Chapter 51
Edoras, July the 1st, FO 4
In the late afternoon and for the first time in twenty-two days, Edoras' gates opened. Marshall Elfhelm was first to enter the city. Behind him, scores laid dead and many more were taken prisoners. Meduseld's dungeons didn't have enough cells to hold them all and deciding what to do with the captives was going to be a delicate matter.
Lothíriel received the Marshall in her study. She greeted him formally and as soon as he tried to offer her his condolences, she swiftly shifted the discussion towards more fruitful topics. "How many of our men have been left behind in Gondor?".
"About four hundred, your Grace. Half of them were too gravely wounded to journey back, the other half I ordered to stay behind to escort them safely outside of Rhûn. Some will be able to return soon, other will need a longer recovery".
"What of the riders you brought with you? Do we have a count for how great losses we suffered today?".
"Twenty-one dead including the city guard, maybe three or four dozen injured, the majority in non-threatening conditions".
"Good. Ensure the wounded are receiving assistance - also among the rebels, and distribute the prisoners between Edoras, Aldburg and Helm's Deep. But make sure all the nobles and generals are kept here. I know Wídca is dead, but Dernwine and Elfere have been captured and so have some of their sons, nephews and close advisors. None of them leaves the cells beneath Meduseld unless I command so. Wolford will need to be put under receivershift - whether temporary or permanent, that I have yet to determine".
"Does your Grace have a name in mind already?".
"As a matter of fact, I have two. I will need to discuss with the concerned persons before taking a final decision. And now for the most pressing matter: provisions. Edoras' stocks have been completely depleted, we need to arrange for replenishments with the greatest urgency".
"I have positive news to share on that front, your Grace. After Gárwine learned of the siege and with the support of the Westfold, he ordered a large scale rationing and stocked up provisions in Aldburg, enough to feed Edoras for maybe five days. I took the liberty of sending word to him already, the first supplies should arrive by tomorrow night already. As we rode by Ithilien, we were also briefly met by your lord father, Prince Imrahil". Elfhelm paused and smiled at her, "Provisions will be coming from Dol Amroth too. He also had a hundred men of the most elite group of Swan Knights with him and as we speak, he and Lady Éowyn are already escorting Prince Elfwine back home. They may be here in a sennight already".
Lothíriel leaned back in her chair, trying to digest the news she had just received, her emotions conflicted and not nearly as joyful as they ought to be. "I thank you for your service, Marshall Elfhelm. Seeing Aldburg is in Gárwine's capable hands, I'm afraid I must ask you to stay in Edoras for a while longer. Should you want your wife to join you, I'd be more than happy to give you one of Meduseld's guests apartments".
"That is very generous of you, your Grace".
"It's the very least I can do. The peace with the Easterlings. Tell me: do you believe it will be long-lasting?".
"Hard to say, but I am optimist. The tribes are only a threat when united under one banner. With two of their leaders dead and thousands of lives lost, their appetite for war has been sated, replaced by the ancient rivalry that has historically kept the tribes scattered. The only leader who has survived the war remains a powerful man but is now isolated and ostracized. We will need to keep our eyes open and while I cannot exclude there will be more conflicts in the future, there are reasons to believe the peace conditions we offered will prove war to be the less profitable way for our people to coexists".
"I'm glad to hear it. I'd like this to be the last war I witness our people take part in but, if the last months have taught us anything, is that we should never let our guard down. I want Rohan to share the burden of the outposts on the border between Gondor and Rhûn. And in time, we shall build our owns too".
"Our own outposts?", asked Elfhelm with a frown.
"Yes. We defeated this rebellion by the skin of our teeth. It would be irresponsible to hope that, should something similar happen again in the future, we will manage the same way. Rohan is vast, difficult to control by means of simple patrols. Hundreds of mercenaries managed to cross our land and gather not far from our capital. If it wasn't for their leaders' lust, we would have never known".
"Do we know how they managed?".
"I suspect they moved in small groups and entered Rohan from various directions. Their provisions too were likely dispatched the same way and the woods they were camped in are rich in game and freshwater. They will tell us themselves, I'm sure: some must have survived the battle and with Elfda's help, we shall interrogate them and learn everything there is to know".
Elfhelm shifted in his chair. He looked like he wanted to speak against the involvement of the man in question, but one glaring look put him in his place.
"There's one more task I'd ask your assistance for", Lothíriel announced. She handed him a paper, "Coordinate with Marshall Erkenbrand the arrest and detention of the men on this list".
"Were they involved in the rebellion?".
"No. In a crime perhaps worse. They were the handlers of the old Hornburg orphanage, a place of abuse and terror that wrecked the lives of too many innocents. You and Marshall Erkenbrand must take care of this personally: I don't want you to delegate this task to anybody else and it shall be handled as discreetly as possible. Approach these men and their families, make it clear what they stand accused of. Offer them the choice of accepting their sentence without much rumour, or a public trial in which the entire community will learn of their crimes. Either way they will spend the rest of their lives in a cell but, if I can, I'd like to spare their former wards the grief of seeing their ruined childhood put on display".
The Marshall nodded gravely. They talked for a while longer, honing the plan for the days and weeks to come. Soon after he left, Éothain asked permission to come in. As tempted as she was to decline, Lothíriel knew she couldn't postpone their meeting indefinitely and granted his request. The man who entered the room looked starkly different from the one who had left Edoras months earlier and she steeled herself to repel the wave of emotions rolling inside of her. "You wished to talk to me?".
Éothain hesitated. With one forlorn sigh, he walked up to her and kneeled: "I have failed in my duty as Captain of the King's Guard. I have failed my King and my best friend. Forgive me, Lothíriel".
She stretched her arms to pull him up and tell him there was nothing to be forgiven, but stopped midway, sure that if she started that conversation, she'd come apart. Instead, she took a step back and squared her shoulders. "You bear no responsibility for what has happened. The King's death was not of your doing, Captain", she spoke in a voice that sounded hard and cold to her own ears.
And indeed Éothain seemed to cringe, as if concealed behind the conciliatory words was a blade that had stabbed him right through his chest. He looked like he wanted to argue, but she was having none of it: the past was past, no point dwelling on all the duties and trials they had collectively failed throughout the years - she and Éomer more than anyone, and that had almost caused Rohan's fall. "Your duty to your country and your King does not end here, Captain. As soon as my son the Prince will return home, I will appoint a Guard to ensure his protection and I can think of no better person to lead it than you".
"Loth… my Queen", he corrected himself, "I am honoured you'd choose me, but…".
"I won't take a no for an answer. You served Éomer King with unrivalled loyalty, and you shall serve your next King the same way". Before he could object, she returned to her chair and set parchment and quill in front of her, "There's much I must tend to. The rebellion is over but not the hardship. Go find Runhild and rest, Captain. We'll talk again after my son has returned", she dismissed him.
After hours of aimless wandering, Aldwyn picked a bench in Meduseld's portico and curled over the cold stone, knees hugged to her chest and face buried in her arms. People dashed by without even seeing her, everybody was in a rush: tend to the wounded, welcome back family and friends, recount the events of the past months, see to the prisoners, the food, carry out the Queen's orders…
The sun dropped, the light shifted to a crimson hue and then dimmed altogether. A maid lit the torches on all sides of the colonnade and cast her a baffled look upon finding her there, all alone. She left in a hurry and moments later, Amrothos and Ealith materialized in front of her, "There you are! Damn it, Aldwyn, you made us sick with worry!", they spoke almost as one, like they often did.
She answered not, just kept staring ahead.
Ealith sat beside her. Amrothos walked away and returned moments later holding bandages and whatnot, "That one looks like it needs stitches", he said and beckoned her to remove her armour. While he cleaned and closed the gash on her arm, Ealith tended to the cut on her cheek. After they had dressed her wounds, her friend asked, "What is going on, Aldwyn?".
She remained silent, for she herself did not know the answer.
"Who was the man I saw you chasing?", Amrothos pressed her, "And what happened between you and Háca? I told him to come after you and saw him returning hours later, on foot. Asked him whether he had found you and he just said yes and walked home! If it wasn't that several guards had seen you riding back on his warhorse, I'd have feared the worst!".
Again, she provided no explanation.
"Aldwyn", Ealith spoke softly, "it's all right if you don't want to talk about it. Whatever happened, you know we are here for you. Would you like to come home with us tonight?".
"Eadhild and Merwyn surely wouldn't object you staying over for a few days", Amrothos tried to lift her mood, but not even the mention of her beloved nieces managed to cheer her up.
"Háca lied to me", she whispered.
"What about? I don't understand, Aldwyn. Until few hours ago you were looking forward to his return. What's changed?".
"I can't tell you", she sobbed through gritted teeth, hands balled into fists.
Her friends' arms closed around her and drew her into a tender embrace that only made her want to cry even more. "What can we do?", Ealith asked.
"Nothing you haven't already done. I must face this myself and I doubt I can do it while hiding in here".
She juggled out of their arms and left, her eyes never straying from the ground as she crossed the city with calm, measured steps. An unpleasantly familiar silence welcomed her home. Yet something was different that night: a trunk in a recess by the door, a cloak hanging by, a fissure of light streaming from the dining room. She made hardly a sound as she stepped in, but the squeaking door gave away her presence.
Háca bolted from his chair and for a long moment, they just stared at each other, the distance between them far greater than the few strides that separated them. None of them seemed to know what to do or say to break the horrendous tension, until Háca snapped out of it and moved a chair for her. She sat down, observed him disappear into the adjacent kitchen and return minutes later carrying a steaming pot.
"Supplies won't arrive until tomorrow evening at the earliest. I managed to save some of my rations of cured meat during the journey back and made a soup out of it".
Aldwyn leaned over. Her stomach had heard but one word of what her husband had said. Meat!
"No matter how scarce the ingredients, you always know how to fix a good dinner, don't you?". She took the proffered spoon and dipped in, slow at first because it was scalding hot but growing progressively voracious. The portion Háca had poured her was far too meagre and she eagerly helped herself to a second one, only to see the pot moved out of her reach.
"You can get some more but you shouldn't exaggerate. I've been told you haven't eaten in days and believe me, you don't want to trust what your stomach is telling you. Take it easy, the soup will still be here later tonight".
He refilled her bowl and this time, she tried to eat at a slower pace, savouring each little chunk of salty meat. "Why is your trunk by the entrance?", she asked.
"I've packed my things. In case you want me to leave".
Aldwyn was herself surprised by the suddenness of her reaction. She stood and headed for the hall, lifted the chest with a grunt for it was heavy - or maybe it was her who was too weak. Once in their bedroom, she tossed its content all over the place. For each pair of trousers and shirt and belts that she flushed, she felt her anger rise, and then rise some more. By the time she had emptied it, she was heavily panting, the rage slowly receding for the moment.
She returned to the dining room to find Háca in the exact same position she had left him, his eyes full of anguish and guilt.
"I understand why you wouldn't tell me right away. I understand it wasn't an easy thing to share. But we've been married for almost a year, Háca. Do you really think so little of me, that you assumed I'd kick you out of my life just because your mother used to work in a brothel?".
He stretched an arm across the table but stopped just short of touching her. Aldwyn could hear the hideous sound of an old wound being ripped open once again. "Whoreson", he spoke, his flat voice a far cry from the pain and anger that transpired from his gaze, "I've spent thirteen years in that cursed orphanage and for thirteen years, nobody ever called me by my name, not once. The chief warden knew my mother – where from, I do not wish to know. From the moment I stepped in to the one I left, my name became whoreson. I was five, didn't even know what a whore is. I was bullied and mocked and beaten and starved because of it. Don't have enough food for supper? Whoreson can skip his meal. Run out of warm clothes and blankets for the winter? Whoreson can wear rags and sleep on the floor. Something got broken? Whoreson's fault. The worst wasn't even that they'd call me that, but what they said of my mother. Whore was the all-encompassing word that summed up her whole existence. And I damn know she used to be one, but she was more than just that. She was good, Aldwyn. Worked three jobs to make ends meet, came back home exhausted every evening but always found the strength to cook me a warm meal and play together. She couldn't read but knew many tales, and never skipped telling me one every night before going to bed. We were as poor as dirt and yet I never wanted for anything. And yes, part of me will always dread other people learning about her early profession, I admit that much. But that's not what kept me from telling you. I just didn't want your image of her to be tainted, I wanted you to know her as I remember her. As she deserves to be remembered. A good woman and a loving mother".
Despite there being much Háca had yet to explain, Aldwyn found herself crawling into his lap. He held her so tight she could hardly breath.
"My mother always told me my father had died – a brave young rider who perished in battle. Perhaps that's why I strived to become one myself. I knew the truth was not as rosy when I learned she had became pregnant while working at the brothel, which meant my real father was one of her customers. Maybe he had never known about me, or maybe he had and chose not to recognize a bastard. The years went by, I heard disturbing stories but never looked into them. It was a wound I had no wish to inflict upon myself. My father was dead and that was the end of it. That was until after our marriage, when someone approached me while I was at the Hammer and I thought I was staring at an older version of myself. He wanted coins, threatened he'd tell you the truth about my mother if I didn't pay. He also told me about how he had treated her, how as soon as he had knocked her up, he had discarded her like rubbish. He spoke of his wife and children, encouraged me to ask around to verify the truthfulness of his account. I didn't need to, could see it in eyes. He suggested you might be willing to forgive my mother's past, but there was no way you'd accept having the good name of your family tarnished by being associated with someone like him. That you would eventually come to fear I'd prove blood of his blood and mistreat you the same way he had mistreated everyone else in his miserable life".
"You bought his silence?", she asked with dread
"No. I refused and told him I'd rather lose you than give him a single copper. The next day he vanished into thin air and I never heard of him again". He shifted her so he could look at her, his eyes roaming over the cuts and bruises she had remedied in battle, "Why was he here, Aldwyn? What has he done?", he asked, his voice full of anguish for he already knew the answer would be painful.
"The day he approached you at the Hammer, who else was there at the tavern?".
"The place was crowded – as always. I can't say I remember…".
"Wídca. Was Wídca there?".
Háca frowned. "I've never seen him at the Hammer, but I believe his son might have been there".
"Maybe that's how he learned about your father. Paid his debts with extra to spare in exchange for his services".
"He worked for the traitor then?".
Aldwyn sigh. There was no way to soften the blow she about to deal him with. "Fastfa – back then he introduced himself as Háca, approached me about three months ago. He looked like he had a foot in the grave, told me he was sick and dying, that he wouldn't make it until the army was back from the East and that his last wish was to get to know the son he had never acknowledged. He told me about your mother being a prostitute, said they were in love and that she left the brothel to be with him – secretly, for she knew he was married. According to his account, she suddenly left him and he only learned years later that she did so because she had discovered she was with child".
"Lies!", he roared, "He beat her and….".
"I know. I know all about it".
"How?".
"Something he said made me suspicious: that he had come to Aldburg to meet you, that he saw you winning the Midsummer tournament but couldn't find the courage to approach you, for you seemed happy in your new life, surrounded by good friends", she quoted his exact words.
"Back then I didn't have a single friend in Aldburg. In fact, because of the tournament and how I beat that Dernda maggot, I was on the brink of being expelled".
"That's how I knew something was off. But I pretended to fall for his story and for months I kept seeing him regularly".
"Why?".
"Because my instinct warned me against dismissing him too hastily. Because through him, I thought I might have learnt something about your mother, give you back memories of her. Because if it was true that you knew about what she did for a living and chose not to tell me, then how could I be sure you hadn't lied about other things too? I had Elfda verify his story. Fastfa had covered his tracks well, but not well enough to throw him off. He was away for over a month, following numerous leads first at the Hornburg and then in Wolford, where he uncovered his real name, learned of how he had mistreated your mother, that he was an abusive father and husband who had been drowning in gambling debts until a few months earlier, when his wife had inherited a small fortune. By then we had received news of the King's death and I became ever more wary of Fastfa's appearance in Edoras, of the way he was trying to win my trust and earn my confidence. Did you know Wídca had planned to take Prince Elfwine away from the Queen?".
"I do".
"Someone so vile to use a child as a mean to achieve power is capable of everything. And so, the absurd idea that Fastfa may have been planted by Wídca to get wind of what was happening at court suddenly became not so unrealistic anymore. I told the Queen. Unseen she observed one of our encounters and agreed I may be right".
"The Queen knows about my father being a traitor and a woman beater?", Háca spoke with such despair she again wrapped herself about him.
"Only she and Elfda know. None think less of you because of it. You are not responsible for your father's crimes".
"But it was my lies that enabled Wídca's plan".
"There's truth to that, yes. So, if there are other secrets you have been keeping from me, now is the time to come clean".
Háca shook his head no and cupped her face, "I am sorry, Aldwyn".
She kissed him, her lips trailing from his mouth to his cheek to end on the tip of his nose. "You inherited nothing from your father but the outward form. In here", she rested a hand on his heart, "You are your mother and your mother alone".
His face buried in the crook of her neck, Háca cried quietly.
It broke Aldwyn's heart for he would have had all the reasons in the world to grow into a bitter, barren hearted man; instead, he was good and honourable and generous. Once he had calmed, she continued telling him about the unfold of events that had led to the siege, put the hard truth of the role his father had played out there in the open, so they'd talk about it this one time and then never again.
They talked into the late hours if the night. Aldwyn telling him about the rebellion, the ambush in the mountains and the siege, he recounting the events of the campaign in the East. As the conversation winded down, Aldwyn's body slowly moulded itself into his. Moments later, her even breathing told him she had fallen asleep.
Háca stayed in the dining room a while longer, caressing her back and pressing feathery kisses on the crown of her head, disgrace and shame never really leaving him but joy far outmatching them. He carried Aldwyn to their bedroom, sat her on the edge of the mattress and started undressing her. She always was a heavy sleeper: you could play a trumpet right into her ear and she'd hardly stir let alone awake. The cut on her arm had been cleaned and stitched, though he noticed with some irritation the healer's handiwork could have been neater. The one on her cheek wasn't deep but it would surely cause a large bruise before healing. It wouldn't do to put her in bed covered in dirt and so Háca went downstairs to boil some water and fetch a few towels. He brushed her skin, cleaned the grime stuck underneath her fingernails, then spent a good half hour dealing with her hair. Once done, he hastily washed himself and then joined her in bed.
The bright sunbeams that filtered through the shutters awoke him the next morning. Aldwyn still slept, didn't seem to have moved of an inch the whole night. Silently, Háca slipped out of bed, put on some clean clothes and ventured out.
Many of the townspeople were already lining for the breakfast rations, everywhere people chatted and laughed. The spirits were high now, but Háca only needed to remember Aldwyn's pronounced ribs and protruding shoulder blades to know everyone had suffered greatly during the siege. She must have lost at least fifteen pounds and while he certainly couldn't let her re-gain them all in one day, he could at least make sure she ate plenty. There was some leftover soup and, together with the porridge, it would make for the abundant breakfast she needed.
The line moved terribly slow and half-hour later, Háca was still standing roughly in the same spot, humming with frustration because he didn't want Aldwyn to wake up and find him gone. Moments later, a familiar figure walked out from the front of the line, holding two portions of food.
Háca held Elfda's glare as he came closer, unsure what the other man was going to do. He was after all fiercely protective of Aldwyn and he doubted he had appreciated learning about his lies.
"What happened to your pretty face?", he asked in a grim tone.
Háca touched his brow. It had bled profusely and was already turning blue. "Aldwyn".
"She always had a spectacular hook", Elfda chuckled, "Saves me the effort of punching your face myself. Here", he said and passed him the two portions of porridge he had just collected, "go home and make sure she eats".
"What about you?".
"I can line again. Now go before I change my mind and decide to give you matching swollen brows".
Back in their bedroom, Aldwyn was just starting to awake. The drowsy look on her face instantly sharpened the moment she caught the smell of food and no matter how hard he tried to get her to take it easy, she wolfed down soup and porridge in the blink of an eye, then eyed his portion and ate half of that too. "I have spent the past three weeks locked inside the city. I want to feel the wind blowing through my hair and the warmth of the sun upon my skin. Let's go for a ride!", she proposed, brimming with excitement.
It was so that not half hour later, they passed through the main gates and rode South-East, towards the only woods in the vicinity of the city that wouldn't elicit bad memories. They left their horses behind and strolled along a creek, each enjoying the first real moment of respite in months. Suddenly there was a rustling noise and a grass snake crossed their path, startling him and causing Aldwyn to burst into a peal of laughter at how he gave it a wide – very wide berth.
It's not that he was afraid of snakes, he just disliked them. Profoundly. They glided and coiled and had a forked tongue. Some had poisonous fangs. What was there to like about them?
"It was more scared of you than you were of it".
"I suggest you learn the difference between fear and caution".
"Fear is what ladies call it, caution is for big men?".
He glared at her but she just laughed harder. With the back of her hand posed dramatically to her forehead, she exclaimed, "I can already hear the bards singing of your deeds. Of a knight in shining armour who saved a damsel in distress from a vicious, two feet long scaled monster! Oh, the hero!".
Háca wanted to be angry but found himself guffawing instead.
"Watch out for the snake surprise attack!", she howled and grabbed him by the waist.
They wrestled like they were children and not grown-ups, until she pulled one of those stunts he'd stake his life Elfda had taught her and that would always irremediably end up with him looking the part of the fool. He fell backwards, his fingers grasping nothing but air as she giggled and jumped out of reach. Landing in the cold water of the creek caused him to erupt in a hoot that was equal parts outrage and ill-concealed amusement, "Aldwyn!".
She stuck her tongue out and issued her challenge, "Catch me if you can!".
"You're going to be in so much troubles", he muttered as he clambered to his feet. His clothes were soaked wet, his boots squished on the forest floor. Twice he almost slipped and fell, but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to teach her a lesson! Aldwyn dashed past the trees, as swift as the wind. But she also tired easily and when she had a moment of hesitation over which route to take, he took his chance and barrelled into her, "Got you!".
They were both laughing as they went down.
He twisted so to bear the brunt of the fall and then rolled to pin her down. Suddenly, the laughter was gone and he was panting, but not out of exhaustion.
Aldwyn squirmed one leg out of her trousers, in his fist was a shred of her undergarments and he didn't even know how or when it had ended up there. The first thrust earned him a throaty gasp, her body arched beneath him. He resisted the urge of ripping her tunic open because he wasn't fond of the idea of taking her back to Edoras bare chested. Her hips moved with his, his name was a lusty moan on her parted lips. His wife was a wild and passionate creature and Bema, it had always been difficult to retain some semblance of self-control when he was with her. But never before had he come so close to lose the battle. He felt her shattering around him and couldn't afford to linger a moment longer, his own pleasure surging just as he removed himself.
Háca wouldn't have mind staying on the forest floor for a while longer, make love to his wife again now that the more urgent hunger had been sated and they could indulge and delight in each other's body at a more leisurely pace. But the wind was carrying on its wings the distant noise of approaching voices and he knew they weren't the only ones who had sought escape from the city. They fixed their clothes and returned to the clearing where they had left their horses, the intoxicating feeling of their lovemaking still lingering as they rode back, the silence between them just as heady and ripe of interesting promises. "Let's leave", he proposed abruptly.
"Leave? What do you mean?".
"Like Ealith and Amrothos did before getting married. Let's just pack a few provisions and hit the road".
"Where to?".
"Wherever you wish. What's a place you've always wanted to visit, but never had the chance to?".
"The Shire?".
"Then Shire be it and form there, who knows".
There was a profound sadness marring Aldwyn's smile. "I'd love nothing better than travelling Middle Earth with you, my love. And we shall, when the time is right. Next year perhaps?".
"Why not now?", he asked in concern.
"Because I can't".
"Something's worrying you, I can see it".
"The rebellion has taken a lot from us. I am among the lucky ones. All I have lost is my King and a large chunk of the faith and pride I held in my people, for I never thought I'd see the day where Rohirrim fought against Rohirrim on such scale. The less fortunate have lost much more. A husband, a son… some lost both", her voice dropped to a whisper, her thoughts seemed to wander away from her. "Rohan needs healing and I don't have the heart to leave now, not when duty demands I do my part".
"You are right, it would be selfish of us to ride out at such time. I shouldn't have proposed it. But perhaps we could compromise? Edoras won't fall apart if you just leave for a few days…".
Aldwyn's face lit up. "Yes, I'd like that! We could travel to the Eastemnet, or spend some days on the mountains. It's lovely up there this time of the year!".
"That settles it. Leave the arrangements to me".
Their cheerful chattering filled the rest of the ride, until they approached the city and the sight of a line of six heavily loaded wagons waiting outside the walls got his hackles up. He and Aldwyn exchanged a worried look and spurred their horses to a brisk gallop. They arrived at the gates just as Léored barged out, looking as wary and surprised as they were. "What is the meaning of this?", he demanded to know.
The woman in charge, who Háca remembered well from his past visits to her village just across the Isen, dismounted and uncovered the content of the first cart.
Barley. Oat. Dried berries.
"Last week, when Isen became fordable, I rode to Edoras and saw the siege. We don't have much but what we have, we share".
People were quickly gathering around, mistrust fighting a losing battle against hunger. Léored was stunned, "How can this be?".
"Éomer King and Lothíriel Queen have always been good to us. We wish to reciprocate". She signalled the men in the wagons behind her. They got down, unharnessed the horses and hopped in the saddle.
"Mata, wait", Háca called when Léored failed to speak, "Let us inform the Queen. I'm sure she'll want to meet with you and…".
"No. Queen will be busy and your people not ready to see Dunlendings walk freely in their capital. Just tell her she has permission and that I will wait".
"What does that mean?".
"She'll know", she said and mounted her horse.
Léored stepped closer. He had been an ally of the Crown since the coronation of Éomer King, Háca had recently discovered, but it was still difficult for his eyes to unsee him as one of the untrusty members of the Council. He looked at the provisions, then at the Dunlendish woman, visibly struggling. When he spoke, his voice carried an ancient pain. "Your people killed my family".
Mata only half-turned in the saddle and gazed at him, unimpressed. "Yours killed mine".
Rhûn, July the 7th, FO 4
Éomer's cell fell dreadfully empty. He had wanted to save Léod but, in the end, all he had achieved was to grant him the curse of an agonizing death. The scars he carried on his back were a daily reminder of his failure. That Balca had died too seemed so inconsequential now.
The only positive note of those days was that there had been no more fights in the arena. Rumour had it Gorgan had departed again and until he returned, they were safe. Since a week already Éomer had resumed his shifts and perhaps an indication of how beaten in spirit he was, was his eagerness to return working twelve-hours a day.
Truth was, he'd do just about anything to not be in his cell.
His shift was already half-way through when he caught the first subtle hints from Distal. He waited a few minutes and made sure the guards were distracted before approaching him. The Easterling pointed at something, a crack in the rock, not unlike the dozen that dotted the surface in front of them. It wasn't the first time it happened either and Éomer was growing skeptical. Maybe the caves he spoke of did not really exist. Or maybe they did, but were miles of solid rock away from their current position.
"Once we start poking it, the wall will crumble", Distal whispered, a flash of annoyance in his eyes because that day, he was the only Rohirric member of the crew.
Éomer nodded distractedly. He picked his pickaxe and resumed working, fully convinced he was going to prove Distal wrong. But this time, when the metal hit the stone, it sounded different - not hollow, but different nonetheless. He looked back: the guards, as it often happened, were not in sight, likely lounging at the entrance of the tunnel, eating or playing dices perhaps. The tunnel was forked, the rest of the prisoners were digging at the adjacent end, oblivious of what was going on. Distal took over, hammering the crack with unerring precision. Once. Twice. And then again. At the twelfth blow, the tip of the pickaxe sunk deeper than it should. He dislodged it and they both stared in awe at the small hole and the darkness beyond.
Their efforts doubled. The gap became large enough to fit a hand and then an arm. The rock yielded effortlessly under their blows, or perhaps it was the prospect of escape and freedom that lent them strength and endurance. Suddenly Distal shoved him aside and Éomer had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at him. He watched him grab a torch and squeeze his shoulders into the hole. Once his chest was through, the rest of him followed easily.
Cursing the Easterling and his slender frame, Éomer resumed working, desperation making his movements frantic. If a labyrinth of tunnels truly awaited on the other side, he only had a chance to find a way out if he could discern what path Distal had taken! It took him several minutes to enlarge the gap, at which point he didn't even consider warning the other prisoners and simply slid to the other side.
He fell but managed to land on his feet. Darkness like he had never experienced before enveloped him, his torch but a dent in its velvet veil. He directed it to ground, looking for tracks, and followed the footprints in the tunnel to his left. Long stretches of the path were covered in several inches of water that had already swallowed any signs of recent passage. When Éomer found himself facing a bifurcation, he stood petrified. One way would lead him to potential freedom, the other to being either re-captured, or lost forever. He scanned the surroundings, gazed upon rising columns and hanging pillars and formations of fantastic shape. If Distal truly was aquatinted with these tunnels, he imagined they had served him as landmarks.
Behind him hushed voices and the splashing noise of footsteps grew louder. Four Easterling prisoners caught up with him and stared with familiar angst and the various tunnels. Two went into the left one, two opted for the right one. Éomer followed blindly the last group and growled in anger when, less than two hundred feet later, he discovered both ways merged again into one. Soon he was faced again with the same dilemma and again he chose right, and then right again. Only two of the Easterling prisoners were now in front of him, the rest lost in other sections of the cave. The sound of shouts and booted steps ricocheted around them. They picked up their pace, run as fast as their legs could carry them and yet they were anyway losing ground. The guards had them in sight as they approached the next junction. Éomer made a run for the left tunnel and yelled, "Follow me!".
Too late he noticed the other two men had chosen to follow the other way. It happened then what Distal had predicted: their captors ignored the less valuable prisoners and went all after him. Éomer summoned all the strength he possessed, desperation propelling him forward until something heavy landed on his back. He fell and hit his head on the stone floor, multiple hands grabbed his limbs, the struggle completely pointless as his wrists and ankles were caught in the grip of tight shackles. Yet he fought still, if anything out of rage and fury.
He had failed! Distal's plan had been his men's only hope. How was he to tell them he had wasted their chance of freedom? That they were to kill and die in that horrible place. He howled and kicked and bit, tried to break free of his restraints, the unyielding metal cutting deep gashes into his flesh.
A flash of pain at the back of his head was the last thing he remembered.
Edoras, July the 9th, FO 4
Háca couldn't help an amused grin when he spotted Amrothos walking through the marked stands. "Take us to the market, father", the Prince spoke in a squeaky voice, Eadhild slumped over his left shoulder, Maerwyn over the right one, "we're not tired and want to buy something for mommy's birthday, they said. Should have known better. Well don't just stand there with that mocking grin on your face, come help me out! See those two boxes the merchant is packing? I need to bring them home and I just so happened to have run out of spare hands to do so".
Relieved he hadn't asked him to take one of the girls, Háca collected his purchases and helped him get back to Haleth's residence. There was nobody home and once inside, the Prince dropped on the couch in exhaustion. "Never had stronger arms than since I became a father. Where's Aldwyn?".
"Helping the Queen with the preparations for tomorrow and what comes next".
Prince Elfwine and his Amrothian escort were expected to arrive the next day. With them also travelled King Elessar, as well as several Gondorian dignitaries. On July the sixteenth, Rohan would bid farewell to Éomer King and commemorate all those who had fallen in the East. Háca had only briefly met the Queen once since the siege had ended and the coldness of her gaze had yet to leave him. Though it was kept strictly confidential, there was a shared feeling of apprehension amongst those who were close to her, Aldwyn being one of them. With Ealith fast approaching the end of her pregnancy and Haleth and Léored both dispatched to the disgraced councillors' strongholds to supervise the situation, his wife had effectively become the Queen's right arm. She left their bed at dawn and rarely returned before midnight, when she'd snuggle into his waiting arms like it was the only way she could recharge her strength in preparation for the next day. He couldn't deny he wished they had more time to spend together, but her sense of duty was among the many things he loved about her and so he never complained.
"How are things between you two?", Amrothos asked, casually almost.
Háca pondered how much he should say. Perhaps the truth would become less cumbersome if he shared it with those he trusted. "It was my father".
"Who?".
"The man you saw her chasing from the battlefield".
"I thought you had lost both your parents at a young age".
"My mother died when I was five, never had a father. Thought he was dead. That's until after my marriage with Aldwyn, when he chose to approach me".
"Not with good intentions, I take it".
"No. My mother was a prostitute, he one of her regular customers. I had never been truthful about it with Aldwyn. My father needed money and tried blackmailing me. I refused to accept his terms, but was too much of a coward to tell my wife".
"So how did he end up with the rebels?".
"Wídca paid his debts and tried to plant him in Edoras so that, should his attempt to capture the Prince fail, he'd be his ears and eyes at court. He had him approach Aldwyn with a tearful story about a man whose last wish was to get to know his son. She didn't fall for it, discovered much of what he claimed was a lie, started suspecting he was part of something far bigger and the Queen agreed".
"So that's how my sister managed to stall Wídca and then lure his mercenaries into our trap".
"Yes. My father betrayed his country, and that's not even the worst crime he's committed".
"He conceived you. Doesn't mean he was your father".
Háca looked at the Prince. Sprawled over the sofa, daughters draped across his chest, he looked at once the most exhausted but also the happiest man he had ever seen. "Ealith knows the good and the ugly about myself and has always loved me regardless. There's no greater feeling in the world. Aldwyn did not deserve your lies", he reprimanded him, like the only thing he found despicable in his tale was the fact he had not been honest with his wife, everything else treated as of little importance.
"I know". A strand of hair fell to cover Eadhild's face, her soft snoring blowing it back and forth. Háca reached to tuck it behind her ear, "I haven't had a chance to thank you".
"What for?".
"Aldwyn told me what happened during the ambush. You saved her life".
"It was a battle, Háca. Sometimes you save someone, sometimes you get saved. It's been a baptism of fire for Aldwyn – literally so, but there's a reason why she survived long enough for me to get to her. She fought damn well".
"Elfda is a good teacher".
"That he is, saw it with Ealith already. I want him to train them too", he said nodding at his daughters.
"That would be the third generation of shieldmaidens he helps raising. I bet he'll be proud".
"With good reasons". Maerwyn mumbled something in her sleep and shifted abruptly, her heel hitting its target with deadly precision. A vein popped on Amrothos' forehead and he choke down what he was fairly sure was a curse not suited for the ears of the young ones, "It's a wonder I'm still able to perform my husbandly duties", he groaned.
"Have you always wanted children?", Háca suddenly asked.
"Until I met Ealith, I never even thought about it. Not just children, but marriage and life outside the daily struggle of war in general. Back then, I wouldn't have made for a good husband and father anyway – I was quarrelsome, drunk myself stupid after each patrol, lost count of how many times my brothers and I almost came to blows. Remember that time Aldwyn caused a brawl at the Hornburg and was forbidden to enter Meduseld for several weeks?".
"How could I forget, the King was furious".
"I touched rock bottom that day. Few know but I assaulted him".
"You assaulted the King? Why?", Háca demanded to know.
"An old story that doesn't need to be revived now. In time things got better, Ealith and I became close and it wasn't until I felt the sharp bite of jealousy that I finally acknowledged she was to me way more than just a friend. Never been the brightest, have I?", he chuckled. "I had never been in love before and of course I didn't quite know what to do, took us both a while to figure it out".
"And then she proposed".
"What can I say. I'm an irresistible catch", Amrothos laughed good-naturedly. "Bema those early days. It was heady, intoxicating, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. We still cannot, but with time things inevitably change – not for the worse, mind you. Anyway, I'm digressing. Ealith and I never talked about children, but at the same time we weren't exactly careful. Nine months later I discovered there was a type of love that could easily rival all others". The door opened and a broad smile instantly conquered his face, "Light of my life, you are back!".
Ealith rolled her eyes, "Sappier than maple syrup. Ignore him, Háca. What brings you here?".
"I was just helping him get back home after the girls fell asleep".
"His fault for taking them out before their afternoon nap. Would you like to stay for supper?".
"Gladly".
"Splendid. How are the preparations for tomorrow going?".
"According to plan as far as I can tell. I'm sure the Queen is looking forward to the Prince's return".
The mood in the room shifted, like he had just said something horribly wrong. Amrothos averted his eyes, his body rigid. Ealith swiftly relaxed her furrowed brow. "Don't mind us, Háca. We are just a little flustered. Events such as those that took place in the past months, both here as well as in Rhûn, are inevitably bound to become a watershed, a dividing line. There's a before and then there's an after. Elfwine's return and then the King's funeral will be the first little step towards the after. It won't be easy to leave all the heartache behind but in time we'll manage, I'm sure".
Elfwine arrived in Edoras in the late morning, the happiness of being reunited with her son after two months apart swiftly annihilated by the dreadful black pit she felt her heart had become.
She hugged and kissed him.
She thanked Théocanstan and Beyrith.
She welcomed her father. Erchirion and Míririen. Éowyn. King Elessar. And many more whose name she had no interest remembering past these days.
All Meduseld's guest rooms were occupied. Thanks to the large amount of provisions her father had hastily arranged to be delivered, every evening the Golden Hall hosted large banquets for all those who wanted to join, may them be nobles or common citizens.
Even with their food stocks replenished, there was still much to do. Much to keep her busy. Much to give her excuses why she couldn't spend time with her family. She attended each banquet. She put Elfwine to bed every evening and woke him up in the morning. But in between, she was never there. Always gone.
On the morning of July the sixteenth, Beyrith helped her getting ready.
A dress as black as the heart of darkness. The emerald necklace Éomer had given her many years ago, when they were both young and full of hopes in a world devasted by war. Rohan's golden crown.
On the Barrowfield, a third line of mounds was begun.
Lothíriel walked at the head of the procession. A fine drizzle came steadily down out of an ashen sky. Behind her, the surviving members of the King's Guard carried Éomer's coffin on their shoulders. Though it wasn't really a coffin, everyone knew. Just an empty box. Éomer's body would forever remain in Rhûn. The man she had shared her soul with, a rotten bloated corpse on a distant riverbank. She dreamed of it every night, of crows and jackals and fishes picking at his flesh. Sometimes the son they never had was with him, sharing his father's fate.
The mound was sealed. Songs were sung. She addressed the crowd with words of grief and hope that were appropriate to such occasion, her hand never once leaving that of Elfwine. She wiped his tears, cradled him when he cried. As the night drew to a sober end, she returned to her apartments and stared for a long time at her image in the mirror, grimacing as she often did those days, repulsed by what she saw. The austerity of her expression, the stern aloofness of her stance. She wished she could strike the glass, again and again until it had shattered in fragments too small to reflect anything!
Instead, Lothíriel maintained her calm demeanour. She changed into a simple gown and a well-worn cloak. Through lesser-known passageways she evaded her guards and slipped outside. There was nobody on the Barrowfield, a thin sheet of mist gave it an eerily peaceful look. She stood there until almost dawn, willing the tears and the heartbreak to manifest, wishing she could at least cry out her anger, but not even managing a simple whimper nor a solitaire teardrop.
Two days had already passed since the King's funeral. Most of the Gondorian guests had left and only the Amrothian family, King Elessar and Lady Éowyn remained in Edoras. Around noon, like everyday, Aldwyn visited the master healer to receive an update on the last remaining wounded that were still in his care. As they talked, one of Meduseld's guards showed up at the door to inform her the Queen summoned her.
Aldwyn excused herself and headed for the Council Chamber, soon to find out she wasn't the only one who had been asked to come. The room was crowded, every chair taken, the air a mix of concern and curiosity.
"Thank you all for coming", the Queen started out, "I know most you have chosen to delay your return to your respective homes to support me through these difficult times and for that, you have my gratitude. I have called you here today because I have taken a decision few of you will understand and, I fear, none of you will like".
Glances were exchanged across the table. The only one whose eyes never moved from the Queen was her father, Prince Imrahil, who seemed to know what was coming even if he didn't.
"I am planning to leave Rohan for a time of six to eight weeks".
"Where will you go?", Amrothos asked.
"Rhûn".
A brief stony silence was quickly followed by the enraged burst of almost every person in the room. The Queen spoke again, her voice thundering over all others like she was scolding them for their disrespect. She addressed her brother Erchirion, who seemed the most incensed person in the room and was angrily demanding an explanation. "Do you want to know what I felt as I watched my husband being laid in his tomb? Nothing, not a single thing".
"You must give yourself time. His passing, the rebellion, the siege. It would be too much for anyone, even one as strong as you. Travelling to Rhûn will achieve nothing but putting yourself in danger".
"Staying in Rohan will achieve nothing, not when in my heart I have been unable to do what I preach about in my speeches. Turn page, start anew".
"This is a folly! Think of Rohan, think of Elfwine!".
"It is precisely what I am doing, though I had anticipated you wouldn't be able to understand it".
"Surely you must see how my brother wouldn't want this either. You are needed here", Éowyn tried.
The Queen's voice was flat and emotionless, "It matters not what he would or would not have wanted".
Erchirion jumped to his feet but his father's sudden intervention prevented him to argue any further. "Silence!", the Prince of Dol Amroth bellowed and stared down his son, daring him and anybody else in the room to disobey, a haunted look surfacing in his gray eyes, "None of you knows what it feels like and I pray you never will! But I do know it, the pain of losing the person you love, the mother of your children. So many years have passed, and yet there isn't a single morning I do not awake to a sense of loss. There isn't a single day I do not mourn her", Aldwyn blinked back the tears at hearing his voice almost cracking, "Yes, travelling to Rhûn is a folly, one fraught with perils and dangers. But if visiting the place where your husband fell could bring you closure", he said turning to address the Queen, "then you should go".
Amrothos stood and spoke solemnly, "I agree with father".
"Me too", Aldwyn joined the choir, not sure how much her opinion was worth but determined to support the Queen nonetheless. She had lost her husband. She had lost a son who now lied in an unmarked grave in Edoras' cemetery because at the time of his passing none could even know he had ever existed in the first place. She had not been herself since that tragic night, and how could she? After months in which she had completely devoted herself to Rohan to the point she had been ready to sacrifice everything for its salvation - even her own life, if this tiny selfish act was what she needed to find her light once again, who were they to deny her?
Haleth and Léored knocked their hands on the table, the single thud their way to let the Queen know they supported her decision even if at first they had been outraged just like most of the others.
The Queen acknowledge their gesture and took the word again, "I do not wish my journey to Rhûn to compromise a peace treaty that has costed us blood and tears, nor do I want to jeopardise Rohan's stability. Éowyn, you are a Princess of Gondor. But you are also of the blood of Eorl and the only one I'd trust to rule in my stead while I'm gone. I ask much of you, I know".
"I still think this is a folly. But I do not need to agree with you to support you. I will stay for as long as you need me".
"Thank you. Father, Erchirion: you've been with Elfwine since he fled to Dol Amroth. Amrothos, you are very dear to him. I'd ask of you to stay in Edoras until my return, so that with you alongside Éowyn, my son will always be surrounded by the love and affection of his family".
"Dear daughter, you ask the simplest task of me".
"Ealith and I will gladly stay".
"I've only ever wished you happiness. If this is what you want, then I'll stay too", Erchirion capitulated.
The Queen bowed her head and turned to address King Elessar, who had until that moment remained silent. "You know Rhûn and the Easterlings well. I would ask your advice, Lord King".
He thought about it, his expression unreadable. "Under the terms we have agreed upon, our peoples are allowed to visit Rhûn. But I believe the time is not ripe for an official Royal convoy to cross the border, nor for a Rohirric one in general. As much as the enemy has suffered at both Gondor and Rohan's hands, it's the battle that claimed Éomer King's life that has left the deepest scar. I fear it will be a long time before the Easterlings will be able to tolerate the sight of a blond mounted rider crossing their lands without feeling once again the grief and disgrace of the losses they suffered that day".
"Travelling as a Gondorian would be safer?".
"Yes. Even better, a mixed Gondorian-Easterling party. We wouldn't be in breach of any of the peace conditions, you could count on people who have proven during the war their undivided loyalty and have extensive knowledge of the land and its inhabitants. Three of the spies in our service travelled to Rohan to pay their respects to Éomer King. They are all still here and with them are also two of my commanders who fought in the East. If you want to travel to Rhûn, then I am convinced they would make for the safest escort in this endeavor".
"It is decided then. We shall leave tomorrow already, for I am keen to return before the onset of the cold season".
"What will you tell the court?", Amrothos inquired.
"That I am to visit the garrisons Gondor is building at the border with Rhûn, as well as the wounded who have not yet been able to travel back home".
The final arrangements were drawn up and as soon as the meeting was adjourned, Aldwyn bolted from her chair and sprinted outside. Háca was waiting for her in the Golden Hall. They had planned to have lunch together, but it would have to wait. "There's something urgent we must tend to!".
"What is it? What happened?", her husband asked, trailing behind her in befuddled confusion.
"I must seek the herbalist, and then we need to speak with our Easterling guests".
Early next morning, Lothíriel made ready to leave. They were going to travel light, in her saddlebags were two change of clothes and little else.
Each of her family members and advisors sought to speak to her privately before she departed. Father embraced her and reassured her Elfwine would be well looked after in her absence. Amrothos was uncharacteristically silent, for he was closest to her heart and did not need words to express what they both knew. Erchirion struggled with the urge of reminding her how deranged her plan was, something for which she took no offense – he had always been the most protective of her brothers and unlike Amrothos, he still saw her as his little sister. Haleth, Léored and Elfda kept the discussion focused on ruling matters, cementing her assurance that Rohan would be in good hands during her absence. Éowyn tried to cheer her saying she'd ask Faramir and Elboron to join her in Edoras, to which Lothíriel had answered with polite gratefulness but also mild impatience.
Rohan was her home, she loved the land and her people fiercely. But for the first time since she and Éomer had fallen in love, she was keen to leave it behind, even if only for a few weeks.
It was terrible that she'd feel that way, but she simply couldn't help it.
Lothíriel fixed a light travelling cloak over her shoulders and opened the door, ready to leave. There, she stopped dead in her tracks, a rare stunned expression on her face: "Lady Aldwyn?".
"Your Grace, I humbly beg you", the noble lady spoke, kneeling at her feet, head bowed low, her husband mirroring her position behind her, "allow us to be part of your escort in your journey to Rhûn".
Lothíriel took a strand of her hair between her fingers, thought maybe it was a wig except it wasn't. "What did you do?", she asked, then upon noticing Háca's clothing, "And why are you dressed so?".
Aldwyn took a flask out of the leather sachet fixed at her belt, "Black henbane and sage, your Grace. We'll need to re-apply it weekly to keep our hair black. Háca asked one of the Easterlings for spare clothes. I know you will get yours once we reach the border. I'll do the same. No one will notice we are Rohirrim".
For some reason, Lothíriel felt her mask cracking. Aldwyn had helped her tremendously in the past months, her presence so discreet it would be easy for someone lacking attentiveness to disregard her role. In many ways she reminded her of her grandmother, but in many more she was her own distinct person. She had taken chores upon chores over her shoulders and never complained, not even when the duties she had been assigned could have been considered beneath her station. Humble, dignified in the way she bore her feelings marvellously close to the surface. Her loyalty truly was of the purest kind and despite her eagerness to flee Rohan and her people, Lothíriel found she didn't have the heart to deny her request.
Author's notes: quicker than usual this time, hurray! I think it was clear there was no way things could go easily back to normal for Lothíriel once the rebellion had been crushed. The way I see it, she's not capable to shake herself from the detached emotional state she has plummeted in due to the events of the past chapters, a state that in a sense was a necessity for her and the only way she could cope with the losses she suffered while still being able to rule and maintain authority. But especially in the aftermath of Elfwine's return and Éomer's funeral, she knows she needs to snap out of it. She doesn't like the person she's turned into, but it's also the only one she's capable of being at the moment. Travelling to Rhûn is indeed a folly but, like Imrahil sensed, visiting the place where her husband fell could be a way for her to bid him farewell and finally be able to move forward.
As usual, don't forget to leave a review. Love to read what you think of the story!
The Black Pearl: thank you!
ACH: I'm always doubtful about my writing so it means a lot to hear this! The story is indeed slowly approaching its end and I'm quite sad about letting go of these characters. It's been after all a 50 chapters / almost 4 years journey. Thank you for sharing it with me!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx: I know, I know! I beg forgiveness!