Chapter 11
Lothíriel woke early, having slept deeply and calmly, and felt glad and refreshed to meet the new day. A smile tugged at her mouth as if by itself and she stretched contentedly. For half a minute, she half-serioiusly doubted whether last night had taken place at all, for it seemed almost too good to be true. A shiver travelled on her skin as she thought of her dreams, heady and intense and full of him, and though she was alone, her cheeks grew hot. It seemed so obvious now: of course he shared her feelings, and she had been such a fool to allow herself to be persuaded otherwise. She traced the surface of her lips with her fingers, thinking of what his mouth felt like and how strangely pleasant the rubbing of his beard was… he was so fierce one moment, and then so tender and careful. Elbereth, and they weren't even courting yet! Hopefully, Father would not insist on a very long betrothal.
Her mood was high and hopeful as she rose and began to prepare for the day – it was still an hour or more before she could expect her maid to arrive, but she didn't mind getting ready by herself.
There was one dark spot in her bright thoughts, however. Aegdir. She would have to seek him out today and tell him her decision. She had no idea of how he was going to take it. Would he accept her choice gracefully, or would he be very disappointed? Was he going to make trouble? She frowned to herself, realising how little she still knew him. And to think that there had been moments when she had seriously thought of agreeing to marry him! What had she been thinking?
She was still brushing her hair when her eyes fell on a piece of parchment on the floor, right next to the door. Someone must have pushed it through during the night – she must have slept very deeply not to have heard anything. A secret smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Was it perhaps a message from one northern king? Well, maybe not. It didn't seem like his style; singing underneath her window was more like it.
Either way, she put down the brush and padded over the polished floor to pick up the folded sheet. It was a little bit crumbled, as if the writer had been anxious and careless when writing it. But the hand itself was neat enough, the letters beautifully drawn across the pale surface: "Please meet me by the river as soon as possible. We must talk. Aegdir."
Lothíriel stared at the message for a full minute. When had he delivered it? Well, he must have realised she wasn't going to react before morning. She bit her lip. What did Aegdir have to say to her? Perhaps he had seen her dancing with the King of Rohan last night, and wanted an explanation. He might even be aware already that his case was essentially hopeless.
She needed to be gentle with him. It wasn't his fault she couldn't reconcile with a future by his side – not completely, at least. Disappointment could well be hard on him, harder than it ought to be, for she recalled what he had told her about his father. It was clear Aegdir had issues about his brother, the heir who had died. And now he was going to be rejected because of another man.
It would not be pleasant for either of them, but it could not be helped. He deserved to hear the truth from her own lips. And the sooner this was done, the better.
So she tied her hair quickly and pulled on her simplest gown, the one that didn't need help from her maid. She probably wouldn't need stockings, seeing the days were so warm, and pushed her bare feet into her slippers waiting by the side of the tousled bed.
The corridor was quiet when she stepped outside and the house was remarkably still. No doubt most people were still sleeping off last night's merrymaking. Were even servants up yet? Did Aegdir truly mean to meet her at such an early hour? Perhaps he was impatient. She could not blame him if he was. And truth was, she too wanted to deal with this as soon as possible. Hopefully then, this stone of guilt would fall off of her heart, and she could fully commit to what lay ahead.
But there was one doubt in her mind. Should she go alone now, or bring somebody along just in case? Lothíriel wasn't sure where this feeling came from, because Aegdir was a well-mannered young man and she knew she had nothing to fear from him, except perhaps words of disappointment – which she felt she deserved.
Yet something told her she should have company. Just in case. But what company was there to be found at this hour?
Her feet took her almost without thinking to Amrothos' door. He had decided to get involved in this, after all, right from the moment when he couldn't resist telling her his opinion. While her decision was entirely her own and not once had she felt a true spark between herself and the young lord of Lossarnarch, Amrothos' words had in fact planted another seed of doubt in her heart and mind. He would do well to accompany her now, and so she knocked urgently at his door, not very far from her own.
He didn't answer, though, and she hesitated for a moment. Perhaps he was in some indecent situation, or he wasn't in his room at all. It was probably a bad idea to be bothering Amrothos this early, considering there had been a party last night. He would have been in a mood after the night's events and his unexpected chaperoning duties. But she didn't actually know where Elphir or Erchirion were lodged, and even if she did, she wasn't sure they would agree to accompany her. They would probably not understand.
But Amrothos, for all his misgivings, did understand – in his strange, often annoying way. He didn't like Aegdir as her suitor and clearly, while he didn't approve of her enthusiasm for the one man she wanted, he did like the Rohir. He was really the only one she could ask, unless she asked the King himself. No doubt the Lord of Rohan would readily come with her, but on the other hand, Aegdir wouldn't appreciate his presence at all. In fact, he'd probably take it as an insult.
So she knocked again, more demanding this time. If she listened very closely, she could hear a groan inside. She hesitated a moment before carefully inching the door open.
The air inside was stuffy with old liquor and sweat. She wrinkled her nose immediately and was tempted to just pull back, but she braced herself and called out her brother's name. Again he groaned in the dark, stifling chamber.
"Amrothos, I need you to come with me", she whispered, craning her neck to see him.
"Go away", he grumbled, head mostly buried in the pillow. She saw one bare leg sticking from underneath the sheets, and arms, and the skin of his back. Lothíriel wrinkled her nose again. Clearly, her brother wasn't going anywhere for some time. She would sooner move a boulder than she would him.
Not that anyone else was going anywhere, either. It was still over an hour or more before the house would be getting up. But Aegdir had requested to see her at dawn, though it was an unusual request.
Lothíriel shut the door and began to walk. At first she didn't really watch where she was going, until she reached the entrance hall – as if her feet had already made her decision for her. Could she ask one of Father's Swan Knights to come along? Maybe, had she known where they were staying. She was sure there were barracks here at Emyn Arnen, but she hadn't seen them. Even if she had, it was reasonable to expect they had enjoyed last night just as Amrothos, and would not appreciate being disturbed at such an early hour, and for so puny a reason. And Father might have things to say about her visiting barracks by herself.
After all, the vicinity of the manor house was well protected, and so was the crossing over the river. It was perfectly safe, if a bit more private than the house itself. She was being silly and over-sensitive, childish even. For it was a child's response to bring company to adult's conversation. Moreover, Aegdir could well feel too embarrassed to talk bluntly if she did not meet him in private.
She could do it by herself. She had to do it alone – bear the weight of her choice as a woman would.
The morning was crisp and clear and the sun was slowly climbing in the sky as she stepped outside. A few of the household servants were moving about the courtyard, carrying firewood and water for lighting the ovens, preparing baths for guests and cooking breakfast. Busy with their tasks, none paid attention to the sole woman walking past. It occurred to her that perhaps she should leave some word of where she was going, in case her father or King Éomer wondered, and if the conversation took longer than she expected. So she stopped at the gate to speak to a guard standing there, letting him know she would walk to the river in the instance anyone asked.
She continued walking. The air was a little bit chilly yet and she pulled her blue shawl tighter about her shoulders. It was still a rather beautiful morning: dew glistened on grass that grew by the sides of the road that lead to the river as if diamonds strewn in the green and the sky blushed pink as the Sun rose higher. There was a stillness under the trees, although the first birds were tentatively chirping underneath the canopy of leaves. It would be fine day.
Wisps of mist lingered still upon the river, but the rising sun would soon burn it away. The dock was quiet at this early hour, but after breakfast, some of the guests would be taking boats and crossing the river to travel back home. The vessels docking here were relatively small in size – her cousin and his wife had not yet had time to build the harbour – and she knew her father's ship awaited in Harlond for his summons. She wondered what this place would be like years from now, when the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen had cleansed and secured the land, and Ithilien had gardens again, and there was more work for plough and sickle than for sword and arrow. And herself… a pleasant shiver went through her as she thought of a great hall in the north, and a golden-haired man by her side. A busy and useful life, just as bright as he. She smiled, eager and hopeful and impatient.
But then she saw the figure standing by the river, not far from the spot where she sat with the Lord of Rohan, and her good cheer decreased. She was doing it again, forgetting Aegdir completely simply because King Éomer existed. She shook her head. However pleasant it was to daydream, this task required her full attention.
"My lord, good morning", she greeted him as she approached. "You wished to speak to me."
Aegdir turned. His appearance startled her. Up until now, his dress and manner had been nothing but immaculate, and not a single hair was ever out of place. She wasn't sure she had seen him wearing the same outfit more than twice. But now she recognised his clothes from last night, rumpled as if he had slept in them. Had he even slept, though? His eyes were bloodshot and there were shadows underneath, and his colour was off. Light stubble covered his chin. When she got closer to him, she could smell the liquor on him.
"My lady. I wasn't sure you would come", he replied. His pointed tone didn't escape her notice.
"I'm sorry to hear you think so. I came as soon as I could", she replied, pressing her hands together and suppressing the urge to fidget.
A brief frown held his face, but he was quick to hide it. Even if his appearance was less than pristine, he was still making effort to control his emotions.
"Then you must understand my confusion. What happened last night and where did you vanish? I spent over an hour looking for you, and when I did find you, you were dancing with another. You seemed to enjoy it a great deal more than our dancing", he said, and though his voice was smooth, she thought she could hear an accusatory undertone in it. Or perhaps that was just her own guilt.
"I wanted to talk to you about it, my lord, and to apologise. I… I didn't mean to dance with the King, but I couldn't well refuse him when he asked. I admit I got a bit carried away, but it wasn't badly meant", she explained, feeling heat creep up her neck. She hadn't realised he had been watching them, but she could imagine how it had looked like. King Éomer had not been particularly subtle, and neither had she.
She swallowed hard and stared down for a moment, trying to dislodge the words that seemed to get stuck in her throat. There was no place for cowardice now. She lifted her eyes again to meet his gaze.
"My lord, I will speak plainly. You deserve to hear the truth unembellished. And truth is that I cannot accept your proposal, though it flatters me and my House", she said. She expected to feel relieved, now that it was in the open, but that was not the case at all.
"It's because of him, is it not?" Aegdir asked in a low, slow voice.
"I won't deny it. I've grown fond of His Grace, and he has also declared his feelings for me. I can't keep leading you on when my own heart has already made its choice", Lothíriel said softly. "If I have caused you pain, as I surely must have, then I'm truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you, my lord, and if I did, it was because I too have been in the dark. I was not even sure of what my own feelings were. Only yesterday, I didn't know half of what I know now."
His grey eyes were sharp and cool as ice.
"You've grown fond of him, or of his crown? I see now how it is. He is a king, after all – why would you settle for me when you can sit on a throne! Isn't that what you've been doing from the start, trying to find out which one would take the bait!" he barked, his usually so smooth voice rough and furious. She flinched, yet she could all too well understand why he felt like this. From his point of view, her actions did not paint a pretty picture.
"It is not like that, I swear. I do not care about who he is, only that he is. We understand each other, he and I", she explained, and would have continued, but Aegdir scoffed over her words.
"Understand? You think you understand that outlander, or that he – that barbarian – can understand you? What does he know of our world? Of the pride and grace and wisdom that is our inheritance and our legacy? It's better for him, too, to wed among his own kind. People like you and I, we are the future of this land. You do not want to throw it away, do you?" he asked her, and though his voice was still rough, she could tell he was trying to be gentle, like a wise old man reasoning with a foolish child.
Lothíriel stared at him for a moment, feeling stunned. There was an arrogance in his words that took her aback.
She shook herself and took a breath before answering.
"If that is what you believe, then I don't know how to explain it to you, my lord. You haven't seen what I have, heard what I did. If you think he's a barbarian, or that his origins stop him from understanding what truly matters… you speak of pride and grace and wisdom, and he's all those things, to me. In a different way, certainly, but it doesn't it's mean worse or lesser. I've come to realise different is what I desire, truly. And much as I'd like to spare your feelings, I respect you too much not tell the truth. You wish to go on with your life and build something of your own, but you should do it with someone who can and who wants to commit to the task with you. As for me – if we were to share a life together – I would only bring you pain. I would bring us both pain", she told him, soft and slow.
"So you mean to throw everything away because of this sudden fancy you've taken to the horsemaster? You must realise the foolishness! What then, once the excitement wears out and you're left in a strange land far away from your home and things that you know? I do not pretend to be a thrilling partner and I cannot promise you a sweeping romance, but at least I can give you a home and a life that make sense. I can offer you safety and certainty. In the end, isn't that what matters more?" he demanded her.
And perhaps in another lifetime she might have agreed with him. Or, even in this lifetime, a couple of weeks ago, if she hadn't met Éomer. Yes, it didn't necessarily make sense. But what even did in this world of Elves and Hobbits and magic rings? It now seemed to her that two weeks ago, she had spent her life half asleep. But now she felt new things stirring in herself – woman's things. Desire and fierceness and ambition and confidence. Duty, but with meaning and a shared goal and love. All these things had come with Éomer, and surely they would leave again with him, if she failed to take this chance. It was so much – too much to explain to somebody like Aegdir. He thought she wanted safety, to keep her life as close to what it had been before. Or perhaps he believed he ought to tell her what she wanted.
"You make it sound like I'm throwing myself at the King in throes of passion. But while passion is a part of it, I am not so foolish or shallow that I would make this choice just based on it. He offers much more than that, my lord – a life I didn't know I wanted. Doubtless it will often be hard, and it will try me in ways that I can scarcely imagine now. But that does not scare me. I do not know what else to tell you. I know I let you down and I'm sorry that I did. Life would probably be a lot easier if I could be the woman you thought I was. But we must both follow our paths, though they are apart. And I do wish you all the happiness in the world, I truly do", she told him, imploring.
"Love? You're choosing him because of love? What are you, a child?" Aegdir asked, contempt dripping from his voice.
It shouldn't have wounded her as much as it did. What did his opinion matter? And yet she almost flinched, as if he had dealt her a physical blow.
"What greater reason is there to choose anything? It's your business if you believe otherwise, but in this matter I will take my own counsel, not yours", she replied, hiding her dismay the best she could. But she also saw this as yet another proof of how poorly matched she and the young lord would have been. Was this indeed how he would have treated her in their marriage, dismissing her as childish if her thought was other than his?
"I don't believe this", he growled, and for the first time, she felt a little unsure about herself.
"Lord Aegdir -" she tried, but he wasn't listening. His fingers, surprisingly tight and strong, wrapped around her wrist.
"We'll go to your lord father. Maybe he can talk some sense into you", he said and began to move, pulling her after himself.
"I've talked to him already! He accepts my decision and I assure you he won't be taking your side in this issue", she told him, trying to yank her arm back, but the grip of his fingers didn't falter.
"I was promised! He told me I had a chance!" the young lord exclaimed, and she couldn't help thinking of the unfortunate resemblance he currently bore to a whiny child. But that was unkind, considering the grave disappointment she had just caused him.
"A chance only was promised, by him and by me! And I'm sorry that I can't give more, but I will not sacrifice my own chance to console you. If you are my friend, then you will not ask me to!" she shot back, still struggling to free her wrist. "Let me go!"
His grip was painfully tight.
"You're coming with me and we shall set this thing straight. You can't be serious about anything you just said!" Aegdir grunted, dragging her back towards the road that lead to the manor house. She couldn't understand how he thought this was a good idea. The minute any of her brothers saw how he was dragging her after himself, they would descend upon him in fury. Or it would behim, and she had a feeling he would have even less restraint in such a situation. But Aegdir seemed to still be drunk and a long sleepless night clearly had not helped him to think reasonably.
Either way, this was going to end very poorly for them all, unless she was able to free herself – and maybe cool him down.
So she kept struggling, trying to pull her arm free, and to get the young man to stop.
"You need to calm down and listen to me – you don't want to do this. You have to let me go!" she demanded, her eyes peering down the road and both hoping and dreading to see movement there. Where were the Rangers?
Aegdir's grip on her wrist faltered so suddenly that it surprised them both. She stumbled back, almost falling over. He too faltered on his feet thanks to the sudden shift in balance and the fact he was still drunk. Their eyes met, and she shuddered, for the look on his face was nothing she knew. He seemed unhinged, desperate. For the first time, she felt afraid. What would he do to get what he thought was promised to him? In this state of mind, anything seemed possible.
"Get back here now! We're not finished!" he ordered, taking a step towards her.
She stepped back.
"I'm not going with you. Don't come near me!" she told him, eyes fixed on him as she waited for his next move. The blue shawl fell from her shoulders. It would only hold her back if she needed to run.
"Be sensible now!" he groaned.
"Stand back, my lord! If you wish to settle this peacefully, I ask you to leave me alone at once!"
"Oh, for Elbereth's sake -" he muttered and tried to grab her wrist. It still ached from his earlier grasp. A sudden, cold sense of not being safe went through her. It was not so much a fear of him hurting her, but it was a burning need to get away from him, and quick.
This time, she did not allow him to get a hold of her. She jumped back, collecting the hems of her skirt in her hands.
Then she ran.
When dawn's first light peeked inside, the King of Rohan was already awake. He had not slept much last night: how could he after such a giddy evening? He was glad and hopeful and his heart felt lighter than in many, many years. But he was impatient, too. Now that his desire was so clear before his eyes, he wanted to race and seize it – start a life that had other, deeper meaning beyond war and duty. Plans and ideas sprung to his mind unbidden and numberless. There were so many things he wanted to show to her, to share with her, and perhaps enjoy in a whole new way. Rohirrim would love her as he did, and admire her grace and kindness.
It was not going to be easy to wait for this new life to begin. He had been closely involved in his sister's marriage negotiations and these had been long, frustrating and tedious. The royal council, inevitably involved thanks to her station as the King's sister, debated over the very last dime and nickel, or so it had felt like to him. Éowyn had veritably climbed walls during the long months before the wedding. Considering he was the sovereign lord of his kingdom and his lady was daughter to one of Aragorn's greatest lords, he had no doubt that arrangements would be even more taxing than in his sister's case – even if the outcome was greatly desired by each party, even his own council.
Elopement sounded suddenly very intriguing. Aragorn would understand, wouldn't he?
Feeling increasingly restless, Éomer dressed quickly and made his way out. The house was very quiet and not even servants were moving yet. Most were still sleeping off last nights' merrymaking. Well, he could always go to the stables, perhaps even take Firefoot out for an early ride. If he could rouse any of his guards, of course. Wryly he thought he might just end up wandering the manor house and its grounds all by himself until the rest of the company rose. How soon would Imrahil come down? Would he mind it very much if Éomer approached him immediately? Then again, the young king had acted impatiently before, and Imrahil had not taken it very well. Perhaps this time, he should try to be calmer and slower. It was hard, of course, when everything seemed so urgent. For him, things often were, and chances were so fleeting they must be seized when it was possible. But how to explain this to Imrahil, who seemed to move with the same slow grace as his mighty warships?
And men of Westernesse could take their time. Aragorn could spend countless years waiting and still be strong and thriving when his lady finally came to him. Lord Denethor had been a man grown into wisdom and power when he married Lady Finduilas, and Boromir had never sought a wife, though he was of similar age as Théodred. Not even Faramir was counted as a young man in other than Gondorian standards. But Rohirrim were briefer, and Éomer especially had grown up feeling like a sword hung upon his head, waiting to fall and cut his life just as short as his father's. That sense had not left him even though the war had ended. Was it a wonder he was eager to live while he still had the chance?
Well, it would make for a challenging conversation, and as desperate as he felt, the lady's opinion mattered just as much, if not more. Her life would turn upside down much more than his and she would need time to adjust. While Éomer himself might feel more than ready for whatever lay ahead, she was still very young in the counting of her people, though she had borne heavier duty than most people ever encountered. She may be young, aye, but from the beginning he had seen a wisdom and strength in her unparalleled.
It was like Aragorn had said. In Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, Rohan would have a queen like no other.
Occupied by these thoughts, his feet had taken him downstairs and then to the courtyard, where he walked without really seeing where he was going. He thought of his uncle, and then his grandfather, and how they would advise him. What would Thengel say to him in particular? He too had married a lady of Gondor, though the gap in their ages had been even longer. Moreover, what would Morwen make of it? Would she encourage Lady Lothíriel, her distant cousin, to go forth with this union?
Then again, times were different now, and Éomer and his lady would have to make their own choices, just as Thengel and Morwen and all who had come before had made theirs. There was no use in looking back when the path to walk was forward.
It was at this point Éomer decided to go riding: the morning was fair, albeit chilly, and it would help him to check himself while waiting for the household to rise – and Imrahil to make his appearance. Éothain joined him without grumbling, and even the second guard seemed mostly agreeable even with the shadows underneath his eyes. Apparently, it was understood between the King's Guards that he liked early morning rides even at the most unreasonable times and someone should always be ready and available to accompany him.
Ithilien was full of birdsong as they rode out. They made slow pace, as the young king was in the mood to enjoy the morning. He wondered if he should perhaps plant more trees in Edoras, and whether that would please her. Or would she rather make her own mark upon the capital? He would have to ask her.
Éomer was still thinking of his intended bride when his eyes fell upon a piece of garment on the road. What was it doing there? What lady would just abandon her things like that? It looked familiar, though... he felt something shudder inside of himself, a sense of alarm he had often felt before when sensing that something was not all right. It was a certain feeling in his gut, not uncommon for a professional warrior, although Éothain sometimes said his instinct for danger was nearly preternatural.
"What is it?" asked his captain when Éomer slowed down and dismounted. He didn't answer, but took a few steps and then picked up the blue shawl from the ground. At first he thought he had never touched anything so fine or soft, but then he recalled her skin. And almost in that same moment his eyes found the delicate silver embroidery at the edge of fabric, like a great bird. A swan!
Most of the times he had seen her, she appeared fairly pedantic about her dress and appearance and he was certain she would not drop her shawl so haphazardly on the road. Why was she out at such an early time, anyway? No, this didn't seem like her at all. The only reason he could figure out was if something had happened – something she hadn't expected.
Éomer turned sharply to look at his two companions.
"Guthbrand, get back to the manor house and send my Riders here as quickly as they can. Find Imrahil, or any one of his sons. Tell him Lady Lothíriel is in trouble", he growled and got back to Firefoot with one long stride. "Éothain, with me!"
The stallion sensed his need and anxiety, leaping forward almost the same moment his foot found its place in the stirrup. Man and animal moved in unison, Firefoot galloping forward as his master eased himself into the saddle. The shawl was still in his hand, as if just by holding on to it he could find a way to her. But even as he and his captain galloped down the path that led to the river, he realised he didn't even know where to look for the lady. Perhaps she had merely dropped the shawl in oversight and had already returned to the manor house. Possibly there was no problem at all, and he was disturbing Imrahil for no other reason than his paranoia – an already deep-rooted fear that he would lose her, too.
But there was something that told him otherwise. She wouldn't be out alone at this time, unless something unexpected was afoot. And as soon as he thought of that, he recalled Lord Aegdir's sour face last night and his obvious dissatisfaction at the lady.
If this was the boy's doing, Éomer would not be surprised at all. And if that pompous brat had done something to her... well, this time, Éowyn wasn't here to hold him back.
At first, she ran carelessly and foolishly. It was no way to dash about in an environment one did not know well. But for this moment, she had forgotten her good sense, and Aegdir's yells following her did nothing to calm her. She didn't trust him at all, even if it wasn't really a clear threat of violence that drove her then.
The wood closed in around her and she halted, panting. The bark of the tree was smooth and cool against her back. Was it enough to conceal her from his sight? But even as her breath began to slow down, Lothíriel took notice of her surroundings.
It was quiet. The woods at this hour should be full of birdsong and life, but all she heard was her own madly beating heart and a silence. There was a menace in it, just as in the moment before a storm broke out. She swallowed hard, absurdly certain that the sound of her heart must be as loud as thunder. Her eyes wildly scanned the green shade. Even she, born and bred in a mighty city and not at all wise in wood-craft, knew there was something wrong.
Aegdir lumbered then to the scene. His hair was even more in disarray than before, and he seemed to have fallen at least once. He was panting and looking like he was having the worst day of his life. Against the menace she felt all around them, her earlier uncomfortableness with him seemed like nothing.
"Stop this nonsense now!" he was wheezing, but Lothíriel clasped her hand over his mouth.
"Be quiet!" she hissed in alarm, her eyes darting quickly about them, but not yet seeing where the source of the menace came from. Aegdir looked like he was about to protest, but then he too appeared to notice something was off.
There was a moment that seemed both to last forever, and yet it could not be longer than one heartbeat. Then something flew in the air with a strange whirring noise, and a black shaft hit the tree right between their faces with a violent crack. Lothíriel only took a glance at the dull black feathers of the arrow, and then shouted: "Run!"
And run they did. For a man who had spent most of his night with drink, Aegdir darted with astonishing speed back the way he had come from. Lothíriel, picking up her skirts, followed and tried to keep up. Somewhere behind she heard sounds – something was coming through the undergrowth – and awful voices. Voices that were not human at all, and yet using a tongue to speak, unlovely though it was.
Perhaps that was what terrified her so: knowing she might be able to understand them and they her, but realising full well it wasn't going to make a difference.
Suddenly, her foot caught in a tangle of tree roots on the ground, and she fell. Further ahead Aegdir kept going, running as though all the forces of Darkness pursued him. She yelled his name, but he didn't even glance back. The horrible voices grew closer and arrows flew here and there, shot so randomly that it was as if the archers merely expected their malicious intent to bring the shaft to its target.
Tears running down her face, Lothíriel struggled up and started again. Her knees and the palms of her hands ached with a quick, sharp pain. Blood dripped through her fingers. One of her slippers had fallen, but she kept running. She was sure she was not fast enough, and even if she were, she was no longer certain of the way. It was possible she was going deeper and deeper into the wood, away from all aid, and not back to the river or the manor house.
But then, as the grimness of her situation grew more obvious, she heard it: the sound of horn, clear and strong, rending the morning with a challenge and a warning. It was not a Gondorian horn, that much she could tell, for Rangers did not use them and neither did Faramir. In her heart she instantly knew what this horn must be.
The clamour of the orcs halted. Silence fell as they hesitated. Even this rabble must have heard of the horns of Rohan at dawn, bringing hope unlooked for even as the Witch-king stood at the broken gates of Minas Tirith. Few orcs ever returned from the slaughter Rohirrim made upon the Pelennor fields, and their ilk had not forgotten it.
She almost sobbed out loud in relief.
There were screams again, but they were not bold or belligerent anymore – rather, she thought they sounded frustrated. In a final act of useless defiance, a hail of arrows descended.
Strength left her knees and she collapsed there, her back against the trunk of an old beech; staring in dismay at the black shaft that had pierced her shoulder, the only thing she could think of was her cousin Boromir.
To be continued.
A/N: Phew, there''s an update! Real life has really been kicking my butt - on the top of aforementioned business, I also contracted covid, as if 2022 hasn't already been trying enough. Fortunately I had a pretty mild case (thank goodness for vaccines!), but it still sapped me from whatever energy I had left from other stuff going on in my life. But anyway, here's the new chapter at last! I hope you all like it.
While writing this one had its struggles, it was also interesting in other ways. Lothíriel senses from the start going to meet Aegdir alone at such an early time is not maybe the smartest thing to do, but on the other hand, her sense of duty and of not wanting to lead on her suitor compels her to walk into a situation that is much more sinister than she could have guessed. She is anxious too, the way you get when you know there's an unpleasant task ahead that you simply must get done. No doubt she's a little bit impatient as well, which I realised to my surprise, considering I had thought Éomer was the impatient one. But I guess they're rubbing off on one another? :D But perhaps there is also the strong, mutual sense that this person is the one and wanting to make things run fast and smooth.
Anyway, her confrontation of Aegdir really does not go as she had planned - and it proves that maybe she should have paid more heed to the feeling in her guts and take somebody with her. I never thought and do not think now that Aegdir is/was intentionally abusive, which is what he ends up being. But he is very much being the entitled male who thinks he is owed, and his bad behaviour is enhanced by disappointment, too much alcohol and too little sleep. No doubt there is also a fair bit of envy after seeing the chemistry between her and his rival, Éomer. So there are multiple reasons for why Aegdir acts the way he does, although it certainly doesn't excuse anything.
I do hope you and yours stay safe. These are indeed dark times. Please don't forget Ukraine, donate if you can, and don't forget to love one another.
Thank you for reading and reviewing. As always, I'm delighted to hear your thoughts!
mystarlight - Thank you!
EStrunk - Thanks! Somehow, them hearing together the music of Rohan always seems like such a powerful moment for me!
Éowyn was never going to just stand down!
malfoy lea - Glad to see you're back!
Thank you for your thoughts about Lothíriel - it is very much the same as what I had in mind. As you rightly noted, her strength and ability are indeed valuable qualities that Éomer most likely had realised.
Things change, and I know the feeling of not browsing/following fanfiction so closely as one once did. But I'm so glad that you still follow mine! That is indeed a high compliment. I believe that in these times, stories that go beyond the grimness of reality are more important than ever - and this, I believe, is what also drove Tolkien himself.
Guest - His reaction is not very good, indeed! You mapped the reasons for his disappointed fury pretty accurately.
You're also correct with the latter points - but his actions in this chapter probaly have offered plenty of very valid reasons for Imrahil to refuse!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thanks!
Cathael - Thank you! :)
Also thank you for your kind words. Those have been more important than ever.
Cricket22 - Thank you so much! Daughters and fathers having a heart to heart can be difficult to write. But I like that you enjoyed the part with Éomer and Aragorn! I'm fairly happy with it too, because people appreciate their friendship way too little. So it's great to hear I did do something unusually good there!
Well, Éomer does very much feel in his gut that something's wrong - hope you like that part!
Big thanks for your comment/comments - they are always so delightful and they inspire me more than you know 3
Simplegurl4u - Thanks! So glad you liked the exchange between them two.
You guessed right about Aegdir's reaction!
Big thanks to you! Life has not been easy, but I keep trudging on.
Rho67 - Thank you so much!
Glad to hear your thoughts about her and her father. It's certainly not easy for either of them.
Well, here's your anser about the foreshadowing!
Kate - Glad you liked it!
I will finish this story, no matter what!
Jo - Thank you! :)
Wondereye - Thanks!