Chapter 16
"Shall we take a turn around the gardens?" Lothíriel offered the Lady of Rohan a cup of tea as they sat together in the quiet room. Accepting the saucer with a frown Éowyn pressed her lips together, clearly avoiding whatever immediate retort came to mind, instead taking a long sip from the cup. The women had been sitting together since late morning without much exchange. Lothíriel was determined to gently encourage the Lady while she still tolerated the younger woman's presence. In the hour they'd spent Lothíriel had checked her arm, which appeared to be healing faster than anyone anticipated, and tended to her other injuries. It was her mind that proved the most challenging.
"If you but take a few steps with me now I won't harry you 'til evening."
"A bribe?"
"I am certainly not above such trickery if it gets you on your feet."
Éowyn sighed, though her expression bore traces of mirth, the lines in her face softening slightly. Lothíriel smiled, detecting a measure of compliance if she was able to keep the conversation light.
Receiving the cup of the tea from the Lady the dark-haired woman set it down and waited patiently for her charge to rearrange herself on the bed, swinging her legs carefully over the side and scooting to the edge. Lothíriel did not immediately move to help her, awaiting the gathering of the woman's faculties as she pressed her stocking feet to the rug, testing the sensation. Carefully Éowyn arose, biting her lip to avoid wincing as she steadied herself with the side table. Lothíriel stood as well, near to assist if the other should require it but providing enough distance to allow independence. Once she was upright the Lady of Rohan looked to her companion with a nervous expression. The beige chemise far from modest, though it covered the woman from collarbone to ankle and no men were permitted without her leave. Her long blonde hair was loose about her, smoothed and brushed like a cloak of sunlight about her.
"My legs are unsteady, I fear. Like a newborn colt."
"We would expect as much," Lothíriel replied with a reassuring smile. "You have long been abed after the ordeal. Like a colt you will need to stretch your legs and build up strength in them. Here."
Éowyn's brows rose when Lothíriel offered her arm but acquiesced, entwining their forearms and straightening her spine. They took a few steps, each improving the blonde woman's confidence as they moved away from the bed. Lothíriel could feel the tenseness in her person as they stood close, Éowyn doing her best not to rely on her companion's arm.
"You are doing well," Lothíriel praised quietly as they worked their way to the windows. "Your body is adjusting and adapting. I think if we are to add walking to our daily routine you will be back to full strength in no time."
"I know you are right. Yet… all my mind tells me is to collapse into bed and pull the covers over my head. I could sleep for an age, it seems."
"Your body is ready to heal, my Lady. Your mind… may not be." They paused as Éowyn stiffened, her gaze ahead as she adopted the aloof visage reminiscent of the day prior. Lothíriel knew she'd hit upon a sensitive topic but still she pressed, her voice as gentle as a mother to her babe. "Much has been stolen from you. More than I know. But you can overcome it. I believe you can."
"You are the only one," Éowyn whispered, almost in spite of herself. Lothíriel squeezed the woman's arm reassuringly, the pressure seemingly bringing her back to the present.
"Perhaps, though I do not think so. But if it feels thus, trust me to guide you. I would not have you waste away in that bed. We will find your purpose again."
Éowyn did not reply but her expression was placid so Lothíriel encouraged her to continue walking. The pair made it to the seating area near the windows, the Lady of Rohan sitting ungracefully upon the upholstered chair with assistance, the sling providing a counterbalance as she shifted to get comfortable. Once she was settled Lothíriel sat in the chair beside her, the sprawling view of the House of Healing gardens and Pelennor fields before them. They sat in silence for many moments until Éowyn looked at her, her gaze sharp despite the relaxed pose.
"I should have gone with them." Bitterness tinged her words, and she seemed to struggle to keep her tone light.
"You were denied the choice," Lothíriel murmured with care to her words. "That would make anyone angry."
"My brother, Béma love him, spends more time making decisions for me thinking they benefit me than actually knowing what is in my heart."
I doubt that, Lothíriel thought wryly. But she offered the Lady an understanding nod.
"I daresay that is the first thought the Valar gifts brothers when they are born," she replied lightly, which elicited a small smile from her companion.
"How many brothers do you have?"
"Three. All my elder."
"Mearas' manes!" Grey eyes caught her blonde woman's genuine surprise as a spark of her personality emerged, so hidden amidst her grief had it been. Lothíriel allowed for a grin and slight shake of her head.
"My life can be ordered by the decisions my brothers made thinking they knew right. And how I utterly disregarded or rebelled against them. And yet," her gaze dropped as the words she'd held in her heart came forth, "I would give anything to have them here now, even if it was to order me about." Looking back at Éowyn, who appeared to search her face for clues to avoid saying something hurtful or inappropriate, Lothíriel offered a smile. "They have departed along with your brother and left me here."
"Would you have gone with them?"
"Me? No. I have precious little skill with a blade. All the same, it feels like being abandoned. Left to wait and worry, unable to change the course of what will be, but trapped all the same."
"The doom of a woman," Éowyn agreed with a solemn nod. She took a pause to look out the windows before tilting her head to eye her companion. "What is your name?"
"Lothíriel," she answered honestly.
"That does not sound like a name of Gondor."
"I am from the coast. Our people often take Sindarin names, or at least modify them fit our purpose."
"I see," the blonde woman nodded. "Perhaps that is why my brother was such a bumbling oaf around you."
"Pardon?"
"Surely you witnessed his flustering about," Éowyn answered, a hint of shock in her voice as she looked to Lothíriel. Again, the pieces of her personality shone like light through broken pottery. "He could scarce look at you without getting stocked up. He always fancied himself with an Elven maid."
"Oh."
"Do forgive me," the Lady of Rohan said abruptly, reaching forward with her good hand to place it upon Lothíriel's forearm, her expression suddenly nervous and embarrassed. "That was inappropriate of me. I've made you uncomfortable and shamed my brother in one breath."
"Worry not," Lothíriel replied, patting her hand gently with a smile. "I was simply not expecting it. I make a sport of mortifying my brothers at any opportunity so I can hardly blame you. I confess, I did not notice any flustering with the king. He has been nothing but respectful and honorable."
"I am glad you do not think ill of him. He is a good man and will be beloved by our people." She fell silent, the shadow of gloom returning to her visage. Lothíriel waited a few moments to be sure she wasn't going to speak further.
"I should've said so earlier, but I am deeply sorry for the loss of your uncle. By all accounts he was a wise and courageous king."
"He was the greatest of men," Éowyn agreed quietly, her eyes glazed by a glassy sheen. "Neither Éomer nor I are prepared to step into the space he occupied."
"Did the late king have children of his own?"
"He did. Théodred, who fell to the villainy of the wizard, Saruman. My uncle was devastated. We all were." Her voice was faint, Lothíriel leaning a bit closer to hear her. "How could any of us put to right the evil done these days? I fear I shall only know despair. For the rest of my life."
"I wish it will not be so," her companion answered.
"No words of encouragement and pleas for faith?" Again, bitterness seeped into her voice, a sharp glare directed at the dark-haired healer, who maintained a calm expression.
"In truth, my Lady, I do not know if you will be plagued with anguish. You have suffered greatly. I want to believe you will find hope and light once more. Perhaps you need something or someone to give you the spark needed to rekindle it."
"The other healer was near adamant I find joy. As if it were mine to command."
"It may seem so by those untouched by darkness and melancholy."
Éowyn did not reply, her expression shifting to thoughtfulness as she regarded the other woman. Lothíriel maintained a solemn visage, aware that Ioreth may have over played her hand in encouraging the shieldmaiden to cast away her sorrow. The pair sat in silence until the Lady of Rohan sighed, breaking her gaze to look at her knees.
"Well, I have walked from bed to chair, Lothíriel. What shall you have me do next?"
"That will be enough for today. Though I should like to see you up and about more on the morrow. The lords of the city, including those left in charge of the Rohirrim dwelling in the city, convene for meals in the evening. Would you have interest in joining them?"
"No." Lothíriel was unsurprised by this and nodded understandingly. "But I do not like eating alone. Will you join me?"
"Verily, it would be my honor."
Lothíriel assisted her in walking back to bed and settled her in, reassuring her they would meet for the evening meal. Dark shadows haunted the planes of the shieldmaiden's face, and it was evident that their short exercise and discussion had fatigued her. Hiding her concern with a warm smile, the Princess bid farewell to Éowyn and excused herself. Once she'd shut the door her expression fell, a gnawing worry settling in her stomach. It may be well beyond her skills to help the Lady of Rohan. And if the battle went poorly Lothíriel wasn't sure Éowyn would be in any position to lead the people from the city as Éomer had hoped.
Departing her charge, the Princess went about her work for the day, assisting the Warden and Ioreth with their patients, grinding herbs and restocking shelves. Despite the numerous tasks it felt leisurely compared to last week. As much as she would regret not seeing her cousin at meals, she was happy to attend Éowyn for supper. She caught frequent sights of Faramir over the course of the day, mostly walking the gardens and staring eastwards. Finally, at dusk, she paused in her activities to greet him.
"Does the eastern horizon give any news?" He turned as she spoke, a light grin on his lips as he shrugged.
"No more than the day before. But I seem to be transfixed."
"You are not alone." She stood beside him, watching the sky darken as night claimed the land. He glanced sidelong at her before speaking.
"Are you planning to wear your servant's gown to supper tonight?"
"You'll not have the honor of my presence tonight, I'm afraid."
"No?" He turned to face her, brows knitted with concern. "If it was Húrin's son I will speak to him. He needn't be the reas –"
"No, not for him," she replied with a disarming smile and shake of her head. "A patient has requested I take my meal with them."
"Who might that be?"
"One who also watches the eastern sky with rapt attention." She tilted her head to gesture to the shieldmaiden's room, which sat above them, tucked into the alcove standing above the gardens and field beyond. Faramir followed her gaze to the empty window, a light burning within barely visible from their position. "The Lady of Rohan."
Faramir said nothing for many moments, instead watching Éowyn's window with a pensive expression. Lothíriel wasn't sure how much he knew about the shieldmaiden and thus took care not to share too much information. Looking back at his cousin the Steward crossed his arms over his chest.
"Would she wish to join us tonight?"
"I do not think she is ready yet. Perhaps later. I am hoping to get her out of her chambers and walking in the gardens tomorrow."
"And you'd wish me clear of them to give her space?"
"On the contrary," she replied, nudging him gently with her shoulder. "It might do her well to speak to someone besides myself."
"I'm not sure a maiden of Rohan would fair better with me," he teased with a simpering grin. "Though, I am curious how she came here."
"You might ask her yourself," Lothíriel shrugged when he cast an appraising glare in her direction. "It's not my tale to tell."
"Very well. Keep your secrets, Cousin. If I see the Lady tomorrow I will be on my best behavior."
"I will warn her in advance."
They shared a smile as the lamps were lit, night taking hold of the valley. Wishing her kinsman a good evening Lothíriel left him to find a kitchen servant.
She moved through the level, hoping to catch a boy on errand from the scullery, disappointed when she was unable to locate one. She wanted to give the kitchen time to remove her place setting from the dining hall in the Citadel and bring her meal with Éowyn's to the room. Swiftly she departed the Houses of Healing to move down a level where most of the food was cooked and distributed. Finding a servant with the appropriate attire denoting his post she informed him of the change in setting and watched him disappear to inform the cook. Turning away she stepped into the dark lane, ready to return to the upper level when a voice halted her.
"My Lady!"
Turning with no small amount of annoyance Lothíriel beheld Húrin's son, Baranor, walking toward her, the lamps casting him in light and shadow as he progressed upon her. She offered him a respectful bow, which he casually returned.
"I was not expecting to see you on this level," he commented as he stopped before her. She realized she was hoping to not see him at all and this sudden meeting made her insides turn.
"I am here on errand," she replied, glancing in the direction of the gate leading to the sixth level. "For a patient."
"I see. Well, I look forward to our dinner this evening." She resisted a scowl at the word our, instead shaking her head with a placid expression.
"Alas, my Lord, I will not be attending tonight. I am much needed elsewhere." Baranor did not try to conceal his disappointment as he frowned.
"Surely your charges can spare you an evening. You are the Lady of Dol Amroth, after all, not merely a healer at the beck and call of ailing soldiers."
"You'll forgive me, my Lord, but I gave my word."
"Of course," he replied, softening with a smile. "Your loyalty is admirable. You will be missed tonight, my Lady."
"Yes, my Lord," Lothíriel murmured as he stared at her. His gaze was unnerving, and she wondered if it was simply the lack of other women that made him so persistent. Finally he offered a bow in the form of a head cant, his smile not quite reaching blue eyes that regarded her like a hunter.
"Good evening, Lady Lothíriel. I shall look to see you in the coming days."
She offered a half-hearted farewell before turning from him to walk down the lane toward the gates. If he was starved of female attention he was not managing it well. Were her brothers in the city they would take him to task for his overstepping. But they weren't here. She felt keen responsibility to hold her ground, if only in defiance of his clear violation of appropriate courtly behavior.
As she returned to the Houses of Healing another thought occurred: he likely did not yet know of Éowyn. What was defiance in her turned to protection, at once certain he would be kept ignorant of the shieldmaiden in her vulnerable state. A man such a Baranor would be the last thing Éowyn needed in her convalescence. Quite settled in this, Lothíriel felt a renewed sense of purpose, even if her fears did not come to pass.