The horses were still out in the paddock and the stables, still lit by torchlight, seemed deserted. Hearing some clattering at the far end, she walked over to the source of the noise and came up behind a man bending forward into a shadow with his back to her, brushing down a docile looking mare. ‘Greetings,’ she said in Rohirric. The man swivelled sharply round in response. She caught her breath a little shocked.
It was the King himself but even more startling, he was bare-chested. He looked somewhat embarrassed. ‘Ah,’ he managed to say eventually as she could not stop herself from gazing at his taut muscular form, her keen mind analysing the various scars etched on his skin, wondering how he had come by each. She did not look away, she did not see the point. The memory of his rather breath-taking body was forever imprinted in her mind. ‘You are here much earlier than I had expected, my Lady. Please excuse me. I have formal meetings to go to after this and I did not want to sully my clothes,’ he explained.
‘The apology is mine to give, Sire. I have come down earlier than I told you so that I could learn how to prepare the horse myself, rather than to turn up expecting everything to be done for me. But you are not intending to give me the lesson yourself, I hope? That would be a poor use of your valuable time,’ she said more calmly than she was feeling. She was glad that she was in sufficient shadow to hide her admiration of his muscularity.
‘On the contrary, my Lady. Seeing how you first sit on a horse and how readily it responds to you is the most important stage of any beginner and if I am to entrust you to one of my horses, I thought it only fair that I make that assessment myself,’ he said as he reached for his shirt. ‘Besides,’ he added cheekily, ‘I have heard that sometimes you are not so good at following orders. I thought a King might have more chance of success.’
Her responding laugh was infectious. A smile of genuine joy broke unbidden across his face. It was a sensation he had almost forgotten in the dark years before Sauron’s fall and he felt as though years of sorrow were finally ebbing away. ‘Please let me take over the task from you, I would not want to be responsible for you turning up at your meeting with a smudge on your shirt,’ she said still smiling. Éomer handed her the brush, relishing their closeness as she followed his instructions most precisely.
Once mounted, he could see instantly she was a natural, with a soft balanced seat, still hands and confident presence. She listened patiently to all his commands and diligently applied herself. ‘I have asked many times how people ride and what the commands are, so it’s wonderful to be able to put them into practice,’ she informed him. ‘Would you mind if I try to trot? I hear the transition down can be tricky’. She was a quick learner but Éomer thought she would be too sore the next day if they did too much.
‘Absolutely not!’ Lothíriel emphatically disagreed. ‘I’d be happy just to continue to practice on my own, you have men around here who can make sure I’m alright. I’d really like to try to canter. I know I should be more patient but I’m afraid that my father will find out and he will bully you to stop letting me learn. I am far stronger and more resilient than I look,’ she told him confidently. He watched as she encouraged the horse into a controlled canter and sudden stop. She then pushed the horse directly into a trot, to canter, to trot, to canter, to trot to sudden stop. Even though he had chosen one of the more docile and obedient of his horses this was truly impressive.
She was at the furthest point away from him in the small training paddock when he saw Elphir, her eldest brother, walking towards him. Éomer was confused at seeing him there as the Amrothian stables were on the opposite side of Minas Tirith, close to the road to Harlond and their ships. Elphir strode over purposefully but pulled up short when he realised that it was Éomer who stood in front of him. It was clearly an unwelcome surprise. At that point, Lothíriel turned the horse towards them both and came cantering towards them. Elphir’s face was uncharacteristically thunderous.
He turned to Éomer and said sharply, ‘Éomer, she must not ride, what are you doing?’ Éomer was too taken aback at the sudden rudeness to reply. ‘Lothíriel,’ Elphir shouted out to her. ‘Get down at once. It’s too dangerous.’
She brought the horse to a fast walk and eyed her brother malignantly. ‘Too dangerous,’ she said with an undercurrent of distaste. Elphir lowered his gaze and swallowed nervously.
‘Don’t do this, Lothi,’ he said gruffly.
‘Too… dangerous?’ she repeated with a strange glint in her eye. She was clearly restraining a powerful emotion, only Éomer was lost as to what underlying dynamic was at play between the two siblings. ‘A little dangerous, perhaps, but remind me what too dangerous is again, Elphir.’ Her voice was steely with barely concealed dislike.
‘Why do you always have to be so difficult, Lothíriel?’ Elphir said hoarsely.
‘Ah,’ exclaimed Lothíriel mockingly, ‘my fault… again… Hmmm. Yes, of course, how could it be otherwise’. Elphir appeared mortified and could not bring himself to look at either his sister or Éomer.
She turned the horse away and began to trot. Éomer thought she would turn back when she got halfway up the enclosure, only she did not, she spurred the horse into a hard canter straight towards the fence leading to the open fields west of the city, close to the beginnings of the Drúadan Forest.
Éomer did not wait to watch the unfolding catastrophe. His Master of Horse, Genting, was about to vault onto his horse to join two other mounted riders only a few strides away. Éomer barked an order while he ran over, grabbed the horse from Genting and leapt onto it in one fluid motion. He shouted to the other two riders to follow him and raced after her as she approached the fence at full tilt. His panic rising in the knowledge that her horse hated jumping and it would certainly swerve, his astonishment on seeing her horse clear the fence and continue at full gallop across the north-western reaches of the Pelennor towards the forest almost caused him to check his own horse’s pursuit. His concern rapidly increased as she soon disappeared from view at full gallop well ahead of him and his two Riders, who had a paddock full of horses to navigate through before they could reach the open fields.
Pushing their horses hard, they entered the forest at the point they had last seen her. Éomer soon swore loudly, pulling up his horse sharply; the track split into three paths. The two closest to the mountain range they could see far enough down to know she had not taken either of those routes, so they tore off after her down the winding path deep into the forest, expecting to see her at each turn. His frustration rising, they eventually chanced upon another rider coming in the opposite direction who was adamant he had not seen her. Éomer swore again. She had either not taken that route or even more worrying, she may have fallen somewhere away from the track, although Éomer was sure the horse would not have bolted too far from its stricken rider. With significant time lost, they had no choice but to double-back to the fork in the pathway, find her trail on the ground and then follow it more closely.
Eventually they found her horse’s distinctive hoof marks and deduced she had taken the southernmost track, closest to the mountains, but had turned off it soon afterwards, taking a single overgrown track which ascended steeply through the forest. At some point the track petered out and yet she had continued to ride the horse further up into the mountains. Still concerned that the horse might have bolted, and they might miss where she could have fallen, their pace was slow.
Finally they came to a clearing by some rock pools and, to Éomer’s great relief, found the horse properly tethered. While one Rider stayed with the horses, Éomer sent the other downstream while he himself walked upstream. As he rounded some boulders about to call out her name, he saw her, standing with her back to him, just up to her knees in the water, completely naked, wringing out her long, wet tresses in front of her. It was not so much the sight of her naked that rendered him so suddenly immobile, this shock was swiftly subsumed in his mind by the sight of her bare back, crisscrossed as it was with scars to the top of her buttocks. They could only have been caused by a whip. He must have made some kind of noise, as she turned around quickly, her eyes meeting his coolly, almost challenging him, before softening into resignation. She made no move to hide herself. He lowered his eyes and moved himself out of her sight behind the boulders.
He let out a whistle to let the others know he had found her but also the signal to tell them to stay where they were. She was walking out of the water towards him.
‘I would save you your blushes, Éomer King, but you are almost standing on where I left my clothes, if you don’t mind handing them to me,’ she said calmly. He looked down to see her discarded clothes at his feet and went to pick them up. ‘It is just a body, Sire. I am sure you have seen plenty like this before…’
Still looking away, he handed her the clothes in silence and she put them on showing no sign of embarrassment. ‘I.. I am sorry, Lady Lothíriel, I hadn’t meant to stare,’ he eventually managed to stutter.
She heaved a heavy sigh, ‘You know nothing of my story, do you,’ she stated matter-of-factly. ‘I realised this when you turned up at the stables this morning. Had you heard the sorry tale, you would have sent someone else, as Elphir was no doubt expecting. He must have overheard our arrangement. His hearing must be positively elf-like, or perhaps he can lip-read! Either way, do not trouble yourself, Éomer King. I am used to people deciding on better acquaintance that they would prefer to keep their distance from me. I won’t hold it against you. You would be in the good company of most of Gondor after all,’ she said tartly.
‘I am lost, my Lady,’ he replied honestly.
‘I know,’ she sighed sadly. ‘You won’t be within an hour of your return. Some kind soul will come to tell you the ghastly news and warn you not to be seen with me again. It’s quite a dramatic tale. I am surprised though that you have not heard in Rohan of the evil that befell the Princess of Dol Amroth and her daughter. It was only eight years ago. The tragedy of it will largely depend on who tells it. I suggest you ask Faramir. He tends to be the most accurate… and the kindest. Shall we go?’ She was now dressed and gestured to Éomer to return to the horses. ‘We are best to return separately,’ she added conversationally. ‘It won’t be good for your reputation otherwise. I mean that sincerely. I wouldn’t want your reputation to suffer on my account.’
Éomer was completely confused. He was more concerned with her reputation at being on her own with him and his men in the woods and she was telling him that his was most at risk. It did not make any sense. ‘I could not face your father if anything had happened to you on my account,’ he told her.
‘Trust me, Sire, my father will be more concerned about you.’ She gave a short mirthless snort. ‘In fact, he’ll probably be more concerned about the horse I’ve taken from you – I was always intending to give her you back by the way. I hope you didn’t come after me because you thought I was stealing her!’ she laughed grimly.
‘I came after you because you could have killed yourself,’ Éomer retorted almost angrily, his apprehension showing in his rising voice. ‘This was your first time ever on a horse and it was just luck you didn’t….’ He calmed down quickly when he saw her amused look. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.’
‘I have that effect on men,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘I am sorry that I gave you cause for concern. My brother should have known better than to use those words.’ She looked reflective.
‘We should head back separately,’ she said more seriously. ‘I fear you are heading into a storm not of your making and for that I apologise in advance but don’t worry, no one will blame you. And please take my advice, do not attempt to defend me or interfere in any way. I am more than used to the censure of those around me and I now just tend to ignore it.’
They had reached the horses by now and Éomer was still utterly confused. He sent the two accompanying riders down the hill ahead of them. ‘I would rather hear your story from yourself, my Lady, if that would not distress you too much? I prefer to make my own judgements than listen to the gossip of others.’
‘As you wish,’ she said staring fixedly ahead as they rode down the mountain track together, ‘in summary, my mother and I were kidnapped at sea by a band of pirates whom even the Corsairs of Umbar had disavowed. We were both tortured and raped, and I killed them all by poisoning their drinking water first, then I stabbed to death anyone who hadn’t already died from the bad water. I don’t remember what happened to my mother, other than the ship went up in flames, which alerted my father’s fleet as to where I was on the high seas. I was the only survivor. My curse was to have survived. What do you do with such a daughter? No longer marriageable, body ravaged as you saw, a murderess to boot, mother dead by hand unknown, possibly caused by her own daughter…. What would you do with such a girl?’
Éomer had no words for her, he could only look at her trying to keep the pity out of his eyes.
‘That’s the bare bones of it. There is a lot more but that’s really all you need to know,’ she continued steadily. ‘My family didn’t know what to do with me then and they still don’t. Now that the war is over, I have no place or role in Dol Amroth and I have no intention of going back where I am so patently not wanted,’ she ended bitterly.
‘I am sure that is not the case,’ Éomer said weakly. She looked at him dismissively. ‘Where will you go?’ he asked.
‘I will have to go north, somewhere where the story is not so well-known. I am thinking of Dale. I have already spoken with Lord Aragorn, in confidence of course. If I don’t leave soon, I will no doubt get married off to some Haradrim lord who doesn’t mind not having a virgin as a second wife, or an Easterling if I am unlucky.’
Éomer judged her to be only half-jesting. She gave him a surreptitious side look to try to assess his reaction. ‘When anyone hears the story, they feel very differently about me. I do understand this. As I said before, I will not think badly of you if you prefer to keep a greater distance from me. I am not…. erm… well-liked in Gondor, I am treated as a…. as a…., I cannot find the words. But then I don’t really need to, you will hear for yourself soon enough’.
They heard the sound of hooves galloping along the main path in the forest which they were just about to re-join. A party of Amrothian riders headed by Lothíriel’s youngest brother Amrothos soon appeared in view. ‘Lothi! Thank the Valar. We have been so worried,’ he said speaking in Sindarin, the language of the Elves and those men of high-born status and education. He looked at Éomer with some hesitation, not knowing what else to say, as he knew Éomer and his family were all fluent in Sindarin.
‘Why? Did you think I had stolen one of the King’s horses?’ she asked rather unreasonably.
‘Lothi, please don’t be difficult,’ he pleaded.
‘Difficult,’ she repeated. ‘Well, being difficult is better than being dead…. Though maybe not in my case,’ she said caustically. She turned to Éomer. ‘Éomer King, I must ask if you would leave us to our family squabbles and take your faster horses back to the stables. I would strongly advise you not to be there on my return. I will bring the horse back there now and make sure she is taken care of as I fear I rather bullied her over the fence today, and beyond.’
As it was a dismissal Éomer did not feel he could ignore politely, he simply bowed to her and rode away with his men. His mind was reeling with the information she had just shared with him. He recalled vaguely the story now, but he had been at constant war the last eight years and had had little time for gossip. He remembered feeling intensely sorry for the girl in question but had not given it another thought since then. The story he had heard had implied that the girl had killed everyone on board including her own mother in an unnatural way, that she was a witch of some sort. It had seemed so absurd to him at the time, he had readily dismissed it. The story had certainly not placed the abused girl as the victim but more as the perpetrator of evil deeds who got what she deserved. He felt sick at heart understanding the truth of her words that people judged her differently once they knew the story, nor was it one she could easily escape from. He returned to the stables in a pensive frame of mind and debated whether he should stay for her return.
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Faramir was waiting there. ‘Did you find her?’ he asked Éomer urgently as he dismounted.
‘We did,’ he replied, handing his horse to one of his men to take for stabling so he could speak privately with Faramir. ‘She is perfectly safe. She rides exceptionally well, truly gifted. We came upon Amrothos on our way back and she asked me to leave her at that point. She also asked me not to be here when they all returned. I am torn, Faramir. I do not know what is going on, but I feel I should stay. You know the family well and I believe you understand the history better than anyone. She told me to ask you if I wanted to know more than the little she told me on our way back. I will be guided by you.’
Faramir answered him quickly, ‘Honestly, if you value your friendship with Imrahil, you should leave and soon, I can hear them approaching. I will come straight to see you. Lothíriel is more than capable of dealing with her family and I will protect her if need be. If she advised you not to be here, I would follow that advice.’
Éomer went to find his sister. She was frantic and rushed to meet him. ‘Did you find her? Is she safe?’ she asked him anxiously.
‘Yes, but Éowyn, what mess is this?’ Éomer replied unhappily.
‘What exactly did she tell you’, she asked. Éomer recounted faithfully their conversation. ‘If that is all she told you, then she has been very kind to her family in the telling. Faramir warned me last night at dinner that he needed to explain to both of us, something about Lothi. We were just about to go out riding together ourselves from the portside stables when the news reached us that a horse had bolted into the forest with her on it. He told me much of the story as we rode straight to the western stables.’
‘That’s not true, Éowyn, she was in complete control of the horse, remarkably so,’ he interjected.
‘I know that, I’m just telling you what we were told. We both rushed down to the paddock and just caught them all riding out to find her. Genting came over to tell us exactly what you just said – she was a natural horseman and soared over the fence as one born in the saddle. He had also heard what passed between her and her brother as he understands Sindarin and had been walking past at that moment. Did you know Genting could speak Sindarin?’ Éomer shook his head surprised.
‘Anyway, when Faramir heard what Elphir had said he went white. I have never seen him so angry. I told him that she’d be safe as you would find her. He wouldn’t tell me why what was said was so offensive. It didn’t seem bad to me?’ she exclaimed.
‘Nor to me but I could tell there was a history behind those words which ran deep,’ he replied.
‘Éomer, the full story is so much worse. I can’t bring myself to re-tell it. You will have to wait for Faramir to return. It’s truly unbearable. She didn’t deserve any of this, it’s too awful.’
Éowyn was close to tears. Éomer had not seen her this distressed since their cousin Théodred had died of his wounds in a skirmish with orcs and Dunlendings at the Fords of Isen earlier that year. He hugged her close to him as she lent her head on his shoulder.
‘I can’t wait here, Éowyn,’ he said. ‘I need to change. I have various meetings I am now extremely late for, but as soon as Faramir is free, would you ask him to come to me?’