Chapter 13
Upon their return to the city proper Lothíriel and Elfhelm found the various parties had separated for private dining and time of contemplation. The day continued at a slower pace for the gentry, though the working folk of Edoras had begun preparations for Éomer's coronation two days later. Lothíriel had hoped to see the king again, preferably in the privacy of the barn but he was absent from the Golden Hall, stables and social chambers of Meduseld.
It wasn't until the evening of Théoden's feast that she saw him. Like the night prior, it was a quieter supper, though the guests toasted the late king's memory several times throughout the meal as folk reminisced on Théoden's life. Lothíriel sat with Ros, Elfhelm, Dera and Faramir for this dinner, along with a handful of other courtiers. While most had shed the traditional funerary attire from the morning's ceremony the guests and Rohirrim notably wore darker clothes for this meal, as it seemed the final performance of grief to send Théoden's spirit off.
"Were those Dunlendings ever run down?" Dera inquired across the table from Lothíriel, blue eyes looking between her and Elfhelm as the meal wound to a close.
"No," he replied, setting his fork down. "Regrettably."
"Should we be concerned?" the young woman asked with a glance toward the dais where Éomer and Éowyn sat with the King and Queen of Gondor.
"Nay," came Ros' response with a warm smile across the table. "They would be foolish to do anything untoward with the entirety of the Western host sojourning in Edoras."
"Do they have settlements nearby?" Faramir put in from his seat beside Dera.
"None so near to the seat of the King," Elfhelm answered. "They tend towards a nomadic life – at least the menfolk do. Though I suspect they keep hamlets along the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains. I couldn't say if any survived the war."
"It hardly matters," Ros added with a wave of her hand. "After he's crowned Éomer King will manage whatever remains of their rabble with all haste."
"That is good to hear. I'd be content to know the Dunlendings were gone entirely. I've heard the king will be electing his Captains after the coronation. And Marshalls."
"Indeed? Are you hoping to find a husband, Lady Dera?" The other woman blushed and shrugged lightly at Ros' question.
"I've only just concluded my mourning for Théodred. I haven't thought to consider another suitor."
"You'll have your pick," Elfhelm replied with a grin. "Grimulf and Léofred will likely follow in their fathers' place and take up captaining their éoreds. Either of them would be a fine husband for you."
"Mayhaps," Dera agreed with a glance around the Hall. Lothíriel did not know which men Elfhelm referred to but the mention of them had the blonde woman blushing and avoiding eye contact. The Princess offered her a warm if not sympathetic smile toward the woman whose intended was stolen from her so violently.
"Will you become Second Marshall?" Faramir asked Elfhelm pointedly, seemingly aware of Dera's embarrassment. "Éowyn had explained a bit of the tradition in naming the Marshalls and it seems you are a likely candidate for that role."
"Perhaps," the other man shrugged and took a sip from his tankard. "The King will appoint his Marshalls, then captains and name his court after the coronation. Likely at the feast."
"Then we'll be celebrating many things," Ros added with a smile, gazing at her husband then leaning back slightly to glance at Lothíriel on his other side. It felt a bit too obvious of a look, but the Princess merely raised her cup to Elfhelm, which was mirrored by Faramir and Dera.
"Don't congratulate me yet," the man intoned with a pained expression. "The King may yet make me a midden-boy or lord of the latrine."
"You already hold those titles as a father," his wife commented as the others laughed.
Despite the somberness of the day Lothíriel felt welcomed and comfortable this evening, surrounded by these new friends. Her cousin also seemed more at ease, joking and smiling with their companions. If she and Éomer came to an accord with their feelings and expectations for the future the Princess felt less fearful of acclimating to his homeland. It seemed a promising start at least.
Dinner concluded shortly thereafter and guests departed for their quarters. Lothíriel lingered with Dera and Faramir hoping to find Éomer but he retired to private chambers with Aragorn and Mithrandir. Once her companions departed Lothíriel found herself with Evandor and Amrothos, two of the handful of folks milling around the Golden Hall.
"Where is Father off to?" Lothíriel inquired as she accepted a cup of wine from Evandor, nodding to a departing Imrahil. The Prince was walking further into the darkness of Meduseld instead of leaving out the front door with the rest of the guests.
"He, Éomer, Aragorn and Mithrandir are meeting, I believe," her brother replied with a glance in their father's direction as he ran a hand through his dark hair and tussling the finely brushed locks until he looked more like himself.
"Do you expect he'll stay in Minas Tirith when we return?"
"I do. Elphir is Prince in all but name at home. Father is more useful to the new king. And I think he likes life in The White City."
"Why?" the left corner of Lothíriel's lip and nostril raised up as if tugged by an unseen string, disdain in her voice. Amrothos looked at her with raised brows as Evandor hid a grin with his drink.
"Why shouldn't he?" her brother answered with a frown. "Just because you don't care for the city doesn't mean others feel as you do."
"I know," she replied sharply, mirroring his expression as she finished her drink. "I just assumed he would want to come home."
"He may want to, but he serves his king. Besides, home is hard for Father. He has a purpose at court. We should be happy for him."
"I am," Lothíriel answered crossly but her expression softened as she nodded to emphasize her point. "I am. I suppose I'm not prepared for all this change."
"Fair enough," Amrothos agreed with a nod. Lothíriel stifled a yawn as the tension dissipated between them, her brother turning away to deposit his empty mug on a table.
"Shall I escort you back to your chambers?" Evandor asked quietly with a smile.
"I can make it there myself," she replied with a shake of her head. "Enjoy this quiet while it lasts. I can't imagine the rest of our nights here will be so serene."
"Let him take you back," Amrothos stated firmly. "I'd like to wait for Father. You needn't stay up but neither should you be wandering around Edoras alone."
Lothíriel was too tired to argue, nodding as Evandor set his drink down and offered his arm. She bid farewell to her brother and let the Swan Knight lead her from Meduseld. They walked silently down the steps, nodding to the guards as they went. The minstrels had long since retired, and the night was quiet as they strolled away from the feast hall.
"Have you enjoyed your time in the lands of the Mark?" the woman inquired softly. Evandor glanced at her and nodded.
"Yes, for my part. I grew up hearing tales of the Rohirrim. To see their might and valor with my own eyes has been wonderous."
"I agree. It will be sad to depart in a few days."
"Surely your Lord Father and brother have cause to return. Even yourself, perhaps?"
"Oh?" Lothíriel paused to look at him with raised brows. The young man ducked his head apologetically and smiled. "I haven't made any immediate plans but perhaps."
"Of course, my Lady," he replied with a nod as they continued their walk. "If you had reason to return I would guess your brother would join you. If you wished it."
"He'd come even if I didn't wish it," she remarkedly dryly as they neared the apartments. Evandor snorted softly with a grin. "You'd join as well?"
"If that was the desire of my Lady."
"You aren't mine to command," she reminded him with a gentle squeeze to his arm. "Given our time growing up together you are as a brother to me, Ev."
"It is kind of you to say so, my Lady. Yet, I am a loyal servant to your Lord Father. To your brothers. To you, as well."
Lothíriel stopped just short of the entrance, turning to face the Knight with a frown. Their faces were lit by the bright moon and sconces on the wall of the building. He looked expressively at her, as though he understood something she had yet to grasp.
"I know you are, by law and decorum, a Knight of Dol Amroth. But no one can deny the significant place you hold in our family. For me. For Amrothos."
"My Lady, you may say it is so. And I may believe it. But it does not change the station of my birth and the blood of my father. I wish it to be so, what you say. And I am most honored by your high opinion. You are as dear to me as a sister, if I may be so bold to speak thus."
"You will always have the freedom to speak your mind to me. Would that I might make you a lord so you may have the liberty to do as you wish. Perhaps you would be gone from our household to explore the free lands and do as you please." He laughed then, careful to keep his voice low as he looked away from her across the hilltop toward the mountains.
"I cannot deny that I would relish the opportunity to travel." He turned his gaze back to the woman. "But I would not leave your family's side for a dragon's horde, my Lady."
"Thank you, Ev." They bowed to one another and the Knight held open the door to the apartments, Lothíriel turning slightly in the doorway to face him once more. "I am grateful for you and your friendship to Amrothos."
"His has been the best friendship of my life. Good evening, Lady Lothíriel."
TTTT
The next day saw a party leaving Edoras, led by Éowyn, to picnic in the vast meadows to the west of the city. It was a mixed company of Men, Elves and the Hobbits riding some distance under a blue nearly cloudless sky to reach an already prepared camp on the other side of the Snowbourn River. To Lothíriel's disappointment Éomer was not among them, detained at Edoras with his advisors, Aragorn, Imrahil and Mithrandir. She quelled her regret with the hope they would have a chance to speak privately in the evening. The King seemed distant in his grief for his uncle and the preparations to assume his royal mantle, but she was confident in the decision that space was best for Éomer now. He would come to her when he was ready.
"Will it be tonight?" she inquired, uncorking the flagon of water her cousin bestowed her as they stood by their horses. Four wide tents were pitched in the grassy valley to afford the party shade as they enjoyed lunch. Elven minstrels played near the banks of the slow-moving river, creating an idyllic scene. Faramir was dressed in the colors of their host that day, his hair tied back in the style of the Rohirrim. He nodded with a glance to the side before speaking.
"Aye."
"Are you nervous?"
"I thought I might be more so, but I find myself eager to let the news be known to everyone."
"Do you know when you might marry?"
"Not until next year," he replied, accepting the waterskin back. "There is much to be done in both lands and Aragorn has campaigns to establish, so I will be sitting as Steward for some time. It seemed best not to rush."
"A summer wedding in Ithilien will be beautiful," Lothíriel added as her cousin secured the flagon to his saddle.
"Were it up to Éowyn I wonder if she'd wish to be wed in her homeland," Faramir mused, grey eyes sweeping the flower-dotted meadow with a concerned expression. The dark-haired woman set a reassuring hand on his forearm, his gaze drawn back to her.
"Éowyn would marry you in a barrow," she replied with a smile. "Worry not, cousin, that she despairs on this."
"Perhaps not," he agreed as her hand dropped from him. "But I am troubled about taking her from Rohan. From her brother."
"I understand. Surely your union will mean more travel between Rohan and Gondor – Ithilien at least. And Éomer blesses the marriage, does he not?"
"To my immense relief."
"Then try not to let it vex you so. Éowyn is no beguiled maid – I suspect she is prepared to live with you in Gondor, however it might sadden her to leave this land."
"Indeed," he agreed with a nod as they began walking toward the tents. "Though I wonder if all ladies feel the same when leaving home to join their husbands."
"I don't know," the Princess conceded with shake of her head. "But you are choosing each other of your own free will. I am confident you will work through the challenges."
"Challenges?" came a voice from their left, the shieldmaiden rounding the corner of the tent to stop before them with a smile and raised brows. "Should I be concerned?"
"Nay," Lothíriel replied with a grin, offering a small bow. "I'll take my leave to find Lady Dera and Ros."
"Ros is tending to the baby when last I left her," the blonde woman gestured to the smaller tent to their right. "And Dera isn't here, though I know not why. This is sort of gathering is her delight. But I was hoping to catch you anyhow, Lady Lothíriel. May I steal her from you?"
"Certainly," Faramir replied with his own bow. "I should like to find the meal tent, as I missed breakfast."
Once the Steward departed their company, Éowyn began walking away from the tents and guests lounging in chairs and benches in the summer sun. Lothíriel fell in step with her, unable to hide her curiosity. The hem of their dresses trailed in the grasses softly as the walked silently into the field proper; blue, pink and violet flowers growing in abundance and filling the air with a perfumed scent as the breeze cooled their skin.
"Should I be concerned by this private turn of the field?" the Princess asked at length, looking sidelong at Éowyn, who shook her head.
"No, I just wished for some time in your company in private."
Lothíriel nodded though her expression was doubtful. But the Lady of Rohan was tranquil, humming to herself as they approached a small gathering of boulders and low rocks. Sitting down on a shorter one Éowyn began reaching for the long-stalked blue flowers, gathering a few and starting to weave them together. The Princess sat beside her on another rock, watching her work.
"I do not know when we might find time, just the pair of us," Eowyn explained eventually, glancing at her companion, who canted her head in understanding. "And I wanted to thank you, personally, for your patience and care for me during our time in Minas Tirith. I was not… it couldn't have been easy."
"Little about that time was easy," Lothíriel answered gently, setting her hands together on her lap as she studied the shieldmaiden and her lacings of flowers and stems. "But you held on. You who had done so much and suffered so long."
"I wish not to think about it too much. It seems now as a dark dream. The edges are blurry like an image in a pool of water. But I remember how my heart felt cold and I fear to ever return there."
"Do you still desire the sword and shield?"
"No. I wanted a purpose. A direction for my aimless wandering. My affections were captured by a man I could never have and I saw no acceptable end beyond protecting my people. The sword and shield were my devotion. Now I have Faramir. I have what I never thought could be mine."
"Would that you might've met Faramir before."
"I would've liked to know him before our meeting in Minas Tirith," she agreed, accepting a violet flower from Lothíriel to add to her weaving. "But I needed those labors to know the contentment of love with Faramir. I fear I would've rejected him and my own heart had I not been tested so by hopelessness and empty yearning."
"I am relieved you are no longer plagued by either," the Princess murmured, brow furrowed thoughtfully as she watched Éowyn thread the purple blossom amidst the blue.
"You know… it was him."
"Who?"
"Aragorn. He was the man I thought I loved. He was the reason I couldn't come to Cormallen."
"Oh!" Grey eyes met Éowyn's with surprise, hand frozen as the Princess reached for another flower. Recovering with a tilt of her head she softened her tone. "Do you still?"
"No. Well, it's not the same. At the time I thought I felt for Aragorn the way a maiden ought to toward her beloved. Now I see that I love what he represents. His wisdom and courage. But the love I feel for Faramir is different. It is enduring and deeper. If I married Aragorn I would spend my life adoring and admiring him but never feeling his equal. With your cousin I will be his equal in love. That seems a better pairing."
Lothíriel nodded in comprehension and agreement, tilting her face to the sun as she considered the shieldmaiden's words, abandoning her idle search for flowers. Although the confession came with some surprise, mostly that Éowyn was sharing her closely kept secret, the younger woman could not deny the immediate adoration of their new king. He was brave, intelligent, kind and handsome – what woman wouldn't be attracted to him? And, as she considered Éowyn's assessment, she understood too how that might create a hollow marriage, ever in the shadow of such an impressive man.
"Queen Arwen is Aragorn's match. I did not see it until I beheld them together but their love and rule will bring stability and their legacy will endure." Éowyn was looking toward the northern mountains, her tone reflective.
"I expect so," Lothíriel agreed, following the shieldmaiden's gaze. "Now that you mention her, I have not seen the Queen this day."
"She and her kin traveled away for their farewells. They may be gone until evening. I believe she may depart before the host officially takes leave of Rohan."
"How strange it must feel for the Queen to say her goodbyes."
"We women must guard and prepare our hearts for such partings," Éowyn replied quietly, drawing her companion's gaze, brows raised. "My mother shared this with me before her death not knowing what my future held. But she was right, I think. I will miss Rohan and Éomer," her eyes dropped to the stalk of grass she was weaving into the lengthy chain of flowers. "I had not considered a betrothal outside of my homeland. Both of us were to marry within our people. Maintain the Eorlingas bloodlines."
"You cannot think anyone would raise opposition to your troth to Faramir?" Lothíriel's voice was light but worry and doubt mingled on her features as Éowyn looked up from the grass. The blonde woman smiled and shook her head, pulling the stalk from the woven chain and letting it fall, unraveled, to the ground.
"Nay, I think it would be welcomed as a sign of fortune after Gondor and Rohan's triumph. It is just a peculiar shift in expectations for my future."
"I can understand that."
"Our futures," Éowyn stated with a nudge of her elbow against Lothíriel. "I will be your cousin by marriage, certainly. But we may yet be sisters too."
"You get ahead of yourself," the other woman replied as they shared a smile.
"Do you plan to present him with a cup before you depart?"
"If you still advise it."
"It would be a touching gesture," the shieldmaiden answered, selecting another grass stalk to add to her weaving. "And it will tell the court you are both of the same mind, whether or not you choose to announce anything."
"I have yet to speak to him plainly. Or even hear more of his thoughts. I do not want to overstep or assume anything."
"Assume?" Éowyn laughed and shook her head, flaxen hair shimmering in the sunlight. "I think you're well past that."
"Perhaps," Lothíriel replied, a blush creeping up her neck. But she smiled at the thought of offering Éomer a cup and being close to him in public without fear of gossip. "Tomorrow you can direct me to the appropriate cup and I will bestow it. Must I do this in view of everyone?"
"No, you needn't have fanfare if you'd prefer not. In fact, it might be better for both of you to offer the cup once folk have started on the ale."
"Thank you. Tell me, then, about the announcement tonight. I can't scarcely wait – surely you must be overflowing with anticipation!"