Chapter 15
It was dark when Lothíriel woke up. She was confused for a long moment, for she didn't know where she was or whether it was day or night. And she was sore and thirsty and tired, her shoulder hurt with a slow dull ache, and all this seemed wrong.
Éomer will know what's going on. Now where is he?
He couldn't be far off, she was sure of it. While everything else was hazy, she had a distinct memory of his presence by her side. She had had a dream where he was talking to her, his voice quiet and slow, telling her... what had he told her? Something about coming back.
As if he had to ask.
She struggled to sit up, managed to haul herself on the elbow of her good side, and looked around herself. The room was both familiar and unfamiliar to her fuzzy mind; she knew she had seen it before, but could not immediately place it. The dim light made this even more difficult.
"Easy there. You should not be moving yet", a gentle voice spoke on her left side, and Lothíriel turned her head to see Lady Éowyn. The blonde woman had a large book open on her knees, but she closed it and rose to press Lothíriel gently back down.
"Where am I?" Lothíriel asked. Her voice came out as a hideous rasp.
"At the infirmary. You have been out of it for quite some time. But the fever seems to have broken and that is a good thing indeed. Here, drink a little", said Éowyn. Lothíriel had many questions which she would rather speak, but the White Lady's determination suffered no objections. Carefully, Éowyn lifted her head so that she could drink, and as soon as cool water touched her parched lips, she decided this was indeed a good idea.
It cleared her thoughts a little bit as well, and memories began to return. Aegdir dragging her, running into the woods, the orcs... then Éomer rushing to her as she lay under the tree, and carrying her back here. She recalled the pain when King Elessar had removed the arrow from her shoulder, how people had bustled around her and how uncomfortable it had made her feel, and her king's concerned eyes that never seemed to leave her for long. Poor darling! He must be beside himself with worry.
"Is Éomer here?" she asked after Éowyn had helped her to settle down again.
"As if I could make him leave!" said the blonde woman, gesturing at the shape Lothíriel had not noticed until now. He slept in a chair, slumped in an awkward position, his head against the wall. Her throat felt tight. She could only imagine what this had been like for him, and yet he had refused to go far from her. This realisation was almost too much right now. She could name a dozen lords of Gondor from the top of her head who would have abandoned the courtship at the first sign of trouble, to say nothing of this.
"And my father?" she asked softly. How he must have worried for her!
"He's at least more sensible than my brother. He took one of the free beds and is sleeping now – but he too has barely left your side. Your brothers have been in and out as well", Éowyn replied with a faint smile. Her words made Lothíriel's heart ache with how much she loved them, and how much it meant that they had not left her alone.
"You said I had a fever. Was I very ill?" she asked after a moment, when she was sure her voice would not break.
"There was a moment you had us worried. There was some poison in the arrow, after all. The antidote seems to have helped some, but your own resilience is also a reason you're still among us", Éowyn replied gravely.
"Oh dear. I have really made trouble, haven't I?" Lothíriel murmured, wishing she could sink down through the floor.
"That fool Aegdir made trouble, not you", Éowyn said sternly. "I know you blame yourself, and I also know how easy it is to think that way. I used to be much the same, and it drove me to a despair that nearly killed me. But you were bullied and harassed, and that's nobody's fault except the bastard who did it to you. He caused this when he laid his dirty paws on you."
The White Lady's face was hard, and Lothíriel recalled the story about her and her uncle's advisor. A sly, foulsome figure called Wormtongue in tales, who had manipulated King Théoden and also poured his poison in Éowyn's ear – feeding them with despair and thus driving the House of Eorl close to extinction. Aegdir was not such a sinister character, nor could his intentions possibly be so malicious, but to Éowyn there seemed to be enough similarities.
Lothíriel thought about explaining her point of view – how in her mind, the young lord was but a minor issue, and she as someone who has ruled an entire fiefdom in wartime, should have managed better. But then, Éowyn had a point as well. Manhandling her was not Lothíriel's choice, but Aegdir's.
"But that's enough of talking. It's late and you should be resting. You need to get back your strength", said the White Lady as she picked up her book again.
Lothíriel cast a wistful glance at Éomer, yearning to hear his voice, but he had earned his rest and she too was feeling tired. At any rate, she didn't want to sicken again, which might well happen if she didn't rest enough.
"Thank you for everything", she whispered to the blonde woman.
Éowyn smiled.
"You are most welcome, my friend."
Then Lothíriel slept again, and though the past few days and especially the one before this night had been eventful and even daunting, her dreams were gentle and restful.
When she woke again, the room was light. Éowyn was gone, but another blond figure sat in the chair next to the bed. He was there, staring off and lost in his thoughts. A beam of sunlight fell upon him and made his hair gleam like spun gold. Her heart ached just to look at him. He was all things warm and solid and bright, as if light itself lived under his skin. Though he looked tired and his beard was wilder than normally, he was still the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.
Her throat grew tight. It was bewildering to realise just how much he already meant to her, and how much she appreciated him staying with her through this ordeal.
But she masked these feelings and hid them in her heart, and spoke in a soft voice: "Good morning. Or is it day already?"
He turned sharply to look at her and moved the chair closer.
"You're awake", he said, just with a slightest tremor in his voice as he grasped her hand in his own. He kissed her fingers with such an emotion that implied he would rather have closed his arms around her, but did not dare to touch her beyond this small contact.
"Indeed I am", she replied.
For a while, neither of them said more. He studied her quietly, perhaps wondering if the subtle menace of poison still coursed in her veins – or just basking in the relief and joy of this shared moment. She watched him too, and thought of how very glad and thankful she was to have met this man.
"You look tired", she said eventually, noticing the shadows beneath his eyes. "Are you well?"
He smiled at her question and his eyes, dark with flecks of gold, seemed almost to glow.
"Dear heart, you were the one whose life was in danger. My discomfort is of little import in comparison", he told her.
Lothíriel said nothing. She could well understand his point of view: had it been him injured and poisoned, she would have been able to rest as little. She would not wish to leave his side.
"But you are feeling better now, aren't you? Éowyn told me you had woken before dawn", he said then, and she nodded.
"I'm just a bit sore, and the wound still hurts. But not so much as before", she replied, which seemed to console him.
"I am glad. We were really quite worried about you", he said softly, and she knew that we actually meant I.
"I didn't mean any of this to happen", she muttered. Éowyn's words from last night still rang in her memory; perhaps it was time to stop apologising for things she couldn't control. Even so, she wished she could have spared him the concern.
Still he smiled.
"Lothíriel, I know that", he simply said and again kissed her hand. And since he sounded like he truly did understand, she relaxed once more.
"How is my father?" she asked him. She knew he wouldn't try to spare her feelings, but would tell her nothing but the truth.
"He is fine now, I believe. Éowyn told us that your fever broke during the night, and the news consoled him enough to agree to go and freshen up. He is meeting your brothers this morning as well", he answered. She guessed it was because Éomer's presence by her side had consoled Father enough for him to leave for the time being. She wondered if her king realised it.
Éomer was no longer something like a distant cousin, found after a long separation. He was more like another son to her father's brood. In different circumstances, this might have amused her more and doubtless it would once she had time to consider everything that had happened. But it would have to wait for the time being.
"And you?" she asked him gently.
His look became soft.
"You are safe and sound. Of course I am well", he replied. What a thing to say. But she understood him and said nothing, though she did squeeze his hand.
"Did you speak to Aegdir?" she asked him carefully.
"I did, and I actually feel a little sorry for him. He seems to understand and accept his responsibility. It doesn't excuse what he did, but perhaps he is now headed for the right path", he said slowly.
She was glad he thought so, and pressed his hand gently to let him know it. No doubt there was some punishment in store for the young man, but she decided she could find out later.
"He wants to know if you will see him. He says he wishes to apologise to you in person. But if you ask my opinion, you have every right to tell him to go and jump in the sea", he said and a brief scowl darkened his features. It reminded her of how fearsome this man could be when he wanted to – and how much it contrasted with the great gentleness and care he always showed to her. She wondered if he realised it himself.
"I... I need to think about it. Perhaps I should face him once more, and make sure this is put behind us for good", she mused slowly.
"You don't need to do anything you don't feel comfortable with, love. But if you do decide to meet him, I insist somebody should be there, myself or Éowyn or one of your brothers. Aegdir has given us no reason to trust him, although I doubt even he's enough of a fool to harass you twice", he said, frowning. Lothíriel thought of his words quietly. While she knew she would have to face Aegdir – and that she would regret it if she didn't – there was still something comforting about Éomer telling her she didn't owe the young lord anything.
But she would think of how to deal with Aegdir once she had got some more rest and didn't feel so sore anymore. Doubtless she could have used her convalescence as a way to make Aegdir acutely aware of his guilt, showing him just what he had done to her. But that struck her as cold and calculating, even if she had felt strong and confident enough for such a confrontation.
"Those orcs... do you have any news of them?" she asked now. She had a feeling her father or her brothers would just have told her not to worry about it. But she knew she could trust Éomer to answer honestly.
"We believe there are many more of them in the mountains. It seems that in the recent months, they have established some kind of a stronghold in the old tunnels and caves. The Enemy once burrowed deep into those mountains and filled them with his servants. The way into the Black Land is watched and we destroyed what we could of the Dark Lord's works, but not all of his devices were discovered in the aftermath of the war. Too many of his servants survived the battle, and these few that have been attacking us are just a small sample of them", he explained. His expression was strained and she guessed he was not glad to be sharing these news.
"So there will be a war", she concluded.
"Aye, it appears that way. We cannot allow them to establish a foothold so near to Emyn Arnen. A quick and decisive response is required, if we mean to preserve all that my sister and her husband have already achieved here. I do not think it will be a difficult campaign, at least compared to the Ring War. Even so, scouring the mountains won't be an easy or pleasant task, and it's too early to guess how long it will take. I have sent a Rider back to Rohan with orders to my council to start preparing. I too shall soon have to make my way home... but I wanted to stay until you are on the mend", he said, watching their joined hands on the blanket.
Her heart sank. Of course she had known he'd have to go home sooner or later, but it still felt so sudden and unexpected. Even the thought of him going made her chest feel tight, as if she was already missing him. It was strange. They had known each other only for a little while, and yet she could feel this bond between them, as strong as anything she felt for her family.
He sighed and went on, "Aragorn thinks we are going to face more battles like this in the future. Like I said, we could destroy only a part of Sauron's forces, and many ran into secret places to nurse their wounds. I have no doubt that others will come who will try to usurp at least a part of the Enemy's power, or declare themselves his heirs, or even pretend to be him. I do not know what future will bring, Lothíriel, but I doubt it will be completely peaceful. There may come a time when I can't be at your side when you need me."
The idea made her shudder. During this ordeal, she had felt less scared just because Éomer was with her; even when he himself worried over her, his presence made her feel safe. However, he was the King of Rohan, and always would be. That time may come when he would have to put his people first was indeed more than likely, and she had no choice but to accept it. This was the price of loving a king.
Unconsciously, she had known it, though she hadn't considered this much before now. But no matter how hard this knowledge was, she knew the alternative to be worse.
So she pressed his hand, making him look up again and meet her eyes.
"I have no doubt there will be difficult days ahead, and times when we are parted against our will. But I think it is worth it. If I do not take this chance, no matter what heartache it will bring to me, I shall regret it until the end of my days", she told him evenly.
He met her gaze quietly. The look in his eyes made her heart swell with emotion, and hadn't her shoulder ached so, she would have sat up to hug him. Only now, seeing that mute relief, did she realise how very much he had dreaded being left behind once more. She wondered if even he understood it completely. She almost wanted to cry – she had not known how very alone he felt.
"Then you will wait for my return?" he asked her.
"Of course. If there is a war to come, perhaps I could stay in Minas Tirith. Or even here, with your sister. Not that I can do much else than to act as moral support", she said, smiling.
He smiled as well.
"That is more important than you know", he said, slowly running his thumb across the palm of her hand. "But I suppose we ought to make things formal, even though I don't much like announcing a betrothal at the brink of a new campaign. Béma knows how long it will be. Still, I think it will give us all something to look forward to."
There was a glint in his eyes that made her feel warm. The rascal dared! Oh, she would make the wait very interesting for him.
"I will have to talk to my father, but I don't expect him to disagree", she said, masking her reaction the best she could.
"Unless this has unsettled him to the point where he changes his mind", Éomer muttered, his smile turning into a frown.
"... no, I don't think he will", she told him, squeezing his hand. He raised a quizzical brow, and she smiled, "Just trust me, love."
"It may still yet be a long betrothal, depending on how the campaign goes."
"Or maybe we should marry before you go to war."
He actually looked surprised at the suggestion, and she couldn't help but laugh. Her heart filled with affection for him, this darling man who already meant so much to her. She pulled at his hand gently.
"No, I don't expect that to happen, either. But it's nice to imagine", she told him.
He snorted softly.
"Don't tempt me", he muttered, and at last he leaned over to kiss her.
This was not the unhinged passion of last night, but something gentler and sweeter. He was very careful, his large hands lightly resting against her cheeks – as if he were scared to come anywhere near the wound. She hadn't expected to like how his beard felt against her skin, but she did, and it might have excited her a great deal more if she had felt stronger. With any little pause there was in the kiss, she breathed in the warm smell of his skin, which made her feel even more eager. Her left hand slipped almost by its own will into his long hair, feeling its way with greater boldness than she even now expected of herself. It felt coarser than her own, like a lion's mane.
He made a strange, low sound deep in his throat. It puzzled her at first, being so unfamiliar, but then as he pressed on to her with more force, she understood the reason for that sound. It made her tremble with excitement, and then she shifted a little bit too carelessly, causing a lance of pain to shoot through her shoulder. She gasped at the sudden sharp sensation, which immediately made him draw back.
"Are you all right? Did I scare you?" he asked worriedly.
She smiled, even though her shoulder still pounded painfully.
"Not at all. The opposite, actually... you made me forget about this unpleasantness" – she nodded with her head at her injured shoulder – "and I moved too quickly."
His expression softened at once, and that low fire returned to his eyes. She understood he didn't really know yet how much she could handle, or what was her disposition to this kind of intimacy. But it touched her that he cared and was willing to be careful. Not that Lothíriel had much experience to compare with, except for a few kisses shared with young men of her father's court, but even her few experiments informed her that this man knew how to kiss a woman, and had done it often. Abruptly she thought of herself and Aegdir, and shuddered when she imagined them fumbling at one another. Now the idea seemed quite revolting – she didn't want his hands anywhere near herself ever again.
"Forgive me, love. You need food and drink and medicines, and here I am just sitting like a fool. Doubtless your father would like to see you as well, and Aragorn should probably take a look at the wound", he said then and got up briskly. Even though he looked like he had not slept too well, he was still brimming with energy. Lothíriel smiled as she followed him with her eyes.
After he had given those orders, he returned to her side. He had also found a pitcher of water and a cup, and the next few moments he spent helping her to take slow and careful sips.
In about ten minutes, her family burst into the infirmary. Father was there first, and on his heels came Elphir and Amrothos. Erchirion arrived shortly after. Éowyn and Faramir came too, and King Elessar with Queen Arwen by his side. Suddenly, the whole infirmary seemed to fill with noise and bustle, despite one healer's protests that the patient needed peace and quiet.
Her king moved aside to make some space, standing silently and his earlier open look veiled. But she had only a moment to notice it before her father and brothers descended on her, all talking simultaneously as they surrounded the bed. Amrothos tumbled down at her feet, talking excitedly. Father grasped her left hand in his own and his grey eyes filled with tears. It actually startled her a little bit, for she could not recall ever seeing her father cry.
"I'm all right now", she told them awkwardly. Receiving all this attention made her feel uncomfortable, and although everyone had told her this was not her fault, she still felt like she should have been able to prevent this ruckus from happening. She hated to think of the fear and concern she had caused to her loved ones.
Thankfully, Father was quick to catch on. He rose up on his feet and turned to look at the company gathered around the bed. When he spoke, he used the voice he usually did not employ in company, except when commanding his knights.
"I think my daughter needs a moment. Perhaps we should all stand down until she has had time to eat and rest?" he proposed.
Amrothos jumped up on his feet, looking very determined.
"I shall go and get some food", he announced.
"Try and be sensible about it. She should not take anything too heavy yet. Some broth and a bit of bread should suffice at this point, and I shall make some tea right away", Éowyn put in.
"Is there something I can do?" Erchiron wanted to know. His eyes looked bloodshot, making Lothíriel wonder how much he had slept the past few nights.
"Perhaps you could arrange some hot water for washing?" Father offered.
The fussing almost began anew, but King Elessar took control of the situation and began to herd the company out of the infirmary. Éomer was among them, and Lothíriel cast an anxious look at her king, for she did not want him to go. But he met her gaze, smiled slightly and mouthed, "I'll be close."
When the infirmary was quiet again and the crowd had left, Éowyn helped her to sit up and uncover the wound. Like yesterday, she felt shy and awkward to show so much of her bare flesh, but Éowyn's manner was gentle and caring as a mother's might be, and King Elessar's eyes only strayed from the injury to meet his patient's eyes. He spoke mildly, describing to her everything he was doing, and what medicines he was using, and how to treat the wound so that it would heal. He had a quiet, discreet way that made Lothíriel feel easier. Father was close, too, but he sat with his back turned to give them some privacy, leafing through some volume he had picked up.
The wound was still sore, and King Elessar stated they would have to keep a close eye on it for days to come, but for now signs were good. Carefully he wrapped the injury in fresh linen and when he was done, hot water was brought to the infirmary; Erchirion had not wasted time in completing the task. Seeing how anxious he had acted at her bedside, she wouldn't be surprised if her brother himself had drawn and heated the water.
The men exited and Éowyn helped her to take a sponge-bath, and then change into a fresh shift. When she was warmly wrapped in the bed again, Amrothos arrived carrying a tray – simple, nourishing things like the White Lady had ordered. Lothíriel felt quite ravenous, and would have liked something heartier than hot broth, but she knew caution was necessary after the last couple of days of practical fasting. Her brother filled her ears with news of the past couple days, until Father returned and told him to give her some space.
Food and drink did her some good, but she still felt exhausted by the time she had emptied her bowl and cup. She felt like sleeping again, but did not want to do so before seeing Éomer. She cast an uneasy look at her father. A faint smile touched his features and he reached to squeeze her hand.
"I shall go and fetch him. I don't think he'll be far off", he reassured her.
Indeed, it did not take many minutes for Éomer to enter the infirmary again. Perhaps he had been just outside, waiting for her to call him back. He came straight to her bed, gently touching her hand.
"What is it, love?" he asked her.
"I think I'm going back to sleep now", she told him softly, "but I don't want you sitting here while I do. Go take care of yourself. Get some rest."
He smiled slightly.
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely adamant."
"Very well then. But don't hesitate to send for me if you need anything."
His words, just as much the almost painfully tender way he watched her then, made her heart swell. How could she not adore this man? He made her feel so sate, and so cherished. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him.
And so the words tumbled out of her mouth, although only a few days ago she would have deemed it pretentious and all too soon: "I love you."
His eyes widened just slightly and he seemed to lose his words for a moment. Then he bent down to kiss her brow, as if that gesture only could convey the sentiment.
"I love you too", he uttered back, lips still against her skin, his voice trembling slightly. That willing show of vulnerability only deepened what she felt for him then, making her want to get up so that she could put her arms around him and hold him tight. But they were both in the need of some rest, and so she just brushed his warm cheek with her hand.
"I shall return later. Rest now", Éomer told her, seemingly in control of himself once more.
Lothíriel just smiled, and thought of how happy she was to be alive.
She slept without dreaming for a few hours and woke up feeling a little bit stronger. Father was now seated in the chair next to the bed and he was glad to see her awake. She glanced around to make sure her king had indeed followed her instructions. He was nowhere to be seen.
"Has Éomer been around?" she asked her father.
He smiled.
"Don't worry, daughter. He was going to get some rest after you went to sleep. He said he was going to talk to his captain afterwards. I expect they need to talk between themselves about their plans", he answered.
"Is he all right? I thought he seemed... I don't know, less relieved than I hoped he would be", she wondered out loud, frowning. Was the poor darling still worrying over her?
Father's smile dimmed.
"I don't think it's about you, dear. He and Erchirion had a row while you were still unconscious. Your brother was acting tactless and claiming that Éomer was not welcome by your side", he said delicately.
"Oh, Elbereth. Why didn't you stop Erchirion?" Lothíriel asked, shifting uneasily in the bed. It was horrifying to think of her loved ones fighting over her, while she was unable to stop them. And how could her brother say something so hurtful? She could only imagine how crushing it would feel, if Éomer was the one lying unconscious, and she was told she could not stay with him. She had come to regard Éowyn as her friend, and doubtless he felt the same about Erchirion. Being refused by someone you did not know well was not perhaps a grave injury, but when it was done by a friend…
"I tried. But we were all very tense and anxious at the time, and it got out of hand before I was able to interfere. Your man can be proud and I'm afraid he felt deeply hurt, though he accepted my apology. He and your brother haven't talked since. But I suspect that is mostly because Éomer wouldn't leave your side until you told him to go and get some rest", he explained gently.
He reached for hand and pressed it.
"Do not worry about it, Lothíriel. You have been through enough these past few days. You must focus on getting better, not some foolish squabbles. The two of them will sort it out soon enough, I'm sure", he reassured her.
"I hope they will. I don't want anyone fighting because of me", she sighed. As if these events weren't bad enough, now people were getting into arguments, too.
"It's not your fault, dear child. None of us meant for these things to happen, but they did. What matters is that you are safe", he told her. His tone accepted no opposition, and at any rate, she was still too tired.
"Well, I hope Elphir and Amrothos treated him better than that."
"They seem pleased. Elphir has always thought highly of Éomer and my understanding is that in his eyes, the King of Rohan is the only one good enough for you. Amrothos... Amrothos seems to think it is entertaining, though I don't know why. He is almost back to his usual self now that you're awake, but I know he was deeply shaken by your misfortune. I wouldn't be surprised if your brothers are going to act unusually protectively towards you in the coming days", he explained and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Just what I needed", Lothíriel muttered, shaking her head.
"I will speak to them. But try to be patient. Your brothers mean well", said Father.
He patted her hand and sat up straighter.
"But that is enough talking for now. I shall send for some food and drink. You need to get back your strength", he said. Lothíriel suppressed a sigh, knowing it was not just her brothers who were going to coddle her.
But later when she had drank some more broth and healing tea, and the afternoon was getting late, Éomer returned to the infirmary. It was as if he had somehow known she was already missing him. Realising she was not going to notice much else than her horselord, Father took her emptied tray and made some excuse about returning it to the kitchen. She knew it was his way of letting them enjoy a moment alone, for which she was quietly thankful. Perhaps coddling was not entirely bad.
Éomer was smiling when he came to her.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked her.
"Much better. Did you get any rest?" she asked him, making him chuckle.
"As if I'd dare to defy you, my lady", he replied. She noticed he had changed clothes, too, and tidied up his beard. She was glad he had taken her words to heart and paid attention to taking care of himself. But then her eyes fell on the object in his hand.
"What's that?"
"Éowyn borrowed me this. She brought it from Rohan with her. Now, I am no bard, but I am Eorling and love our songs as much as anyone. And recent experience would imply that you don't mind my singing", he replied, smiling as he showed her the beautiful wooden harp. The polished surface gleamed softly and the handles were horse-heads, carved so expertly that the impression was almost lifelike.
"No, I don't mind at all", she replied, recalling the sound of his voice underneath her window.
He sat down next to her bed, setting the harp in his lap.
"I haven't done this in a while, so bear with me", he said as he ran his fingers across the strings. He tested the sound, let out a low sound like "hmm" and then spent a moment tuning the strings. Lothíriel just stared in delighted wonder.
Éowyn's harp was a beautiful instrument, and either it was already in tune or Éomer was better at tuning it than he believed, for the notes he produced were clear and sweet. His long, deft fingers felt their way across the strings. Then he began to sing.
The words were unfamiliar, but she liked his voice, and welcomed the depth and the richness, and the warm sensual timbre she hadn't noticed before. It was haunting. Doubtless there were singers with better technique, more skill and sweeter voices, but she did not think any other could have produced her the same magic and thrill. It took her away from this bed, even made her forget the slow ache of her wound. The song was such a simple joy, and yet it meant the world.
"What is the song about?" she asked after he had fallen silent, her own voice barely more than a whisper. It felt wrong to break the silence that fell after the last note faded.
He cast her a sheepish smile.
"It's a ballad for a young man, singing to a lady whose favour he wants to win", he answered. Something told her this was not something he usually sang; she recalled Rohirrim delighted especially in their battle songs. But the fact that he knew this piece too was a pleasant surprise.
He was sitting close enough so that she could reach to touch his knee. She squeezed it gently and smiled so that her cheeks ached.
"Consider mine won. Sing me another song?"
Time went by swiftly by Lothíriel's side, and it was near sunset that Éowyn came to check on her and to kick him out.
"She needs to get some rest, and without you hovering like some overgrown mother hen", Éowyn scolded him. Éomer cast a look at Lothíriel. Although his beloved looked to be in good spirits, it was clear she was tired.
Even as he hesitated, she touched his hand and pressed it with soft fingers.
"It's all right. You should go and get a decent night's sleep, too. I'll rest easier if you do", she said gently.
"Are you sure?" he asked her. He still didn't like letting her out of his sight, even though it was clear she was getting better. But eventually, it would do more bad than it did good. There was a truth hidden in what Éowyn had said: Lothíriel did not need him hovering. Doubtless her family already took care of that.
"I am. And you have a long journey back to Rohan ahead, so you should be rested before you leave", she pointed out.
"Béma! Finally somebody else gets it. Although talking some sense into my brother's thick head will be a life-long task!" Éowyn commented from her work table, the tone of vindication clear in her voice. He decided to ignore her.
"I'll see you in the morning, then. Sleep well", he said to Lothíriel and leant down to kiss her brow. He had left the harp by the bed, knowing already she would wish to hear him sing again.
"You too", she whispered back.
Éothain waited for him outside. Together they made their way to check first on the horses, and then the Riders. Although none had taken injury while hunting the orcs and Éothain had not reported anything particular, Éomer still felt he had been ignoring them while focused on his own troubles and concerns. Many of these men he had known for a long time, even as boys in Aldburg many years ago. They had joined his éored when he had become the Third Marshal, and fought with him ever since. Together, they had gone through fire and hell. If there were something Éomer regretted about being a king, it was not having as much time with his Riders as before.
But his captain kept a close eye on the Riders of the King's Company, and when the two men were alone again and walking outside in the darkening evening, Éomer asked what he thought was their mood after recent events.
"They are in good cheer, but that you know. The thought of going to war again does not bother them. I think few are excited for some action", Éothain replied, looking ahead. He glanced at his king, "And they are curious to meet your lady. I think pretty much everyone in Edoras will be. They'll want to know who is this woman who finally made you take this step. Some in your council are already close to despairing of you ever marrying."
Éomer grumbled, though he said nothing. Éothain had listened to enough of his complaints about how his private life seemed to be everyone's business and how much he loathed it.
"But that's not all they want to know. There was word of your fight with Erchirion", Éothain said, making the young king look at him sharply.
"What word, Éothain? What have you heard?"
"Éowyn told me some things – said you and Imrahil's son clashed. Something about his sister?"
"It was nonsense. Some unfair accusations and the suggetion that I was not welcome at her bedside", Éomer said, scowling. It still made him bristle.
"Your sister said Imrahil gave him a tongue-lashing. Did not even bother to take him somewhere private; she heard the whole thing. But so did the healer who was present during your fight. I understand he was less than discreet with the information, and it has reached your Riders ears, too. Some of them asked me what you mean to do – and if you will tell your council about it", Éothain said, his tone careful.
"Why would I tell anyone about my private matters?" Éomer asked warily, although he had a sinking feeling as he realised where this conversation was going.
"Well, there are many who think it's not private. You're not just the Third Marshal anymore, you are our king. I know you don't like it, and are still not comfortable with it, but the crown is with you always. What does it say about us if not even our friends won't respect it? You may not think much of it but the royal council may require some gesture from Erchirion or even Imrahil. They will say we have endured enough doubt and contempt, and it's time Gondor proved whether they truly consider us their friends and equals", his captain explained in a quiet voice.
Several angry comments immediately sprung to Éomer's tongue, but he ground his teeth against the irritation and swallowed his temper. Éothain's reasoning and his concerns merited his consideration. Being himself so focused on Lothíriel, and still fearing she was not yet out of danger, he had not thought of much else. However, if this was the sentiment among his Riders, then he better take it seriously.
"I will have to think on this, Éothain", he said after being silent for a while. "But whatever happens, I do not wish to bring any pain or nuisance to her. She has been through enough lately."
"It may be difficult to shelter her. I know you care for her deeply – nothing could prove it better than these past few days – but her family may have put you both in a more uncomfortable position than you realise now", said Éothain. It was quite dark now, and Éomer knew he would have to get inside soon and meet Aragorn for some late supper. But he wanted to let Éothain say his piece; it would be unwise to not listen to him. While his friend had chosen the career of a soldier, he had a keen mind for politics and often provided his king with subtle readings of what was going on both with his Riders and his council. Éomer supposed it was also partly because Éothain was good at making friends and had a natural way that made people tell him things, sometimes revealing much more than they realised or intended. Perhaps it was also because people knew Éothain had the King's ear and wished to deliver some news, difficult or sensitive, through him. With some irritation aimed at himself, Éomer considered this was probably because of his damned, famous temper. He really needed to learn to be more patient.
However, there was one issue he would not debate, no matter what happened.
"At least one thing I know. I'm not giving up on her again", he said gruffly. If anyone in his council tried to even hint something like it, he would show them they knew nothing of his temper yet. Not that he expected such an outcome – his council would be stabbing themselves in the leg if they tried to block a union he himself desired – but who knew? Some of the noble lords probably felt they had a stake in the game, because an unmarried king meant a tempting opportunity for their daughters and consequently their own family fortunes.
"I don't think it will come to that. After all, Imrahil is widely respected in Rohan, and nobody has forgotten how Dol Amroth helped us through last winter. If you ask me, the royal council will think that your marriage to Imrahil's daughter is one of your better ideas."
"Then what is the problem, in your view?"
"I would tell you if I knew. But I have a feeling there may be some trouble before all is said and done", Éothain replied slowly.
Éomer considered this, and conceded in the silence of his thoughts that his captain was probably right. He knew his council would interrogate them both about the events here in Emyn Arnen, and unless he committed to lying or holding back the truth, he would have no choice but to explain Imrahil's initial rejection when he had asked to court Lothíriel, and then Erchirion's outburst. There were parties that might wish to regard these unrelated situations with bad faith, or at least treat them as clear proof of Gondor's underlying contempt for Rohirrim.
But he could not worry about it now. It was late, and there was enough on his mind as it was. The important thing remained: Lothíriel was better and however disturbing the attack had been, it did not seem to have unsettled her. Actually, Éomer decided that everybody else was much more affected, including himself. But she was calm – she had been calm even as she lay bleeding under that tree in the woods. She did not fret over her injury or discomfort, only the thought that she had caused worry to her family and friends.
For she was used to being the one who took care of others. It could be a lonely task and he knew that well. From now on, he'd take care of her – show her she didn't have to carry everything by herself.
Maybe in the process, she would teach him that, too.
To be continued.
A/N: Well, that felt good to get out of my chest! As much as I enjoy torturing the characters, it also feels good to let them feel relief.
My favourite part is the conversation between Éomer and Lothíriel, but I am also very fond of the part where he plays the harp and sings for her. I think Rohirrim are probably very musical, and Tolkien himself says they don't write books but they sing many songs. So why would Éomer be an exception? I believe he has at least a basic understanding of the harp, and can sing as well as anyone - excluding bards, of course. Bards or minstrels probably have some kind of a status in Rohan, but I've never thought much about it or attempted to figure out how it might work. If you're wondering why Éomer is playing a harp, it's because of the lovely poem Tolkien gives in Two Towers, called "Lament for the Rohirrim". In this poem, there is also the line, "Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?" Which implies harps are so important instruments in Rohan that a member of the royal family would be familiar with them.
In case anyone is wondering, I do intend to finish this story and maybe even continue it. However, updates will probably take longer for me to post until unforeseeable future.
I hope you all stay safe out there! If you can, please donate to help Ukraine. And don't forget to love one another.
Thank you for reading and reviewing!
EStrunk - Glad you liked it! Family can get intense and irrational sometimes. And they can indeed blame each other in such a way!
Tibblets - Thank you! I also like it when my own stories are able to surprise me. :D
Cricket22 - I hope this makes up for the last chapter! ;)
You really have to let his temper show sometimes, to remind people it is there!
Hope you liked the conversations in this chapter! I still don't know if I should just keep on going with this story, or if a sequel would be better. But I'm always open to ideas!
Guest - Oh, he definitely feels guilt for what happened with Éowyn! Yet I don't think he could have done much else. He was needed defending the kingdom, which is an ardous job in itself, and he was doing it while Wormtongue was making everything worse. So Éomer is not guilty of what happened to Éowyn, but I think he probably feels like he could or should have done something. People in Éowyn's situation are sometimes very good at hiding their desperation. To me, the situaton appears like this: Aragorn is in an unique position to recognise Éowyn's predicament, because she does reveal her desperation to him and sometimes outsiders are way more apt to see what's going on.
Cathael - Glad to hear it! :)
I would think that for a Rohir, horses would be especially calming.
Also thank you for your kind words! It does mean so much to me, knowing these stories are not just me yelling into the void, but that there are actual people who read the stuff and write and are excited when I update. Life continues to be demanding, but writing this fic allows me a way to forget about it.
Simplegurl4u - Yeah, Erchirion maybe should have been more careful! But Éomer does get out, probably because all this reminds him too much of some traumatic memories. As for Éowyn, she wouldn't refrain from finding out what has upset him so, although she might have acted in a different way if she had been present when the confontation went down.
Writing is still a pleasant hobby for me, so I would have to be taking a break from some very different things! But thank you for your consideration and lovely words. It is appreciated. 3
Wondereye - Thanks! Hope you like this chapter, then. He does have hard time being away from her, but will listen to her even when it's difficult. I do mean to continue this story, no matter how long it takes.
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thank you!
KCSwing04 - I very much mean to!