Chapter 21
The morning progressed into afternoon, the caravan stopping to lunch beyond the Rammas Echor. It would take the entirety of the day to reach Osgiliath given the ponderous speed of the wagons. Were they simply riding the whole venture would've been shorter, Lothíriel surmised. But she was not as bothered as she thought she would be by their progress. She found the time conversing with Elfhelm both a welcome reprieve from the last two weeks and a wealth of knowledge about Rohan, most of which she did not know. His tales of Éowyn, Éomer and the late king's nephew impressed and intrigued the Lady of Dol Amroth, though her companion was careful not to share too much. But what little he did provide stirred a curiosity in her, intensifying her anticipation of seeing the King of Rohan.
The sun was setting as the convoy reached the river and Osgiliath. The stone city, heavily damaged by the war, rose up as dark shadows against the evening sky. Uneasiness crept into Lothíriel's heart as the wagons were pulled together and their procession broke to make camp. She was not alone in her discomfort, for others seemed to set their tents and wain-beds as far from the city proper as was possible. She dismounted the gelding, untying the pack from the saddle before allowing a lad to lead the horse toward the makeshift stables. She was joined by Gaelen and Evandor, who nodded greetings to the Lady.
"It is good to see you," she intoned first to her brethren of Dol Amroth. Evandor grinned as he removed the helmet, his dark hair matted to his head. Running a hand through the brown strands he turned slightly to look at the ruins of the city before looking at her again.
"Well met, my Lady Lothíriel. It is an honor to accompany you."
"Thank you," she replied before turning to Gaelen who offered a low bow.
"My Lady Lothíriel," the older man murmured as he straightened up. His helmet, adorned with the sigil of the White City, was tucked under his arm. "How may we be of service this evening?"
"Honestly, I am not sure," she confessed with a glance around. Tents and camps were being established, most modestly built. "It doesn't seem we'll be taking rest in the city so I suppose finding a bedroll and a measure of privacy would be enough."
"I will find out what accommodations will be afforded to you, my Lady," Gaelen put in. "Grant me leave to speak with the other captains and the remaining men of Osgiliath."
Lothíriel acquiesced and he departed as Elfhelm joined, greeting the older soldier with a nod as they passed. Fires and torches were lit, bathing their large contingency in a warm glow as cooks began preparing supper. Although she recognized a few senior members of the various Gondorian armies by their armor and sigils it seemed most of the travelers were laborers and foot soldiers.
The small camps were organized by the wagons; the launderers and kitchen staff congregating closer to the city, the smiths and stable boys setting up near the queue of horses hugging the tree line and the medic wagons drawing together, the furthest from the river and city. The soldiers were interspersed, with some larger tents being erected for captains and other high-ranking men. Lothíriel joined the other healers in their semi-circle of wagons, Elfhelm and Evandor fading back. She accepted a proffered tankard of ale from an apprentice and watched the fire being built, unable to shake the apprehension in her bones. Gaelen returned shortly but took counsel with Evandor and Elfhelm first before approaching Lothíriel. After setting the mug down she led them away from the healers, still in the light of the fire but far enough to maintain privacy.
"My Lady, a tent has been arranged for you just yonder," he indicated with an arm away from the healer's camp toward Osgiliath. "Evandor will collect your luggage and bring it hence so you might be more comfortable. A bed and amenities are being prepared."
"That seems a great deal of trouble for a single night," she quipped to his raised brows. "I am no stranger to sleeping on the ground in the wild. Even still, we'll be departing on the river tomorrow. I needn't such a grand tent to myself only to break it down ere we leave."
"That is the other news I bear. The captains of the city have told me the boats conveying provisions cannot also carry the horses. They are limited to the necessities needed for the Host of the King. You would be permitted to travel on the next boat, which would dock tomorrow eve."
"Oh." Lothíriel couldn't conceal her disappointment but smiled in appreciation of the man's effort. "I see. What will the remaining company do then? Await ships as they ferry the groups across thither and back?"
"Nay," Gaelen replied, trying to judge her reaction with a cautious tone. "I reckon most will depart and travel north on foot or horse and reach the crossing to Cair Andros in a few days' time. They'll likely cross to the island and from there join the Host on the other bank."
"Then I should like to ride with them."
"My Lady, you would not wish to sail?"
"Although I am partial to traveling by water I do not like the idea of lingering and waiting. If the remainder will make the trek, then so too will I. If you three are amenable." The trio shared a look, Evandor unable to hide a knowing smile. Elfhelm rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug.
"I will go whither you command, my Lady."
"I do not command it," she reminded him with a light grin. "It is my petition to ride with the party. Evandor has already been in my company during our journey to Minas Tirith from Dol Amroth. I am competent enough for days in the saddle and nights under the sky. I would not order this of you, my Lords, for that is not my wish. You are my sworn swords so I will defer to you on it. Might you be agreeable to this change in plans?"
"If it is your desire to travel by horse, that seems reasonable," Evandor put in before looking to Gaelen. "You said it was naught but a few days ride to the crossing?"
"Two at least."
"Hardly a trip to Dol Amroth," the young man observed. They stood there for a moment, Lothíriel awaiting their final judgment; Gaelen still appeared skeptical, Evandor clearly open to the new proposal and Elfhelm seemed unmoved by either option.
"If it eases your decision I will keep to a strict formation, with one of you riding ahead, and another behind."
"It is not a matter of obedience, my Lady," Gaelen murmured, brows furrowed over dark eyes. Their voices had dropped to avoid being overheard by the others and she had to lean closer to hear him now. "I just… it is not proper for a lady to ride alone amidst a company of men. I doubt neither your ability nor skill. It is your modesty, I fear, that would be challenged if this was the decision. The other women will be awaiting the boats in the next days and kept safe in Osgiliath."
Damn Gondorian politesse, she thought crossly. Gaelen was at least twenty years her senior, well versed in the courtly expectations of Minas Tirith and was clearly concerned not to offend her feminine civility. Neither Evandor nor Elfhelm seemed willing to challenge him as the moments passed but Lothíriel was not ready to yield.
"I am appreciative of your concern. And I do understand the nature of your fears. But the Lord Steward selected you three to be my protectors. Evandor is under the direct order of my father, the Prince of Dol Amroth. He is a Swan Knight, though he is the picture of humility. Elfhelm is a Captain of the Riddermark, so decreed by Rohan's King. And you are the highest lieutenant of Lord Beregond of the Citadel. Your presence alone assures my virtue will remain intact. And it will undoubtedly prove thus to others who might question it."
It was a longshot, she wagered. But she did not want to wait around for days in Osgiliath to board the ship. Or worse – turn back to Minas Tirith. Grey eyes watched the older man consider her plea, hoping she inspired at least a modicum of confidence. Gaelen ran a hand along his jaw, smoothing the dark beard as he looked at the other men. To their credit neither Evandor nor Elfhelm looked entirely against her argument, both men's brows raised expectantly. With a sigh the Gondorian soldier's shoulders dropped slightly and he nodded.
"If you wish it, my Lady, I will bear you hence. It is not for me to say you cannot undertake this journey."
Lothíriel felt as though she'd won a great battle, yet she maintained her decorum and opted for a nod of appreciation. She caught a grin from Elfhelm and a wink from Evandor when Gaelen looked away. Offering him a respectful bow, the Princess smiled warmly, which he returned.
"Thank you, Sir Gaelen."
She knew she'd twisted his arm. And she knew he did not think it was a wise choice. But she could not return to Minas Tirith after Éowyn entrusted her with a letter to Éomer. And there was something about the ruined city of Osgiliath, looming before them in the darkness, that scared her more than a few days on the road. And she clung to the belief that no one would be foolish enough to behave untoward in her presence with her trio of swordsmen. Her guilt at compelling Gaelen to agree was only slightly allayed by the hope that the journey would be uneventful and they were arrive at the Field of Cormallen free of misfortune.
She would even afford Gaelen the formality of sleeping in the all too grand tent he'd commissioned for her use tonight. She followed him to the encampment, which was modest compared to the trappings of a King or dignitary, but impressive nonetheless. It was a wider tent than any she'd yet seen and once they were within it was clear labor was put into its design. Two rugs covered the ground, one horizontal to the entrance, another beside the narrow bed. A smaller banner of Dol Amroth was hung at the head of the bed and she wondered if Evandor brought it for this purpose. Lothíriel's bag had been set in the corner beside two tables, one holding a wash basin and towels, and the other set with a plate, silverware and a chair. Where these items originated from she could not imagine, for she did not think they were packed in the wagons. At once she felt a blush creeping up her neck. Turning back to her companions the woman's brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together.
"From whence did all this come?"
"The city," Gaelen replied. "I informed them the Princess of Dol Amroth was among our company and this was assembled. Is it not to your liking?"
"It is too tremendous, I fear." She paused when the man's expression fell slightly. It seemed he was the architect of all this finery. And he wasn't entirely out of bounds for it, given her station. But it felt odd to be the only person in the company afforded such luxury and did not put her at ease for travelling the next day. But she softened her visage and tone at Gaelen's reaction. "You have exceeded my expectations, Sir Gaelen. I will rest well tonight. Once we are on the road, however, I would like a more modest tent."
"Yes, my Lady."
He appeared eased by her praise and canted his head respectfully. Swallowing her embarrassment at calling him out Lothíriel bid the men farewell as they took their leave, with Evandor informing her they would be sleeping near enough that she could call upon them in the night. They departed the tent, securing the door flap behind them.
Unfastening the evergreen riding habit, she hung it by its wide hood upon a high peg at the foot of the bedframe. As nice as it would feel to undress entirely and don a night gown she was not unwise to the etiquette of a lady on the road. She could, given her status, wear whatever she wished and could expect to be treated with respect. But something about wearing a simple sleeping chemise and nothing else felt risky. Instead, she removed her boots, the split skirt that allowed for easier riding astride and traded the sturdy, fully boned stays for a pair of white jumps* that provided modesty without restriction. Once she'd laced it up in the front and pulled on the linen shirt she felt far more secure. This along with the riding breeches would suffice for the duration of their journey as her sleeping attire, as it would provide her discretion should camp be broken in the middle of the night.
She was tucking her clothes beside the bag when a voice from the front of the tent called out. Recognizing Elfhelm's distinct accent, Lothíriel discarded her task and instead pulled the rolled-up cloak out from the bag and threw it over her shoulders. Both greeting and bidding him entrance as she stood, the woman smiled as the Captain ducked his head beneath the entrance and joined her with a brief bow.
"My Lady, supper has been prepared. Should you like to take it in here?"
"Where are you and the others eating?"
"Near the fire."
"Then I shall dine with you."
She followed him out, but not before wiggling her feet into the dirty boots and adjusting the cloak to appear more like a cape about her shoulders. Elfhelm led her many paces from the tent to a table that had been set with benches and chairs near a healthy fire. This appeared to be the dining location for the elite of the company, though it seemed they were few in numbers. Both Elfhelm and Gaelen had seats but Evandor was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if this was due to his schedule of guarding her or because he was not permitted to dine with the gentry. Before she could inquire with Gaelen, who bowed with a dropped gaze, a familiar face at the table caught her eye.
"Lady Lothíriel!"
"Merry!"
He waved her closer as she approached, both smiling. He was also dressed for travel, though she noted a small helmet not unlike Elfhelm's at his side on the bench. Nodding politely to the other men who offered her bows, the woman sat in a chair opposite her friend.
"I'd hoped you'd come," he put in, offering her a plate of cheese and fruit. Others began sitting as well, though it seemed a casual affair compared to the feasts they were accustomed to in their halls. "I'd heard Lady Éowyn was riding too but I have not yet seen her."
"She has remained in the city," Lothíriel replied as Gaelen sat beside her. "She graciously offered me her place so I might see my family and assist the healers."
"That is well," Merry answered as he chewed thoughtfully. "Though Éomer will be saddened by her absence. Where are you in the queue?"
"I have been riding behind the healer's carts. Are you riding as well?"
"Not I! I was given a prime spot guarding a cart of provisions. That is, guarding it from the safety of the cart itself." He patted the hilt of the weapon at his belt with a wink to her. Grinning in response the pair clinked their mugs before drawing a sip. She was glad to see her friend, his spirits lifting hers significantly.
"Will you accompany the wagons upriver?" she asked after politely wiping her mouth from the brew.
"I'd figured it would serve me and everyone else best that I don't ride the rest of the way. Will I have your company on the boat?"
"No, I will ride to Cair Andros and rejoin with you in a few days times."
"Ah," the Hobbit noted with a frown. He seemed to consider this as they continued to eat. "I should rather go with you I think."
"I would welcome it. But I don't think we are escorting carts on our journey. I'm sure we could find you a pony."
"Oh. Well, that is a bother." He fell silent and they continued their meal. Merry and Lothíriel were then drawn into conversation with Gaelen and another man, this one a captain in Osgiliath. She learned of the war's effect on the city and the veil of evil that lingered still. After the battle at Minas Tirith a contingency of men were sent to retake the abandoned capitol, reclaiming it from the fleeing enemy. But much damage had been wrought leaving Osgiliath a mere shell of its former self.
Lothíriel could not help but speculate how long it would take to not only restore and fortify the city but construct anew the bridge that was destroyed. This was once the capitol of Gondor and now… it felt like a husk, still damp with the malice of darkness. But she was buoyed by the hopeful voices of the men around her and it seemed that preparations to rebuild were already underway. As their meal concluded she was left feeling more optimistic than she'd been at the start and offhandedly wondered if she would live to see Osgiliath in its glory. Preparing to bid Merry goodnight, the pair stood and farewell bows were given to the other captains. Turning to Lothíriel the Hobbit grinned, pulling the side of his waistcoat away to display a pipe.
"Found myself some pipeweed, if you can believe it," he commented to her raised brows. "Pippin's stash, though I suspect he won't miss a tiny bit. And I saw on our trip here that grows abundant near the river."
"Does it?" Lothíriel tilted her head, trying to imagine which plant he referred to that they'd seen on the road. Merry's brows furrowed as he searched the ground near her, clicking his tongue as he moved across the ground.
"Aye. It's… hmm… here! This is the Leaf." He guided her with a lantern to the edge of the dining space, beyond the fire toward the tents. He illuminated a cluster of bright green leaves, still low to the ground in their growth but hardy. Lothíriel leaned closer to look before laughing.
"That's your pipeweed, is it?! We call it galenas. Sweet galenas, as it's known in this part of Gondor. It grows amply here and in the fields. It has such a fragrant scent. Healers will sometimes encourage folk to chew it to settle their nerves."
"I say, you'd make a killing on it in the Shire, for how much I've seen. I'd be a rich Hobbit to bring this back."
"It's plentiful enough that it wouldn't be missed."
"Perhaps I'll sneak a handful if I'm able."
"You'll have to show your friends when you see them at the camp of Cormallen."
"Aye, good point." Merry stood up straight, attention drawn from the plant to the Princess, who he regarded carefully before speaking again. "You know, I'm not overly fond of horses. But I will join you the group if you ask it of me."
"I do not," Lothíriel replied with a smile. "Take the boats to the island. I think you will enjoy the trip. And I shall meet you in a few days' time."
"You are sure you are alright riding? That is, you're alright with the company."
"Yes. I will be looked after."
"I suppose with Elfhelm and the other lad you'll be well enough. At least that lordling with the shifty eyes hasn't come. Reminded me of a weasel, he did."
"I confess I am relieved he is absent," she answered, the smile faltering. "Though I do not look forward to our return to Minas Tirith with him lurking about."
"Ah, perhaps he will've found a hole to crawl into by then."
"One can hope."
"Goodnight, Lady Lothíriel."
"Goodnight, Merry. I shall see you on the other side of the Anduin."
A/N:
Note on clothing: Because Tolkien wasn't explicit in describing women's clothes, particularly undergarments, I've chosen to keep a generally Western, medieval feel to the garments, with some later additions such as stays and riding habits included.
*jumps: a soft, often unboned, bodice. It is secured by lacing the front and is referred to as a "pair of jumps", not unlike a "pair of bodies" from 16th century Europe.