Chapter 19
"He must be daft," Éowyn muttered as her eyes rose from the parchment between her hands to look at Lothíriel. Dark brows rose expectantly as the Lady of Dol Amroth waited to be informed. They stood in the shieldmaiden's chambers, the younger woman braiding the other's golden hair when they were interrupted by a courier bearing a message for Éowyn. The boy was dismissed with a nod of Lothíriel's head to afford her companion with privacy. Closing the door behind the lad the healer turned as Éowyn shook her head.
"He bids me join him at the encampment at the field," she answered by way of explanation, her tone exasperated as she offered the parchment to Lothíriel, who perused it quickly:
Dearest Éowyn,
My heart sings to bear you news of our triumph! I beg you make haste with the riders and wagons to the Field of Cormallen, where the King of Gondor and our friends await. Take Windfola under saddle and join us in celebration, so I may know you are well and we might rejoice.
Éomer
"I won't go," the Lady of Rohan stated plainly, receiving the letter and looking at it again. Her expression was somewhere between a frown and scowl. Lothíriel did not hide her confusion, dark brows furrowing as she beheld the blonde woman's ire anew.
"I don't understand."
"He hasn't a thought in his head," Éowyn muttered once more, pacing across the carpeted floor. Lothíriel sat down to wait through the other woman's consternation. Of all the folk in the city the Lady of Rohan was the least jubilant by tidings of the Dark Lord's fall. Her spirits were raised more than days past but Lothíriel, Faramir and Merry were confounded by the unyielding sadness and gloom that hovered over her.
"Is it not well to know he is alive?" the dark-haired woman offered, hoping to turn Éowyn's thoughts to positive details.
"Yes," she agreed with a break in the scowl before it returned. "But then I am left to wonder if he wasn't bestowed a lick of sense."
"Why would you not ride to the camp?"
"Because I…" the lady paused, looking now to Lothíriel as she considered her words. The scowl melted into a melancholy visage as she dropped the hand holding the letter. "I cannot go."
"Does your brother know why you unable to do so?"
"He ought to. And yet." Éowyn released a sigh before dropping heavily into the chair opposite her companion. "I have not spoken directly to him on the matter."
"Is it some quarrel between you and he?"
"No."
They sat without words for many moments, the Princess finding it difficult to keep her questions to herself. This was not the reaction she would've expected from Éowyn and it perplexed her greatly. But she'd learned in their weeks together not to push the shieldmaiden, trusting it would be revealed in time. But she was not able to train the curiosity out of her expression and Éowyn was no fool.
"It is complicated," the blonde woman explained with another sigh, holding the letter up and staring at it. "I do desire to see Éomer. And to know all the details of their victory. Truly, I do. But I am restricted by my own folly."
"Surely it is not so great that your deeds upon the field of battle are outweighed!"
"It is not so much what I have done as a soldier but as a woman. My heart… my heart has been held captive, desiring the love of a man who will not return it."
Lothíriel tilted her head, surprise written plainly upon her as she watched Éowyn. This was the last thing she expected to hear and it amazed her into silence. With this confession the shieldmaiden was withdrawn, almost timid in her averting her eyes and dropping the letter into her lap. But as the moments passed the healer began to understand the deeper nature of Éowyn's despair.
"It wasn't just the darkness that overcame you," Lothíriel chanced quietly. "Your love for this man is the anchor denying you happiness."
"I cannot go, Lothíriel," the blonde woman repeated, this time her voice hesitant and trembling.
"You cannot be sure you will see him. I do not mean to be indelicate but… are you certain he would be there?"
"Yes."
Another long pause as Lothíriel considered her next response. Although she doubted Éowyn's conviction it would not do her any service to question the belief.
"Alright then," the Lady of Dol Amroth announced decisively, such that Éowyn's gaze rose to meet hers. "Then you shall not go."
"Éomer will be disappointed."
"He will overcome it."
"You must think me ridiculous."
"I do not," Lothíriel assured her, reaching across the negative space to lay a hand over Éowyn's. "I would not trust any of my brothers to understand my feelings on this matter. If seeing this man would do your heart ill then I cannot, as your healer, advise you attend the King's summons."
The corners of the shieldmaiden's lips twitched as though she might smile but instead she nodded. Lothíriel patted her hand gently before removing her own and settled back into her chair. They sat again in the sun-washed afternoon, a breeze filtering from the balcony's open door. It was as though the heat of summer had arrived early on the wings of the Eagle, each day after his heralding warmer than the one before. Minas Tirith had been a frenzy of activity since the announcement, first calling back citizens to the city, then preparing to send wagons of provisions to the army and planning for the eventual return of the King.
Faramir would officially be released from the Warden's care to assume his role as Steward the next day but he'd been in as many councils and preparatory meetings it hardly seemed to matter if he received an official discharge from the healers. It did Lothíriel's heart well to see her cousin come into his own, for he commanded great respect among the lords of the city and undertook his role with diligence.
But it occurred to her then; the weight of Éowyn's divulgence would impact Faramir's disposition mightily. It was clear to anyone with half a mind that he was love-struck by the shieldmaiden. To learn that she was in love with another would crush him. As his cousin Lothíriel felt pulled to address this with Éowyn to protect her kinsman from hurt. But as a healer and Éowyn's companion she stayed her hand. And if the Lady of Rohan declined her brother's request perhaps she and Faramir would have the opportunity to draw closer and her heart might be tuned from despair.
"You should go in my place."
"What?" Lothíriel looked up from her thoughts, unsure she heard Éowyn correctly.
"You have family who you must be longing to see. And they are already expecting a Lady to travel – I doubt it matters which Lady."
"I don't know," she replied with a doubtful expression. "I have patients and you – "
"We can spare you." Éowyn regarded her levelly before offering the first smile in days. "You deserve to see your menfolk. You've served the city beyond measure. Certainly you can join the wains if you prefer not to ride."
"My mount would never forgive me if I left him here."
"That is well! Take my place. It is my request of you."
"Your brother will be dissatisfied to see me instead of you."
"I think not."
Lothíriel decided not to remark on this playful albeit dry response as she worked it through silently. Éowyn was watching her with practiced appraisal, as if she knew something the other woman did not. The Princess could not deny the hope that nestled in her chest thinking of seeing her brothers and father before she thought she might. Still, it seemed strange to accept someone else's invitation.
"You seem reluctant." Now it was Éowyn's turn to push, her eyes following Lothíriel's movements as the other woman stood.
"It is a kind thing you are offering me. And I do wish to see my father and brothers."
"But?"
"I wasn't summoned directly. I am worried it will not be perceived well."
"Hogwash," the shieldmaiden barked with a scowl, standing as well. "I am inviting you to take my place. Besides, they will need healers in the camp. I doubt every man came out unscathed."
Lothíriel canted her head in acknowledgement of this, which encouraged Éowyn on, pacing and gesturing.
"And you are the daughter of a Prince. Cousin of the Steward of Gondor. I cannot imagine anyone giving you grief. As it stands, I imagine Lord Faramir would personally escort you."
"He very well might if he weren't staying in the city."
"He is?" Éowyn paused in her campaign, turning back to Lothíriel with her brows raised.
"Yes. He will oversee the preparations for the King's return. And there are matters he is far better equipped to handle than the acting Lord of the city."
"Oh. Well… he would no doubt send you with a royal edict, if such is in his power to do."
"Alright," Lothíriel acquiesced with a grin, raising her hands to accept defeat. "I could not be further convinced. Will you write back to your brother to announce the change?"
"I will not," the other woman replied wryly with a coy glance and hint of a smile. "No need to delay travel. If you'll bear to him my good will and regret then I suspect he will be pacified."
"If you are certain."
"I am. He need only hear from you of our arrangement. Which I somehow imagine will be better received than if an envoy delivered a refusal on parchment."
Lothíriel could not find an argument to counter with so instead nodded. The pair resumed their earlier task, the healer completing Éowyn's plait and wrapping it into a chignon fashionable in southern Gondor. Although the silence was comfortable the brunette could not help but wonder what sorrows the other woman harbored with her unrequited love. She worried her lower lip as she secured the bun, equally concerned for her cousin's affections toward the shieldmaiden.
Knowing there was little she could do to affect it her thoughts turned to seeing her family. She felt a knot settle in her stomach as she realized there had been no word about the Prince or his sons' survival. Would she be walking into tragedy? The thought almost gave her pause in this mission but she decided it was better to know. And Éowyn wasn't wrong – the Host would need healers. If she joined the wains departing tomorrow with her kit and a wagon from the Warden she could at least be useful. Completing her tasks with the Lady of Rohan Lothíriel bid her farewell with a promise to speak again before the convoy left the next day.
TTTT
To Lothíriel's surprise she was met with good favor when she announced her intention to attend the camp at Cormallen. The Warden and Ioreth were equally agreeable, with the latter expressing relief.
"As you should!" the older healer remarked as they packed items to be stocked in the healer's wagon. The day was stretching closer to evening as they made a second check of inventory. "Derufin'll be sending a faction that we can spare from our halls. You needn't do any healing if you can avoid it, my Lady. Be with your family."
"Thank you," Lothíriel replied, handing the woman a basket of rolled linen. "I suspect I'll be doing both."
When she shared the news with Faramir she excluded the switching of Éowyn for herself, figuring if the Lady wished to share her brother's summons she would do so in her own time. Instead, she positioned it as she had with Ioreth, noting she could travel as a healer rather than a Princess to alleviate the need for pomp.
"That may be true," her cousin replied as they strolled the serene gardens as night descended, their path illuminated by the glow of lamps. "But I would much prefer you ride with a company of Knights. It wouldn't do well to send you off without some measure of protection."
"Against what?"
"I do not know," he conceded quietly, turning to face her, his expression apprehensive. "We know only of the Dark Lord's defeat. Not whence his servants fled. A wagon train from Osgiliath to Ithilien seems too easy a target. I will assemble a group of unobtrusive men to ride with you. To protect the wagons as a whole but with specific orders to see to your safety."
"I thank you for your concern, Cousin. I heard tell of boats sailing to Cair Andros rather than making the days-long trek across North Ithilien."
"Yes, I have ordered the movement of vessels large enough to bear both men and horse between Osgiliath and Cair Andros. I suspect once their sojourn at Cormallen concludes the Lords of the West will desire a swift return to the city."
"Are you sure you do not want to join us?" she asked after a beat, to which he shook his head and instinctively glanced at Éowyn's window.
"I have a good deal to attend to here, little swan," he answered, catching her in his gaze with a smile. "The White City has not seen her king in an age. There is much to be overseen."
"I understand."
"Cousin," he turned to her again and Lothíriel caught a tone of worry in his voice as they halted. "If you tell me yes now I will not ask further. But… are you sure you wish to undertake this journey?"
"Yes," she replied gently. "I know I may meet sorrow but that has not changed since first I arrived in Minas Tirith. The thought that I might behold my father and brothers alive after such a spell apart fortifies my heart in this. I appreciate your concern and love, dear Cousin. I would not have weathered this time without you."
"A mutual feeling, I assure you, Lothíriel."
They embraced, both aware they would have to adhere to courtly etiquette tomorrow morning when he officially sent the procession off. But this evening they were afforded privacy and time to be as they were in their hearts – cousins drawn close by their love and dedication to family, and an unwavering sense of duty, underpinned by grief.
A/N: I promise we're getting to a reunion! I'm trying to follow the book timeline, which will be somewhat ambiguous with dates from this point on until Aragorn at Co. return to Minas Tirith. Éomer did request Éowyn to come to Cormallen but she refused because she didn't wish to see Aragorn and because she was crushing hard on Faramir. Lothíriel taking her place was merely artistic liberty.