Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 7 |
| Chapter Seven |
| ‘Lothíriel!’ a man shouted. ‘Yes,’ they heard her answer below them. Éomer was on the battlements directly above the location of the voices at the best vantage point to overlook Harlond, the port of Minas Tirith, on the River Anduin a league away from the city. He was with his chief advisor, Lord Delwine, a much older man of his uncle’s generation who had offered his assistance in the rebuilding efforts. He had been badly wounded in skirmishes decades ago and had lost the use of his left arm but was known to be an astute man of keen wit, learning and intelligence. They had been discussing how feasible it would be to ship produce from Rohan’s most northern province of The Wold downstream on the River Anduin to Harlond and whether they should lease a section of the port permanently for Rohan. ‘Lord Tellion, you are back! How lovely to see you at last.’ She sounded genuinely pleased when she greeted the old man who was puffing up the stairs after her. She bounded over to him with great affection and gave him a heartfelt hug and a kiss, which greatly surprised Éomer observing surreptitiously overhead, as he had never seen her hug anyone except Éowyn and Faramir. She reached out her hands to take Lord Tellion’s in her grasp and give them a second kiss. Éomer retreated back out of sight behind the trellised battlements. ‘I am truly sorry I could not be with you when Lady Unwin passed,’ he heard her say. ‘I hope you are not too lonely without her. Your nieces and their children are all doing well, I hear. I went to see Gelian and her brood in my first week here and I know they have been looking after you.’ ‘They have been, my dear, they have been. Would you mind if I come to speak with you about a most delicate matter,’ he asked still puffing. ‘You may speak now if you wish, we are alone,’ she answered. ‘Very well, my dear,’ he said and made to sit down on the stone bench directly under Éomer and Delwine, both of whom independently made the choice of silence for differing reasons. ‘I understand that you are no longer under your father’s protection. Don’t worry, Lothi, you know that we are family and we hear of these things. And well, with the exception of Faramir, we are the closest you have left of family in this city,’ he said patting her hand fondly. ‘As she was dying, you were very much on my sister-in-law’s mind… We never did enough for you,’ he said abruptly. ‘No, my Lord Tellion, you and your family did more for me than you could ever know. I will not let you think that!’ Lothíriel exclaimed sincerely. ‘Well, it is how we think and… erm… this is most awkward and please believe me when I say this is only with the very best intentions and your best interests at heart… Unwin thought that… if you were ever in need, that you could always come and live with me… as my wife, of course. I would make no claims on you as a wife, I’m too old for that kind of thing anyway. But it would give you a position and security. I understand of course now that you have Faramir’s protection, it is no longer as relevant, but I just wanted you to know that we, our family, will always look after you.’ The poor man was almost in tears. Lothíriel gave him a long hug and sniffled as she gave him a second kiss on his hands. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. ‘You have ever been the truest of friends, my Lord, and Lady Unwin, who was my one beacon of hope in the darkest of days, as she was for my mother before me. I am, as you say, protected for now but just to know that I have any friends in the city at all means more to me than you could possibly know,’ she said with feeling. ‘Denethor was a resentful and spiteful man, Lothíriel,’ Lord Tellion said angrily. ‘I was glad of his passing. So few here could see what he was doing to you, but then only we family knew that your mother had refused him to marry your father instead. He never got over that slight. Well, you were up here for a reason no doubt, so I will take myself back home. Will you come for supper soon, with all of us? You haven’t met Unwin’s latest grandchild yet and little Lothíriel is not so little now. She always loves to see her namesake,’ he asked, relieved his task had been done and rejected. ‘Of course, I will come, and I will ask Faramir and his future wife too. It is important for her to meet the foremost family of South Ithilien after all,’ Lothíriel replied happily. ‘I will speak to Gelian and make arrangements.’ She stayed a while after watching him leave and heaved a deep sigh. Éomer was hopeful that she would either stay there or follow the man down as he and Delwine were trapped up the one flight of stairs leading to the top tower. But she turned and ascended, more quickly than he had anticipated as he had thought to meet her in the stairwell where they would have to pass each other quickly. He would rather have avoided an awkward conversation in front of Delwine. ‘Oh!’ she said once her eyes had adjusted to the sudden light as she came out of the dark stairwell. ‘Éomer King,’ she bowed in greeting and looked to Delwine, who was regarding her with an intelligent twinkle in his eye which she greatly appreciated. Hers twinkled back. ‘Lady Lothíriel, may I introduce you to Lord Delwine, one of my chief advisors,’ said Éomer quickly covering his embarrassment. Both bowed to each other and said simultaneously still smiling playfully ‘A pleasure, my Lord/ Lady.’ ‘If I didn’t know better, I would say you were stalking me, Éomer King, but since you were here first, it seems I must accuse myself,’ she teased, noting his discomfort and the amusement of Lord Delwine. ‘Would I be correct that you are here on the same mission: to assess the capacity of ships and storage of the port?’ she asked with somewhat forced levity. ‘Yes, my Lady’, answered Delwine, ‘that is exactly why we are here, and I would be happy to meet with you later to compare our respective assessments, if you would be so kind?’ ‘I would be most appreciative to have your thoughts, my Lord,’ she answered clearly surprised that any man outside of Dol Amroth would be interested in what she would have to say. ‘Your reputation in the field of trade is well-known to me, my Lady,’ he replied with a bow. ‘I am truly honoured to meet you at last and I would value greatly your thoughts on your father’s proposals for a new trade route from the lands of Dol Amroth through to my hometown of Aldburg through the mountains,’ he said smoothly. He registered the surprise on his companions’ faces with satisfaction. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it is such a beautiful day. You should both stay to enjoy it, and the view. I have made my calculations and must head back to start my report. I wish you both well,’ he bowed quickly and made his escape before either of them could join him. Lothíriel gave Éomer an enquiring look as Delwine left them. ‘I assume you heard my previous conversation?’ she went straight to the point. ‘I am afraid that we did, but by the time we realised it was a private conversation it seemed too late to declare ourselves. I apologise if that was in hindsight the wrong decision,’ Éomer conceded. ‘You look surprised?’ he added. ‘I am…er… not used to receiving apologies. The usual reaction would have been, “you should have checked before assuming you were alone.” Thank you for being so considerate and for Lord Delwine being so charming,’ she said sincerely touched at his apology. She turned from him, stood closer to the battlements to get a precise view of the port’s docks and breathed deeply. Éomer could see her scanning the vista. She closed her eyes for a moment and then scanned it again, taking measurements in her mind’s eye. ‘I have been up here before of course,’ she said when she had finished, ‘but things have changed since then.’ She turned to look up at him earnestly. ‘You should leave while you can, Sire. As I said before, it is best you are not seen with me.’ ‘Perhaps, but I find myself most contented with the view,’ he countered, pointedly only looking in her direction, ‘and as Delwine said, it is a beautiful day.’ She regarded him closely. His eyes were teasing, his lips were parted in playful smile; she felt intensely attracted to him. It was a strange new sensation. A shadow crossed her face as the memory of another handsome smiling face with penetrating blue eyes and blond hair came into view. She stepped back involuntarily. The thought flitted through her mind, is this how my mother felt when she had looked trustingly into those blue eyes? How do you know when someone is true or not? He had been so clever in gaining our trust. Only she, Lothíriel, had felt there had been something wrong in the way he had looked at her over that year. Éomer understood instinctively that something had changed and stepped away from her. She had been quick to hide it, but he sensed she had experienced a painful memory. ‘Would you prefer me to leave, Lothíriel?’ he asked softly, dispensing with formality. Lothíriel studied him and argued in her head against her fears. You can never truly know someone unless you have shared many experiences. We knew nothing of Cirion’s background, but there is no doubting who Éomer is. He is highly regarded by my father, Aragorn and all those who have fought with him. He is not another Cirion. I have to get over this. I must be braver than this. ‘No, Sire,’ she spoke out loud. ‘I do not wish you to leave, even if I must still insist that we do not leave together.’ They stood in silence for a while overlooking the bend in the river and the woodland and high peaks of the mountains behind. Lothíriel sighed, breaking the silence, she had been thinking of her mother. ‘My mother’s family was originally from over there beyond South Ithilien, not Dol Amroth. They were the overlords of a region that lies far to the south of here. Faramir asked me to come up here to assess what we can do with rebuilding South Ithilien, but I am not hopeful that it will be a quick recovery. It has suffered greatly from decades of raids by the Haradrim. I will visit it before I leave for the North’, she told him. ‘Faramir needs you here, surely your talents would be best put to use in the region to which your family owes allegiance, not the North?’ he said gratified at her confiding in him so much. ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t know much about family allegiance, Éomer,’ she answered sharply, immediately regretted. ‘I’m sorry, that was unnecessary. Forgive me. I spoke in haste,’ she followed, looking truly downcast. ‘You spoke from the heart,’ he said with understanding. ‘That is as may be, but I still shouldn’t have said it.’ Lothíriel’s mouth twisted slightly, feeling how much it still pained her to be so estranged from her father and brothers. ‘And Lord Tellion? You are clearly very fond of him. Is he not family?’ Éomer asked. ‘His elder brother was married to Lady Unwin, my mother’s distant cousin. They were the only family of consequence in Gondor who stood by me. Her family alone, out of almost a hundred, were willing to be seen with me after...after my mother’s death. I was ostracised, my father and brothers were initially ostracised until the leaders of the city realised they needed our riches, my father’s fighting skills and the Swan Knights.’ She was talking fast now and with increasing bitterness. She stopped herself and thumped her fists on the battlements. She drew a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. It’s still raw. I hate this city, I hate being here. Apart from Faramir, I have no good memories of this place….’ Éomer wanted desperately to take her in his arms and hold her as she had held Lord Tellion, although as soon as he acknowledged that urge, he knew that he wanted much more than Lord Tellion. He restrained himself and gently put his hand over hers as it rested on the battlement. Her breathing became strained, but she did not pull her hand away. She did not look at him but gazed far into the distance. ‘Lady Unwin tried to adopt me into her family as soon as she heard from… err… friends that… that… there were no women in the court of Dol Amroth who would take on the role of looking after me… well, except my father’s former mistress, Lady Adriel. Faramir thinks badly of her because he doesn’t know the truth. I only found out myself much later. He still believes as most do that my father had rekindled their affair which had ended decades before. The irony is that Father was with her that day, but only because they were organising a birthday surprise for Mother for when she came back from the boat trip...’ Lothíriel was visibly upset. Éomer curled his fingers around hers to give her comfort; the urge to sweep her to him and hold her was overwhelming, but he feared it would cause her more distress and he held himself in check. ‘Adriel had wanted to look after me, but it was made impossible by the vicious rumours spread about us all by the other women of the court… They had all hated my mother. They had all wanted to replace father’s first wife after she died, even some women who were still married! I think they would have killed their husbands just for the chance…,’ she snorted in disgust. Éomer remained silent. He just did not know what to say, stunned as he had been by her revelation and thankful to hear the truth about his friend Imrahil. He would be sure to speak of it with Faramir. ‘My mother was apparently sublimely beautiful but every time I try to recall her face or the sound of her voice, I just see a shadow. She had striking red hair, but I only know that because others have told me…’ Lothíriel stopped, a tear trickling down her cheek. She wiped it away with her free hand sighing regretfully at the vague memory of her mother. ‘Ah well. It was a long time ago. I survived. But I don’t seem to get on well with women. With the exceptions of Éowyn, Lady Adriel and Lady Unwin’s daughters, all other women seem to hate me, fear me or despise me – or all three at the same time. I suppose I cannot blame them. I am, as my brothers constantly remind me, ‘difficult’.’ He was still holding her hand, which she only seemed to notice as she finished speaking. She looked down at their hands, smiled as if amused by some secret thought and released his hand from hers with a quick squeeze of appreciation. ‘Poor Lord Tellion. How typical of Lady Unwin to force him to do that. Please, I beg you, do not mention this to anyone else. I must ask you to ask Lord Delwine also, although he strikes me as a most sensible and sensitive man.’ ‘He is.’ Éomer agreed. ‘Would you… consider Lord Tellion’s offer?’ Éomer asked tentatively. He knew as soon as he had said it that it was the wrong thing to have asked. Lothíriel turned around so sharply and with such a look of hurt on her face that he realised he had hit upon a source of deep pain. She turned away from him just as quickly and strode towards the stairs. ‘Lothíriel, please stop. I didn’t mean to cause offence. I am sorry, truly. It was an inappropriate question, and it is none of my business,’ he went after her and caught her by the hand as she stopped at the top of the stairs. Her voice cracked in emotion, ‘Why does everyone think that… that… because of what happened I must never think of wanting to be with a man in… that way… again? That I must not want children, that it would somehow be impossible for me to get close to anyone?’ she demanded, tears forming again in her eyes. ‘I know I cannot marry anyone of high status, but must I be condemned to a life of nothing – to wither away into old age thankful that no other man would be willing to touch me? It was kind of Lady Unwin, but it just shows the depth of what I’m facing if someone who only ever cared for me and was brave enough to go against her liege lord for me thinks all I am good for is the fond care of an old man. You must excuse me.’ He could not hold on to her any longer, she had twisted out of his hand and had run down the stairs, leaving him surprisingly uplifted by the encounter. He had not thought of it in that way, but she was right. It was how everyone thought, but the fact that she did not gave him more hope than he realised he had needed. ------------------------------------------------------------------- A message came to Lothíriel from Faramir; he would not be able to accompany her and Éowyn to Lord Tellion’s niece’s house that evening after all. Aragorn had asked him to an urgent counsel meeting on a matter regarding Ithilien, so she would have to go without him. Lothíriel felt Lord Tellion in particular would be disappointed, he had always had the greatest respect for Faramir, but the family would understand. It was more important that Éowyn attended as the family had been prominent in Ithilien and still had large estates there, however ruined by war. She walked down the short distance from the Citadel to escort Éowyn to Gelian’s and found her friend already waiting for her at the lodgings she shared with Éomer. ‘Do you mind waiting a little while for Éomer, Lothíriel? He promised me he wouldn’t be long. Faramir insisted that he took his place at supper when he found out that Aragorn didn’t need Éomer to be at the counsel meeting. Faramir preferred it that we were both accompanied for the evening, but he had already sent you his note before suggesting it to Éomer. He assured Éomer you wouldn’t mind, and he thought Lord Tellion would appreciate meeting the King of Rohan,’ Éowyn had rolled her eyes while emphasising the last three words. Lothíriel laughed. ‘Yes, he most certainly will but not to boast about it to anyone else, he just adores heroes and there are few greater heroes than you two,’ she said as Éomer came through the open doorway behind her. He allowed himself a hint of a smile on hearing her words. She turned round when she saw Éowyn look behind her. ‘Lady Lothíriel,’ he greeted her in his rich deep voice which was beginning to have a disturbing effect on her. She noted how her heart seemed to beat faster whenever she heard it. ‘Éomer King,’ she answered bowing deeply. ‘Please, just Éomer. Shall we go?’ he said, ‘I hope I haven’t made us too late and that they won’t mind me arriving in Faramir’s stead?’ ‘They will be delighted to meet you’, Lothíriel assured him. ‘Faramir they already know well, so I think it will be most exciting for them to meet both the Heroes of the Pelennor, and we will be in perfect time if we leave now.’ The family were indeed transported to new heights of revelry by the unexpected arrival of a King on their doorstep. Both Lord Tellion’s nieces, Gelian and Telari were there, and Telari’s husband, Celendron. Gelian had lost her husband two years before in Ithilien with Faramir in one of the many skirmishes, but she was an extremely determined and practical woman like her mother had been and with four children to live for and protect, she grieved while maintaining her household in an atmosphere of love and resilience. Her eldest daughter, who had just turned fifteen, had been named after Lothíriel, which had been a source of merciless and unkind teasing for the girl over the last eight years, but she had proved as redoubtable as her mother and grandmother and had defended her namesake against all maligners. Then came the two boys, Faramir, aged thirteen, Geldarion, aged eight and little Nerdanel, aged four. Telari’s two eldest children almost matched in age with their two youngest cousins: Telarion was seven and Idril five. Lord Tellion beamed with pride when Telari brought little Bastior down. ‘Of course, we owe this little one to you, Lothi,’ he said. ‘If you hadn’t allowed us all to stay in Elfhaven I’m not sure we could have managed, what with the fighting and the city under siege. He was born in the very hour of victory!’ It soon became a boisterous evening. With Éowyn deep in conversation with Gelian and Telari, and Éomer somewhat monopolised by Lord Tellion and Celendron, Lothíriel to her evident delight spent the entire evening entertaining the children. Éomer could barely keep his eyes from straying to her throughout the evening. He wanted nothing more than to join her and see how she kept the children squealing with laughter. Éowyn could see that her brother was enchanted by the scene of Lothíriel with the children and when she looked back to her companions, she realised that Gelian too had noted his interest. ‘There’s a lot that needs to be done before Lothíriel will be as lucky as you to find a man worthy of her, or more accurately, will accept one, as it looks to me as though one has already been found… But we can talk about that when you come to visit us next, which I hope will be soon,’ Gelian said before she was drowned out by the pleas from the children for Lothíriel to read aloud one of their favourite epic stories ‘with all the funny voices,’ ‘and the actions’, they cried out excitedly. ‘Please, please Auntie Lothi, you are the only one who can do it like that. Everyone else is boring,’ little Idril piped up. ‘I thought I was your favourite!’ Celendron teased his children. ‘You’re okay, Papa, but Auntie Lothi is the best,’ shouted Telarion. ‘It’s different in front of guests, my dears. I don’t think that the King of Rohan is particularly interested in hearing the story of the Goblin King,’ she pleaded with them. ‘He most certainly is,’ Éomer boomed across, laughing as the children cheered. ‘With ALL the voices, please,’ begged Idril holding Lothíriel’s hand and looking up at her adoringly. Lothíriel melted and cupped Idril’s face in her hands and gave her a kiss on her forehead. ‘Alright then, all the voices, just for you.’ Lothíriel settled herself standing in front of the children all seated on the floor in a semi-circle around her, with the ladies and Lord Tellion seated on chairs and the two younger men standing behind. If Éomer had not already been deeply in love with Lothíriel, he most certainly was by the end of the performance. It was a performance worthy of a king’s presence. The story of the Goblin King had never been told before with such drama, comic timing, and the voices, each in character. She was quite the actress. The sinister characters were truly evil, the noble characters were even more noble, when there were horses clopping, you heard the sound of clopping and when the blade finally came swooshing down to strike through the body of the Goblin King, there was an audible swoosh, a tortured bloodcurdling screech and the dramatic staggering of the King before his fall. ‘And the moral of the tale is: always listen to your mother and father when they tell you it’s time for bed,’ she finished with a flourish. ‘No!’ ‘No that’s not the proper ending, Auntie Lothi!’ ‘Can we have another story, please?’ The children all raised their voices to protest and cajole another story, but the mothers stepped in and bedtime was called. Telari had had to feed Bastior just before the performance and was visibly exhausted as young mothers are. They were all staying at the house that night and Lothíriel was conscious that Telari would have a tough night ahead, so she made sure that all goodbyes were done fondly but swiftly and eventually Lothíriel, Éomer and Éowyn were back out on the streets wending their way upwards towards the Citadel. ‘That was a truly extraordinary performance, Lothíriel. Thank you. And your friends are most gracious and lively hosts. This has been the most entertaining evening I think I have ever had’, Éomer said sincerely. ‘You are too kind. You will not have had any time for such things. You have been at constant war for most of your life, Éomer.’ Lothíriel had hesitated fractionally to so address him and felt a light surge of elation in doing so. ‘I hope that from now on at least you will find that my poor efforts of tonight will be easily surpassed by greater entertainment. But I am very glad that you enjoyed yourself tonight. I have known all the children since they were born. Even Lothíriel, although I was only five when she was born.’ Éomer remembered with a jolt that Lothíriel was only twenty. She seemed so mature and no different from Gelian and Telari, who were more than fifteen years older. They came to the house where Éomer and Éowyn were staying. It was close to the Citadel, only one tier below it, and Lothíriel did not have much further to walk to get there. She gave Éowyn a warm hug to say goodnight. ‘I will walk you back,’ stated Éomer. ‘There’s really no need, thank you,’ Lothíriel replied, bowing with right hand over her heart in the familiar gesture of greeting and farewell. ‘He will walk you back, Lothíriel. Faramir would insist on it,’ Éowyn intervened anticipating how stubborn both of them could be. Lothíriel acquiesced, knowing she had been beaten. They walked in silence. She brushed close to him when she avoided an uneven paving stone and her hand momentarily touched against his. A sharp bolt of longing surged through her and her pace faltered briefly. ‘Are you alright,’ he asked concerned. ‘Yes,’ she squeaked, and cleared her throat. ‘Thank you. I just stubbed my toe’. Éomer had to resist the urge to ask her to let him inspect the toe for damage and he blushed at his thoughts as to where that might lead. They reached the entrance way to the Citadel manned by the Tower guards. Managing by that time to regain her composure, she simply turned and gave him the traditional bow of farewell. ‘Thank you for walking me back. I believe I will next see you at the Feast to be held to welcome the arrival of Kings Thorin and Bard. Take care until then, Éomer King.’ ‘Fare thee well, Lady Lothíriel,’ he said, bowing in his turn. He retraced his steps feeling disappointed. The Feast was over a week away and he did not want to wait until then to see her again. Had the Tower guards not been watching, he is not sure that he would not have tried to kiss her, but then he thought of her history, how threatening that might be for her, and was saddened. Time, he needed time with her to put her at ease. |