now remained to be inspected looked unlike all the other ones. For once, they were huge – so much that even Lothíriel could have easily fit inside them. They had also been secured with a lock, though the keys had been very conveniently left inserted because - as it turned out, they contained nothing of value.
"Guess we are finally d…". Lothíriel's sentence was interrupted by a blood chilling scream.
She jumped up, only to see Runhild running so fast up the stairs that she barely had the time to make out her ginger hair before she shut the door close behind her and locked her and Beyrith inside. "W-what happened?", she asked.
Beyrith was kneeling in front of the trunk, obviously flabbergasted, a hand raised mid-air. Her eyes were shifting between the door and her palm and there, Lothíriel noticed was a tiny, little spider - no bigger than a fingertip, really.
"Did she just run out screaming like a lunatic because of that?".
"I think so", said Beyrith, and instantly Lothíriel's mirth bubbled over into a laughter that even she could not resist.
Runhild, the one who was not afraid to take on men twice her size, the one who had broken a lad's nose with one well-placed punch, the one whose notorious outbursts were perhaps even more feared than Éomer's ones, was afraid of a wee, harmless spider!
"It's not nice of you to laugh of your friend's fears!", Runhild shrieked from the other side of the door.
Oh, Valar! She was going to suffocate! "It's just… so little… how can you…".
"It has six legs too many and it's disgusting, alright?".
Lothíriel crouched down in a corner. Her stomach hurt and she had tears rolling down her cheeks, but she just couldn't stop giggling.
"Oh dear, I-I think I lost it", Beyrith managed to blurt out, looking no less flushed than herself.
"You did what?! I'm not coming back in there unless you find it, you hear me girl?!".
Struggling to regain control over her hysterical laughter, Lothíriel crawled towards Beyrith and took a peep inside the trunk. There were some dirty rags in there, a belt and even a pair of old bridles, but no sign of their eight-legged friend. "Go home, Runhild", she yelled, "Beyrith and I can finish cleaning up, no reason for you to stay and risk more unpleasant encounters".
Her friend didn't utter a single word, but the sound of her hurried steps pointed that she had jumped at her chance to flee the place.
"I swear I almost chocked".
"You and me both, my Lady. I don't think I've ever laughed so much in my entire life", Beyrith giggled.
Upon hearing those words, Lothíriel felt her body growing lighter. Back in Caerdydd, she had had no doubt that having the girl joining their household was the right thing to do. Understanding which was the more appropriate way for her to do so however, had been sort of a head-scratcher: she had not wanted to force Beyrith into duties she might have not liked, but at the same time she had thought it important to give her a role, one that would keep her busy and make her feel like a valuable part of the household. Appointing her as her personal handmaid alongside Runhild had been the most obvious choice and she was pleased to see it was working out well. Beyrith was mousy and introverted, didn't speak much at all. But she seemed to enjoy her new life and to see her laughing so, was honestly the greatest gift!
Together, they made quick work of the rubbish contained inside those two humongous trunks. But just when they thought they were done, the day proved to have one last surprise in store for them: at the bottom of one of the chests, they found a leather scabbard inside which rested a dagger. It was old, the blade blunt and rusted; yet there was no mistaking the fineness of its engraved hilt.
"Ladies?", someone called.
Lothíriel looked up. Gárwine stood at the top of the staircase, holding a letter in his right hand: "This has just arrived from Edoras", he informed her.
"Is it from Lady Aldwyn?", she dared hoping.
The old rider nodded and judging by the smug grin on his face, she assumed he had already checked its content.
"Beyrith, would you mind giving us a moment?", Lothíriel asked. She waited until her maid had left the room and the door had been prudently closed: "And? What does it say? Is it good news?".
"It is! Lady Aldwyn is pleased to inform you she has managed to secure the support of just enough members of the King's Council. Latest next week, a certain deal involving the sale of horses in exchange for supplies will be voted and – if all goes according to plan, approved".
"Really?!". Lothíriel snatched the papers from his hand and once she had read the words for herself, she couldn't help but throwing her arms around Gárwine's neck: "I can't believe we managed to do it!".
"The merit is all yours, Éomer's and Lady Aldwyn's. I swear you'll give that Wormtongue an ulcer, if you continue ruining all his carefully laid out plans at such rate!".
"That would be the day, wouldn't it?".
"It surely wou…". Gárwine stopped. His eyes narrowed and he walked briskly past her: "I'll be damned", he said bending down to collect the dagger she had just discovered, "where did you find this?".
"It was inside that trunk. Why, do you recognize it?".
"I most certainly do: it belonged to Éomund! I remember watching him countless times sitting in front of a fire during one of our patrols, carving some toy for his young boy at home. This was a fine blade, how in Bema's name did it end up in a trunk full of dirty rags?".
"I have no idea, but we found a lot of valuable stuff down here".
"This is more than just valuable. This was a kingly gift – literally so! King Théoden gave it to Éomund the day he married Thédowyn and before that, it had belonged to his father, King Thengel".
Lothíriel took the dagger and examined it closely. Éomer was a generous man and since she had arrived in Rohan, he had given her so many wonderful gifts – the solar, the sketchbook, Greótblæst, the emeralds' necklace. She on the other hand, had never managed to find anything appropriate for him… "I know it's covered in rust, but do you think it could be restored to its original beauty?".
"The right craftsman might be able to do it, yes".
"Do you happen to know one?".
"Yes. Herufred is his name, he has a workshop nearby the training grounds".
"I shall visit him then", Lothíriel decided, "and Gárwine: please don't tell Éomer anything about it. I'd like it to be a surprise".
"My lips are sealed, Lady".
The following morning, Erchirion awoke to the sight of a clear, cloudless sky. Feeling unexpectedly rested in spite of the night spent tossing in his ridiculously small bed, he gulped down some water and made himself ready for his fishing trip. By the time he had made it to the docks, the place was already quite crowded and when he spotted Míririen unmooring her boat, he hastened towards her: "Are you trying to leave before your guest has even arrived?".
"My guest invited himself and showed up pretty late to boot. Anglers are early birds, didn't you know?", she retorted and judging by the way she suddenly blushed, he suspected her mouth had flown away with her: "I'm sorry, Lord. I did not mean…".
"It's alright, what you say is true after all", he laughed as he jumped aboard, "but please, call me Erchirion. No need for titles".
"Agreed".
Míririen took place at the helm of the boat, while he sat at the bow. "This is when you are supposed to tell me I can also call you by name. I mean, you don't have to, but nevertheless it would be a nice thing to say …", he couldn't help but teasing her.
It seemed however that the moment she had stepped on her boat, Míririen had cast aside the sheepish version of herself in favour of a sea wolf attitude. "You've taken the liberty of doing so yesterday evening already, so I don't see why I shall waste my breath on stating the obvious".
Erchirion chuckled: this is going to be fun!, he thought. "Where are we going?".
"Roughly the same place I went to yesterday, just one stack further. I shall warn you: the air is warm, but the water is quite cool".
"I think I'll manage". It took them a couple of hours of smooth sailing to arrive at destination, a time Erchirion enjoyed tremendously: "How I've missed this…".
"Missed what?".
"This", he said opening his arms.
"I was under the impression you spend most of your time at sea".
"I do. But I have been away for a couple of months, and it's good to be back".
"Where you have been?".
"Rohan".
Míririen pondered about it. "I don't know much about it, other than it is the land of the Horse-lords. May I ask what brought you there?".
"Family. My sister married a Marshall of Rohan earlier this year and I… I had long wanted to visit her", he simply said – after all, he could hardly afford to spell out the truth.
"And? How did it go?".
Without even realizing it, Erchirion broke into a broad smile: "Splendidly. At first, it was strange to see my little sister as someone's wife. But she is happy and doing well, and that's all that really matters".
Míririen nodded in agreement. Clad in man's clothes, wind-blown hair and two lovely dimples framing her bright smile, Erchirion thought she looked like the most unusual creature he had ever seen. She had played the part of the lady well enough on the evening before, what with her pretty dress and adorable bashfulness. But she was definitely a tomboy and also - he realized, a capable sailor. When they arrived at destination, she let out the sail and handed him a knife and a skimmer: "Make yourself ready".
"Yes, captain!", Erchirion stood at attention. He removed his shirt, tossed the skimmer overboard and followed it swiftly into the water. While he waited for Míririen to join him, he swam lazily around and was surprised to see how pretty that spot was. The contrast between the brass-coloured limestone rock of the stacks, the green shrubs sprouting from their cracks and the deep blue waters around them, made for a truly breathtaking landscape - so unlike that of the flat sandy shores that otherwise surrounded Pelargir!At the sound of splashing water behind him, he turned back and dived: Míririen was swimming a few feet away from him, fully clothed with the exception of her shoes. He doubted that was the attire she normally wore when diving, but of course she could hardly strip half-naked in his presence.
A pity, really.
"Do you know how to deal with the pressure in your ears?", she asked as they re-emerged
"Of course! Who do you take me for?!", he rebuted her, actually offended that she'd think him that helpless in the water.
"I'm just asking, I'd rather be safe than sorry. You may follow me, but please keep your eyes open because I spotted jellyfishes from the boat". With that, she took a deep breath and dived down. Erchirion followed her and much to his delight, he noticed the submerged part of the stack as well as the seabed were packed with oysters! Following Míririen's lead, he eased them off the rocky bottom and started filling his skimmer, regularly swimming up to the surface to refill his lungs. At the third time he did so, he had to grab the edge of the boat and pause for a moment before being able to dive again.
Meanwhile, Míririen hadn't even emerged once…
"How do you do it?!", he asked when she finally had the decency to show up, both surprised and outraged that she'd best him so.
"I'm used to it", she said with a shrug, "after all, I was but a small girl when my father started taking me fishing. If it can make you feel any better, I promise it only takes a bit of training to improve".
Ah! A bit of training! The girl had gall, that much was sure! Erchirion dived again and tried his best to ignore the grin on Míririen's face - he was already not going to last very long underwater and laughing was surely not going to help! Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her waving her arms at his direction and thinking she was trying to sabotage his fishing efforts, he kept his attention focused on the seabed.
Then, he felt something.
Just a prickling sensation on his shoulder blades at first. But it quickly changed into a burning, stinging pain and when he turned around, Erchirion found himself face to face with the tentacles of a jellyfish. Acting on instinct, he tried to push them away, but that only earned him to be stung on his arm as well and against his will, a full mouth of salted water made it down his throat. At that point, he finally did what he should have done at the very beginning: he bent his legs and propelled himself out of reach of those cursed tentacles and then up towards the surface. Halfway there, an arm wrapped around his chest and helped him expediting his ascent: "Are you alright?", Míririen asked as soon as they broke through the surface.
"Yes, it just caught me by surprise".
"I tried to warn you, but you would not look at me".
"I thought you were trying to mock my lack of training".
Míririen snorted. She climbed onto the boat and helped him aboard: "Does it hurt?".
"It's not that bad". It was a lie: it was an awful, throbbing pain involving his entire upper back and right arm!
"I have some salves that will help. Let me fetch them for you". Míririen retrieved her bag and produced a small jar containing some greenish ointment and a few bandages.
"How come you're so well prepared?", Erchirion asked through clenched teeth, trying – and most likely failing, to hide the pain.
"Jellyfishes are unpleasant but also quite common. I had myself a couple of close encounters".
"Were you alone when it happened?".
"I was. The worse was that time when a barrel jellyfish stung my face and barely missed my eyes – it gave me quite the fright!".
"Save your scary stories for another time, I beg you".
"You are right, I'm sorry. I will have to rub this on your back, is that alright?".
"Please".
Míririen sat behind him and started applying the ointment in slow circular motions. It felt strange at first but after only a few moments, the pain started ebbing away. "What's this ointment made of?".
"Vinegar and seaweed. It really works miracles, doesn't it?".
"Indeed, I already feel much better".
"I thought you said it's not that bad…".
Erchirion huffed. "I was trying to save my princeling's pride".
"Right, right", Míririen laughed, "Could you please show me your arm?".
Erchirion turned around and stretched it out. There was a zig-zag of red marks running along its entire length and he could only assume that was exactly how his back also looked. "I'm afraid I ruined your fishing trip, haven't I?".
"What a silly thing to say. I told you jellyfishes are common, and it's hardly your fault this one crept up on you. Besides, we anyway managed to collect quite the bounty and that will hopefully make up for this unfortunate incident".
"For me perhaps, but not for you since you don't eat oysters. How can you not like them?".
"How can you like them? I mean, to me they taste like sea water and sorry to say that, but there is plenty of shellfish that tastes so much better".
"For example?".
"You name it. Mussels, clams, wedge clams, scallops, razor shells…".
"Any place you'd recommend for eating them?".
"Yes, one in Ethir Anduin, nearby the swamps. There's a small village and a tavern called the Laughing Heron. Everything on their bill of fare is delicious, but the shellfish is particularly good". Míririen wrapped a bandage around his arm and fixed it with a little clip. Her movements were practiced, her touch gentle, and so taken she was with her task that she did not notice him staring at her.
His comment about the powder the evening before had been inappropriate to be sure, but also absolutely fair, for she sported a lovely tan and also – surprisingly, almost no freckles at all. Her eyes were blue with intense golden flecks and her brown hair veered to almost blonde on the tips – further evidence of just how much time she must have spent in the sun.
"There", she said once she was done, "the welts might itch for a few days, but they won't take long to fade. And after that, you'll be as good as new", she promised. Perhaps realizing only then how close they were, she blushed and retreated hastily towards her seat at the helm of the boat.
So she wasn't that unaffected by his presence, Erchirion thought with an inward grin!
"How come you are so knowledgeable about fishing and sailing? Was it your father who taught you?", he inquired.
Míririen weighed the anchor and hoisted the sails. "He did. He used to take me and my brother fishing and taught us all he knew about his trade".
There was a veil of sadness in her voice and Erchirion wondered whether he had stepped on a sore subject. Which of course, he had.
"They passed away last winter. Their boat was caught in a terrible storm and never made it back to shore".
"I'm sorry. I did not…".
"Don't be, I truly don't mind speaking about them. In fact, that's the reason why I've been going fishing so often these past few months. You see, my mother is… unwell – has been for some years now, and talking about my father and my brother is practically forbidden at home. So, I come here to remember them by".
"Does she know about it?".
"No – and I pray she'll never find out. She wishes for me to never step on a boat ever again, no matter how unreasonable that is. But I swear I'm being extra careful: I only sail in good weather and never stray too far from the city".
"Seems reasonable. And from what I've seen, you're more than capable to handle yourself on – and in, the water".
Míririen flashed him an impish smile. "Coming from the commander of the Amrothian fleet, I think I shall take that as a huge compliment".
The rest of the journey back passed in no time and when Erchirion spotted the piers in the distance, he felt more than a little disappointed that their boat ride was already coming to an end. Míririen stubbornly insisted on gifting him all the oysters they had collected and pretty much shooed him away when he tried to help her mooring.
"I don't think you'll manage to go fishing tomorrow", Erchirion told her as he stepped on the jetty.
Míririen looked up at the flapping flags hanging from a nearby pole: "I'm afraid you are right. The wind has changed, and I smell rain in the air".
"What will you do then?".
"The hull of one of our ships needs repair, so I'll probably be at the dockyard".
"Then perhaps I shall meet you there, captain".
Erchirion walked slowly away and as predicted, he awoke the following morning to the sound of a persistent rain beating against the window of his room. Trying his best to resist the urge to scratch his back, he put on some clean clothes and made ready to meet Míririen. The plans he had made for the day were however disrupted when upon leaving his room, he run into Gondor's most insolent laggard: his brother Amrothos, of course. "Better late than never", he greeted him with a snort.
"I'm so glad to see you too, Erchirion! If you don't mind, I'd suggest we skip the pleasantries and get forthwith to your boat".
"You show up days late and now you're in a rush? Have you even greeted Aunt Irviniel, you boor?".
Amrothos rolled his eyes. "I have, and she knows we must leave".
Erchirion crooked an eyebrow: "Must we?".
"I'll explain later. For now, suffice to say we spotted corsairs while sailing here and the sooner we go after them, the better".
Erchirion let out a low hissing growl. He glanced out of the window, but he knew there was no time for him to go finding Míririen and bid her goodbye. Damn it!
Autumn had always been Éomer's favourite time of the year. The crispy mornings, the withering leaves, the plumes of smoke rising above the city. And the food: the apple pies, the mushroom stews, the pumpkin bread, the roasted chestnuts…
That year, he found he was enjoying the fall season even more than usual, which was at once expected but also surprising.
Expected because Lothíriel had made him a happier man and being able to share the small joys of life with her was something he'd never tire of. Surprising because in spite of the effect her presence had on him, in spite of what unparalleled success their trading agreement with Dol Amroth had turned out to be, things were far from idyllic in Rohan. Strange rumours of the Mithrandir's presence in Edoras had reached his ears and Éomer could not shake off the feeling that something deeply disturbing was at work around them. At the end of October, he spent an entire week helping his cousin curbing the stem of the Westfold and as November slowly rolled in, he could feel the clutches of their enemies slowly but surely tightening around their necks.
Then, on one windy morning, something unexpected happened.
He had been sitting in his study, making preparations for the arrival of the first load of supplies from Dol Amroth, when Éothain had barged into the room and dropped a sword on his desk. Éomer stared at it, then at his friend, then again at the sword. "Care to explain yourself?".
"Unsheathe it".
He did so and at first, he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Then, he saw them: runes, engraved at the base of the blade.
The Chase Hunting Tournament, 3018.
Éomer jumped up. He knew that sword! It was one of a set of two he had awarded to the winners of that year's hunting tournament: Trewyn and Godliss! "Where did you find this?".
"A lad just rode into town. The blade was sold to his father's shop not three days ago and thanks to the warnings you had us spreading, the man quickly recognized it and sent word to us. Want to hear the best part of it?".
"Spit it out".
"He says the blade was sold to him by a pretty young lass whose description matches perfectly Trewyn's, and that she used part of the coins she made with it to buy, among other things, a bag of flour and some chickens".
"Flour and chickens?".
"Not exactly what you would buy if you were on the run…".
"She and Meregith must have settled somewhere around there", Éomer realized and within moments, he had put his armour on and made ready to leave with thirty of his riders in tow. That was the first solid lead they had found in over two months of search, and he was not going to jeopardise it by underestimating their enemy!
The area where they thought the two fugitives had taken cover was large and dotted with the ruins of many abandoned villages and old shacks. He and his men scoured it inch by inch and four days after having left Aldburg, they finally saw something: the crumbling, smoldering remains of an old farm.
Gúthwinë held firmly in his hand, Éothain and Háca covering his flanks, Éomer approached the place and dismounted. He could smell death in the air and the mangled carcasses of two familiar looking horses stood as a clear warning of what had happened there. He stepped into what had once been a pigpen and there, he froze: lying face-down on the ground was a lifeless body, one he'd have recognized among thousands of others. He kneeled beside it, removed the knife from its back and turned it around.
Bema.
He had thought he hated her. He had thought he wanted her dead. A tiny part of him had hoped he'd never find her, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to deal with her betrayal. And yet now that he stared into Meregith's wide, hollow eyes, he felt emptied out.
Here was the woman who had raised him, the one who had cared for him when his mother couldn't – wouldn't, the one who had held his hand through countless sleepless nights. And here was also the woman who had been ready and willing to sacrifice the life of the woman he loved in the name of an unjustifiable hatred. Unhindered, a tear rolled down Éomer's cheek. He wiped the mud and blood off Meregith's face and brushed her hair away. "How could you do such thing?", he asked, but no answer came from her still, pale lips.
Standing a couple of steps behind him, Éothain waited until he had pulled himself together. "We came too late. I'm sorry".
At a short distance from Meregith's feet was an empty bucket. The footprints seemed to indicate she had been returning from the nearby stream, when she had been attacked and stabbed in the back with what looked like an unremarkable, mediocre orchis weapon. "We should try to understand what has happened here", muttered Éomer.
"We are already working on it".
"What of Trewyn? Have we found her yet?".
"I believe we have", Gram announced. He stepped out of the half-collapsed farm and walked carefully over the charred remains of a once solid timber roof. "There's a woman's body in there. It's partially burned, but it matches Trewyn's height. Also, I found this around her neck".
He handed him a necklace. A simple silver chain with a small pearl.
"A gift Torfrith gave Trewyn last year. I know because Godliss spoke endlessly about how pretty it was, so much I was planning on getting her something similar this year for Yule".
"How did she die?".
"It's hard to say. But there are signs of struggle and she still has her sword in her hand".
"The work of orcs, I suppose".
"Men, most likely – at least that's what I reckon based on the three sets of footprints I found around the building. You think Grima sent them?".
"It's possible. Lothíriel suspected Meregith and Trewyn might have had proof of his treason. And even if they hadn't, Grima surely no longer considered them as a resource, but rather a threat. What I don't understand, is how his thugs managed to find them before we did. The man is always one step ahead of us, isn't he?".
Éothain stretched his hand out and helped him up. "Not always, Éomer. Not always".
"Find me a shovel, will you?".
"Of course".
Éomer took the blanket that was strapped to his saddle and with great care, he wrapped Meregith's body in it. He found a quiet spot on the ridge of a nearby hill. The White Mountains could be seen from there, as well as leagues over leagues on unspoiled, wild grasslands.
It was a good place where to find your eternal rest, he thought.
Éothain brought him a rusted shovel and offered to help, but he refused and asked him to leave him alone instead. He dug a deep grave, laid Meregith's body in it and fixed a brooch on her shoulder. It was just one of the many things that had belonged to Dawyn and that the housekeeper had been forced to leave behind when she had fled Aldburg. Éomer didn't even know why he had taken it with him. Perhaps- he pondered, a part of him had expected things to end that way.
He slowly filled Meregith's grave and collected a small bunch of wildflowers. There weren't many at that time of the year, but he did find some heather and cornflowers. He arranged them on a stone and for some long hours, he just sat there and stared in silence at the freshly turned earth. He felt like he should say something, but he couldn't get a word out of his mouth and once darkness had descended on them, he touched the grave for one last time and stood.
"May you find peace, Meregith".
Author's notes: I did warn you I was getting fond of Erchirion, so I decided to give him a little storyline of his own. I know it took most of this chapter away, but it won't be always like that (I mean, it's still an E-L fanfic after all!) - I just needed to get it started. As for Pelargir, I remember reading once that Tolkien had written a letter in which he compared it to Venice, so hopefully a dusty pink house shouldn't be too much out of the ordinary for the harbour city. Also, I share Míririen's opinion on oysters: I always thought they are the most overrated shellfish in the entire world! :)
Katia0203: yes, that's exactly why I cut it short. I myself wouldn't have enjoyed writing a longer storyline about it!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx: she did make us proud :) And I definitely like Erchirion a bit too much!
Rho67: it was what he needed to hear. While Éomer does not doubt his feeling for Lothíriel, he also – as you rightfully said, never feels like he's enough because of all the things she has been through. He is too harsh with himself – a trait he shares with Lothíriel, and Erchirion's words are sure to leave their marks. Imrahil… ah well, we shall see what he has to say for himself! As per the plague, I absolutely agree: such things have always happened throughout human history, but we tend to forget about it because we think we are nowadays "above" such events. Thank you for your wonderful review!
Wondereye: it is, though what I like most about writing her character is how deeply affected she is by the events happening around her. She's not the type of person who is able to shrug them off, she does not know instinctively know what to do and in a sense, she's not "born" for such role – or at least that's how she feels. But she's learning how to deal with her insecurities and is becoming stronger and stronger.
Catspector: glad you liked it. They have really come a long way compared to their old selves…