Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 12 |
| Chapter Twelve |
| Lothíriel was becoming anxious and increasingly withdrawn. The skies had been heavy with cloud and rain, obscuring all sense of Finglor and she had no word of his coming. She had roamed far from Helm’s Deep every day they had been there, accompanied always by Genting and Trondig but often also by Éowyn at Éomer’s insistence. Finglor’s last words to him rang clear in his mind. Much to his frustration, it seemed to him that Lothíriel was actively avoiding him, but he was so busy overseeing the preparations for winter he was not in a position to take as much care of her as he would have wished. More worrying still were disturbing reports from Aragorn, corroborated by both King Thranduil and the Elves of Lothlórien of warmongering amongst the Easterling tribes potentially threatening The Wold. Aragorn had sent a detailed warning message to Éomer, so detailed Éomer, in fact, wondered how many spies there were roaming freely among his people. Warfare, he had too belatedly begun to realise, was not always fought in open combat. He ordered Delwine to ride to Minas Tirith with the task of uncovering all Aragorn felt he could not commit to a scroll which could go astray. Putting Elfhelm, Marshal of the East-mark, on high alert, reinforcements were already being sent east. He was sorely needed back in Edoras, but unless either Imrahil or Finglor arrived he would not leave Helm’s Deep; he would not leave Lothíriel to face the next three nights without one of them to help her through the anniversary of her ordeal. It was therefore with some relief that he received news from one of the guards on watch that Prince Imrahil and a party of Swan Knights had been seen riding hard towards the fortress and Éomer was at the steps to greet them as they dismounted inside the keep. ‘Amrothos!’ he exclaimed trying to keep the look of disappointment from his face. Only at close proximity would you realise that his youngest son was not Imrahil himself. Amrothos had registered the fleeting look of dismay and announced grimly, ‘I know I am not the one who was wanted here and believe me I too am not happy with this myself, but I am here, and I will do what I can to make sure my sister gives no harm to anyone.’ A grimace of disapproval flitted across Éomer’s face. He nevertheless bowed in greeting to Amrothos and bade him welcome. ‘Lothíriel is out riding with my sister, but we expect them back shortly. Please let me escort you to your chambers and once you are ready, come to join me in my study. Haflend here will wait on you and bring you to me when you are done,’ he said more courteously than he was feeling. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ‘Where is he?’ Lothíriel shouted to Haflend, when she found him. She had seen the Swan Knights milling around the keep and had rushed to find her father. ‘He is in the King’s study with the King, my Lady,’ Haflend answered but she had run off towards the study too quickly for him to caution her further. Éowyn was in close pursuit and had caught up with her at the door as Lothíriel burst in after the most perfunctory knock. Her excited face fell dramatically on seeing her brother. ‘Where is Father?’ she asked him anxiously. ‘It’s good to see you too, Lothíriel,’ answered her brother sardonically. ‘I have had a lovely four-day ride here in the pissing rain and cold, thank you for asking…’ She cast her eyes downwards and managed to rasp out an apology. She was breathing heavily and was swaying unsteadily. Éomer moved forward to catch her under her arm. ‘Lothíriel has been unwell recently, Amrothos. She is not quite herself,’ Éomer said to him sharply. Amrothos rolled his eyes and moved away from the group to look out of the window towards the shadow of the huge outer walls of the fortress in the gathering dusk. Lothíriel recovered from the initial shock and purposefully removed Éomer’s hand from her arm to stride over to Amrothos. ‘Where is Father exactly, Amrothos?’ she demanded more forcefully. Amrothos swivelled round to face her angrily. ‘Precisely, I do not know, but he is not in Dol Amroth, or he would have come himself to protect his little girl,’ he replied with distaste. ‘You are worried about him,’ she said alarmed. ‘Amrothos, where is he? Is he with Tuor?’ she asked glaring dangerously at her brother. He said nothing. He simply looked down at her with ill-concealed dislike. ‘Have they gone to Umbar?’ she said ominously. Amrothos stood glowering at her in silent fury. ‘Tell me,’ she screamed at him. Éomer and Éowyn looked at each other in consternation, Éomer moved to intervene. ‘Stay out of this,’ Lothíriel warned him angrily. She grabbed Amrothos by his tunic and pushing her face close to his. ‘Where are they?’ she growled. Amrothos’s nostrils flared as he continued to ignore her. ‘Get off me,’ Amrothos said slowly and deliberately. Lothíriel looked murderously at him, as she stepped back from him, her breathing laboured. ‘They will be alright, your defiled Elf is with them,’ he shot at her. Lothíriel was too quick for Éomer to reach as he lunged forward to try to deflect what he feared. Lothíriel struck out violently at Amrothos, but he had anticipated her adeptly and proving to all the reason for Finglor’s faith in him, he blocked her attack fluidly and threw her aggressively across the room. Éomer was about to remonstrate with Amrothos but Lothíriel had landed cat like on her feet and she turned quickly to stop him. She held her hands aloft and said hoarsely, ‘I deserved that, I am sorry, I am so sorry, Amrothos. That was unforgivable.’ She was panting not with effort but in panic. She was shaking in fear. ‘They’ve gone to Sennebar, haven’t they? They can’t succeed against it, it’s impregnable, no army can take it. Why have they gone? Tuor… Finglor… They both know better….’ She collapsed on a nearby stool. She was rocking back and forward clutching her arms around her. Amrothos looked on without compassion. ‘And I was sworn to secrecy, yet you have already worked it out… Yes, Father is risking his neck so his precious daughter doesn’t have to,’ he said callously. Lothíriel stood up starkly in anger. ‘He cannot go in my stead, Finglor knows this. The prophecy is clear…’ she shouted. Éomer and Éowyn stood still while the two siblings fought on. ‘The prophecy, the damn prophecy that has blighted all our lives and your freak of an Elf, the ‘Great Seer’ who was responsible for it!’ Amrothos yelled at her. ‘Lothi, is it real or does it exist just to make us all do what they want us to do? Have you ever thought of that? We are Men. The prophesies of Elves? What are they to us?’ ‘Finglor is the Seer? He is the one responsible for the prophecy?’ Éomer asked amazed. ‘But I thought the Elven Seers were all lost to Middle-earth in the time of Isildur.’ Amrothos turned to Éomer and Éowyn bitterly and said, ‘Elves live a very long time, Éomer. How old do you think Finglor is?’ ‘Amrothos, you do not know,’ Lothíriel cautioned him. ‘You do not know what he has suffered for us, for me… for Mother,’ she declared darkly. ‘Suffered for Mother...?’ Amrothos cried out scathingly. ‘She couldn’t bear him anywhere near us. He brought this Doom upon us. And you, you would harm me, your own kin, rather than have anyone criticise your beloved Finglor. Mother hated him,’ he finished vehemently. Lothíriel was silently sobbing, tears streaming down her face. ‘She did, she did hate him. Tuor always said so,’ she managed to say through her sobs. ‘And Amrothos, please understand, she paid the price for that mistrust. We all did. Mother’s fear of him drove away from us the best protection we had. Finglor knew that and he could do nothing. He is not to blame. He has the gift, he is a Seer – he only saw what came to him and he has been proved right. But if they attack Sennebar, they will fail. He knows this. Father and Tuor, they all know this…’ She slumped onto the floor shuddering. Éomer rushed over and took her up in his arms and carried her over to sit on his ornate desk where he could hold on to her. She clung to him. Amrothos paced up and down the study. ‘Elphir was visiting Pelargir with Father when it all happened. He had gone out early to meet someone; when he returned, he found Father had left with Tuor for Umbar. Finglor arrived on the black horse in Pelargir not long after they had left. He ordered one of Tuor’s ships to take him and the horse to sail for Umbar immediately after them. Elphir told me Finglor was clearly worried enough to have warned him that Sennebar might be their final destination and they might not all return and that I was to come to be with you if they didn’t make it back in time. More than that I do not know.’ Amrothos was tense. ‘Elphir sent word to me in Dol Amroth and ordered me to leave to arrive by today if I didn’t hear from him again. I am not here willingly, Lothíriel, but I could not refuse Elphir’s direct command,’ he ended bitterly. Lothíriel had raised her head and watched her brother dispassionately. She nodded her acceptance of his position and said calmly, ‘I am sorry this task has been laid upon you, Amrothos, but you are the only one I myself would trust with it. I fear that I will be more destructive than usual tonight, I cannot stay within these walls. I found a hut on the mountain by the lake two leagues from here. It won’t be comfortable, but it is remote enough that I won’t at least harm anyone else.’ ‘That hut is far too cold for you both to stay in, I know the one you mean, we were there together yesterday,’ cried Éowyn shocked that she would consider staying in such a hovel in such weather. ‘I didn’t find anywhere else suitable, Éowyn…I…’ Lothíriel started to argue but Éomer interrupted her. ‘Lothíriel, I had already agreed with Finglor that you will reside in the Glittering Caves for these next three nights. I have made arrangements for proper bedding and food. It is why Helm’s Deep was chosen. Tuor and your father both gave me detailed instructions of what to do to help you through this. You will come across no one there, you will be free to wander, and it will be much more comfortable for you. I swore to them both, and Finglor, I would look after you. Please allow me to honour my promise.’ Lothíriel’s head bowed reluctantly in defeat allowing a concerned Éowyn to usher her out of the room to help her prepare what she would need. Amrothos heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. I swear she gets worse, not better,’ he said despairingly. Éomer studied Amrothos intently. ‘You cannot hold your sister to be responsible for this prophecy,’ he said to Amrothos. ‘I no longer know what I believe, Éomer,’ he replied mournfully. ‘I know you think that we, her brothers, are unsympathetic and don’t love her, but she blocked us every time we tried to make amends for that day. I lost my mother too, you know. It will be nine years ago that we lost her, and not a day goes by when I don’t think of her. My own mother died giving birth to me. Amahlia was the only mother I knew, and I loved her as such. And yet all our grief at her loss was subsumed by Lothíriel’s pain. We were not permitted to grieve; all our feelings were disallowed in the face of what had happened to her. We were so grateful to be called to Minas Tirith, even going into battle was a relief from the misery we left in Dol Amroth. You do not know what she is capable of doing. She has… done some very bad things,’ Amrothos began but his face twisted up in a painful memory and he stalled. ‘And I had always been the closest to her, in everything, until Galador came between us. Even Mother...’ he halted momentarily as a long-held resentment welled up inside him. ‘He took her away from me, from us and we hated him for it. You know his twin sister is married to Erchirion. She would tell us the kind of things they got up to. She was disgusted by their behaviour and the tighter Galador and Lothíriel became, the more we were driven from her. This wedge is still there. We have all heard that you have become… close… to her, Éomer, but I would caution you against this. You do not know her like we do.’ Éomer looked at Amrothos almost in pity. His pain was genuine but Éomer had begun to suspect there was a deeper source of evil in play close to the Prince of Dol Amroth and his family. ‘I will stay with her in the Caves tonight,’ Éomer stated in a tone which brooked no objection. ‘You’d best leave her to me as I know the Caves, if she wanders it is possible to get quite lost in there.’ Amrothos replied with equal determination, ‘I would gladly leave this all to you, Éomer, but I also swore an oath to my brother and my father that I would not let you go through this alone. Father had warned me before he left for Pelargir that if I was called to be here for Lothíriel, I would have to come. That said, I think it is best that you are there with us tonight as if she threatens me, or anyone else, I do not think I would hesitate to harm her.’ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tuor had warned Éomer that her first night was the one during which she would always seek out water. It could happen on the second night but never on the last night when she was at her most dangerous. He had ordered a bed to be made up in a small and relatively warm section of the cave system and had two beds made up for himself and Amrothos on either side of a connecting cave which provided Lothíriel’s only exit to the main cavern. The entrance to the fortress from the caves was locked with guards posted outside. It was the first time Lothíriel had been into the caves and under other circumstances she would have been enchanted. Gimli had described them to her in Minas Tirith in such wondrous terms, but she felt even he, speaking in the expressive language of the dwarves, had not done them justice. Éomer had made sure that there were lamps burning throughout to light their way to their resting place but there had been little need for any such light in the main cavern. The moonlight filtered through fissures in the rock ceiling, lighting upon seams and seams of precious gems interwoven delicately by mithril, which glowed surreally, illuminating the whole cavern. A stream flowed through the heart of this glittering festival of colours and a large pool of translucent silver, warmed by a deep underground source, shimmered at the end of the great cavern before the water coursed through it, ultimately cascading into hidden caves and rocks further down the complex cave system. The far side of the pool itself was open to the night sky, the only part of the entire cave system to be so exposed, wide enough from the top of the rocks above the pool to see the full night sky and stars, which were reflected in their full glory in the water. It was a place of such beauty, Lothíriel felt her emotions change from dread to reflection and poignancy. She stood staring at the water for a long time, until Éomer came to take her by the hand to show her to her resting place. Food and wine had been left for them and they ate in silence, each feeling such a sense of awe in their surroundings they had no wish to speak. It became clear to Éomer that Amrothos was exhausted from his long journey so once the two men saw Lothíriel settled, he suggested that he should take first watch. With barely any further acknowledgment Amrothos fell immediately into such a deep sleep that Éomer felt decidedly relieved he had not left Lothíriel in her brother’s sole care. Returning to sit in the main cavern, Éomer allowed his eyes to absorb the beauty of the bejewelled seams of the natural structure, wondering what glories Gimli and his kin would create when they came to settle in the Glittering Caves as Lothíriel had suggested within her plans for the development of Rohan. They would be useful allies and an asset to the economy. He had initially resisted the suggestion of allowing a dwarf colony on his lands, but the more he had thought about it, the greater sense it made, especially as he felt a deep affinity with Gimli himself. Lost in thought, he nearly missed the almost imperceptible change in atmosphere of another’s presence in the cavern. He had been expecting to hear some cries of fear which he had been told would herald the beginning of Lothíriel’s wanderings, but he heard only the rustle of her white silken night clothes as she walked barefoot onto the smooth rockface beside the pool. She climbed on the largest rock above the pool and turned her face towards the stars. Éomer moved closer fearing she might fall. Closing her eyes she started to speak in Quenya, the Elvish tongue she always used with Finglor. It sounded to Éomer that she was imploring the stars themselves to do something for her. Cloudless though the night was, Éomer had the sensation of the starlight shining more brightly on her face as though light which had been obscured was now revealing itself. Opening her arms to welcome it, she crossed both hands over her heart bowing her head in greeting. She remained face upturned to the starlight as though absorbing its power before letting out a sigh of relief. She opened her eyes and jumped suddenly from the rock to the opposite side of the pool from where Éomer stood, on to the side beside the pool which was most open to the moonlight and the stars, then she began to dance. Slowly at first, in the same intense sensuous way he had seen her dance beside the pool in the gardens of his family’s house in Aldburg. She danced for Finglor. He knew that. He could do nothing but watch from the other side of the pool, his eyes feasting on her exquisite form. He imagined the very waters of the pool were watching her dance and the tinkling sound of the pure waters flowing between the rocks seemed to him to match her movements. His body was overwhelmed with longing for her, he imagined himself holding her, touching her in the dance as Finglor had with her wrapping herself around him. Abruptly she stopped her dance and faced him as though she had been startled. Their eyes connected; her lips still parted in her surprise. He found himself knee high in the pool, he had no recollection of entering the water but there he was, standing in the shimmering water feeling somewhat foolish. She walked calmly into the water towards him, not taking her eyes off his until she came up to her waist, when she dived in and swam over to him. He had already begun to move forward and was up to his waist when she surfaced. He caught her in his arms and pulled her up to him. He could see her body through her fine clothes, her firm breasts with dark hard nipples pressed to him. He kissed her so hard, he thought he might have bruised her, but she had responded equally fiercely. She wrapped her legs around his waist in the water and thrust herself against his hardness. He groaned at the intensity of his urge to reciprocate. ‘Lothi, stop. We must stop this. This is wrong.’ With immense self-control he waded out of the water with her still wrapped around him and sat them both down on a rock, finding the warm blanket he had left there for when she might need it. He enfolded them both in its softness. ‘You are conscious, are you not? You have not had your night terrors yet?’ he asked caressing her cheek. She was staring into his eyes stroking his beard; she nuzzled her head against his shoulder. ‘They are alive. Finglor, Father, Tuor. They are all alive,’ she said quietly into his chest. They stayed there a while holding each other close until the chill drove them to their respective resting places to change into dry clothing. She came out to find him. ‘Your brother sleeps like one dead,’ he commented. She looked at him guiltily. ‘I put a sleeping draft in the wine, which I intended for both of you, only you did not touch the wine tonight... I needed to find Finglor, and I didn’t want to be disturbed by either of you. I am sorry… I am sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I am feeling somewhat over-emotional, but I do need you close to me. Will you stay? I feel so safe with you.’ She looked away from him upwards into the far distance of the stars. She held out her hand for him to take, to lead him to the rock on which she had stood entreating the starlight to fall upon her. They sat close side by side with her legs slung over his own and his arm resting protectively around her shoulders. She pointed out the brightest star in the sky to Éomer and told him it was Ëarendil travelling through the night sky to be met by his wife Elwing, parents of Lord Elrond, the Half-Elven, who chose to be of the Elven race and his twin brother, Elros, her ancestor as well as Aragorn’s, who chose the fate of Men and became the first King of Númenor. The light was that of the Silmaril, bound to his brow. She danced for Lord Ulmo, Vala of the Water, she told him, to beg him to ask Ëarendil, while he sailed his ship alongside the stars, to turn to watch her, so that through the reflection of the light of the Silmaril Finglor could find his own wife who resided in Aman. Their connection through the light of the Great Jewel was so strong that sometimes she could feel Finglor’s wife dancing through her. Tonight, she had gone to search for Finglor, only to have found him already waiting for her through the reflection of the radiance to send her the message that they were all safe. He was on his way back to her with Maela. Éomer listening in awe at such a tale, believing her, despite its strangeness. She seemed as remote from him in mind and experience as she was close to him now physically. He suddenly felt insecure. How could he hope to offer this mystifying woman, more Elven at times than of Mankind, a life worthy of her? That Finglor had a wife, he had found surprising, yet reassuring. He had never thought of him in those terms. Lothíriel snuggled up close to him and lay in his arms with her eyes closed. ‘Stay with me. Promise me. I need you to understand. When it starts, please stay with me, however horrible it is. Don’t… don’t leave me on my own…,’ she had whispered to him as he felt her falling asleep at last. He waited until he was sure she was asleep before carrying her to her bed, where he laid her down gently and went to rest on his own bed outside her chamber. Amrothos was still sound asleep as Éomer dozed off. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- It must have been several hours later when the screaming woke him. He bolted straight up and ran to her cave. Amrothos was already there looking on, his face drawn in horror. Neither man moved forward to go to her aid, they knew they had to let events run their course. When Lothíriel cried out for her mother Amrothos turned away, unable to watch any more of his sister’s struggle against her attacker. ‘No, no, no, don’t hurt her. No! I’ll do anything you say…. anything. Don’t hurt her,’ she uttered in defeat. What followed was unbearable for Éomer. Amrothos had left the chamber, tears flowing down his cheeks. But Éomer had promised her before she fell asleep that he would stay, and so he stayed. His thoughts strayed to Imrahil for whom this must have been even more tortuous. Imrahil had told him that to his shame, when Finglor had offered to take over this vigil, he had not fought hard to be dissuaded. Eventually it was over. She lay completely still. She was naked now. Éomer knew what to expect and walked into the chamber next door to find Amrothos. He was standing looking out over the silver pond in the great cavern. He turned as he heard Éomer approaching. He looked at him nervously. Éomer guessed at his concern. ‘I have seen your sister naked before, Amrothos, in circumstances similar to this. Finglor was there too. He asked me specifically to be here for her and I would be here now even had it been your father here in your stead,’ he explained without embarrassment. Amrothos nodded and looked as though he was to say something, but his gaze diverted behind Éomer, who turned himself to see Lothíriel emerging into the glittering hall. She walked slowly and deliberately into the waters of the silver pool, submerged herself fully and then came to rest on her back floating on the water gazing up into the stars. She stayed there a long time. Amrothos kept looking at Éomer to see if he would suggest fetching her out of the water but Éomer just waited. Eventually she had floated close enough to the pool’s edge that she righted herself and started to walk out of the pool. Éomer was ready with another blanket and gently dried her off. He squeezed out all the water from her hair as he had seen Finglor do, and he plaited it for her as he had. He then took her hand and walked her back to her bed and wrapped her up in warmer blankets with one around her wet hair. He sat holding her in his arms until he felt she was in a deep enough sleep to leave her, kissing her on her forehead before he left, unabashed that Amrothos was still watching. They both went out to the main cavern where the glow of the sky was lightening towards dawn, creating a change in the shimmering of the rock face around them. Amrothos was moved by the sight of the dancing colours. ‘You are in love with her, aren’t you?’ he asked Éomer. ‘Yes, I am,’ Éomer replied matter-of-factly. ‘Does she feel the same way?’ Amrothos looked at him concerned. ‘I do not know,’ came the answer. ‘She would be a fool not to!’ Amrothos said with feeling. ‘Why do you say that?’ Éomer asked his eyes glinting a warning. Amrothos hesitated a long while. ‘As my father values you highly as a friend, this would be his dearest wish, but he then has always been biased in her favour. I would counsel you against pursuing her further until you know her true character…’ Amrothos paused before continuing. ‘I doubt you have heard the full story. Father has ever been more indulgent with her than with us,’ he spoke bitterly. He motioned for Éomer to sit on one of the rocks overlooking the pool and stood in front of him to explain. ‘You have to understand, my real mother died trying to give him a daughter. I was not aware of what happened before I was born, obviously, nor even until Mother… Amahlia, died, but Elphir has since spoken to me about how happy they had been as a family before Amahlia came to Dol Amroth. Giving birth to Erchirion had nearly killed my real mother and she had been told that she would be unlikely to survive another child. Father had always wanted a daughter, so he was greatly disappointed but accepted the situation. That is until he met Amahlia. A shadow fell over the court from that moment. Elphir told me that although he had never seen himself evidence of this, rumours had started to grow about Father’s infatuation with her. It seems that my own mother was so desperate to keep Father’s attention that she risked herself to become with child again so she could provide him with the longed-for daughter to distract him away from Amahlia. Well,’ he snorted, ‘his disappointment on my arrival can only have been improved by my mother’s death, leaving him free to marry Amahlia, which he did two years later. To make matters worse, owing to her great skills in healing, Amahlia had been brought to assist in my birth and opened herself up to the slur that she had in fact caused my mother’s death so she could marry my father. That I don’t believe, not for a second. Amahlia… Mother, could never have done anything so wicked. Father told me that Mother had been so distraught at my real mother’s death and that I had been close to dying myself that she put all her love and skills into caring for me. I had always thought, when I was very little, that Father had grown to love Mother because of me and that’s why he married her. My brothers, especially Erchirion, were initially resentful and wary of Amahlia, but I was too young to understand what had been said about her. To me we were happy as a family, and then Lothíriel came along, and everything changed. The “Elf Child”, they called her. The “Prophecy” had been answered. I was only about five, but I still remember the ruckus at the Palace when the Rangers from the North came down to see her. Mother fought with them. I remember hearing her shouting at them, “That Elf will not come near her, I forbid it. This is nothing to do with us!” Well, we all know whom she was referring to now, although obviously I had no idea then…’ He was pacing up and down with pent up resentment and pain. ‘Nothing was ever the same. Lothíriel was the centre of everyone’s attention, especially Father’s. He adored her. Him and Galador… and me. She was adorable,’ his face softened at his memory of his sister as a baby. ‘She had a real knack for making people happy. But as she grew older, we began to understand how very different she was. She remembered everything. She could read by the time she was two years old; she spent hours in the Library just absorbing everything she could. Father taught her Faradin when she was four. She beat him the first time they played. It worried him – I remember that. Denethor ordered the family up to see him. Mother hated him and didn’t want to go. We now know the real reason why, but in any case we had no choice, and Elphir was so very close to Boromir, he always pestered Father to take us to Minas Tirith. Denethor seemed to loathe Lothi from the beginning. He could be vicious, particularly after she beat him at Faradin and easily at that. I remember wondering at the time why everyone seemed so fearful of her after that. She had no idea of the furore she was causing, of course, even we didn’t understand it…’ Amrothos paused for breath giving Éomer the chance to interrupt, ‘What do you know of the Prophecy and Finglor’s history?’ he asked Amrothos. ‘Not nearly enough. Father never divulged to us that he was an Elf. Even we did not know of that until Éowyn wrote of it to Faramir. He came to Dol Amroth right after…. erm… a bad incident and we all left for Minas Tirith to help with the war. Four months after that Father left Lothi in charge of all our finances and he himself rarely visited. My brothers and I almost never went back. How much Finglor was running things I don’t know. No one in Dol Amroth, even at the Palace seemed to know he was there, but I doubt he left her side. As for the Prophecy, it was always kept from us. Father did once say when Erchirion asked him specifically about it that even those who were supposed to fulfil the Prophecy didn’t know many of the details as anyone who had the knowledge of it tended to disappear to the torture chambers, like Finglor himself as I have only recently discovered. Father said he was tortured for centuries by the Enemy for his gifts as one of the great Elven Seers.’ Amrothos’s tone had changed to one of sadness. He may have had a reputation for callousness but Éomer did not believe he was as devoid of empathy as accused. ‘How long did it take your broken leg to heal before you left for Minas Tirith,’ Éomer made a shrewd guess. Amrothos looked up sharply in disbelief. ‘So, you know about that? From Lothi? I doubt very much you know all of it.’ The hostility in his voice seeping into every word. ‘What did she really tell you, that Finglor was a hero because it fixed up a leg that was broken beyond repair? Is that what she told you about what happened?’ he continued angrily. ‘No, Amrothos,’ Éomer countered remaining calm. ’I heard it first from Sandrinë, as well as Vadamir and Hella…’ ‘Vadamir?’ he interrupted almost mockingly. ‘Another one who would sacrifice all for Lothíriel, even his own child…’ came his bitter reply. ‘Who else was there in the garden that night?’ Éomer demanded, a little too harshly. Amrothos was quick to control himself. Éomer realised his mistake too late, he had been premature in informing Amrothos of his suspicions. ‘This is none of your damn business, Éomer. I would strongly advise you to ask no more, you will not like where it leads…’ Amrothos ended emphatically, and making it clear the conversation was over he turned sullenly away from his host to make his way to the cavern where they were to sleep. Éomer was annoyed at his clumsiness in handling his probing of events he felt sure was crucial to unlocking Lothíriel’s past. He had not anticipated such a visceral, wounded reaction from Amrothos. Perhaps the key to her past lay not in the North but much closer to home. In his heart he was sure that something else lay behind this affair; Vadamir and Hella has been clear that while the truth was to remain hidden, the blame lay not with Lothíriel. His mind was whirring with possible likely scenarios, but he had to give up, he needed sleep. There was simply too little information to form a clear picture. He had to trust his aunt to delve further, she had the very best of contacts in Dol Amroth to aid her investigations. Confident of his aunt’s abilities, he followed Amrothos into the cavern to his bed and allowed himself to drift off in slumber. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- He was woken by Lothíriel, who had gently stroked his cheek. He sat bolt upright, almost knocking her off where she had perched on his bed. She laughed. ‘Amrothos is feeling restless, and probably not a little hungry, so he asked me to wake you so we could leave for the fortress. I am feeling much more at ease now I know they are all alive and heading back.’ She was certainly a different person than the previous day. She hesitated momentarily, ‘My hair was a bit wet, so I suppose I had the usual dream. I hope… well, I hope you didn’t have to watch… any… I mean, it’s easy for me, I just wake up with wet hair. I don’t remember anything… And no one, not even Finglor, will tell me…’ she looked up at him confused herself as to what she was trying to ask of him. She looked away from him and lowered her head in shame. He regarded her with great empathy but had no words to describe to her what he had surmised from the ordeal she had gone through. Her conscious mind might not remember but her unconscious mind most certainly did, and he had been left in no doubt as to what had been done to her. Tenderly reaching out his hand to her chin to turn her face upwards towards his, he pushed back a loose strand of hair from her face and told her gently, ‘It helped me understand you more and there is nothing, nothing Lothi, for you to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Never with me. Please don’t doubt that.’ For a moment, her eyes shining with gratitude looked straight into his own. The first time he had gazed into her eyes he had felt his world change. And it had changed; he had changed. As then, in this brief moment he felt as though centuries passed, he felt the sublime connection of two souls intertwining. Then he saw her, he saw her so clearly, her inner self, the elf-child grown into womanhood, the woman she would become once all these secrets were uncovered and she could be free. She was… magnificent. ‘Éomer.’ He wanted time to linger in this moment, he wanted to fold her into his arms and love her forever, but the mist that so often surrounded her descended once more. ‘Éomer,’ he heard Amrothos’s impatient voice interrupting a second time. ‘May we leave the caves?’ The moment was gone. She had drawn away from him on her brother’s words. Had she felt it too? He could not tell; her attention had turned to her brother. He watched her keenly as she stood up to approach Amrothos. She glanced back at him briefly, wistfully, he thought. ‘Of course, Amrothos,’ he managed to rouse himself. ‘I will be right with you.’ Amrothos took his seemingly inert sister by the arm to lead her out into the grand cavern. She was withdrawn, her focus drawn to the waters of the cavern’s pond and yet also deep within herself. Her family knew she was powerfully drawn to water, though not the sea, the sea held terrors for her they all understood. But whenever she had gone missing in Dol Amroth or she went into one of her trances, they would always find her near water, a fountain or a stream. Amrothos let her go, unsurprised that she sat down on one of the rocks beside the shimmering pool and dipped her hand into the water. She had felt what Éomer had sensed. She had felt it through him. She had seen someone else, herself, yes but also not. And then the connection was broken. She could not understand what she had seen, only that there was a presence deep within her that had been tantalisingly close. She felt… taller. No, that was not the right word, her rational mind rebelled. She had expanded somehow. Not physically, obviously, but something had shifted within her, an opening perhaps into another dimension of her being. But it was such a fleeting glimpse of what lay behind this wall in her mind and it had been stifled by the demands of the present as her brother had inserted his impatience into the moment. But something had stirred. It gave her hope. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Éowyn had been surprised that Lothíriel had been so positive throughout the day as she had been led to believe by Lothíriel herself that she was unbearable to be around during this three-day period. She almost did not dare ask her brother how Lothíriel seemed to know that her father, Tuor and Finglor were all safe after the previous day’s fracas but his answer to her when she did find the courage to ask was so astonishing that she was not sure she fully believed him. She was naturally very interested to hear all the details of his conversation with Amrothos, but he clammed up when she asked him what he had seen while Lothíriel was sleepwalking. ‘I cannot bring myself to tell you, Éowyn,’ he had said simply, and she knew to leave it at that. That evening Éomer decided to take his guests on an extended tour of the Glittering Caves before settling in to sleep. Their silence spoke for their wonderment. Before retreating to her cave, Lothíriel became pensive. ‘I know you are both very tired. Neither of you need to stand watch over me closely tonight, not unless I go wandering, I suppose, which I hopefully I won’t. I believe that usually I just shout a lot,’ she said attempting a wan smile. Éomer smiled back, ‘Don’t worry about us. I’ve slept in barns with a dozen snoring men and there was always one who would shout in his sleep. We will be here for you,’ he assured her kindly. Amrothos just looked at them both pensively, resigned to the intimacy he was seeing develop between them. Éomer had fallen asleep immediately. He was in the middle of a nightmare. He could hear his mother screaming, screaming at the news that his father had been slain. Éomer ran to her but she pushed him away, only it wasn’t his mother, it was Lothíriel, and she was pushing him away, screaming ‘Mother, Mother. Leave her alone,’ screaming and screaming. He was drenched in sweat as his mind snapped into consciousness. Amrothos’s bed was empty. He raced to Lothíriel’s cavern. Amrothos was pounding the walls with his hands in despair and frustration. He left as soon as Éomer arrived. Lothíriel was screaming that she would do anything they asked, only it was clear that those she could see in her memory were not interested in her like Cirion had been. They had a more enticing plaything. Suddenly Lothíriel froze. Her eyes were wide open and she was watching a series of events unfolding which were hidden to anyone else. She did not speak, just whimpered, too shocked to even shout. At one stage a knife or sharp instrument must have been held to her throat as she suddenly jerked up her head while staring down whatever was threatening her. Her hands had been tied in front of her as she was holding her wrists together, but she had been free to walk. She had been pushed into room or small space and had knelt there watching the door she had been pushed through. She got up and ran to the door sometime later, triggered by something she had heard as she had cried out ‘Mother’ in anguish again but more softly. She was crying. The door must have opened and she was dragged out, probably not far and then she was strung up to something, a post perhaps. Éomer tensed. He had been told of what would happen next and he was not sure he could stay to watch it. He went out to the sounds of her screams of pain and sat on his bed with his head in his hands trying not to be sick. He fervently hoped that Amrothos had taken himself far away from this. The screaming eventually stopped. Six lashes, he reckoned and then there was the pain of whatever ointment had been smeared on her open wounds to prevent infection. That had been almost worse than the original cuts. He went back in to find Lothíriel dropped on the floor in a heap. He knew he was not to touch her or to help her in anyway. Imrahil and Tuor had been very insistent on that. It was at this moment she had come very close to stabbing her father through the heart when he had made that mistake in the early days. Amrothos came to join him. Eventually she made her way back onto her bed and lay there on her front trembling. They left her there once they were sure she had fallen back into an undisturbed sleep. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ‘I have no wish to sleep,’ said Amrothos breaking the silence. ‘I will stand watch in case she wanders, if you wish to rest.’ ‘I fear where my mind will lead me if I sleep now,’ Éomer confessed. ‘There is still a bottle of wine in the hamper if you wish to share it with me. My nerves are somewhat unsettled,’ he added. They sat down close enough to Lothíriel’s only exit in the great cavern that they would easily see her if she left her chamber and opened the bottle. Amrothos recognised it as coming from one of his estates, although, as he admitted, it was one of those Lothíriel had gifted to him when she inherited from their aunt, not that he had known that at the time. ‘When did that happen? Was it before or after Vandan’s death?’ Éomer risked asking. ‘What do you think you know about Vandan’s death, Éomer?’ Amrothos returned his question darkly. Éomer shifted his position to look frankly at Amrothos. ‘Vandan was not Lothíriel’s lover, Amrothos. Vandan was in love with Galador, who was himself in love with another who was also there in the garden that night… a man, certainly not Lothíriel.’ Amrothos exploded. ‘You do not know of what you speak. There were only two others in the garden that night, myself and Elphir…’ Éomer looked up in surprise, ‘…and I can assure you that neither of us is that way inclined. I do not know what you have been told but there are other reasons, notwithstanding the fact that Lothíriel admitted to it herself, that I know she had been Vandan’s lover. In truth, Éomer, for your own sake, do not press me further on this.’ Amrothos glared threateningly at Éomer. Amrothos’s words had caused Éomer to pause for thought, it had not been the answer he had expected and given Amrothos’s mood, he felt he needed to be cautious. ‘Had another man been there, from your vantage point, would you have seen him? I only ask because my aunt in Aldburg, Morwyn, asked Hella and Vadamir to describe to her the exact layout of the garden and the location of where everyone could have been, and it seemed to her that you couldn’t have seen from the window who else might have been in between Lothíriel and Vandan when she threw the dagger. Where was Elphir at that moment? Do you remember?’ Éomer asked gingerly. Amrothos threw him a look of pure distaste. ‘I didn’t see Elphir until he came to me after I had jumped from the window, but he was not Vandan’s lover. He was courting his wife, Serillion, at that time. They married only a month later and he has three children by her.’ Amrothos hesitating, struggling with himself on whether he should divulge something which had since then remained a secret within the family. He admired and liked Éomer personally very much. He was torn but his innate honesty impelled him to decide to speak, however reluctantly. ‘Besides, Vandan was not her only lover. I saw her with my own eyes….’ He stopped and let out a long breath of frustration. ‘It gives me no pleasure, none at all, to relate this to you. Only Father and my brothers have ever…’ He sat down on a rock holding his head in his hands, unsure of whether to continue. Eventually he stood up and, visibly straining, told Éomer the truth about his sister. ‘Each of us, me, Elphir and Erchirion, saw Lothíriel with different men or the same man, we do not know, in the months leading up to Vandan’s death at different times. I will not speak of what my brothers saw, but I saw her myself… by the Valar this is hard to tell you, I saw my sister enjoying carnal relations with a man I had never seen before – within the Palace grounds. As I said to you earlier, you do not know her as we do. She is not this pure chaste victim you think she is, and I am ashamed to say we have kept this hidden between our immediate family all this time.’ Amrothos looked away from Éomer in disgust at his memory. Éomer was stunned, his instincts raged against this history, but equally, he did not feel that Amrothos was lying. Amrothos interrupted Éomer’s thoughts. ‘That was why Father believed so readily the reports from that witch Hannedriel that Lothi had been meeting her pirate lover. It wasn’t as outrageous as you all obviously thought it was, even if we were mistaken.’ Mistaken indeed, thought Éomer to himself. So much about Lothíriel had proved false, but it was true that she had not been so chaste with him. He had felt he was special to her, even Finglor had intimated this. It came to him suddenly, the realisation that he needed her to love him, truly love him and not just desire him. He was confident of the latter, and if she had been with other men, the thought of which he found confusing, this was her prerogative as much as it was his to go with other women. But he was not sure where her heart lay, only that she had his, and this he needed to know. Amrothos was looking at him miserably; his revelation had caused him great anguish. Éomer forced himself back to the story at hand: Vandan. ‘Whatever else your sister may or may not have done, Amrothos, she killed Vandan to prevent him from striking someone closer to him, someone, undoubtedly a man, whom you could not see because a thick bush obscured him from you. You saw Lothíriel and you saw Vandan running towards her with a sword raised but not what was between them. Even at that age, I doubt Vandan could have harmed her. She was too skilled a fighter even then; she could have thrown the dagger into his thigh, it would have stopped him, but if another blocked her aim and she had no choice…’ Amrothos was shaking his head, ‘Elphir was there only moments later with Amedlan, he would have seen had anyone else been there….’ ‘Amrothos, Hella and Vadamir are adamant that their son was not interested in Lothíriel, and they know it was Galador he was in love with, but they swore to Lothi they would not tell anyone the truth of what they know, despite their anger that she is the one paying the consequences. They know who it is she is protecting. Even Sandrinë, now that she has been told the truth about her brother’s preference for men, has accepted this. She misunderstood her brother’s words implying that the one he chased into the garden was his lover, who had been unfaithful to him, but his words could equally have meant that he felt it was Galador who had betrayed him with the one he raised his sword to strike in the garden. And I think we can both agree that the object of his jealousy was unlikely to be Lothíriel… And you never mentioned that Amedlan had been there, no one mentioned that. Why is that?’ Amrothos had gone silent as he absorbed Éomer’s words. He remembered Sandrinë’s screams about Galador but had assumed she had mistaken him for someone else given her poor eyesight, and Lothíriel had admitted to it all. It was some time before he spoke again. ‘I will have to speak with Elphir. I was in a lot of pain, and he came straight to me. Lothíriel then ordered him to find our father. I can’t remember what Amedlan did, she probably went off to inform everyone at the Palace what she had seen, it’s what she usually did.’ Amrothos said with bitterness. ‘And yet, this was the one bad rumour about Lothíriel and your family that didn’t make it out of the Palace, wasn’t it? It was not even widely known in the Palace… Why would that be? How long after this incident did Amedlan elevate herself to wife of one of the sons of Prince Imrahil?’ Amrothos raised his head to look at Éomer as though understanding something for the first time. ‘Elphir married Serillion within a month, with such unseemly haste it was falsely rumoured she was already with child, and Erchirion was married in Minas Tirith a month after that, not long after Aunt Ivriniel had died…. But surely…?’ ‘Amrothos, Amrothos, can you not see? The ills that afflict your family come not from within it. My aunt is a very wise woman and has maintained close correspondence with many well-connected courtiers over more than five decades. She knows the court of Dol Amroth very well and she wrote to me that the court’s atmosphere did indeed change after Amahlia arrived in Dol Amroth, only she attributes this to the appointment of Belegond as Steward to your grandfather Prince Adrahil only months later. It does not take much to poison the atmosphere of a court, as I know only too well. It only takes one man with evil intent. We had one such serpent in Edoras, who robbed my uncle of his last seven years and finally his only child, my cousin Théodred. That bastard caused us so much pain and death... His name was Gríma, we called him Wormtongue, and he was Saruman’s spy in our midst. Théodred and I watched helplessly as he manipulated all those around us. Even Théodred could do nothing but stand by and watch the slow effective drip of poison that man filled the court with. Belegond was recommended by Denethor, was he not? He is Lady Hannedriel’s brother and Amedlan was their spy on you children. Living with her must be hell for Erchirion. No wonder they have no offspring. Elphir must have known she was angling after him to have married someone else so quickly, what do you think it was that she knew? When my sister told me that Lothíriel always wondered why this was the one incident, the only one which never became known outside of your family and Vadamir’s, I was sure that this was the key to understanding your family’s rift. It’s not the Prophecy or the Doom that has caused your misery, it was Denethor’s hatred of the woman who spurned him and that schemer Hannedriel’s spite.’ Amrothos had stood up and was pacing in front of Éomer, absorbing the truth of his words but still not being able to believe that one person alone could have so malign an influence. ‘Are you sure it was Galador who was meant?’ he asked not quite believing but beginning to acknowledge the gnawing doubts that had lain deep within him. ‘Yes, Amrothos. I am sure,’ answered Éomer steadfastly. ‘And then there is Cirion… who sent him do you think? Was he coincidental? I doubt that very much. He had arrived with great riches, although my aunt found no source for his funds and no trace of him or his family when she made enquiries on behalf of one of her friends at your court who had become suspicious of this newcomer. But she was too late in sending her findings. The damage had already been done, and Amahlia was dead, but did no one think to ask where his wealth came from? My aunt’s great friend is Lady Adriel, with whom I believe you are well-acquainted…’ Éomer said pointedly. ‘Yes… err indeed, yes…’ Amrothos looked slightly uncomfortable at this reference to his father’s former mistress. ‘Come,’ Éomer said after a prolonged silence, ‘I realise this is a lot to digest. Let’s get some rest, the wine has had the requisite effect, on me at least.’ |