Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 5 |
| Chapter Five |
| Éomer returned heavy-hearted from a ten-day tour of his lands west beyond the Gap of Rohan, farmlands which jutted out like a pointed finger into the region of Enedwaith, a once forested land, rich in wildlife, the ancient home of the Dunlendings before the Númenóreans encroached on their forests and livelihood in the millennia before the destruction of their island. This region of the West-mark had seen escalating raids from Dunland and although he had left an increased number of Riders there, the rumours along the border were disturbing. Faction fighting among the Dunlendings had reached a head and those wanting all-out war with Rohan while they were weak had come to dominate not just the southern lands of Dunland, but also those further north. Only consensus forged around a strong Great King could unite the infamously unruly patchwork of Dunlending lords. However, were enough northern lords persuaded to vote with their southern brethren for war, the more cautious leader of the northern lands would be overruled, or worse, and a united Dunlending army would be a considerable adversary for the weakened Rohirrim. Éomer’s Marshal of the West-mark, Erkenbrand, was justly worried. The King had only seen Lothíriel briefly before he left for the West-mark to bolster defences there and formulate battle plans for a fight he knew he could not avoid. Although they had arrived in time to save both the mother and baby boy, it had taken Finglor more than a day to make sure the mother was out of danger. Cissy had insisted on accompanying Haldreth back to his mother’s house the next morning taking Lothíriel’s horse with her. Arriving back in Edoras with Cissy two days after she had left with Finglor, Lothíriel had requested an audience with the King as she dismounted from her horse and she was ushered in to see him before she even had time to change out of her travel clothes. The King, it seemed, had been as anxious to redress the situation as she was herself. She had found him in counsel with Erkenbrand and two other commanders she knew to be from Westfold and West Emnet. She addressed herself to Éomer but made no attempt to hide the conversation from the others in the room. ‘Cissy has told me that you have guessed that Finglor is of Elven kind. This is true. His story is not mine to tell, Éomer King, however much I wish I could make you aware of his significance to Middle-earth, but he has given me permission to explain how he has come to ride Maela, the black Mearas. He rescued her from Dol Guldur. She had resisted the tortures the Black Riders had inflicted on her to make her obedient to them. But she is still disturbed in her mind. She allows none to come near her, not even her own kind. Shadowfax himself has come to her many times. Finglor believes the Mearas are aware of her pain and are looking for ways to ease her suffering. He has not been openly riding her out of respect to you, knowing how this could be interpreted in Rohan. I took the view that your pride is not greater than two lives and you would understand once I was able to explain, but at the same time, I do not know how you wish to present it to others. Enough people saw us riding Maela, and I have now forced Finglor out of the shadows. I am sorry to have added to your concerns,’ she said contritely with her head held low. He came up to her and lifted her chin so she looked at him. ‘I do value the lives saved over what some in the Kingdom may feel. Thank you for your explanation and thank Finglor from me until such a time when I may thank him myself. I had hoped I might have supper with you and Éowyn tonight, but we must ride before dawn tomorrow and there is still much I have to do before leaving. I will see you in about a week. Take care of yourself and Cissy until then,’ he said kindlier than she had expected. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- He had been longer than intended. Lothíriel knew what this meant. The Great Hall was filled with his key captains from all parts of Rohan, she understood he was mustering an army for war. She willingly gave up her place at the King’s table without the request needing to be made, but she joined the main tables in the great hall rather than eat with Cissy in their quarters. Éomer noticed that she took her seat most frequently next to Gamling, Erkenbrand’s second in command. They had met many times before and he knew that they had great respect for each other, so it was a surprise when Erkenbrand came to him to speak to him about Lothíriel with a warning from Gamling. ‘Believe me, Éomer, it gives me no pleasure to tell you this, but Lady Lothíriel has been asking too many questions about Dunland. Gamling believes she knows more about the politics there than we do ourselves. We know that there are Dunlending spies in Rohan… I am not suggesting that the lady herself is acting for them,’ he added quickly as Éomer bristled fiercely, ‘… only that with the knowledge she has of us and our supplies and tactics, we need to be cautious. I would counsel you to speak to her about when she will head east with Lord Delwine,’ he advised. He called Lothíriel in to see him in his study together with Erkenbrand. Seeing an uncharacteristically grim expression on his face, she had a suspicion this was not going to be a friendly conversation; she had asked too many probing questions of Gamling. ‘Éomer King, Lord Erkenbrand,’ she greeted them both with a bow. She looked at them both warily, waiting for one of them to speak. Eventually Éomer broke the silence, ‘Lady Lothíriel, you told me that you would take guidance from me as to your itinerary with Lord Delwine, which I believe you will undertake soon.’ Lothíriel looked pensive as he continued formally; these were orders, not a request. ‘I would like you to concentrate only east from here and as far north as the town of Brightmond.’ She nodded her comprehension and said neutrally, ‘I understand, Éomer King, and I thank you for your advice,’ she paused. It was obvious to both men she had more to say but was unsure of how to proceed. She closed her eyes and sighed, having come to a decision and continued in somewhat exasperated tones, ‘Have you no spies in Dunland to tell you exactly what is going on there? I can assure you that they have them in abundance in Rohan and you are walking into a trap if you think to take them on by the stream of Forthanc. This will not give you the advantage you seek.’ Éomer exploded. ‘How dare you…’ he snarled. Erkenbrand intervened swiftly, and taking her by the shoulders, ‘How do you know of such things?’ he barked almost shaking her. She calmly took his hands from her shoulders and stood her ground in front of the two badly rattled men. ‘You must both give me on oath your word that you will not repeat anything I say to you now,’ she insisted defiantly. ‘Your word. I trust you both and you must trust me.’ Erkenbrand looked to Éomer who nodded and forced out most reluctantly, ‘My word.’ Erkenbrand followed his King. ‘Finglor has already taken steps to prevent those spies from returning to Dunland with the knowledge of what they have heard in these halls. He has long suspected some of the servants here. Remember he is an Elf, his hearing is five times the distance of our own kind and he is adept at hiding himself. He is never far from me and so he has stayed closer to Meduseld than you have realised. His Dunlendish is fluent and he has lived on their borders to the north for hundreds of years. He knows the history of your two lands better than you do yourselves. You must mention this to no one,’ she said emphatically. ‘Spies? In Edoras? In Meduseld? I want to know who these people are, now, Lothíriel.’ Éomer roared through gritted teeth. She had never seen him so angry. She remained resolute. ‘They have been dealt with, Éomer. I cannot be seen to take sides on this. You have an opportunity to use the spies embedded here to feed false information back to Dunland to your advantage. Finglor told me that he believes you have no such operatives in Dunland, even though there are those in Dunland who actively dislike the current leadership and believe them to be misguided in their dealings with Rohan,’ she informed him. ‘We have no use for spies, my Lady,’ said Erkenbrand scathingly. ‘You cannot reward liars and those who would betray their country for money. They lack honour.’ Lothíriel raised her eyes upwards in frustration. ‘We have no wish to interfere in this fight but neither do we relish the thought of so many lives lost which could be saved with just a bit more cunning. And yes, it is artifice but what is that in the face of so many saved men and horses? Besides, you would only be using their own spies against them. You can keep your honour, if that is what you value most,’ she argued. Her quip hurt Éomer more than he thought possible and his quick temper flared in response. ‘You have been interfering in affairs that are not your concern since you arrived here, Lothíriel,’ Éomer thundered at her. ‘I want the names of those who have betrayed us,’ he continued each word wrenched from him with distaste. ‘This I cannot do for you. Their ability to harm Rohan has already been curtailed,’ she stated coldly. Her next words weighed heavily down on her. ‘I will leave Rohan tonight with Finglor until such a time as you trust us both to return, if ever. You may try to restrain me if you wish, but you will have to answer to King Elessar if you do so. Having given you this information in confidence, my presence here has been compromised. Do not go to the stream of Forthanc. They have constructed a field which looks to be solid ground but is filled with pits of spikes. Your losses will be heavy. I have spoken with Gamling about your better options. I will leave it to you to make your choice. Am I free to leave?’ she asked finally. Éomer no longer recognised her through the mists of his anger. She was no longer the soft vulnerable Lothíriel he knew, but a warrior, steely and determined. ‘Where will you go?’ Éomer demanded curtly. ‘Gondor,’ came the terse reply. ‘Have you been spying for Aragorn?’ he demanded incredulously, barely in control of his rage. ‘No, Sire,’ she replied with feeling. ‘You insult King Elessar as much as myself by asking that.’ She was glowering at him now. ‘You have no choice but to fight the Dunlendings, none whatsoever. But you can fight them at their combined strength, or you can fight them with their forces split. Either way you will win. You have the superior numbers, superior horses, superior discipline, superior weaponry and yes, superior leadership. But it will cost you to fight them at their full numbers. I have seen the result of too many battles not to want to avoid unnecessary death and injury… Let us help you,’ she implored him suddenly changing from anger to supplication. ‘No,’ shouted Éomer rounding on her threateningly. She stepped back from him, retreating into restrained silence, holding herself rigidly tall. ‘Then I take my leave of you both, and of Rohan, if I may?’ she glowered at him daring him to arrest her. He turned away from her, which she took to be a dismissal and she nodded a curt farewell to Erkenbrand as she left. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Knowing Finglor would have heard every word of what had been said and would already be waiting for her, she returned to her chambers only to collect travel essentials. She would be leaving without Cissy. While Éomer had been away, news had come through for Cissy from the man selling cheese she had met at the village fair. While Lothíriel had ridden across country with Éomer and Éowyn to return to Edoras that day, Cissy had escorted the many goods Lothíriel had purchased together with some of the merchants making their way to the capital along the main roadway, and the cheese seller, Alfrind, had been one of them. It transpired that he and Cissy had formed a strong bond and he had undertaken the task of finding her family for her once he was back in The Wold. He had reappeared in Edoras only days before with the news that not only was her mother still alive and overwhelmed with news that her beloved lost daughter lived and was in Rohan, but that Cissy had two younger half-sisters, who were overjoyed at her return and were eager to meet her. Lothíriel had hoped to have accompanied Cissy there herself, but with war threatening, she felt she had no choice but to entrust her to her new protector, and she promised to visit her as soon as the Dunland situation was resolved. Lothíriel had already warned Cissy ahead of meeting Éomer and Erkenbrand that she might have to leave Edoras in haste, and the ever efficient and thoughtful Cissy had her travel bags packed and ready by the time she returned to her quarters. Lothíriel dressed hurriedly into her riding clothes before Éomer could change his mind and detain her. Scribbling a brief note to Éowyn and hugging Cissy close, with tears in her eyes, she left. Finglor was waiting for her outside with Maela, her own horse already saddled, and they made haste for Gondor. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- As soon as she left, Éomer had collapsed into the huge chair in his study. Erkenbrand paced around in silence. Neither man knew what to say, they had both been so stunned by the level of detail she knew about their plans. Not even Gamling had been party to the discussions between the senior commanders. ‘We should not have let her go,’ Éomer said eventually. ‘Surely you trust her, Sire?’ Erkenbrand questioned. ‘I’m not sure I know her,’ he sighed painfully. ‘Call Gamling in here. We need to know what they discussed,’ Éomer ordered him. Gamling showed only some surprise by what he was told, although they were careful not to betray all of Lothíriel’s confidence. ‘Her knowledge of the terrain of Dunland could only have come from one who knew it well and her understanding of the politics and players seemed far too sophisticated for someone not receiving high level intelligence. She knew more than I did. I assume it came from the Elf Finglor?’ When neither the King nor his commander deigned to answer, he continued. ‘I heard tell of his connection with the Rangers of the North. The Dúnedain have no love for the Dunlendings, any more than we do. But it is true that they have not had trouble with them these last eight years or so, not since Leofric came to be Chieftain of the northern shires. He has been battling the hotheads within his own tribe who have been set on fomenting trouble. You cannot think that she is playing us false. That would make no sense at all,’ he said frankly. There had been a knock on the door a while after Gamling had arrived. It was Éowyn seeking answers to Lothíriel’s note she had just received from Cissy. Éomer felt sick when he realised Lothíriel had indeed left. He asked the two men to leave him alone with his sister for a while. ‘Is it true? She has left for Gondor at this time of night?’ she asked appalled. ‘If that is really where she is going…’ Éomer replied harshly. ‘You cannot doubt her, brother?’ came Éowyn’s shocked reply. ‘Éowyn, I no longer know what to think about her and Finglor. They knew all our plans, Béma only knows what their dealings have been with the Dunlendings,’ he said, his face twisted in misery and doubt. Éowyn took his face in her hands and, her blue eyes piercing his own, said with great feeling, ‘Éomer, you cannot doubt her. Look into your heart. I do not doubt her. She was entrusted by Aragorn, Faramir, Tuor, Ottakar to achieve what they themselves could not. How can you doubt her? Do you think she does not love Rohan? Do you take her for a liar? Do you think all these men are fools? The Elves trust her more than they trust the Dwarves, more than they trust Men, more than the trust each other. Even the Dwarves trust her. And yet you do not? And you let her leave, thinking you doubt her honour and integrity.’ Éomer felt wretched. He regarded his sister, defeated. ‘I am not rational when I think of her, Éowyn. I have a Kingdom to lead, I have responsibilities. I cannot afford to make mistakes and I lose all sense of myself when she is near me. I must push her out of my mind, and my heart, if I am to lead my men to victory in this fight. Do not make me think of her again, at least not until we have dealt with Dunland,’ he asked of his sister. |