The Abduction of Éomer, King of Rohan

Chapter 1

Dol Amroth, October 3019 TA

I suppose the whole wretched affair started with that courier from Rohan. But I had no warning: no black geese flying by as he rode in through Dol Amroth’s gates, no threatening clouds of thunder overhead, no sudden infestation of rats. Only the dogs barked, but they do that with every stranger.

It was one of those late, sunny autumn days, all the more precious because a trace of chill was in the air, hinting at winter rains to come. I had been schooling my mare in the practice ring behind the stables, and was just returning to the keep to get changed, when the courier rode in. For a moment I wondered if my father had sent him to prepare for his arrival four days hence, but then I saw the green tunic and the blond hair spilling out from under his helmet. From Rohan, then.

One of the grooms ran to take his reins and the rider dismounted with the easy grace of a man who has spent half his life on horseback. I saw him take off his helmet and exchange a quick word with the groom, so I went to join them. Had my father been present, he would no doubt have chided me for my impatience, but I’d had enough waiting for news the past few months to last me a lifetime.

“Welcome to Dol Amroth,” I addressed the rider. “I am Princess Lothíriel and in charge of this castle. How fares Rohan?”

His nostrils flared and his eyes widened in surprise, but he caught himself quickly. “Thank you, my lady,” he answered with a bow, “Rohan fares well.”

I suppose I did not agree with his picture of a Gondorian princess, for he raked his eyes over me, starting at my dusty boots and ending on my less than pristine riding tunic. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let Tuilin slobber all over me, but she was such a pretty thing. Too late now, anyway.

“You have messages for my father?” I asked. “He’s on his way home from Minas Tirith, but won’t be back for another four days.”

“I carry a letter from the King of Rohan to Prince Imrahil,” the rider confirmed and turned to his saddlebags to extract his missive.

This gave me the chance to study him more closely: a tall man, carrying himself with the same assurance of the accomplished warrior that my brothers displayed. While his clothing was nondescript and worn, the pommel of his sword gleamed with polish and his horse’s tack looked well cared for. As for his stallion, his quality was unmistakable in the fine line of his neck and his powerful chest. If an ordinary courier had a steed like this, no wonder my father had been impressed with the horses of the Rohirrim.

The rider handed me a parchment sealed with the Sun of Rohan. As the stiff vellum crackled under my touch, I wondered whether to open it, but decided against it. Father would be home very shortly and quite likely it held some private communication for him. After all, he had become close friends with the King of Rohan.

I lifted my eyes from the letter to find the man studying me. Were they all so tall in Rohan? It was rather disconcerting to have to look up at somebody – not something I was used to, except for my father and brothers. Also not only did he tower over me, he also leant forward slightly, balanced on the balls of his feet in the swordsman’s manner.

Another woman might have been intimidated by this, but I had been raised amongst warriors from childhood. And being thrust into the running of Dol Amroth during the war had taught me how to deal with men doubting my authority. The trick was not to let them encroach on your space, but rather hold your ground.

So I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. “Your name?”

“Léona they call me,” he answered.

What an odd phrase. But I had noticed the speech of the Rohirrim often sounded strange to our ears. Although this man’s Westron, spoken in a deep, rich voice, did not even hold a trace of an accent.

“Did King Éomer require you to return with an answer from my father, Léona?” I asked. “You are welcome to wait here for him.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “That won’t be necessary; I am leaving again tomorrow morning.”

“In that case let me extend the hospitality of Dol Amroth to you for tonight.” I nodded a dismissal. “You may see the steward about supplies for the journey back.”

He thanked me politely enough, but only when he led his horse into the stable and I was free of his presence did I realise what had bothered me about him. All my life the people around me had accorded me the respect due my rank, but this rider from Rohan did not treat me as a princess.

He treated me as his equal.

For the rest of the day I pushed the matter from my mind, a task made easier by the demands of my position. My father had been gone for over half a year, and the big merrymaking planned to celebrate his victorious return from the war demanded a lot of preparation.

I did not see Léona again until the evening meal held in the great hall of Dol Amroth. Occupying my father’s seat at the high table, I got a good view of him, for he had chosen a place at one of the long tables near the dais where I could see him clearly. Or was it the other way round? More than once during the evening I felt his eyes resting on me. He had a healthy appetite, I noticed, helping himself generously to all the courses presented to him. The serving maids stopped by often, not only offering food, but also smiles to the exotic looking visitor. Still, that was none of my business.

I was tired that evening, so I retired early. As I walked down the steps of the dais, nodding a good-night here and there, I again felt his gaze on me. And while I had lately become used to drawing the regard of men, this was different. Almost against my volition, I found myself stopping at his table.

He rose lazily to his feet. “My lady?”

Now what to say? Fortunately I was used to playing the gracious hostess. “Has the steward been able to resupply you, Léona?” I asked.

“Yes, my lady,” he answered. “Dol Amroth’s hospitality is impeccable.”

“I am pleased to hear that.”

This would have been the right moment to move on, but my feet just would not obey me. As for my mind, it had gone completely blank.

After an awkward moment’s silence, Léona bowed. “Good night, Lady Lothíriel.”

Released from his dark gaze, I took a step backward. “Good night.” My silken skirts rustled against my legs, as I retreated from the hall.

Why did my hasty exit feel like a flight? And the man probably thought me a featherhead who could not even hold a proper conversation beyond simple banalities! Still, I told myself fiercely, it did not matter what he thought of me.

But later that night, sitting on my bed and brushing out my hair, I pondered the question as to why his quiet intensity bothered me so much. And suddenly I knew what his scrutiny reminded me of: the way my father watched new horses being put through their paces for him by the stable master. I squashed the thought.

Call it cowardice, but I had my morning meal in my rooms the next day. And then I collected a couple of guards and went for a long ride along the beach. Tuilin needed the exercise and I needed the fresh air to blow the fancies from my mind. Besides, by the time I got back the courier would be gone; King Éomer’s riders always left early.

South of Dol Amroth the land met the sea in a series of jagged cliffs. Big waves rolled in from the Bay of Belfalas, gnawing away at the rock and forming it into fantastically shaped boulders and towers. But at low tide a sandy beach emerged at the foot of the cliffs, stretching flat and empty for many miles. Like a blank canvas, it invited you to draw lines across it, and Tuilin and I spent an exhilarating morning alternatively galloping and trotting along the shore. I revelled in the almost forgotten freedom of sea spray on my lips and wind in my hair, for my duties had kept me indoors far too much during the last months.

We rode as far as a place called The Castle for its jumble of rocks shaped like archways and turrets, where I had often played with my brothers as a child, before deciding to return. The sea was coming in again, reclaiming the sand and reflecting back the sky like an enormous mirror, and the horses enjoyed cantering through the surf. Then near the ravine that would lead us back up onto the cliff road, we spotted another rider.

What was he doing? He and his horse would take a couple of strides after a receding wave, only to pivot round and race back when the next breaker rolled in. And then the game would commence again. And it was a game, I realized. As for the big grey stallion managed with casual skill by his rider, I had the sinking feeling I recognized him. Was there no getting away from the man?

When we got closer, he ceased his antics and watched us critically. Aware of a horselord’s eye on me, I sat up straighter in my saddle – although why it should matter I could not say.

“Princess Lothíriel,” he greeted me without waiting for my acknowledgment of his presence.

“Léona.” I inclined my head. “Shouldn’t you be on your way home by now?”

He patted his saddle bags. “Yes, I am all set to go. But I’ve never seen the sea, so I wanted to have a look before I returned.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Won’t your king mind if you delay your mission for a bit of sightseeing?”

He grinned as if at some secret joke. “Oh, I don’t think so. Éomer King is quite easygoing.”

That was not the impression I had formed of Rohan’s new king from the reports I’d heard, but it was none of my business. Maybe he thought he could make up the time on the road.

I gathered up my reins. “Well, don’t linger too much longer,” I warned him. “The tide is coming in.”

“I don’t intend to.” And like a dog cutting off a sheep from the rest of the herd, he fell in beside me, leaving my guards to sort themselves out.

A gorge overgrown with gorse and tussocks of tough, wiry beach grass led back up onto the road along the top of the cliffs. The wind whistled through cracks in the rocks and tugged at my hair, but Tuilin had been up and down the narrow path many times, so that presented no problems. However, I noticed that Léona kept a close eye on us and interposed himself between me and the precipice on the other side whenever possible. Did he think me such a poor rider?

“So, horselord?” I asked when we reached the cliff top. Gulls wheeled around us, shrieking their protest at our intrusion into their territory.

“You ride well,” he acknowledged my unspoken question.                                           

“Thank you,” I answered sweetly. “So do you.”

I spurred Tuilin forward and did not look back until I reached the entrance to the castle, but I fancied I heard his laughter on the wind. However, he did not follow me, his path lying to the east and north. Hopefully that would be the last I saw of him.

And so it proved to be, at least for the time being. My father and brothers arrived home three days later and during the winter months many couriers from Rohan rode to and fro, but Léona was not amongst them. Perhaps King Éomer had been dissatisfied with his services? Yet annoyingly enough, every time one of the Rohirrim clattered into the courtyard, I found myself compelled to check for a tall rider on a grey stallion, bearing himself with far too much confidence.

Léona – lion

Tuilin – swallow

A/N:  Well, here we go again! Although this story will only run to about 13 chapters, I think. Many thanks to my beta Lady Bluejay and the people at GoI for their encouragement, advice and plain fun. By the way, I'm on Livejournal now (http://lialathuveril.livejournal.com/), so if you want to know what's going on writing wise, you can check there.

Chapter 2

Once they had settled back in, my father and brothers resumed the running of Dol Amroth and suddenly I found myself with a lot of free time on my hands. At first I enjoyed catching up on my reading and being able to take Tuilin out whenever I wanted, but those pleasures soon palled on me. While I did not wish for the anxious times of the war to return, for once in my life I had felt truly needed. Compared to that, sitting in the garden reading a book soon got boring.

So it was with considerable excitement that I learnt that another celebration was planned at Cormallen, one year after the Dark Lord’s downfall. And this time I would be able to attend, unlike the year before when I had been too busy organizing supplies to be shipped upriver. Everybody would be there as well: our new king and queen, Faramir and his bride, the King of Rohan and all the nobility of Gondor. Father seemed determined that the Dol Amroth party should outshine all the others and planned to take a large contingent of minstrels and musicians along. As for myself, he insisted that I had a whole chest of new gowns made up. 

We took ship for Minas Tirith in the middle of March, and after spending a night in the White City travelled further upriver to Cormallen. Due to favourable winds we were actually one of the first parties to arrive and managed to secure the best place for our camp, right by the small river that flowed into the Anduin. And then, a couple of days later, the two kings arrived.

Eirien nudged my elbow in excitement. “Here they come!”

I craned my neck. Noble ladies weren’t supposed to indulge their curiosity like the common folk, but I had talked my maid into slipping out of my tent and mixing with the crowd that gathered to watch the arrival of the King and Queen of Gondor and their royal guest. I would not be officially introduced to them until the celebrations commenced the next day, but I wanted to at least catch a glimpse of them first.

The sun was setting. It turned the fresh green leaves of the birch trees growing along the edge of the glade translucent and glinted off the spearheads of the guards. A cheer went up when King Elessar and Queen Arwen arrived and the king waved his hand in recognition as he dismounted. As for the queen, she seemed to gather in the remaining sunlight and spin it around her in a luminous sheen. A shiver of awe ran down my spine.

The rest of the party was in no particular order, Gondorian nobles and Rohirrim mixing freely and talking to each other. A fat merchant in front of me, keen to show off his knowledge, named all the important personages to his wife and I listened with half an ear.

“There’s the Rohan king,” he said.

Curious, I looked to see where he pointed. The man was huge! Built like a bear, with wide shoulders and a thick neck, he looked every inch the accomplished warrior. A reddish tinged beard bristled on his face and as he guffawed at something one of his companions said to him, his laugh rang across the clearing. I had imagined him younger, but apart from that he looked just as the stories from the war had painted him.

Then his companion leant forward and I got a shock. Tall, sitting his stallion with easy grace and surveying the glade as if he owned it: my courier. Quickly I ducked behind the merchant, although he was hardly likely to spot me. What was Léona doing talking to King Éomer? And he seemed to be on quite friendly terms, I saw, as I chanced another glance. But the crowd was dispersing, and I risked discovery if I lingered much longer.

Eirien seemed to think the same, for she was tugging my sleeve. “We have to go now, my lady.”

Deep in thought, I let her escort me back to our encampment. I suppose I should have realized that I might meet Léona at Cormallen, but his presence at King Éomer’s side still surprised me.

“Don’t you know that too much thinking is bad for you, Sister?”

I looked up to find Amrothos grinning at me. My youngest brother was leaning against one of the tent poles, a mug of ale in his hand.

“Don’t you know that too much drinking is bad for you?” I countered.

He laughed and took my arm, nodding a dismissal to my maid. “And where have you been?”

“Just looking around.”

We sauntered down in the direction of the river, where willow trees lined the bank, trailing their long fronds in the water. Soon the noises of the camp receded behind us and crickets took up their song. The rich smell of moist earth filled the air as we approached the water.

Amrothos sat down on the riverbank with his legs dangling over the water and balanced his mug on a flat stone covered with moss. With a plop a frog jumped in. “And did you happen to see anything interesting while you were looking around?” my brother asked.

I chose a convenient root to sit on and leant back against the trunk. The tree bark was rough and scratchy. “Perhaps a king or two.”

“Ah, I thought as much. And what did you think of them?”

Why this sudden, uncharacteristic interest in my opinions? I shrugged. “I only saw them from afar, but King Elessar seemed quite friendly. He waved to the crowd.”

“And what did you make of King Éomer?”

A boat appeared round the river bend, being rowed with rhythmic strokes by a young man, who had baskets full of eggs piled up in the prow. The camp had engendered a brisk trade in food, with people bringing in their produce from all over Ithilien.

I watched the ripples spread across the water as the farmer went by, oblivious to our presence. Amrothos was up to something, I just knew. But what?

“Well?” he prompted.

“He’s very much the warrior,” I answered, feeling my way cautiously.

“And?”

“And what?”

He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “The ladies of Minas Tirith found him rather attractive. They swarmed around him like bees around a honey pot.”

“Or like sharks around a wounded seal? The ladies of Minas Tirith would find anything wearing a crown attractive.”

Conceding my point, he chuckled. “Still, you have to admit he’s very handsome.”

Handsome? Perhaps if you liked them burly and with lots of hair. But I really did not care for the way this conversation was going.

“Why are you asking my opinion of Rohan’s king?” I demanded to know.

He bit his lip. “Lothíriel...you realize that he is extremely eligible?”

“Of course he is, but...” I stopped midsentence, struck by a sudden, awful suspicion. “Amrothos! You can’t be saying he is interested in me?”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “A bit more than that actually...”

I jumped up. “How can there be more!”

My brother rose, too. “Father did not want to tell you yet, but I think it’s not entirely fair.” He took my hands. “Lothíriel, remember all those couriers riding in from Rohan over the winter?”

I nodded mutely. Of course I remembered them!

“When we were in Edoras for King Théoden’s funeral, Father mentioned having a marriageable daughter to Éomer and they arranged for the two of you to meet here in Cormallen...”

That seemed harmless enough, but I could tell my brother hadn’t finished yet. “And?”

“But then Éomer suddenly wrote to take up negotiations for your hand. Father was reluctant at first, but you know how much we owe Rohan.” 

I did not need to be told how much. Quite likely none of my family would have survived if it hadn’t been for the Rohirrim. And they had paid dearly for coming to our aid.

When I didn’t answer, Amrothos squeezed my hands. “I know it must be a bit of a shock, but I am sure you will come to like him. He seemed very keen on the match.” His voice took on a trace of desperation when I still did not answer. “Lothíriel, say something! I just wanted you to know before you meet him tomorrow morning, so you can get used to the idea.”

To the idea of spending the rest of my days in a country I did not know with a man who looked old enough to be my father? And it was all coming together in my mind: the Prince of Dol Amroth mentioning having a daughter, a trusted courier being sent south, the sudden offer for my hand.

Amrothos was watching me anxiously. “Lothíriel?”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Amrothos, when did the King of Rohan send his offer? Before or after you returned from Minas Tirith?”

He frowned in confusion. “Some weeks after we got back, if I remember correctly. But why do you want to know?”

“Never mind.” I withdrew my hands and took a step back. “I would like a little time on my own now.”

My brother regarded me uncertainly. “You won’t do something silly, will you?”

I shook my head. “Of course not. But it’s not every day that I’m told my future has been decided for me by my menfolk.”

I could not keep the bitterness out of my voice and he winced. “Lothíriel, I’m sure it will all turn out for the best. Éomer might be a little rough round the edges for Gondorian tastes, but he’s a good man, honourable and true. I got to know him well on the march to the Black Gates and there’s nobody I’d rather have for a friend.”

So spoke Amrothos, whose requirements of a friend were a ready blade and a large capacity for drink! I turned my face away. “I need some time alone...please, Brother?”

He lingered for a moment longer, but when I would not look at him he fled, muttering something about getting changed. I sank down onto the ground. All around me, white wood anemones dotted the green moss: the colours of Rohan. I buried my face in my hands.

King Éomer had offered for me! And how could I possibly refuse one of the saviours of Minas Tirith, brother-in-arms to our own king? Who had no doubt got an exhaustive report of my looks, how I walked and how I talked, and of my prowess as a horsewoman. A report delivered by a man he trusted. I knew Léona owed me nothing, had probably just followed his king’s orders, but still a deep feeling of betrayal filled me. Oh yes, it all fell into place.

As for my family, my own father did not even feel it necessary to consult me regarding my wishes for a husband. So much for having earned some respect through my hard work during the war. Father treated me no better than a pampered broodmare, to give away as a gift to his new friend!

Amrothos had left his mug of beer behind, and on an impulse I picked it up and threw it into the river, where it vanished with a splash. But a heartbeat later the water had smoothed over again, not caring one whit for the problems of a poor mortal.

I don’t know how long I sat there, my heart and mind numb. As the dusk deepened, bats flew around me in their quest for insects and somewhere a nightjar gave his whirring call, but I could not find the energy to get up and return to the camp. Would my maid miss me? But perhaps Amrothos had told her where I was.

Then another boat glided by, hardly more than a pale shadow in the night, and voices floated across the water. All I caught were a few snatches of conversation: the deep bass of a man, a woman answering him, talking about everyday concerns. How I envied them! If only I could get away as easily and leave all my troubles behind.

It was then that the plan sprang to my mind, fully formed in an instant, and unfurled in all its beautiful simplicity.

Chapter 3

My grandfather had always said that a battle was lost or won long before the first blow was exchanged. “Planning!” he used to bark at my brothers when they assembled for their lessons in our library. I should have been studying the genealogy of Dol Amroth’s princes, but listening to my grandfather’s tales was so much more entertaining.

So when I got back to my tent, I pleaded a headache and sent Eirien to excuse me to my father and fetch me something to eat. Then I settled down to think. It would be no good for a woman to travel down the Anduin on her own, but I already had a suitable escort in mind – the question was how to secure his services, for I doubted that he would leave the attractions of Cormallen voluntarily. However, a glimmering of an idea suggested itself.

When Eirien returned with a tray of bread and cheese, I settled down in bed with a book and told her to take the evening off. As I had hoped, she jumped at the chance to have a look around the camp with her friends. She was young and pretty, so had many admirers amongst the other servants. I waited a little while to make sure she was gone, then got up and slipped on one of my riding cloaks. Not the perfect disguise, but it would do. While the perimeter of the Dol Amroth encampment was still guarded, security inside the camp was pretty lax. Also, I had timed my excursion carefully, for it was the hour for people to have their meal in the big pavilion put up for that purpose at the other end of the camp. I could hear the low buzz of talk and a few strains of music coming from that direction.

Walking with firm purpose in my steps, so nobody would question me, I soon arrived at my destination: Healer Curuvoron’s tent. With no injured men to look after, he had probably joined the others for the meal, for no light burnt behind the thick canvas. I ducked inside and set my lamp on the floor by the chest that I knew contained his medicines. I had to be quick! But fortunately a Gondorian lady was expected to know some healer craft, so I had assisted him many times. The chest was locked, of course, for Curuvoron was a conscientious man. However, the same conscientiousness had also driven him to have a copy of the key made, in case he ever lost the original, as he had told me proudly. I grinned when I retrieved it from its hiding place under Curuvoron’s pen box. Clearly the Valar were smiling on my endeavour!

A quick search through the contents of the chest produced the desired result, a phial filled with a yellowish mixture: tincture of valerian, refined with marjoram and lemon balm. Then I had a stroke of luck, for the chest also contained several bottles of red wine – for medicinal purposes, no doubt. They would save me a trip to the kitchen tent and possibly awkward questions, so I pocketed one of them as well.

Having relocked the chest and hidden the key again, I returned to my tent. Now came the tricky part: the dosage. I regarded the phial dubiously. A couple of spoonfuls would send an injured man to sleep and dull his pain, but I had to dilute it. In the end I emptied half the contents into the waiting bottle of wine. Then I stuck my head out the tent and called for a servant to deliver the bottle to its recipient. No need to sneak around when I could do things openly.

Now it just remained to wait. 

It seemed to take forever for the camp to quieten down around me. Some of the Rohirrim and a good number of King Elessar’s guard must have come to visit their Dol Amroth comrades, at least judging by the loud and off key singing drifting through the night. Finally, well past midnight, the revelry abated. I waited a little longer, just to make sure, then I rose and changed into a pair of trousers I used for riding. Before slipping out of the tent, I plaited my hair and picked up the bundle of food and clothes I had readied. This time I made sure to keep to the shadows, for it would not do to get caught outside by one of the sentries.

A well trampled path led through the grass down to the river, where a narrow ledge provided a natural landing place. And again luck favoured me, for tied up against the bank were three small skiffs. My father’s swan ships had too much draught for sailing up the shallow Fainglir River, so our men had anchored them off Cair Andros and used these boats for unloading our gear. I had hoped some might still be around.

Quickly I chose the smallest one, untied the rope and jumped in. The oars lay in the bottom of the boat, and it took me some time to fit them into the rowlocks. All the while the skiff drifted out onto the water and I expected a shout of discovery any moment. Yet the night remained calm. Taking a firm grip on the oars, I dipped the blades in the water and took my first stroke.

The skiff began to spin! Hastily I pulled on the opposite oar, but I overcompensated and the boat drifted even more off course. The loud splash of the blades hitting the water seemed as loud as a shout to my ears. Meanwhile the flow of the river threatened to carry me downstream, away from where I wanted to go. I cursed silently – I had done this before, in Dol Amroth’s harbour as a child, surely I could manage a silly little cockleshell like this.

Slowly my skill returned and I managed to right the boat and propel it in the direction I intended, if still more unsteadily than I liked. Fortunately I didn’t have all that far to go, just around the next bend in the river. There I found a spot underneath a willow, well hidden behind its fronds, where I could tie up the boat out of sight. Now for the final and most difficult step of my plan.

I scrambled out of the boat and up the steep bank overgrown with grass and decidedly thorny bushes. Had I judged correctly? Yes! Outlined against the starry sky was the shape of a tent. A pennant stood next to it, hanging slack and dark in the still night air. The last time I had seen it, the morning breeze had streamed it out, displaying the swan and ship, as my brother proudly showed me the view. Trust Amrothos to pick the best spot to pitch his tent.

I grinned. He would not enjoy it much longer, not if I had my way. Knowing him, he would probably complain the whole way down to Minas Tirith, but I needed his company for protection, to say nothing of having somebody to row. Who better to choose than my favourite brother?

Keeping low, I crept closer. The tent had a small anteroom facing the view, and when I tried the flap that kept it closed, I found it undone. Better and better! I slipped inside and listened carefully. Nothing. Where did he have his cot? If he had drunk all the wine he might not even wake up when I dragged him down the slope – otherwise I would have to come up with an alternative plan.

I took a step forward into the darkness. And stumbled over something. Landing hard on the ground I only just managed to swallow down a cry of surprise. What was it? Cautiously I stretched out a hand to feel the obstacle I had fallen over. Some sort of fabric, covering long legs, smooth leather boots... my brother? But he lay so still! Cold panic seized me at the thought that I might have overdone the valerian and inadvertently killed him.

“Amrothos!” I whispered and shook him.

He gave a mighty snort and my heart started beating again. He lived. As if to prove it, he began to snore loud enough to bring the guards running.

“Shhh!”

I had to muffle his snores somehow, but how? I felt around for some cloth or something to stuff in his mouth, but found nothing on the smooth expanse of carpet. The carpet – of course! It looked like I had just had my third stroke of luck of the night.

It was a matter of moments only, to roll him over to the edge of the rug. Then I began to wrap him up in it, as easily as a mother swaddles a baby. Soon the snores faded away. And what was even better, with a bit of pushing and shoving I could roll him out of the tent and onto the grass fronting it. This was much better than having to drag him by his legs! I had to suppress a giggle – the carpet looked rather funny, with only the bottom of his boots sticking out. I decided to tackle the slope next.

At first it was slow going, but as the drop got steeper it was all I could do to keep him from getting away from me. In fact the carpet did slip out of my hands at one stage, but fortunately a thorn bush further down the slope stopped his descent. And through it all, Amrothos snored away quite happily. I felt sorry for his future wife – if he ever managed to find one. Finally, out of breath and with scratched arms, I reached the bottom of the slope. Here I debated unwrapping him from his prison, but in the end it seemed easier just to roll him directly from the overhanging bank onto the skiff. It was a bit of a drop, and I had to push hard to make sure he landed in the middle of the boat so as not to upset it. I winced in sympathy at the dull thump he made as he hit the wooden floor boards. And still he continued snoring!

As I cast off from my improvised mooring site, a feeling of exhilaration filled me. I had made it! That should teach the men of my family to treat me like a pawn in their games.

A waning moon had risen, casting dappled light through the leaves of the trees lining the Fainglir River, which helped me to find my way. I saved my strength for the moment, content to let the current take me at its own speed. In the stillness of the night, all sounds seemed preternaturally loud: the yip of a fox, some animal jumping in the water with a splash. At least I hoped it was an animal, for I had nothing to defend myself with apart from a snoring brother. But surely no orcs would dare to come so near our camp. Even so, I nearly screamed when leaves from a low hanging branch caught in my hair.

Every now and again, we would pass the camps of other travellers, marked by the embers of banked fires, and I kept to the shadows of the trees, so my passage would not be marked. Then, perhaps two hours into my journey, I had to take up my oars again, for we had reached the island of Cair Andros, where the Fainglir flowed into the Anduin and the waters got choppy. I kept close to the shore, where the current did not pull quite so hard and started rowing upriver. Faramir’s rangers manned a camp at the southern tip of Cair Andros and I did not want to chance being spotted by them. Once my absence was noted, my father would be sure to send search parties all the way to Minas Tirith, so I had decided to head in an unexpected direction first. My plan was to head up the Anduin for about fifteen miles, till we reached the northern tip of Cair Andros, and then travel down the other side of the island, where nobody would be looking for us.

But very soon my back and arms started to ache from the unaccustomed exercise. This was harder work than I had remembered! Stopping for a breather, I sent a resentful look at the happily slumbering bundle in the bottom of the boat. Men! But the current threatened to sweep me downriver, so I had to take up rowing again.

By the time the dawn painted the sky a pearlescent grey, I was exhausted and had made hardly any headway at all. Fog rose in thin drifts from the water, hiding the opposite shore and swallowing all sound, until I felt that I was alone in the world. Well, except for the occasional snore from Amrothos. But I had the impression that his sleep got lighter and he started to move about restlessly. Time to find a suitable place for negotiations? Suddenly an island rose out of the mist, no more than a small outcropping of rock with a pebbly beach and a single gnarled tree hanging on stubbornly. It would have to do.

One thing growing up with three elder brothers had taught me, was that when dealing with men, it helped to be in the better bargaining position – sitting in a dry boat while they were on an island in the middle of lots of chilly water qualified as a better bargaining position. That way Amrothos would not be tempted to simply force me to return to the camp with him.

As I precaution I decided to remove his boots as well. Seizing the heel in one hand and the toe in the other, I heaved one off. But when I did the same to the other boot, I got a surprise: with a metallic clatter something fell to the floor. What was that? I bent to pick it up and came up with a thin length of steel. The dagger had a short ivory haft and finely honed edges – all in all an extremely deadly looking piece of weaponry – and when I looked inside the boot, I saw where it fitted into a tailor-made pocket. I turned the blade over in my hands. Who would have thought that Amrothos owned a thing like this and moreover wore it to a peaceful celebration? It spoke of a preparedness for trouble that did not quite agree with how I pictured my easygoing and carefree brother.

I pushed the thought away for later consideration. The question now was how to get him off the boat and onto the small beach? First I tried to unwrap the carpet, but it was all snarled up with twigs. My arms shook with exhaustion and one hand bled where a blister had broken open. Finally, with a heroic effort, I heaved the bundle up to rest on the gunwale. But that moment the skiff tilted dangerously at the shift in weight, and losing my balance I pitched forward. To my horror, I found that during my struggles the boat had started to drift downriver! Frantically, I grabbed for the carpet, but it was no use. With a loud splash the whole thing dropped in the water.

“Amrothos!” I yelped and managed to catch hold of a corner.

Somewhere I found the strength to pull one side of the soggy, heavy carpet out of the water. Empty! Where was my brother? A moment later I could not hold the carpet any longer and had to let go of it. But staring down into the river I realized that it had to be shallow, for I could see the ground.

Then a boat-length away an arm emerged from the water, flailing about wildly. A heartbeat later a head followed.

Chapter 4

He surged out of the water and flung back his hair, one hand extended in a claw. With the other he took a swipe around him, before dropping into a fighting crouch. Steel glittered in the dawn light.

Instinctively, I grabbed the oars and took a hasty stroke to carry me out of reach. My breath caught in my throat. Where had my brother got that knife from? The man was downright dangerous! As if dazed, he shook back his mane of wet blond hair. Blond? Blond! It couldn’t be! His eyes fastened on me, then flickered to both sides, as if seeking for enemies in the mist. It wasn’t Amrothos at all! Impossible. I looked in the bottom of the boat, half expecting my brother to still be lying there, wrapped up in his carpet.

Holding his knife at the ready, the man straightened up. “Who are you?”

He was so tall, the water only reached his waist. And that deep, commanding voice – I had heard it before. Léona? I felt as if somebody had just dumped me in cold water.

“What are you doing here?” I stuttered.

His eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?” He lowered his knife a fraction. “Princess Lothíriel?”

Still stupefied, I nodded.

He shook his head, as if he could not quite believe it either. “What’s going on here?” He looked around at the river and the small island. “And where is here anyway?” A sudden thought seemed to strike him. “Did you dump me in the water?”

He looked murderous! I snatched up the oars and took another couple of strokes away from him.

“Stop!” he snarled. “Come back this instant!”

So commanding was his tone, I nearly obeyed. Léona here! How could that be? But it was slowly coming clear to me. I must have got the wrong man! But how had he come to be lying on the floor in my brother’s tent?

“Where are we?” he asked again. “Answer me, woman!”

“On the Anduin.”

“What!”

“The Anduin,” I repeated. “That’s Cair Andros over there.”

“It’s a dream,” Léona muttered. “It has to be a dream.” He lifted his arms and looked down at his soaked shirt. “Only it’s too cold to be a dream. Béma! Would you care to explain, Princess Lothíriel, why you brought me to Cair Andros and dumped me in the river?” His voice had the sting of a whip.

I jumped at his tone. “I didn’t mean to! It was an accident.”

“An accident? Wonderful!” Just watching him standing there in the water made me shiver with cold, but he appeared quite unaffected by it.

He seemed to have decided I posed no threat, for he turned his attention away and peered down at the water. Spotting something, he bent down to retrieve it. Another dagger! How many of those deadly things did he carry round with him?

“You’re not supposed to be here at all,” I told him.

“I know that!” he snapped back. “I’m supposed to be in my warm, dry bed.”

He had no need to make me feel guilty! “Well, you shouldn’t go to sleep in my brother’s tent then, should you,” I pointed out. Although I might have had something to do with that – had he shared my brother’s wine?

Léona frowned. “What has that got to do with it?”

“Everything! It’s not as if I wanted you along!”

He was unimpressed by my low opinion of his company. “Then why am I here?”

“It was dark and you lay on the floor,” I explained, “so I wrapped you up in a carpet, thinking you were my brother.” My beautiful plan was in tatters – and all because of this annoying rider of Rohan being in a place where he had no business to be!

“A carpet,” Léona groaned. He put away one of his knives in the scabbard at his belt and the other in a sheath hidden against his forearm. “I don’t remember a thing,” he said. “The last memory I have is of drinking a glass of wine with Amrothos. Your brother serves potent stuff! I usually carry my wine better than that.”

I chose not to explain the nature of that particular drink and just shrugged. The reality of my situation began to sink in. I had the wrong man along! What should I do now?

Meanwhile Léona had taken off his shirt and wrung it out. “This water is cold enough to freeze off one’s... never mind,” he muttered. I averted my eyes. What was he doing? Noblemen did not take off their clothes in front of ladies! Although he was so completely soaked, it made no difference anyway.

“But that’s beside the point,” he said. “What I want to know is what you are doing here? You should be in your warm, dry bed, too!”

“I am running away.”

Léona closed his eyes. “Please, let this be a dream!” He groaned. “Imrahil will have my hide.”  

Really, the man was on very familiar terms with my father and brother! “You needn’t worry,” I shot back. “Nobody will ever find out about your presence.” I indicated the other side of the Anduin, still hidden in the morning fog. “If you swim across this channel, you can make your way back to the camp without anybody being the wiser.”

He stopped in the process of wringing out his hair. “What are you talking about! I will most certainly return to the camp, but with you in the boat. And then you can explain this whole sorry mess to your father.”

“No, I won’t!” I exclaimed. Who did he think he was to order me around like that? I immediately made up my mind to carry through with my original plan. “I’m going to Minas Tirith and from there I’ll take a ship home.” Let him explain my absence to my father – that would serve him right!

“Will you cease talking nonsense!” He made a chopping motion with one hand. “It’s out of the question. I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop me,” I pointed out, “you’re in the water, I’m in the boat.”

Léona looked like a man whose day had just gone from bad to worse. “Don’t you dare!” For a man who was standing in the water half-naked and soaked to the skin, he managed to exude an astonishing sense of menace. I eyed the distance between us with some disquiet, but decided I was safe for the moment. Nevertheless I took a firmer grip on my oars.

“I am off now.” My eyes fell on his boots still lying in the bottom of the boat. “I will leave your boots on the other side of the river, so they don’t get wet.”

As I slipped the oars into the water, he lunged after me. “Come back this instant! That’s an order.”

Valar, the man was fast! My muscles protested at the abuse, but I managed to propel the skiff away from under his grasping hands. However, only an instant later and he would have had me. In the deeper water I slowed the boat to a stop and looked back. He had straightened up again, his face dark as thunder.

“I don’t take orders from you, Léona,” I shouted.

“What?” I guess he wasn’t used to a woman defying him, for he looked very much surprised.

“You heard me!” Sudden fury took me. “Who do you think you are? You come sneaking into Dol Amroth under false pretences to give your king a good report on me, so he can decide at his own leisure if he wants me or not! Tell me, do you take the same measures when you buy a new mare?” He opened his mouth as if to reply, but I gave him no chance. “Well, I’m not playing along with your game,” I lashed out, “and your precious king can find himself another wife!”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh! You know about that...”

“Yes, I do! Amrothos told me about King Éomer’s offer – after that, it didn’t take much to figure out your role. As you see, you have only got yourself to blame for the situation you ended up in.” Let him think on that as he made his way back to Cormallen! In fact I was tempted to throw his boots in the water, so he would have to go barefoot. That would serve him right.

I took up my oars again. “Good-bye.”

“Wait!” he called.

What more did he want? When I hesitated, he held out his hands in front of him to show they were empty and took a step back. “Look, Lothíriel, I won’t try and grab your boat again. But you must see that I can’t possibly let you go on your own.”

He still acted as if the decision was up to him! “You can’t stop me,” I pointed out.

“It’s far too dangerous for a woman to travel down the river on her own,” he added, ignoring my words. “What if you encounter brigands? Or get into difficulties and the boat capsizes?”

“Nonsense!” I shot back. “I can handle myself.” But as if to give me the lie, one of the oars slipped out of my hands and nearly got away.

Léona nodded at my mishap. “The sensible thing is to return to Cormallen together and settle the matter with your father.” He pulled a wry face. “I can guarantee you that the King of Rohan won’t be interested in marrying you after this escapade. You may have my word on that.”

The cheek of the man! But I would not rise to his bait. “King Éomer likes his women docile, does he?” I asked in my most honeyed voice.

“He likes them reasonable!” Léona snapped. Then he took a deep breath. “Lothíriel, I assure you he would not want an unwilling wife.”

He seemed very certain of his king’s motives! I shook my head. “That’s what you say! But what reason have you given me to trust you? You haven’t exactly been truthful with me, have you!”

Léona had no good answer ready, for he lowered his eyes. The sun was gaining ascendancy, melting away the fog in long swathes of vapour. Suddenly, as if a window had opened, the opposite shore appeared out of the mist: a solid, dark green wall of vegetation. With a loud cry, a heron took off from a dead branch that reached up to the sky. I eyed the forest with some trepidation. You could easily hide a whole army of bandits in there. Still, Léona had probably only mentioned brigands to frighten me and make me do his bidding.

“Good-bye,” I said again.

Léona reached out a hand. “Lothíriel,” he pleaded, “if you won’t listen to reason, at least let me come with you.”

“What!”

“I suppose I’m partially to blame for your running away,” he admitted grudgingly, “and I feel I owe it to your father to make sure you are safe. This is my offer: I will help you get as far as Minas Tirith, from where you can get passage on a ship to Dol Amroth. And after that I promise you need never look on my face again – or King Éomer’s.”

What an astonishing offer! I didn’t know what to say. It would be nice to have protection while travelling – he would be good at that, I had no doubt – but the whole proposal seemed far too pat. He had to have something planned!

“You promise not to give me away?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And to assist me in getting to Minas Tirith without being caught?”

“Yes!”

“And not to send word to my father?”

“Yes, woman! Now come here and let me get in that stupid boat. Béma, but this river is icy!”

“Upon your honour?” I insisted.

“Upon my honour.”

Somehow he left me no time to think his words over. Before I knew it, I had rowed the boat over to him. He grabbed the gunwale and heaved himself into the skiff, nearly capsizing it in the process.

“At last!” He threw a dark look my way. “You deserve a spanking for dropping me in the river like that!”

It occurred to me that I had not made him swear not to hurt me. Or dump me in the water in his turn! Surely he wouldn’t, would he? But after a tense moment he settled down in the stern, where a pile of empty jute bags remained from the boat’s previous users. When he stretched out his long legs before him, water pooled around them. The smell of wet man hung in the air.

“Well,” he said, somehow effortlessly taking command of the situation, “do you have some kind of plan or are we just going to drift aimlessly down the Anduin?”

I was already regretting that I had accepted his company. “Of course I have a plan!” And this ungallant rider of Rohan did not even offer to row for me!

Ignoring my blisters, I grabbed the oars and started to move the skiff forward. “We will travel up the river until we reach the tip of Cair Andros,” I explained, “thus confusing possible pursuers. And then we will journey down the other side.”

At first my anger lent me strength, but before the little island had even receded out of sight, my arms began to shake with fatigue. I was nearly spent! And all the while, Léona was watching me critically.

He sighed. “Oh, let me do that! I want to arrive in Minas Tirith before midsummer, you  know.”

If only I could pitch him overboard again! But I did not have the strength, so I surrendered the oars to him and we exchanged places. The skiff rocked sharply at the shift in weight, but I knew how to handle myself aboard boats. Léona, I noticed with some satisfaction, had to cling to the gunwale until the rocking subsided.

He did know how to row, though, with long, powerful strokes that propelled the boat across the water effortlessly. Settling myself on the damp bags, I watched him covertly. He seemed to be deep in thought. Why did I get the feeling that matters had just been taken out of my hands?

Who was this man anyway? He had such an air of command, I could no longer believe that he was a simple courier. Also the easy manner with which he’d joked with his king spoke of long familiarity. Was he noble born? Not one of King Éomer’s Marshals – their names I knew – but perhaps the captain of one of their so-called éoreds?

I yawned. It seemed a lifetime ago that I had watched King Elessar and the Rohirrim arrive at Cormallen, so much had happened since. Yet it was only yesterday afternoon! The sun was burning away the last remnants of the morning fog and I closed my eyes to better enjoy the warmth. Finding the rhythmic splash of the oar blades in the water oddly soothing, I buried deeper into the bags. In a little while, I would turn my mind to dealing with the upset to my plans that Léona had dealt me, but right now it was rather pleasant to relax for a moment. Just briefly...

Chapter 5

It was the smell of cabbage that woke me. Cabbage? I tried to sit up – and regretted it straightaway. My back protested at the sudden movement by sending a stab of pain down my spine, as muscles I had not known I possessed cramped up. And my arms felt as if somebody had pummelled them with stones. I groaned.

“Are you hurting?” The voice held no sympathy. “It’s best if you move as much as possible, to work out the stiffness.”

Stiffness? What a complete misnomer for the agony coursing through me. But my indignation gave me the necessary strength to struggle upright. I glared at Léona, who grinned back insolently. He sat on the rowing bench easily, taking slow strokes, as if he was in no particular hurry. On his head perched a straw hat and at his feet lay a pile of cabbages.

I must have stared at them as if they were an apparition, for he chuckled. “Do you like my purchases?”

“You bought them?”

“Well, I could hardly have grown them, could I?”

Another glare just earned me more chuckles. I lifted my chin in challenge. “How am I supposed to know you’re a cabbage lover?”

“I am not. In fact I’m heartily sick of them – we had them all winter.”

I closed my eyes. Wonderful. Not only had I abducted the wrong man, he also seemed to be touched in the head. Why couldn’t I just go back to sleep! “Then why buy them?” I asked.

“It’s the perfect disguise. Or would you search for a princess amongst cabbages?”

I opened my eyes again. “No.” Perhaps he was cleverer than I thought.

He bent down. “I bought a hat for you as well.” A straw hat, identical to the one he wore, landed in my lap.

“Thank you,” I said reflexively.

“That’s all right. I used your money.”

“What!”

With his chin, he motioned to the floor and I saw my bag of belongings lying there. “I found your little stash and thought you would not begrudge me using it for a good cause.”

The cheek of the man! But to get miffed would only play into his hands. So I smiled. “I am sure my new accoutrement will stand me in good stead at the next reception in Merethrond. The ladies of Minas Tirith will blanch with envy.”

The corners of his mouth twitched at my sally, but he let the subject drop. I sat up straighter and peered over the side of the boat. Where were we anyway? The sun glancing off the river struck my eyes, and I had to squint. Long shadows reached across the water from the trees growing on the opposite shore, yet we were still in sunshine. I let my glance wander upwards. There rose the dark green slopes of the Ephel Dúath, lit by the sinking sun. So late! Surely I couldn’t have slept the whole day away? My stomach chose that moment to show its discontent with a loud rumble. Perhaps I had.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“About halfway up Cair Andros, I judge,” Léona answered.

Only! Surely the island wasn’t all that long, if I remembered my maps correctly. He had rowed the whole day and that was all the distance he had covered?

As if reading my thoughts, Léona shrugged. “I had to stop and hide several times, for the Anduin has been thick with ships looking for you. It’s a mystery to me why, Lothíriel, but they seem to want you back.”

I chose not to reply to that. The man was very free with my name as well! But hopefully the rest of the journey would pass faster and I would soon get rid of his troublesome company.

He had been peering at the underbrush on our side of the river, and now he suddenly picked up speed and changed direction for the shore. A brook emptied into the river at this point, forming a small sandbank. Léona forced the boat up the stream until it hit the bottom with a soft thud. Jumping out, he heaved it up onto the sand far enough so it would not slip back in the water.

Holding on to the gunwale, I got up gingerly, my muscles still not happy with any sudden movement. When I looked back towards the river I saw that clumps of tall reeds screened us from view. Did he intend to stop here for the night? And didn’t I get a say in our plans, too?

Strong hands grabbed me around the waist and lifted me out of the boat. I yelped with surprise. “Léona!”

He set me down gently. “We’ll make camp here for tonight. I’ve done enough rowing for one day.” He reached past me and picked up something from behind his bench. “Are you hungry?”

The smell of raw fish joined the pervasive reek of cabbage hanging around the boat. I regarded the brace of trout he held up for my inspection with surprise. I had seen no fishing line anywhere. “Surely you did not catch those yourself?” I asked.

“Bought them,” he admitted.

“You’ve had a busy day.”

“Hmm.”

I did not like his self-satisfied smile one bit. The man was up to something! But what? Anyway, he needed to be taught a lesson. As my grandfather used to say, a battle could only be won by taking the initiative.

I took the fish from him. “Well done, Léona. You go and gather firewood, while I see to our meal.”

My assumption of command did not go unnoticed by him, but he merely lifted an eyebrow in question. “You know how to cook fish?”

“I do,” I answered him firmly and shooed him away. Growing up with three older brothers had taught me some useful skills.

I surveyed our campsite. Not a bad choice, I had to admit. A sandy beach formed a small semicircle, merging into low shrubs and then the thicker undergrowth of the forest proper. Sloe trees bloomed along the edge, overgrown with woodbine, and a blackcap warbled from the leafy shadows.

I dropped the fish back into the boat and had a quick rummage through the contents of my bag. The remnants of yesterday’s evening meal, half a loaf of bread and some hard cheese, should still be in there. Nothing. All I found was a dry crust of bread. However, I could guess where my supplies had disappeared to. That man must have the appetite of a hungry lion!

Whistling off-key, Léona emerged from the forest with a pile of dead branches, which he dumped on the sand, before proceeding to collect large stones to lay in a circle to contain the fire. Aware of the fact that I had so far done very little to get the meal started, I picked up one of the empty jute bags and went to see what I could forage. As I had hoped, ramsons grew profusely along the little stream. Soon I had picked enough of the pungent leaves to suit my purpose. Further exploration yielded a clump of wild spring onions and some chives.

The ground was sandy and suddenly a flash of brilliant blue flew past – a kingfisher! Like a living jewel, it hovered in the air for a moment, before darting into a hole in the river bank. When I clambered up the bank to examine the site more closely, I suddenly spotted clumps of brown morels growing along the top. What a lucky find! Thanking the little bird, I gathered enough of the bounty to add savour to our meal, but made sure to leave enough for other hungry mouths.

The sun had sunk behind the tops of the trees on the other side of the Anduin by the time I returned to the camp. My muscles still ached, but Léona had been right that using them loosened them up. He had a merry fire going and looked up from feeding it more wood when I stepped out from the trees.

“There you are!” He frowned. “You shouldn’t be wandering away too far from camp, Lothíriel. It’s getting dark.”

I shrugged. It would probably be no use pointing out that I had stayed near the stream all the time, exactly so I would not lose my way. Quite apart from the fact that the sound of rushing water would lead me back in the direction of the Anduin even if I lost sight of the lighter sky to the west. Men liked to think that they were the only ones able to find their way through the wilderness, even if they had zero sense of direction, like my brother Amrothos.

My stomach cramped in protest, demanding to be fed, for I’d had nothing all day except water and a handful of early strawberries I’d found growing on the forest edge. Fortunately I’d prepared fish many times before, while out for an afternoon with my brothers.

“May I borrow one of your knives?” I asked Léona. “The small one from your boot would be perfect.”

Reluctantly he handed it over. It was a matter of moments only to fetch the trout and gut them on a flat stone. He didn’t seem too pleased to have his fine blade used this way, but if he treated my things as if they belonged to him, why shouldn’t I do the same to his? The heads cut off, I stuffed the cavities of the fish with the morels and spring onions I had gathered. Finally I wrapped each one up in several layers of ramson leaves. Scraping aside some of the coal with a piece of wood, I placed the wads amongst the ashes, before moving the coal back to cover them.

He watched me dubiously. “Wouldn’t it be easier just to spit them over the fire?”

“Easier, but less tasty.”

I rose to my feet and wandered down to the water’s edge. The fish would take a while to bake through, so I might as well wash off the garlic smell of the ransoms. When I dipped my hands in the stream, I sighed with contentment. Lovely and cool after the heat of the day. Unable to resist, I slipped off my shoes and turned up the legs of my trousers. Wading into the brook, I wriggled my toes in the soft sand. Then I cupped my hands and scooped up water to wash my face and neck. Bliss! My hair felt sweaty and confined, so I undid my plait to let it tumble loose down my back. Spreading my arms, I stretched them up to the darkening sky, where the first stars blossomed.

Behind me, a log in the fire collapsed with a loud crack and I started. I had forgotten all about Léona. When I turned round and retraced my steps out of the water I found his dark eyes watching me. Suddenly self-conscious, I turned down my trouser legs and plaited my hair into a proper lady’s braid again, before I sat down across the fire from him. How very isolated this spot was. It had seemed quite reasonable that morning to accept Léona’s offer of protection, but in truth I knew nothing about him. Had my predilection for giving in to wild impulses led me into trouble, as Amrothos always said it would? Certainly my aunt Ivriniel would advise me to run and hide in the forest, rather than spend a night in the company of that most dangerous of animals, a strange man.

“Do you think the fish is ready yet? I’m hungry.”

The sudden question made me jump. But at the same time, normalcy resumed and I chided myself for my silly fancies. After all, the man had made it abundantly clear what he thought of me. It was far more likely that he would dump me in the water in a fit of temper than that he would make unwanted advances. No, my virtue was safe, and if I could make sure nobody ever found out about his company on this journey, surely I would yet manage to preserve my reputation.

In a lighter mood, I poked one of the small parcels with a stick. “I don’t think they’re done yet.”

Wearily, he rubbed his forehead. “You know, your brother ought to have a word with his steward. I’ve still got a headache from that wine.”

The wine! I bit my lip and looked down.

“Lothíriel.” Somehow he managed to infuse my name with a wealth of threat without even raising his voice. “You look guilty. Out with it!”

I swallowed. “I put something in the wine to make Amrothos go to sleep.”

Silence.  Then he released his breath in an explosive exhalation. “Béma! I always thought my sister was a handful, but at least she never tried to poison me!”

“Not poison!” I protested. “I just wanted to make sure he did not wake up while I carted him around.” Léona had a sister?

“It certainly worked.” He frowned. “How did you get me into that boat anyway? Did you have help?”

“I rolled the carpet down the hill...”

“You rolled me down the hill?”

Really, he made it sound like a crime! “And why shouldn’t I?” I shot back, for I still hadn’t forgiven him for spoiling my beautiful plan. “It’s your own fault for visiting Amrothos at the wrong time.” Come to think of it, he had never explained what he had wanted there. “Léona, what were you doing in my brother’s tent anyway?” I asked.

He picked up a piece of wood and used it to spread the coals more evenly. “Nothing much,” he answered, “I got to know him quite well during the march to the Black Gate and just wanted to discuss some small matter with him.” He might as well have shouted that this small matter had something to do with me. And I rather thought I knew what it was.

“Were you afraid I would make a scene when I recognized you in your king’s company and put two and two together?”

He would not meet my eyes. “Something of the sort, yes.”

I decided to let silence speak for me – let him stew over that for a while. Stew...the trout! They should be done by now. Using two twigs as tongs I lifted a couple of the parcels out of the fire. The outer layers of ramson leaves were burnt black, as expected, but when I carefully folded them back, succulent white flesh emerged, the scales peeling back with the remaining leaves. A mouth-watering smell filled the air and Léona leaned forward eagerly.

Using a flat stone for a plate, I handed him one of the fish parcels with a flourish. “The evening meal is served, my lord.”

He grinned appreciatively. “Thank you, my lady.”

It was the last thing either of us said for a while as we dug into the meal. Lacking table knives and spoons, we used our fingers to tease the tender meat apart and stuff it into our mouths. What a feast! Only now did I appreciate how hungry I was. And Léona certainly had a very healthy appetite as well.

When the last morsel had disappeared, he leant back with a contented sigh. “I haven’t enjoyed a meal so much for ages.”

“Nothing like hunger to add taste to your food,” I agreed, “although the fish could have done with some salt.”

He licked his fingers. “You underrate your skill.”

I shook my head in denial, but I have to admit that secretly I was pleased. On our excursions, my brothers had always taken for granted that I would turn their catch into a tasty meal, and it was nice to have my efforts appreciated. So when he asked me where I had learnt to cook fish in this manner, I told him a little about growing up in Dol Amroth and tagging along after my brothers and their friends. With Father away in Minas Tirith so often, we had sometimes run a little wild, I suppose. Yet for me those years had been filled with fun and excitement, before the gathering darkness in the East had put an end to all that.

Léona shook his head in disbelief when I told him the story of being marooned on an island in the bay for a night because Amrothos had misjudged the tide. “Uncle would have had something to say to me, had I endangered my sister in such a way!”

“Oh, it wasn’t dangerous,” I answered, “just cold and uncomfortable.” Then my curiosity got the better of me. “Why your uncle and not your father?”

Léona picked up a stick and started to draw patterns in the sand. “My parents died when I was eleven, so we went to live with my uncle.”

“I’m sorry!” What a terribly inadequate expression! I bit my lip. “Was your uncle very strict with you?”

He looked up in surprise. “That’s not what I meant. Uncle treated us as if we were his own children.” He smoothed out the patterns he had drawn. “But I never had much time for games after that; I was too busy learning the warrior’s trade. I first rode against orcs at sixteen years of age and was given the command of my own éored five years later – and I had earned it.” He said it proudly, but I felt sad for the young lad shouldering the duties of an adult.

Léona broke his stick in half and threw it in the fire. “Anyway, that’s long past. I suggest we turn in now, as I want to make an early start tomorrow.” He rose to his feet.

I followed suit, suddenly feeling awkward in his presence again. What sleeping arrangements did he have in mind? But as it turned out, they were very simple: he collected the jute bags from the boat and spread them on both sides of the fire. Although I noticed he made do with a couple and gave all the rest to me. With my cloak wrapped around me and a full belly, I felt my eyelids beginning to droop the moment I lay down. Léona, however, still sat up, carefully checking over all his knives.

“Good night,” I yawned.

Shining steel in hand, he paused for a moment. “Good night, Lothíriel.”

Chapter 6

Cold, so cold. I tried to burrow deeper into my bedclothes, but they were rough and stiff and would not warm me. Had my maid let the fire go out? Then an owl hooted softly and I came awake with a start. Of course, I was out in the wilds of Ithilien in March – no wonder it was chilly. Looking up at the sky, I saw a faint blush of dawn to the east, more a hope than a certainty.

I rolled onto my side and curled into a ball to preserve warmth. The fire had long ago gone out, I noticed, and squeezing my hands into my armpits didn’t help either. In the end I gave up on sleep and sat up. Perhaps there were some embers left to stir into a blaze again? But the moment I poked a stick into the fire, Léona reared up from his blankets.

“What is it?” he cried out.

Taken by surprise, I yelped and sprawled backwards.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said sheepishly, letting the inevitable knife in his hand disappear again.

“Who else did you expect?” I asked, fully awake now.

Léona shrugged. “Old reflexes taking over, I suppose.” He cast a measuring look at the sky. “It’s early yet. Couldn’t you sleep anymore?”

I hugged my arms around me. “The cold woke me. Do you think we could light the fire again?”

He pondered the question for a moment. “I don’t really like calling too much attention to ourselves. Somebody might come and investigate a fresh fire at this hour.”

“I suppose my father’s men might spot us,” I had to agree, my hopes of going back to sleep fading rapidly.

“I was thinking more of predators...”

“But wild beasts shun fire,” I pointed out.

“Not the two-legged ones.”

So that was what he was worrying about. With a tired nod I conceded his point and lay down again. “Yes, you’re right.”

“Are you very cold?”

“I’ll manage.” Perhaps if I piled up the bags on top of me, some measure of warmth might creep back into my body. But the ground had lost all memory of the heat of the sun and made a hard and clammy bed. My teeth started chattering.

Suddenly the crack of steel on flint sounded, and a moment later a flame flickered. I twisted round to sit up again. Léona was hunched over a piece of tinder, blowing gently until the fire caught. Once he had a merry blaze going, he sat back on his heels.

“You try and catch a little more sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Aren’t you tired?” I asked, guilty that I had woken him up.

He shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

I wriggled closer to the fire, feeling better already. My arms still ached from yesterday’s exertions and a wave of weariness swept through me. Falling back asleep would provide no difficulty at all.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

“I promised to deliver you safely to Minas Tirith, didn’t I?” he answered. “That includes not frozen into an icicle.”

Before sleep claimed me again, a strange thought flitted through my mind. Perhaps I had abducted the right man after all?

The second time I woke, it was to the sound of birdsong: a robin courting its mate. But when I moved, it was gone in a flash of red and brown. I yawned and sat up. Where was Léona? Then I spotted him down on the beach, no more than a dark silhouette outlined against the Anduin, where the first rays of the sun struck the opposite shore.

He held a slender length of wood in his hands, raised in what I recognized as the classical Charging Boar position, hilt next to the head and blade facing downward toward the opponent’s throat. After a moment he transitioned smoothly into Leaping Wolf and then the next stances in the traditional training sequence, before starting over again, only quicker. I had spent enough time at the practice fields of Dol Amroth, watching my father’s Swan Knights spar, to recognize a warming-up exercise, yet there were differences. As he sped up and began to move across the sand, cutting and thrusting at his imaginary opponent, he added none of the little flourishes so dear to my brothers. No, this man had only one aim: to kill as swiftly as possible.

I clasped my arms around my legs and wondered how my brother Elphir, the best swordsman of Dol Amroth, would fare against such focused ferocity. It would certainly be an interesting match! And despite the economy of his movements, Léona possessed a stark grace that drew the eye.

Gradually he slowed down again, until he finished the exercise in the identical stance he had started in. Then he turned round and saluted me with his stick. “You’re up? That’s good, for I want to get going soon.”

I rose to my feet. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

He drove the piece of wood into the wet sand at the water’s edge, where it stuck quivering. “My uncle’s master of arms.”

“Your style is similar to that of our Swan Knights,” I observed.

Léona shrugged. “There are only so many ways to kill orcs.” He motioned to my pile of bags. “Time to go now, don’t you think?”

Clearly he welcomed no more questions into his past. Still, it was no business of mine. So I nodded and helped him collect our few belonging and scatter the still glowing embers of our fire in the sand. It took only a few minutes, before we cast off and Léona took up the oars again. As our little beach disappeared around the corner, I felt a pang of regret: it was a beautiful place. But Léona seemed to be in a hurry to move on. He rowed with deep, strong strokes and kept close to the shore, where the current was sluggish.

“I’m hoping to find a village or fishermen to buy something to eat from,” he explained when he saw my questioning look.

Since my stomach was clamouring for food, I agreed heartily with his plan. However, the forest on both sides of the Anduin remained unbroken. The rising sun had turned the water into a sheet of molten gold wreathed with low-lying swathes of morning fog. Small islands, circled with reeds, dotted the river and as we passed one, a flock of geese exploded into the air, honking their protest at our intrusion. I watched them veer in perfect formation and return to their sleeping place. Almost I could believe we were the first people to explore these shores.

Then I spotted several thin trails of smoke rising into air a little further upriver. When I pointed this out to Léona, he grunted with satisfaction and increased the rhythm of his strokes. However, while we were still out of sight of the place, he slowed down again and ran the boat up on a small pebbly beach hidden by trees. Picking up my satchel of belongings from the floor, he rummaged through it for the small drawstring bag that contained my money. The two gold coins and small items of jewellery he dropped back, but pocketed the smaller coins.

“Listen, Lothíriel,” he said, “I will go in and see what provisions I can get here, but you stay hidden under those bags.”

I bristled at his tone of command. While I appreciated his help with my venture, he seemed to have forgotten that he was spending my money and using my boat. Or at least the boat I had stolen! “I would like to have a look around as well – what is the harm in that?” I protested.

He shook his head. “No. We have no idea what kind of place this is. For all I know, it could be a brigands’ lair! At the first sign of trouble, I want you to cast off and wait for me downriver.”

I motioned to his belt. “You could give me one of your knives.” After all, he had plenty of those!

“Do you know how to use one?” he asked back, his face carefully blank.

I hesitated. Gutting fish was one thing, gutting another human being a whole different matter.

He gave me no chance to reply anyway. “You don’t, do you,” he said, “which means that any knife I give you will likely end up being used against you. Whereas if you have none, you will not hesitate to run.”

I could see the twisted logic in that. But what a suspicious mind the man had! I regarded the jute bags with little enthusiasm. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” he said. “Besides, your father’s men will be looking for a single woman in a boat, not for a rider of Rohan.”

Sound reasons. So I curled up in the stern of the boat and let him cover me with smelly, scratchy sacking. For additional disguise, he piled on some of the cabbages as well. It was going to be a long wait.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he patted one foot. “At least there is no danger of you being recognized as the Princess of Dol Amroth.”

“You’d better be quick,” I hissed back, suppressing the impulse to kick out at him, “or boat and princess will be gone when you return.”

Muffled laughter, then the boat tilted briefly when Léona jumped out. Gravel crunched under his boots and leaves rustled, but very soon all sounds of his passage faded. With a sigh I shifted the bags so I could see a tiny section of sky through a slit in the sackcloth and settled in to wait.

I occupied myself with identifying what noises I could hear: the gentle lap of the river against the boat, birds calling to each other, a loud plop as a fish jumped out of the water. Suddenly, in the distance, dogs started barking. Had Léona reached the village? I strained to listen for signs of trouble, but apart from the dogs falling quiet again nothing happened. And when I came to think of it, Faramir’s rangers would hardly overlook a nest of brigands right on their doorstep. Time crawled by and I shifted uncomfortably. My nose had started to itch, closely followed by my elbow and a hard to reach spot on my back. Really, how long did it take to buy something to eat?

Then the rhythmic splash of oars carried across the water. I tensed. What if they spotted our boat and decided to investigate? But whoever it was must have been in a hurry, for the rower never even paused as he went by. Slowly the sounds faded as he continued downriver. But where was Léona?

That moment a jay cried out harshly somewhere in the forest, warning all other woodland creatures of an intruder. The crack of a breaking branch followed. I sat up. If Léona wanted me to escape in the boat, I could hardly do so lying down and trying to impersonate a pile of cabbages. So I swung over the side of the skiff and leant against it, ready to push it into the current in case it was a stranger approaching.

But an instant later Léona appeared at the top of the bank, a sack slung over his back. He nodded in satisfaction when he saw that I had followed his orders and jumped down onto the beach. “All went well,” he said and dumped his bag in the boat. “Let’s get going again.”

I climbed back and Léona pushed the skiff into the water, before scrambling on board as well. The current began to carry us downriver, but he quickly righted the boat and took up the oars.

“No brigands?” I asked.

“No, just a small hamlet of farmers. However, your father’s men have been by asking for you, so you’d better stay down until we have passed the place.”

Grumbling, I slid down out of sight. At least he did not ask me to cover myself with sackcloth again.  Still, I felt more relieved than I cared to admit to have him return safely. He might have the annoying habit of trying to order me about, but his solid presence was reassuring. That last sentiment made me pause. Perhaps I should be more careful with my thoughts. And I would do well to remember that we intended to part company once we reached Minas Tirith.

Léona continued rowing for about an hour until we stopped to have a bite to eat. He had bought a loaf of dark rye bread, which could not have been more unlike the soft bread rolls served at my father’s table, but I wolfed it down.

He grinned as he cut off another piece for me and slapped a slice of sausage on top. “At least you’re not fussy.”

“I’ve had much worse,” I answered, thinking of the time my brother Erchirion had experimented with edible seaweeds.

Léona paused a moment. “So have I.”

I wondered if he alluded to the ride of the Rohirrim to Minas Tirith. From what my father had said, they had mostly eaten the same as their horses – oats.

The worst of my hunger slaked, I motioned to his bag. “What else did you buy?”

He shrugged. “They did not have much to spare at the end of the winter, but I managed to buy some flour and even a little salt. Oh, and a crock of honey.”

“A life of luxury!” I quipped. “What more could we want.”

That surprised him into a laugh. “Yes, it should keep us going for a while.” His brow furrowed. “Only I would have liked to get a bow, or better still, a sword, but they did not have any to sell.”

More weapons? “What do you need a sword for?” I asked. “You already have three knives.”

He paused a moment in cutting off another slice of bread. “Four actually. One was hidden in the other boot where you did not find it.”

The man was a walking armoury! He must have seen the expression on my face, for he sighed. “I suppose it’s difficult for you to understand, growing up in a world of relative peace and protected by your father and brothers. But for me the possibility of a knife in the dark was all too real.”

“What? But who would want to kill you?”

“Wormtongue. He intended to kill all loyal men.” Léona held his blade up for my inspection. “This knife saved my life in a tavern brawl arranged for one purpose only – to send me to join my forefathers.”

I swallowed. What a life! Father had told me about King Théoden’s traitorous councillor, how over the years he had poisoned the king’s mind against those loyal to him. “But those days are past,” I pointed out, “and you have to move forward and learn how to live in peace.”

“I’m trying,” he sighed, “but it’s difficult when you have dwelled in the shadow of danger for so long.” His hand tightened on his knife until the knuckles stood out white. “When you doubted your ability to keep your loved ones safe and all those entrusted to your care.” He stared off into space.

I leant forward and touched him lightly on his arm. “Léona?”

He started. “I’m sorry. I should not bother you with my concerns.”

“But I don’t mind,” I replied, “I just wish I could do something to help.” Yet the moment I said those words, I bit my lip, hoping he would not misconstrue their meaning.

However, he just inclined his head. “You are kind.” His meal finished, he picked up the oars again. “Perhaps I’m slowly getting accustomed to living in peace. Else I would not have left my sword behind in my tent when I visited Amrothos.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Of course I didn’t know what awaited me there...”

I tried to smile at his words, though my heart was still heavy. I sensed old pain, the scars of wounds running deep. Had he lost many of those loved ones in the war? Members of his family, a sweetheart perhaps or ... a wife?

He continued rowing steadily, while I mulled over these questions. Once again I realized how lucky I had been to have my whole family survive the war unscathed. How easily I might have ended up like Léona, orphaned and sent to live with relatives, as had happened to so many children. In fact my father and brothers had all been besieged in Minas Tirith and would likely have perished there, if it hadn’t been for the timely arrival of the Rohirrim – and King Éomer had played a large role in that. Did Léona think me ungrateful to want to refuse the offer of a man who had done so much for Gondor?

The spring sun had risen high by now, and the cold of the early morning was nothing but a distant memory. A couple of times other boats passed us, and every now and again we would see signs of habitation, but we did not stop. The land on the opposite shore slowly began to change, becoming stony and inhospitable, and the waters of the Anduin foamed against sharp outcroppings of rocks and swirled around boulders smoothed into strange shapes by the current. Léona kept well away from these treacherous waters, but as the channel narrowed the rowing got more difficult. I could never have done it on my own!

It was well past midday by the time we reached the northern tip of Cair Andros. The island was shaped like a ship, with a tall, rocky prow falling off steeply into the river, which broke against it with a continuous low roar heard from afar. Sweat ran down Léona’s face and I gripped the gunwale tightly as we fought past. But above Cair Andros, suddenly the Anduin widened out again, flowing broad and lazy.

Léona leant back on his bench with a sigh. “We will stop for a while and have something to eat, before tackling the other side.”

I nodded agreement. Growing up by the sea had taught me a healthy respect for the power of water.

A small island with some beech trees growing on it offered a convenient resting place, so we ran the skiff up on its small strip of land facing away from the main channel of the river. I jumped ashore and stretched my arms and back, glad for the opportunity for movement after sitting down all morning. Meanwhile Léona, who had stayed on the boat, had slipped out of his boots and threw them over to rest at the foot of one of the trees. His knives followed. What was he doing? As I watched in surprise, he stepped to the stern of the boat and balanced there for a moment, before diving into the river with a loud whoop.

Seconds later he resurfaced, a wide grin on his face, and brushed back wet hair from his face. “It’s absolutely lovely, Lothíriel. Won’t you join me?”

When my mouth dropped open at this preposterous suggestion, he laughed. “I promise to keep my eyes closed.”

For the briefest instant, I was tempted, but then common sense reasserted itself. Frolicking around with this man in the water would be utter folly. “No, thank you,” I answered. “I will see to the midday meal.”

Not that there was much do: spread a piece of sackcloth on the sward of grass at the foot of the trees and lay out the bread and sausages. All this while carefully ignoring the splashing going on behind me. My few preparations finished, I sat down and leant back against one of the tree trunks. Did he have to puff and blow like a demented walrus?

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him emerge from the water and shake out his hair like a wet dog. Droplets of water flew my way, but I ignored them. Next he took off his shirt – marginally cleaner again - and laid it out on the prow of the boat to dry in the sun, before settling down across from me. I found it difficult to concentrate on my food with such a lot of wet man sitting there, but he seemed completely at ease and his appetite was unabated. Although to be honest he had earned it after rowing such a long way.

His thoughts seemed to run along the same lines, for he leant back against the trunk behind him and gestured at the river. “It should be easier from now on, going with the current.”

“Do you think they’re still looking for me?” I asked.

He offered me the last piece of sausage, but I shook my head. Chewing on the meat, he pondered my question. “I hope that the hunt will have moved downriver by now,” he answered. “They have no reason to look this far north.” He yawned and stretched out on the grass. “You know, if we continued up the Anduin, we would eventually reach the borders of the Mark.”

“Do you miss your home?”

He shrugged and crossed his arms behind his head. “I just don’t like being away too long.”

Did he have somebody waiting for him? But it was none of my concern, so I did not ask. For the first time I wondered if he would get into difficulties when his absence was noticed. Surely a close companion to the king couldn’t just vanish without a search being mounted. I turned to ask him, but the words died on my lips. He was fast asleep!

The dappled shade of the trees played across him as his bare chest rose and sank steadily. Here and there a faint scar bore witness to his calling, just as the well defined muscles of a swordsman did. But with his features relaxed, he seemed younger and carefree. Vulnerable. I looked away and gazed out over the river. In another day or two we would reach Minas Tirith – and I would take up my life as Princess of Dol Amroth again. I would do well to remember that.

Chapter 7

For a while I amused myself watching a pair of swallows dive and glide across the waters, catching insects. They had returned early from the south, a good omen for a fruitful year. However, soon I got restless. My companion showed no sign of waking up and I didn’t want to disturb him. He had watched over my sleep in the morning, so he deserved the same courtesy from me. But I had done nothing all day except sit around and now I felt the need to stretch my legs.

Very slowly, so as not to disturb Léona, I rose to my feet and strolled down to the small strip of beach. Lizards flitted into cover at my coming and a wagtail shot away across the water. I walked to the end of the tiny bit of land, pebbles crunching under every step. How inviting the river looked, sparkling in the afternoon sun. I bit my lip. To wash off the accumulated sweat and dirt of two days’ travelling... A quick glance over my shoulder showed Léona still lying in the shade of the trees, his slumber untroubled. The temptation got too strong.

I stepped out of my shoes and untied the laces of my tunic. Another look back: he hadn’t stirred. Yet still I hesitated, for I didn’t want to get my clothes wet, yet couldn’t very well swim naked. What if Léona woke up unexpectedly! Then my eyes fell on his shirt drying on the prow of the boat. When I picked it up, I found it still damp. It should not matter if I got it wet again, hopefully it would be dry by the time he woke from his nap.

Quickly I slipped out of my clothes and pulled the shirt over my head. It was so large, it covered me down to my thighs and I had to turn up the cuffs. The material felt very fine though, linen of the best quality, and around the collar and down the neckline ran a complex pattern of embroidery that I had not noticed before. As I touched the neat stitches, I wondered whose work it was. His sister’s?

But the river called me. Leaving my clothes in a heap on a stone, I waded into the water. So cold! I had forgotten that the Anduin carried melt water from the Misty Mountains. However, once I had overcome the initial shock it felt wonderfully refreshing. The water was smooth as silk against my skin and crystal clear. I dived down to the bottom, where small fingerlings darted away into hiding. Coming up for air again, I threw another look at our island. Nothing. Léona slept like a log.

With a happy sigh I flipped over onto my back and let the current caress me. Bliss! When the river had carried me downstream of our island, I just rolled back over and swam upstream again. To somebody who had grown up playing in the rough waves of the Bay of Belfalas, the gentle pull of the Anduin provided no difficulty. I did this several times, letting myself drift a little further with each go. How good it felt!

Suddenly a new sound broke the drowsy quiet of the afternoon: short, regular splashes. Rowing strokes? Treading water, I searched for the disturbance. A boat was heading upriver, carrying three men. They spotted me at the same time that I saw them, for one of them nudged the other two and said something to them. A moment later, the boat changed direction and aimed directly for me.

I did not like the look of this! Putting on a burst of speed, I dived under and swam back against the current. When I resurfaced, I heard one of the men shout out, but I paid no heed, instead concentrating on getting back to our island. How far away I had drifted!

“Léona!” I called.

I reached the shallows only a heartbeat ahead of the keel of the boat crunching into the gravel behind me. As I staggered out of the water, a strong hand seized me. Léona! He heaved me up so I could hold onto his arm.

“What is going on here?” he growled and pushed me behind his back.

The men hesitated at the threat in his tone, and as I caught my breath again, I got my first good look at them. I did not like what I saw: they were dirty, with matted hair and wearing clothes marked with old stains. One of them had a pale, bloated face, another an angry red scar across his cheek. The sour smell of unwashed man wafted over.

Three of them! I would have liked nothing better than to cling to Léona for reassurance, but knew better than to hamper his movements at such a time, so instead just touched him lightly on his shoulder to let him know where I stood. Fear coiled in my stomach.

One of the men jumped off the boat and landed in the water with a splash. His small, squinting eyes bored into me. “We are looking for a woman.”

“Not my woman,” Léona answered and a knife appeared in his hand out of nowhere.

Squint Eyes took a step back. “Easy, horsemaster!” He tried to peer more closely at me, but I sought shelter behind Léona’s broad back. “We mean no harm.”

“Then get you gone and leave my wife alone.” Léona stood deceptively relaxed, poised on the balls of his feet to strike out in any direction. Having one hand resting on his bare shoulder, I could feel the coiled tension thrumming through him, ready to explode into violence at the least sign. The dagger glinted in the sun, honed to a deadly edge. His other weapons he kept hidden for now, I noticed. As Amrothos said – it was the blade you did not see that killed you.

“Your wife?” Squint Eyes shifted a step away from the boat, but Léona moved with him, flowing to the right and keeping himself between me and them. In a lazy motion he waved his knife near the other man’s crotch. Squint Eyes paled.

“Your wife?” the one with the scar repeated. “How would one of the Rohirrim come by a Gondorian wife?”

“Met her after the battle of the Pelennor,” Léona snapped, “not that it’s any business of yours.”

They did not like the news that they were dealing with an experienced warrior, I could tell that. Squint Eyes fingered his own dagger, but did not draw it. He gave an ingratiating smile. “Just a small misunderstanding. We’ll be on our way then.”

“Yes.”

The single word held enough menace to make Squint Eyes hurriedly push out their boat and climb in. As the current took it and swept it slowly away, the three kept gazing back at us and whispering to each other. Would they give up that easily? Léona put his knife away and crossed his arms on his chest, staring after them until they dropped their eyes and started rowing downriver. After what seemed like an eternity they disappeared out of sight behind the next bend.

Léona spun round and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What were you doing, letting yourself drift down the river, you fool!”

Now that the danger was past, I started shaking. “I was hot,” I stammered, “so I went for a swim. I didn’t realize I had floated that far away... and then suddenly those men appeared.” Revulsion coursed through me. What if they had managed to catch me and drag me into their boat! “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

The anger drained out of him and he relaxed his grip as he stared downriver. “We were lucky they had no bows along or they could have picked me off at their leisure. I knew I should have got a bow in that village! Or at least a sword.”

The picture of Léona lying in his own blood, pierced by arrows, made my gorge rise. Somehow he must have felt my distress, for he turned back and squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t worry, min swéte. I promised to deliver you safely to Minas Tirith and that’s what I’ll do.”

I nodded and leant my head against his chest for a moment to regain my composure. The encounter had shaken me more than I cared to admit. His hands slid down my back and he gathered me close. I was safe. Léona’s skin glowed warm and alive under my touch as I relaxed against him. He would look after me, I could trust him.

With a sigh, he nuzzled my hair. “I’m sorry you were frightened.”

Just then a breeze sprang up and I shivered. Now that I was out of the water, the shirt clung like a clammy shroud to me. The shirt...

What was I doing! I pushed away from him. “Léona!”

He must have realized the impropriety of our conduct at the same time, for he snatched his hands away as if he were handling a hot coal. “Lothíriel, listen, there’s something I have to...” His voice petered out as he got his first good look at me.

I followed his eyes. Much too loose on me and soaked with water, the shirt left a lot to desire as modest attire. I flushed with embarrassment. What had I been thinking of! There was nothing to do but to brazen it out.

“If you would be so kind as to hand me my clothes,” I said.

He tore his gaze away. “Yes, of course.”

A cloud moved across the sun, casting us in shadow. Léona looked up at the sky and swore softly in his own language. “It’s getting late! We have to be on our way.” He picked up my bundle of clothes and deposited them in my arms. “Quick, get dressed!”

Unbalanced by his sudden change of mood, I clutched the clothes to me. “Where are we going?”

“Away from here. Those ruffians might be back any moment.”

I had forgotten about the three men! While he picked up the remains of our meal and resolutely turned his back on me, I slipped into my clothes. My braid hung like a wet weight down my back, so I undid it and shook my hair out loose. Léona’s shirt I wrung out with limited success.

Without comment, he took it from me and spread it out across the prow of the boat again. “Get in,” he commanded.

He seemed to have made up his mind what to do, for once I had settled in my spot facing him, he started rowing upriver again.

“What is your plan?” I asked.

“I know their kind,” he answered. “They might not want to risk an open fight, but will be watching us, waiting for their chance to catch me unawares.”

Fear settled like a cold weight in my stomach. Even Léona could not stay alert all the time; he would have to sleep sooner or later.

“Don’t worry,” he said, effortlessly reading my mind, “I intend to lose them before that.”

The Anduin had narrowed again, flowing in a series of gentle curves, and while the woods of Ithilien still bordered our side, the other bank lay flat and open, giving onto the plains of Anórien. Léona kept looking over his shoulder, searching the riverbank with narrowed eyes. Suddenly he changed direction. When I peered past him, I saw what had caught his eye: a large tree had fallen down and rested halfway in the water. With a bit of careful manoeuvring, he managed to wedge the skiff behind it.

“Hurry!” he said and jumped to the shore. Then he began to cut down some saplings growing nearby. “Drape them over the boat.”

In no time at all, the boat had disappeared behind a screen of greenery. Once that was done, he took my hand and pulled me up the bank and behind some hawthorn bushes. I cast him a questioning glance.

“Now we wait,” he said.

Lying down on our stomachs, we settled ourselves on a bed of last year’s leaves, where we could peer out at the Anduin through the branches of the bushes. For a long time nothing happened. Around us, the woodland came alive again. A woodpecker’s staccato knocking echoed through the trees and woodpigeons cooed softly. Down at the waterline, something rustled through the grass and disappeared in the water with a plop. An otter?

Léona kept so still that I wondered if he had gone to sleep, but when I stole a glance at him I found him focusing all his concentration on the river. Sensing my gaze, he threw me a quick, reassuring smile, but then turned back to his task. Still nothing. A stone dug into my stomach and the setting sun shone in my eyes, making me squint. Maybe he had been mistaken and the three men had been so intimidated by him that they had decided to go their own way? I opened my mouth to suggest as much, when the first soft splash of an oar sounded. Léona leant forward like a hunting dog scenting its prey.  

Splash, splash, splash.

Before they even came into sight, I recognized their voices. In the way that sound carries across water, I could hear them as clearly as if they stood but a few paces away.

“... do not like the look of that strawhead one bit,” one of them said. It sounded like an old argument.

I could see the boat now and pressed down deeper into our protective covering of leaves.

“I’ve told you, he’s just one man,” Squint Eyes replied. “Once he’s asleep, we’ll slit his throat and that’s that.”

I had to press a fist into my mouth to keep from gasping. The swine! Léona remained motionless.

“But what if the woman is not the one they’re looking for?”

The boat was past our hiding place now, but the answer floated back clearly. “We’ll have to find another use for her then, won’t we!” Coarse laughter greeted that last statement. Anger sparked inside me. Just let them try!

Beside me, Léona drew in his breath and then released it very slowly. When I turned my head I saw him still intent on the disappearing boat with his jaw locked and steely eyes. “I should have killed them when I had the chance,” he said as if to himself. “And next time I will.” It had the sound of a vow, and had I been one of those three men, I would have been frightened.

We remained in hiding until the animals around us returned to their usual routine. Léona rose to his feet and pulled me up. “Lothíriel, don’t be afraid,” he said. “I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” I replied, “and anyway, I’m not scared of such scum!”

A rare smile of approval rewarded me. “You have your father’s spirit.”

I blushed at the compliment, but his attention had already turned to the next step of his plan. He led the way down the bank to our boat, where it took only a few moments to throw the disguising bits of greenery in the water before we were off downriver again. Léona leant into his strokes, and with the current helping us, we soon reached the place of our meal again. However, he did not pause, but instead steered for the low thunder that announced the Anduin breaking against the tip of Cair Andros. I threw a nervous look at the sky. With the sun having set a while ago, the light was fading fast. Already the first stars sparkled above us.

Léona sensed my unease and straightened up from rowing. “If we can make it past while the light lasts, they will never catch up.”

It made sense, even more so as the ruffians had no way of knowing which side of the island we would travel down. “Do you want me to look out for shoals?” I asked, motioning to the prow of the boat.

“Are you up to it?” The challenge held some of our earlier lightheartedness.

I lifted my chin. “Certainly.”

As the roar of the Anduin grew louder, I crawled past him and settled down in the prow of the boat, staring down at the water. He had changed his position so he faced forward and now employed the oars much like paddles, only using them for steering. Moments later the cliffs of Cair Andros loomed up above us.

What would have been a tricky passage in full sunlight turned into a nightmare of foaming waters and swirling currents. Again and again I thought the boat would twist out of control, but always he managed to right it with his fast reflexes. Whenever I saw something emerge out of the gloom I called a warning, and by skill or luck we somehow made it past hidden rocks and snagged tree trunks. By the time the river calmed down again, I was soaked in cold sweat and spray.

When I looked round at Léona, his teeth flashed in a grin of triumph. “We made it!” The man had been enjoying himself!

He kept the boat in the middle of the river and let the current sweep us along. Full night had fallen and I was yawning with fatigue by the time he decided that we had shaken off our pursuers. Lacking a better landing place, we tied up the skiff to a willow tree that leant over the river bank, and shared the remains of our bread. No fire tonight.

I wrapped my cloak round me and chewed on my piece of bread, trying to convince my stomach that it was getting a full meal. “Do you think those men were looking for me?” I voiced the question that had been bothering me for a while. “Or was it just by chance they happened upon us?”

Léona was rummaging through our bag of food. “Now where did I put them?” he murmured to himself. A moment later something round and hard landed in my lap. An apple!

It might have been old and wrinkled, but I snatched it up greedily. “So?” I asked, taking a big bite.

He considered the question for a moment. “They were looking for you,” he answered.

“How do you know?”

“Your father put a prize on your head.”

I choked on the apple. “What!”

“Ten gold pieces to get you back safe and unharmed.”

Ten gold pieces! That was a small fortune, enough to buy a fine farm and have some money left over.

“Unfortunately,” Léona added, “in his determination to get you back, your father did not consider that he has sent every adventurer between Pelargir and the Falls of Rauros hunting after you.” His own apple finished, he tossed the core in the water, where it floated away.

“But...but,” I stammered, “how do you know all this?”

He shrugged. “It was the talk of the village where we stopped this morning.”

And he had told me nothing about it! “Why didn’t you say so!” I exclaimed. “I have a right to know.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he answered.

How dare he decide for me like that! Then a sudden idea entered my head and I blurted it out without thinking. “So are you planning to collect the prize?”

He went still and I realized how preposterous the suggestion was. Would he be offended?

Léona started laughing. “It’s an idea,” he chortled.

I crossed my arms on my chest. Really, I failed to see the reason for all this mirth! By now Léona was laughing so hard, he nearly slipped off his bench.

“Enough!” I snapped.

While Léona slowly got a grip on himself again, I wrapped my cloak closer around me. I did not like the idea one bit of all those men out there looking for me with the aim of collecting a fat prize. As if I were a piece of mislaid treasure! And my father might have specified that he wanted me back unhurt, but what if the lucky finder decided to renegotiate the terms? Say, to take a noble bride into the bargain?

Léona leant forward and touched me reassuringly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lothíriel. Just be more careful to stay near the boat.” Amusement swung in his tone. “Or the next time you go swimming, tell me so I can watch you.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I had learnt my lesson! Even though I could have done with another wash – my hair was full of leaves and twigs from lying in hiding.

Meanwhile Léona busied himself with spreading out our bedding of empty bags in the stern of the boat. “We will have to sleep here tonight,” he said, “there’s no place anywhere else.”

We? As I watched uncertainly, he sat down and pulled one of the bags up to cover him. Then he moved over and indicated the space by his side with a sweeping gesture of his hand. “My lady, I am tired, so I bid you good night.” He lay down and turned on his side to face outwards.

Reassured by his matter-of-fact manner, I crawled to the place vacated for me and followed his example, leaving as much space between his back and mine as possible. Just to be sure, I also stuffed two of the jute bags in the gap between us. The smell of cabbage hung about us and chill air crept up from the waters below us. Not that this seemed to bother Léona, for soon his regular breaths announced that he had slipped into well deserved slumber.

My second night in his company – third if you counted the one he had spent wrapped up in the carpet. I had not thought that travelling up Cair Andros would take so much time and had expected to reach Minas Tirith much sooner. What would my father say? I feared I was in for a severe reprimand. At least such a very public flight should have put paid to King Éomer’s interest in me; surely now he would not want me anymore, good connections or not. Unless Father decided my escapade was all the more reason to get me married off as quickly as possible and made him an offer he could not resist? The fiefdom of Dol Amroth was the richest of Gondor.

I shifted uncomfortably on my hard bed of planks. I wasn’t looking forward to having to face my father. Although if all went well, at least he would never find out that I had not travelled down the river on my own. Hopefully Léona could just fade into the crowd at the Harlond and make his own way back to his company. And out of my life.

I lay awake for a long time, watching the stars wheel above us. How little they cared for the concerns of us poor mortals.

Min swéte – my sweet

Chapter 8

I was warm. Even the tip of my nose was warm. With a happy sigh I burrowed deeper into my lovely cushion. It had just the right firmness to rest my cheek against, and when I listened closely I heard the slow, comforting rhythm of a heartbeat. I was safe.

Strong arms closed about me and somebody snuggled into my hair. “You smell nice,” he whispered sleepily.

With the remnants of my dreams still clinging to me like wisps of morning fog, I just nodded. I liked his smell too: a reassuring mix of sweat, old bags and...cabbage? Never mind. I yawned and felt myself drifting off to sleep again. Even my icy feet had regained some feeling, now that I had managed to wedge them between his legs. A warm hand moved up my back in a caress and he murmured something in his sleep. I liked how the words rumbled in his chest, even though I did not understand them. 

Why didn’t I understand them? I pondered the question for a while, until my drowsy mind supplied the answer: he spoke the language of Rohan, that was why. Content to have made sense of my world, I let my consciousness slip towards sleep again. Nothing bad could happen to me while Léona held me.

Léona?

It was Léona! That realization brought me wide awake. I opened my eyes to find myself wedged against his chest in the most improper manner. His blond mane twined with my tangled black hair and my cheek rested against bare skin. Where had those jute bags gone! And how had his hands ended up inside my clothes? I calmed my hammering heart: he was fast asleep, nothing had happened. Anyway, if he had wanted to take advantage of me, he could have done so long ago. Alone with him in the wilds, I would have had no way to stop him. He was honourable.

“Léona,” I whispered.

No reaction. When I peered around him, I saw that there was plenty of space behind him, whereas I had the ribs that lined the side of the boat poking into my back. If only I could shift him back to his original position, I could then pretend that waking up in his arms had been a dream. Gently, I tried to dislodge him by pushing against his chest. In response he tightened his grip and muttered something unintelligible. If anything I was now squeezed even closer against him! Thank the Valar that my father could not see us at this moment.

It was only the need for warmth, I told myself as I wriggled my feet free from between his legs. A glance up at the sky showed glimpses of pale blue veiled by morning mist. We must have slept through the sun rising.

“Léona,” I whispered again, “you can let go of me now!”

His name provoked remarkably little response. And this from a man who in the past had woken up with a naked blade in his hands at the least disturbance! Instead, he had somehow managed to snuggle his head down the neckline of my tunic and seemed to like it there, at least to judge from his soft snores. I was torn between embarrassment and amusement. This couldn’t be happening to me!

I pushed him away with more force. “You mustn’t do that!”

Suddenly his arms tightened around me like bands of iron. In a single smooth motion he rolled on top of me, driving the air from my lungs.

“Léona!” I gasped.

Sleep-fogged eyes stared down at me: the eyes of a stranger. The raw hunger in them made me go still like a hunted thing. Pinned below him, I was helpless – completely at his mercy. At the same moment a strange frisson of excitement ran through me. He was going to kiss me, he was going to...

Léona shook his head in confusion. “Lothíriel?” He looked around and abruptly seemed to become aware of what he was doing. “What!” Hastily he crawled off me

Freed from his weight, I sat up and drew my legs to my chest. The chilly air enveloping me all of a sudden made me shiver. He wasn’t going to kiss me after all. I squashed that thought violently. What was the matter with me!

His colour heightened, Léona ran a hand through his hair. “My apologies, my lady. I...I hope I did not frighten you?” Slowly, as if not to startle me into flight, he backed away from me.

The formality somehow served to create a distance between us that I grasped at eagerly. “Apologies accepted, Léona,” I said, inclining my head. “You must have acted from a dream.”

“Yes, of course.” When I looked back up at him, his eyes were veiled. Surely I had only imagined the rapacious hunger in them.

***

By common consent we quickly attended to our morning ablutions, before setting out on our journey again. Just like the day before, the river was enshrouded in a fog so thick nothing showed of the opposite shore. Only above us a few gaps in our white blanket hinted at blue sky. I stared out at the wisps of mist parting with the thrust of our bow. My stomach might be empty, but seemed filled by lead. For a moment there, had I really regretted Léona coming to his senses? The thought was completely inappropriate for a Princess of Dol Amroth. I could not give myself away to a common rider like some carefree kitchen maid! I bit my lip. Anyway, I did not want to in such a manner – but being in his arms had felt so right. As if I had finally found the place where I belonged.

I closed my eyes at the welter of conflicting emotions coursing through me. Wisely or not, I had jilted this man’s king. There was no way I could wed Léona and move to Rohan. Besides, he had not asked me to in the first place. For all I knew, he was married to a blond shieldmaiden and had half a dozen children stowed away in a cosy cottage somewhere. I shook myself. Like some silly girl I had fallen for a handsome face and a kind manner. Well, I would just have to get over it and accept that Léona had acted from one of those incomprehensible male impulses that my brothers sometimes displayed, nothing more. Shivering with more than cold, I clutched my cloak around me.

“We’ll stop here for a bit,” Léona announced.

I jumped and looked around me. A sandbank overgrown with scraggly grass extended into the river. Unnoticed in my brooding, he had steered the skiff up onto the pebbly beach. Others must have rested here in the past, for there was a circle of stones black with soot above the high-water line. Léona went to inspect the place, leaving me to climb out on my own.

When he began to collect pieces of driftwood, I followed his example, and soon we had enough for a small fire. Obviously he had lots of experience with lighting fires, for in no time at all he had produced a pile of fine wood shavings to use as tinder. I watched him strike a spark and nourish it into a small flame with judicious blowing. Why hadn’t I noticed the strong line of his jaw before? Or the way he drew his brows together when he concentrated on a task? Becoming aware of my scrutiny, he suddenly looked up. Hurriedly I dropped my eyes and took a step back.

He motioned to our bag of supplies. “Do you know how to make trail bread?”

I had forgotten about the flour he had bought the day before. “Of course.”

Glad to have something to do, I mixed up handfuls of the rough meal with water, added a pinch of salt, and kneaded the dough into flat, oval loaves. At home in Dol Amroth we would usually fry them in olive oil in a pan over the fire, but here we had to make do with resting them on flat stones near the embers. The result was of limited success, only made palatable by adding honey from our quickly diminishing stores.

I sat by the fire and watched him turn the pieces of bread over so they would brown evenly. He had large, capable hands and a swordsman’s physique with strong wrists and sinewy arms. Along one forearm a faint scar showed where a blow had slipped past his guard and I had to squash the impulse to reach out and touch it. What had got into me! Resolutely I turned my attention away and stared into the fire.

Suddenly a thick piece of deadwood landed in the sand by my feet. I started and looked up.

Léona knelt down beside me. “Listen, Lothíriel, I would really prefer it if you would just club me over the head for my stupidity this morning and have done with it.”

“What do you mean?” I stammered.

“You’ve been watching me like a startled fawn ever since,” he said and put the piece of wood in my hands. “Go ahead and hit me,” he urged, “I deserve it.”

I could have laughed at how he had mistaken me. Or cried.

Léona closed my slack fingers on the wood. “Please believe me, I would never hurt you,” he said, “or force you to do something that you do not want...”

But what if I wanted it? Wordlessly, I shook my head.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised. “I have learnt my lesson.”

So had I! “That’s not it,” I said.

He looked unconvinced. “What is it then?”

Desperately I grasped at any pretence that would lead the conversation away from such dangerous waters. “I am worried about my father’s reaction to my running away.”

“Oh!” He sat back on his haunches, a vertical crease between his eyes. “Lothíriel...” He hesitated. “Perhaps I might be able to help you there.”

“You?”

He chewed his lip. “What if you could come to like... Éomer King...and he you?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “What?”

“He’s not a bad person,” Léona answered, sounding almost desperate. “Why don’t you give him a chance? You haven’t even met him yet.”

“I don’t need to meet him,” I snapped, “I have seen him, that’s quite enough for me.”

“Seen him?” He looked as if I had indeed hit him with his cudgel.

“Yes!” I balled my hands into fists. “When you arrived in Cormallen, I saw you talking to him.  He’s so big, I could hardly miss him.”

“But that was–”

“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupted him. “I know exactly what kind of man King Éomer is: the kind who would check out a prospective bride as if she were a horse for sale!”

That silenced him! I jumped up and took a few steps about the sand. Otherwise I might well have hit him with that piece of wood after all. How could he suggest that I marry the King of Rohan after what had passed between us that morning!

“Lothíriel, that’s not how I – he – meant it, I’m sure.”

Did he think I blamed him? I turned round to face him. “I know it’s not your fault, Léona,” I said. “You were just following orders.” King Éomer did not deserve his loyalty! But then nobody had ever contested the King of Rohan being a good leader. It just hurt that Léona would take his side against me.

Léona looked up at me with open pleading in his eyes. “You don’t understand. He never wanted to be king and customs are different in the Mark. Not the way they are here in Gondor, where noblewomen are expected to marry for reasons of state...”

And still he was defending his king! “I don’t care,” I shouted at him. “This Gondorian noblewoman will not marry the King of Rohan and that’s my final word on it.”

I stomped away to the skiff, half tempted to just get in and make my own way down the river. Let him walk the rest on his own! As if he had guessed my intention, he caught up with me after a few steps.

“I said I’d get you safely to Minas Tirith, and that’s what I’ll do,” he reminded me as he swung over the side of the boat, “especially with those men still out there looking for you.”

I nodded grudgingly. In my anger I had forgotten about our encounter with those ruffians the day before. Wonderful! My father had made sure that I depended on a stranger’s protection in my own country. Men – who needed them!

But by the time the sun had burnt away the morning fog and favoured us with another cloudless day, my anger had drained away like water trickling out of a broken pot. Léona was just being realistic and I could hardly blame him for that. Obviously he had no real interest in me, for why else would he urge me to marry his king?

It was all just a silly infatuation of mine anyway. After all, I had only known him for two days, so surely it wouldn’t take long to forget him again. Like Amrothos, who flitted after every new bit of skirt he spotted. Of course there was also my eldest brother Elphir, who had not looked at another woman since meeting his future wife at the age of eighteen. A depressing thought. He had to be the exception!

With Léona taking up the oars again, we made good progress, and towards midday we passed the southern tip of Cair Andros, where Faramir’s rangers manned a camp. I hid below my covering of bags again, but when I peeked over the gunwale I saw that the place appeared deserted. Were they all out looking for me? There was a village around the next river bend, but Léona continued without stopping.

“Shouldn’t we buy more supplies?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you alone again. Hopefully we can buy something off a passing boat.”

I wondered why he did not want to leave me. Because of those men, or because he was afraid I might give him the slip? Not that he was entirely wrong to worry about that possibility. Trailing my fingers in the cool water, I watched the landscape glide by slowly. Almost I could believe that we stayed still, while the world moved around us. To our right now lay the open grasslands of Anórien, stretching all the way to the foot of the Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains. A haze lay over the plains, but in the distance the peak of Amon Dîn rose above the dust: the first of the beacon hills.

“You were amongst the host of the Rohirrim that rode to our aid, weren’t you?” I asked.

He cast me a surprised look and pausing in his task, leant on his oars. “Yes.”

“Amrothos told me about it: the horror of the Witch King, and then the horns of Rohan at dawn,” I said. “You see, my father and brothers were defending the lower levels of the City.”

He nodded. “I know, I met them there.”

In the bottom of the boat, I spotted the hat he had bought for me and picked it up. We must have slept on it, for it was squashed flat.  “Amrothos thinks that without the Rohirrim they would have died there,” I said, turning the hat round in my hands. I looked up and found him watching me closely. “Do you think me ungrateful for refusing the King of Rohan? I do realize what debt I owe him!”

Léona closed his eyes for a moment. “Some debts should not be collected.” He leant forward, took the hat from my unresisting fingers, and put it on my head. “Lothíriel, do you trust me?”

I nodded.

“Then trust me in this: I will make everything right.” Fleetingly, he brushed his fingers across my cheek. “You should marry for love, not for duty.”

Against all reason, I found myself believing him. On the shore, a skylark rose into the air, pouring out its song and my heart lifted with the little bird. All would be well.

Léona took up the oars again, but more leisurely, and I got the impression that he did it mostly because he was used to always having something to do.

“I haven’t been so lazy in months,” he said, confirming my guess.

“I thought Rohan was at peace now?”

He nodded. “It is. But peace holds its own challenges. We’ve lived so long with the threat of total annihilation hanging over our heads that it’s difficult to adjust to a future that holds no immediate threat.”

Which explained his arsenal of weapons and his lightning reflexes. “How long have you been fighting orcs?” I asked.

Léona shrugged. “Killed my first one at sixteen...thirteen years ago this summer.”

Thirteen years of fighting! But he forestalled any answer I might have made. “There were times of peace as well,” he said, “foaling season in spring, or the Yule celebrations.” His face darkened. “But the last years before the Ring War were grim.”

My father had told me about King Théoden’s councillor poisoning the aging king’s mind. Had Léona witnessed that?

He shook his head. “Enough said of that. We won through in the end. So what about you?”

“Me?”

He grinned. “Were you always this wild?”

The way he said it sounded like a compliment, so I grinned back. “Wilder. At least I haven’t burnt the boat yet.”

“What!”

“We used to play corsairs,” I explained, “and Amrothos always insisted on being Thorongil. So one day, when he was busy assailing Umbar, I stole behind his lines and piled his boat with rags soaked in pitch. Then I set them afire.” I smiled at the memory. It had earned me two weeks of bread and water, but had been worth it for the sight of my brother’s face.

Léona broke down with helpless laughter. “Remind me never to cross you!”

Then suddenly he sobered.

Chapter 9

The further we travelled down the river, the busier it got. I did not fancy spending all my time playing at being a pile of cabbages, so I jammed my hair under my hat and smudged my cheeks with a bit of dirt.

“This way, from afar everybody will take me for a lad,” I told Léona.

He let his eyes trail over me. “I think you overestimate the efficiency of your disguise.”

I blushed. “Nonsense.”

It seemed to work, anyway, or maybe nobody cared to accost Léona, for we continued on our journey undisturbed. Whole families earned a living trading up and down the Anduin, and at one stage we even passed a large raft made of logs lashed together and then floated on the water. With the rebuilding of Osgiliath, wood and other building materials were in high demand there.

“How much further to Minas Tirith, do you think?” I asked.

Léona paused a moment. “We should reach it tomorrow.”

Tomorrow – and then we would part company. I banished the thought. He had said he would make things right and I believed him. Why spoil such a nice day with worrying? I leant on the gunwale and watched the reflections of the sun ripple across the water. How far our brave little boat had carried us.

Struck by an idea, I turned to Léona. “We haven’t named the boat yet!”

“Why? Should we have done so?” he asked.

“It’s unlucky to travel in a nameless boat,” I explained.

“Well, in that case, do you have any suggestions?”

I thought of my father’s flagship, The Pride of Dol Amroth. And then there were Corsairs’ Bane and Princess Míriel – called after my grandmother, but the sailors had soon nicknamed her Terror. Inspired by this, my brothers had always given grand names to all their skiffs.

“The Pride of Rohan?” I proposed with a grin.

He chuckled. “The pride of the Mark are its horses, not a tub like this.”

“Something more mundane then? Lots of fishermen give their boats women’s names.”

Léona considered that for a while. Suddenly the corners of his eyes crinkled. “We’ll call her Cawelcwén.”

The name had a nice ring. Intrigued, I straightened up. “What does that mean?”

“Cabbage queen.”

He dared! I picked up one of the cabbages and threw it at him. “No queens around here!”

He ducked and laughed. Then he turned serious again. “Lothíriel, listen...”

During our conversation, we had drifted along with the current and now we approached a bend in the river, where a stony beach extended out into the water. I happened to glance up, and what I saw through the sparse bushes made me blink in disbelief.

At the expression on my face, Léona slewed around. “What is it?”

Two tall masts with the sails furled, a hull displaying the sleek lines of a predator, and there, flying at the top of the mainmast, the silver and blue banner of Dol Amroth.

“It’s Pride,” I gasped, still not believing my eyes.

After one look at the galley, Léona turned the boat and started rowing back upstream. Soon the great warship disappeared out of sight again, while I was still trying to come to terms with her presence, for the last I had heard, my father’s flagship had lain at the Harlond. He must have sent for her to assist in the search! I winced at the thought of the poor sailors having to row her up the Anduin. While she did have a shallow draught, she was a open water vessel, not made for river travel. What was Father thinking of!

Léona seemed to read my mind. “Imrahil really wants you back, doesn’t he,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

Now I felt bad about making my father worry so. But really, it was his own fault for promising my hand without consulting me!

Léona, meanwhile, had a spotted a suitable place for stopping, where the skiff would be hidden behind some large boulders. He jumped into the shallow water and tied the rope to the gnarly roots of a tree. Then he stood deep in thought for a moment.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“Have a look at this ship of your father’s first of all,” he decided. He gave me a measuring look. “Listen, Lothíriel, I do not want to leave you behind on your own, so you will have to come along. Do you promise to do exactly as I tell you to?”

I nodded. Somehow I had long ago abdicated control of this venture to Léona, I realized. He led me up the riverbank and through the open woodlands that bordered the Anduin, until we reached a point above the tongue of beach extending out into the water. Crouching down, we could peek through the branches at the next stretch of river.

It was indeed Pride, and she had chosen a good place to lie in wait. The Anduin narrowed at this point, and anchored in the middle of the river, she commanded the approach both ways. When I looked closer, I saw that she had a couple of escorting skiffs along as well. One of them was just intercepting a boat coming upriver, a task made easier by two heavy hawsers stretched from Pride to the shore on either side.

I cast a look at Léona. He was busy studying the men searching the boat. They went about their work with routine ease, thoroughly checking every corner and lifting every blanket lying about. No hiding below cabbages from these men – but then they were my father’s finest. I wondered who commanded them, when suddenly I spotted Amrothos leaning on the stern rail, watching the proceedings with fierce concentration. A servant was just presenting him with a tray of food, from which my brother absentmindedly selected something. Was that a leg of chicken he was chewing on? My stomach growled in response. 

Léona touched me on the sleeve and jerked his head to indicate we should retreat. As we retraced our route, I hoped that my brother did not have any of Faramir’s rangers along, for the dry leaves covering the forest floor rustled with every step, despite my best efforts. To make things worse, I managed to tread on a rotten branch as well, which broke with a crack that echoed through the woods. Léona winced at my mishap and a jay flew up, scolding loudly. Nevertheless, we reached Cawelcwén without being discovered.

“What now?” I asked. I could not help thinking that defeat was staring me in the face.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” he asked back.

“Certainly not,” I declared. Although I could see no way to get by unobserved.

He stood staring out at the river. The sun had passed its zenith and threw golden highlights on the ripples caused by the current. My stomach rumbled again, reminding me that I’d had nothing since that frugal breakfast of trail bread. If I gave myself up, I would at least get a decent meal. I strangled that unworthy thought.

“What about trying to slip by in the dark?” I suggested.

“I’ve been considering that,” he said. “The hour before dawn is best, when sleeps beckons mostly strongly. And it might well be foggy again.” Then he shook his head. “No. I dare not risk it.”

“Why not? I’m game.”

He rolled his eyes. “You would be. But I could never forgive myself if something happened to you. All it takes is an arrow in the dark. Your father’s men are good.”

“Oh!” No, I did not want to risk arrows either. What if they thought he was abducting me and shot at him? “In that case I see no way to get by,” I said, deflated.

He crouched down, and with a stick drew a plan of the situation in the wet sand. “They have all directions covered. Did you notice they have a small camp on the other side of the river, so we can’t even slip by on foot that way?”

I shook my head. “I did not see that.”

He pointed at his map. “And on this side the riverbank is so steep that you’d have to take a large detour. Besides, I bet Amrothos has got that covered as well. I would.”

“Are you saying it’s hopeless?”

“Don’t give up!” He grimaced. “Believe me, I’ve been in far worse situations.”

Of course. Hadn’t he said that he’d met Amrothos on the march to the Black Gate? And likely he had taken part in that mad charge of King Éomer’s across the fields of the Pelennor. The ladies of Minas Tirith might consider that terribly dashing, but it couldn’t have been anything but terrifying in the midst of battle. No, I did not think that the Rohirrim knew the concept of ‘giving up’.

Léona tapped the stick on the ground, deep in thought. “If you are losing a fight, you have to shift the battleground...”

“A distraction of some sort?” I suggested. “Misdirecting them somehow?”

He went still. “Of course! You’re brilliant.”

I was? I tried to look suitably clever, although I had no clue what I had said to inspire such a statement. He was not paying me any attention anyway.

“Misdirect them so they give up their superior position,” he murmured to himself, staring down at the sand. “But how? Ah yes...” He jumped up and went to rummage in the boat. A moment later he came up triumphantly with my bag of belongings. “Come on,” he called, “we have to get moving.”

Thoroughly puzzled, but obedient to his wishes, I got back in Cawelcwén. He dumped the bag in my lap and started rowing back upriver. “You had best decide which of your trinkets you can do without. However, it would be best if it were readily recognizable as yours.”

Still mystified, I sorted through the pieces of jewellery that I had brought along, finally settling on a small silver brooch in the form of a swan.

Léona nodded when I showed it to him. “Very good. Anyway, if all goes to plan you will get it back. Eventually.”

“What are you going to use it for?” I asked.

He smiled. “Bait.”

Once he had rowed back up the Anduin for a mile or so, Léona told me to hide under my shelter of bags and cabbages. I complained at this, but he insisted, taking great care that I was completely covered.

“Remember, Lothíriel,” he said, “you mustn’t move.”

“But why?”

“So we can catch a greedy little fish.” I heard him chuckle. “Perhaps we can also solve the problem of your grumbling stomach.”

I flushed. He had heard it! With a sigh I settled into my bags more comfortably. They were hot and scratchy. And I vowed that when I got back home, I would tell Cook to cross cabbage off the menu for the rest of my life!

For a long time nothing happened. Léona kept rowing, but only slow strokes that would keep the boat from drifting. Twice another boat went by, but they did not come near us. I had started to doze off, when again I heard the rhythmic splash of oars approaching from behind us. This time Léona picked up his speed and went to meet them.

“Oy!” he called.

“What do you want?” came the answer. “I’m warning you, we’re armed!”

“Fools to tell me that,” Léona muttered under his breath. Aloud he called, “I only want to trade.”

The other boat drew closer. “What do you have to offer?”

“What do you have,” Léona shot back. “I want food, blankets and one of those iron kettles I can see in your bow.”

“That’s a lot to ask for,” the other bristled. “Have you got enough coin to pay for it?” An elderly man, I thought, from his voice.

“I’ve got something better,” Léona replied. “Here.”

I was starting to see where the bait came into his plans. The two boats bumped together, then rocked as he leant over.

The other man whistled. “Where did you get this from?”

“Never mind about that,” Léona replied, “but I’m willing to trade it.”

Another voice, a young one, piped up. “Father, it must belong to that princess they’re searching for everywhere!”

“Quiet, Hallas,” the older man said. His tone turned crafty. “A nice piece of jewellery, horselord. But what if it’s stolen?”

“It isn’t,” Léona interrupted him. “A woman gave it to me. I got rid of some ruffians for her.” In a few terse sentences he described the scene on the little island where we had rested the day before.

“You should have brought her with you!” the lad exclaimed. “She’s worth–“

“Quiet!” his father snapped. “Where exactly did you say this was?”

“North of Cair Andros.”

“And the woman, she went where?”

“Who can say? She could be anywhere by now.”

Including right under your nose, I thought. Would they take his bait? But apparently Léona had judged their greed correctly, for the other man settled down to haggling with him. My foot had started to itch in the most annoying manner, but I dared not scratch it. Why couldn’t they get on with it! In the end Léona got three blankets, a wineskin, a bag full of food and the kettle he had pointed out for the silver brooch. Robbery.

“Where are you heading for now, horselord?” the merchant asked. I could almost see him rubbing his hands.

“Back upriver for a bit,” Léona answered, “now that I have what I wanted.”

He deposited the bag of food near my hiding place and the smell of bread made my mouth water. It took considerable self-control not to snatch at it, regardless of betraying myself! Perhaps Léona shared my urgency, for he made his good-byes quickly after that and started rowing again. Soon the voices of the merchants faded behind us.

“They’re out of sight,” he said after a while.

Casting my coverings from me, I sat up. A look back showed that we had gone around a river bend from where we’d met the other boat. “What now?” I asked.

“We eat,” Léona answered.

He grinned when I snatched up the bag of food, but I noticed he wolfed down his first mouthful of bread just as quickly. There were some delicious meat pies as well and a wedge of savoury cheese. In fact I did not slow down until I reached the shrivelled apples that still held a taste of last autumn.

I leant back with a happy sigh. “Do you think the merchant will take the brooch to my brother?”

“I am sure of it,” Léona answered. “He came from that way, so knew about the blockade. I bet your father is offering a reward for information on your whereabouts as well.”

During our meal we had drifted down the river, and sure enough the other boat was gone when we turned around the next bend. Léona rowed after them, but slowly so as not to catch them up. When we drew near again to the place where Pride was anchored, he slipped behind the same boulders that had hidden us before.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” he said as he jumped out the boat.

After surveying the situation for a moment, he climbed up on top of one of the big rocks and extended his hand to me. There was just enough room to stretch out on the sun warmed stone and peer out at the water without being seen.

“Now for the big fish,” Léona said.

It took a while for something to happen. With my belly full at last, I would not have minded taking a nap, and I had to fight against my eyelids dropping shut. Suddenly the sound of a drum vibrated across the water, bringing me wide awake. Slowly it drew nearer. Then Pride glided into sight, her elegantly shaped prow parting the waters with white froth. Behind her, she towed the two smaller boats.

The great paddles rose and fell regularly in time with the drumbeats, driving her against the current. I bit my lip, feeling guilty for the wild goose chase I was sending them on. Rowing was hard work, and although my father’s men were all volunteers, they had probably envisaged themselves fighting corsairs, not chasing a recalcitrant princess up the Anduin.

“I will have to stand them some barrels of ale when I get back,” I whispered to Léona.

He cast me a quizzical look. “Having second thoughts?”

I spotted Amrothos standing at the prow, leaning forward as if he were driving the big ship up the river by sheer willpower. There was still time to hail them. Should I end my adventure and go back to being a dutiful princess? I hesitated. And then they were past and the moment was lost. Still, what harm could one more day of freedom do?

“No,” I said.

“In that case the way to Minas Tirith lies wide open to us,” Léona said, grinning like a little boy who had just pulled off a trick.

My good mood restored, I grinned back. “Neatly done. And a lot less messy than burning our way through with fireboats.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I hope I never run afoul of you.”

With the drumbeats fading away, the afternoon had gone drowsily quiet again, except for the incessant buzz of cicadas. I stretched and rested my head on my arms, giving him a contented smile. “Afraid of being dumped in the water again, horselord?”

“Or worse.” He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and his fingers brushed across my cheek.

Suddenly I became aware of how close to me he lay. Close enough to spot a faded scar on his temple, white against his tanned skin. And how his eyes no longer held the coolly assessing and slightly mocking look he had first favoured me with. How dark they’d gone! His fingers lingered on my cheek, before moving up to follow the shape of my brows.

“My pirate princess,” he whispered.

The memory of having his arms around me when I woke up that morning flashed through my mind. But this time he was wide awake and knew exactly what he was doing. I closed my eyes as his clever fingers brushed across my eyelids, ghosted over my cheek and traced my lips. There they hesitated. The world hushed around me. Would he kiss me?

“Caw! Caw! Caw!” came a harsh cry.

I startled so violently that I nearly fell off the stone, but Léona’s strong hands caught me before I had slid too far.

He steadied me. “It’s only some crows!”

The birds had burst out of the canopy right behind us, and now flew across the water, cawing harshly to chase away a buzzard that had intruded into their territory.

Léona sat up. “Perhaps it’s better this way,” he muttered as if to himself.

The mood had shattered like the reflections in a pond when a stone is thrown in. He helped me descend from the boulder. “The afternoon is drawing on, let’s get going.”

Soon we had settled in Cawelcwén and were on our way again. Léona’s face was closed and pensive as he picked up his oars, while behind us the crows kept squabbling away.

Stupid birds!

A/N: I have strained my right hand and am trying to stay off the keyboard as much as possible in order to rest it. So I hope you’ll forgive me if I do not answer reviews this week, but I don’t want this to develop into something chronic.

I’ll just say a general thank you to all my readers and reviewers!

Chapter 10

Nightfall found us a few miles north of Osgiliath. Fed by many small streams issuing from the slopes of the Ephel Dúath, the Anduin had widened out, flowing majestically through the open plains. In the distance, the snow covered peak of Mindolluin gleamed orange in the setting sun and I could almost imagine a white speck at its feet.

“I suppose I ought to give myself up, once we reach Minas Tirith,” I said.

Léona leant on the oars. “A sensible decision. Your father must be worried about you.”

I stared down at the waters, which had turned inky black. “Yes. And the Harlond is always busy. You can slip away there and go back to your king with nobody the wiser.”

“If only it were that easy,” he muttered.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Never mind. Let’s find a place to camp for the night now.”

I nodded. Perhaps we could have carried on in the dark and reached the Harlond later that night, but I for one had no desire to face my family any earlier than I had to. Tomorrow was soon enough.  However, finding a suitable landing place turned out to be more difficult than I had thought. The riverbank was flat and sandy on both sides and far too open for Léona’s taste.

“I have no desire to beat off every adventurer who thinks to investigate a campfire,” he said, “better to hide from curious eyes.”

In the end we found a sandbank that cut off a narrow channel of the river and had a thin covering of young birches growing on it, which would conceal us from passing boats. A long ago floodwater had washed up a whole tree trunk and the weather had scoured it to a silvery grey colour. Half buried in the sand, it provided an excellent backrest.

I sat down against it and investigated the bag of food that Léona had exchanged for my silver brooch. It looked like the merchant had thrown in a bit of everything he traded, from old, shrivelled parsnips to a cured ham. In the end I decided to make a stew in our newly acquired kettle, so while Léona collected wood to get a fire going, I borrowed a knife from him and cut the meat and vegetables into small chunks. I wasn’t sure how it would end up tasting, but what else was there to do?

We settled to our tasks in companionable silence. Léona soon had a cheerful fire going and crouched down next to it, feeding it sticks, and once I had prepared the stew, he helped me place the heavy kettle amongst the coals.

I leant back against the tree trunk. “Now we just have to wait.”

He smiled at me. “Not too long, I hope, for I’m hungry.”

The light from the fire played across his face and I was struck by the thought of how relaxed he looked. The wary, knife wielding warrior had almost vanished – until something rustled in the undergrowth amongst the birches. But he relaxed again when it became clear that it was only some small animal, a mouse perhaps.

I picked up a stick and used it to stir my brew. The water was beginning to boil and the smell of cooking vegetables rose into the air. I sniffed appreciatively, for I was hungry myself. Then I suddenly realized that I had no bowls.

“How stupid of me!” I exclaimed.

“What is the matter?” Léona asked.

“We have nothing to eat from.” I regarded the kettle dubiously. “I suppose we’ll have to drink it straight from the pot.”

Léona frowned in thought for a moment, before he rose to his feet. “I have an idea.”

He disappeared amongst the undergrowth and came back a few minutes later with some pieces of bark. When he saw my mystified expression, he grinned. “Something every boy in the Mark knows how to make: birch bark cups.”

He held one of the thin white sheets briefly over the fire to heat it up, before bending it into the rough shape of a square bowl by folding up the corners. Those he fixed in place with a couple of sticks that he had cut a slit in.

“There you are, my Lady Princess,” he said as he handed the result over with a courtly bow.

I turned the bowl over in my hands; it was lightweight, yet functional. Playing along with his game, I inclined my head regally. “Thank you, my lord. Next time I run away, I might consider abducting you again.”

He laughed. “You do me too much honour.”

That moment the stew bubbled over and I had to rush to stir it, spoiling my dignified manner. Having made a bowl for his own use, Léona settled down on the other side of the fire and let his eyes linger on me while I tasted the food. I was aware of them, but his gaze held no demands, just warmth, like a cosy cloak being wrapped around me. Contentment swept through me as the light enclosed us in a protective circle, warding off the darkness of the night and all worries for the future. 

By the time the food was done, the stars sparkled in the sky like a dragon’s hoard of diamonds. I shared out the stew and when I handed Léona his bowl, our fingers touched briefly.

He smiled up at me. “Thank you, hlaefdige min.”

I cocked my head. “What is a hlaefdige?”

“A lady,” he answered. “In the Mark, the lord’s wife sees to the serving of the meal in his hall.”

I sat down and leant back against the tree trunk. “Don’t you have servants?” Surely the Queen of Rohan would not have to carry plates of food round Meduseld?

“Yes, of course,” Léona said, “but the mistress of the hall supervises them, assisted by her ladies. And she will serve the cup of welcome with her own hands.” He blew on the hot stew. “By honouring her husband’s guests she strengthens the bonds of peace between them.” He hesitated. “It is a position of importance, Lothíriel, not just an ornamental one.”

Nodding politely, I took a cautious sip of stew. Hot!

He gestured with the stick he used for a spoon. “They say that Queen Frithuswith held the country together when her husband, Fengel King, threatened to tear it apart with his greed.”

I frowned. Why was he telling me all this? Somehow I got the impression he was working up to something – but what? “That was long ago, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes, I know,” Léona agreed, “but it explains why no King of the Mark would want a wife who comes to him unwillingly.”

“Oh!” I lowered my bowl. “Are you saying that King Éomer would not want to marry me?”

Léona had told me so before, but at the time I hadn’t really believed him. However, I had now spent four nights away from under my father’s roof, much longer than I had originally intended. In many eyes, that fact alone would make me ineligible – if it ever came out that I had spent them in Léona’s company... I grinned to myself. There went my chances of becoming Queen of Rohan!

He had watched me closely. Now he put his bowl down. “Listen, Lothíriel, there’s something I need to tell you-”  

Splash!

Wood slapped on water. Léona surged to his feet and spun round towards the sound. My stew went flying as he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me up.

“Get out of the firelight!” he snapped and pulled me along.

Blinking at the darkness, I stumbled after him into the bushes behind our camp.

“Down!”

We peered out at the narrow channel of water separating us from the other side. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I saw a small boat approaching from downriver. The oars rose and fell irregularly, making me think that the rower had little experience. He tried to drive the skiff up on the sandy beach near our fire, but miscalculated on the strength needed and the boat started to drift backwards. With an exclamation of annoyance, the man jumped in the water and tried to pull the boat up onto the beach that way. Beside me, Léona snorted softly at the inexpert fashion the man finally managed to wedge it against some rocks.

He squinted at our fire. “Hello? Anybody there?”

I looked at Léona. Should we make ourselves known? But he shook his head at me, obviously preferring to observe the newcomer a little more.

When he received no answer, the man turned to the boat. “Strange, the place is abandoned,” he said.

“Are you sure?” a woman’s voice answered.

I realized that what I had taken for a bundle of cloth heaped in the stern was another person. She got up uncertainly and with the man’s assistance alighted. Together they walked over to our fire and stood staring down at the remains of our meal. They looked young, no older than I, and although the man had a sword hanging from a belt slung round his hips, he did not move with a warrior’s confidence. And anyway, nobody experienced in warfare would ruin his night vision by looking into the bright flames of a fire – even I knew that.

Noiselessly Léona rose to his feet, but when I wanted to follow him, he pressed me back down. Then he threw a small stone onto the beach behind the two, where it landed with a soft thud in the sand. They spun round at the sound and peered into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” the man called. His hand went to his sword.

Léona stepped out from behind a bush. “What do you want?”

With a yelp of surprise, the young man whirled to face him. He drew his sword, but the tip wobbled unsteadily. Léona crossed his arms on his chest and glared down at him. From my vantage point I saw a brief glint of steel as he slipped one of his daggers from its sheath up his arm. Having seen him move, I knew he could slash the other man across the throat before the lad had as much as a chance to lift his sword. Besides, the silly girl was clutching his arm, further hampering his movements. An uneven contest.

“We were looking for a place to shelter for the night,” the lad explained.

“No room here,” Léona answered. He sounded annoyed.

Having got over his first alarm, the lad steadied his sword. “We do not want to disturb you; we’ll camp further down the beach.”

“No,” Léona told him. “You’ll get back in that boat and move on.”

The girl looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. She tugged at her companion’s sleeve. “Bornathron, let’s leave.”

But the lad had more gumption than that, or perhaps he was just stubborn. “There is plenty of room,” he answered. “You do not own this place!”

I sensed that Léona was nearing the end of his patience, although I couldn’t quite understand why he was so adamant against letting them stay. They seemed harmless enough.

“Now listen...” Léona growled.

I decided to intervene before the lad got hurt and rose from my hiding place. Bornathron spotted me first when I stepped into the firelight and gaped at me. Léona did nothing so foolish as to turn round towards me, but his shoulders tensed.

“Léona,” I said and touched him lightly on the back. “Why not let them stay further down from us? Surely that will do no harm?”

“I told you to stay hidden,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to sound contrite. I nodded at Bornathron. “Why don’t you put that sword away? Somebody might get hurt else.”

I did not add who was most likely to get hurt, but maybe he was clever enough to figure that out himself, for after a brief hesitation he obeyed my request.

“My apologies,” he said, bowing to me, “we will not trouble you any further.”

Warily they retreated to their boat and started to gather pieces of driftwood for their own fire.  

Léona glared after them. “Impudent whelp,” he muttered.

“What bothers you so much about them?” I asked.

He rounded on me. “What bothers me is that you disobeyed my orders! You might choose to forget that your father put a prize on your head, but I’m responsible for your safety.”

“Anybody can see that they are a couple of innocents,” I protested. “Why, you could get the better of that boy with both hands tied behind your back.”

That seemed to mollify him a little. “Even so,” he grumbled.

I went to pick up my sandy bowl and washed it out. The stew had survived our preoccupation with other matters without any harm, so I helped myself to another portion. Léona meanwhile had sat down again, but at an angle so he could watch our unwelcome neighbours.

I joined him and leant back against the tree trunk. “Look, I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice for his ears only, “it’s not like I fancy having them here either, but I did not want any bloodshed. The boy seemed determined to stand his ground.”

“It would have served him right to get bloodied.” When I said nothing, he sighed. “Yes, I know you’re right. I just wish they had happened upon another site than ours.”

I nodded. It was surprising they had found our little beach really, as it was well hidden from view. At least the stew had cooled down so it no longer burnt my tongue. We slurped it down in silent companionship.

 “What did you want to tell me, by the way?” I asked when we had finished.

“Tell you?”

“Earlier on you said there was something you wanted to tell me,” I reminded him.

“Oh, that,” Léona answered. He looked away. “Nothing important.”

Our bellies filled, we set about getting our bedding ready for the night. With the new blankets that Léona had acquired, I even had hopes of staying warm. He handed me two of them and only kept one for himself. I also noticed that he arranged the beds so he would sleep between me and the other camp. Where were those two anyway? I peered in their direction and spotted them bent over a pile of wood. As I watched, a spark glowed briefly, but then went out without catching.

“Wet kindling,” Léona said, following my gaze. “He’ll never get a fire going that way.”

I said nothing, just continued watching them. Another spark. And another.

“Oh, very well,” Léona sighed at last, driven beyond his endurance. He bent to take a piece of wood from our fire that had only partially caught and strode over towards them.

The couple jumped up when they saw him approaching with a brand in his hands. I followed behind more leisurely.

“Let me do that,” he snapped and crouched down next to the wood. He handed the lad the burning branch. “Hold this.”

Quickly he sorted through the wood pile, discarding damp pieces, and then rearranged them to his liking. When he was finished, he took the brand from Bornathron and thrust it into the pile. The wood began smoking.

“Get another branch from our fire,” he told the lad, who went running to obey him.

Satisfied that Bornathron was in no immediate danger anymore, I turned my attention to the girl. She had sunk down on the sand and clasped her arms around herself, as if she were cold. Pretty, with a heart-shaped face framed by ringlets, she wore nothing but a short sleeved gown that one would put on for a stroll in the town. On a piece of sacking by her side were arranged their meagre provisions: a small roll of bread and what looked like a couple of squashed nut cakes.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

She looked up at me and nodded, hope blossoming in her eyes.

I extended a hand to her. “Come along.”

Having settled her by our fire with one of my blankets around her shoulders, I ladled some of the remaining stew into my bowl and handed it to her. Judging from the way she dug into the meal, she hadn’t eaten much lately.

My curiosity got the better of me. “Where are you from?” I asked.

“Minas Tirith,” she answered between gulps of food.

“And you’re heading where?”

“Up the river. Bornathron has a brother who lives in a village in northern Ithilien who should take us in.”

That sounded somewhat ominous. “Take you in?”

“Yes.” My gift of food seemed to have convinced her of my trustworthiness, for she looked me straight in the face. “You see, we are running away.”

“What!” I sat down abruptly.

“And there is no way I am going back to him,” she declared with an unexpected hint of steel in her voice.

“Him? Your father?”

“My husband.”

“Your husband!”

That exclamation brought Bornathron running, and behind him a frowning Léona.

“Maedwen, are you all right?” the lad asked and knelt down next to her.

She squeezed his hand. “I am fine.”

Léona raised an eyebrow at me.

“She has just told me they are running away,” I answered his unspoken question, “from her husband...”

“What!” Léona took a step forward. “I will have no part in breaking up a marriage.”

At the condemnation in his voice, Bornathron jumped up. “Gordir has no right to call himself her husband!” His hands balled into fists as he faced Léona. “A husband is supposed to care for his wife, to keep her safe. Not to get drunk and beat her up every night!”

When I gasped, the girl nodded at me. “I can show you the marks,” she whispered.

Léona made a strangled sound, as if he’d just eaten something wholly unpalatable. “But if he beats you, you can take him to account!” he said. “What about your father?“

“He’s the one who gave Maedwen to that brute!” Bornathron interrupted him. “Just so he could get his flour ground at a better price at Gordir’s mill.”

“Father didn’t know,” the girl protested. “Gordir seemed nice enough. It’s only when the drink takes him...” She shuddered.

Léona crouched down next to her. “Listen, Maedwen,” he said, his voice gentle, “running away won’t solve your problems. But if your husband beats you, you can petition to have your marriage dissolved.”

She shook her head. “I do not have the witnesses.”

“What witnesses?”

“I need two witnesses of good standing to confirm my accusations before a court of law,” she explained, her bitterness plain.

Léona looked at me for confirmation. I had attended Dol Amroth’s grievance day often enough to know the truth of this, so nodded reluctantly.

“That’s barbaric,” he declared.

Bornathron nodded vigorously. “Which is why I decided to take her away. Once we’re at my brother’s, we intend to petition Prince Faramir to intervene on our behalf.”

“We had no choice!” Maedwen said. A tear ran down one cheek. “And now he will beat me senseless if he ever catches up with me.”

“Not if I have anything to say to it,” Léona answered. He touched her lightly on the shoulder. “I promise you are safe here for tonight. And when we reach Minas Tirith tomorrow, I will take up your case with Lord Húrin, the Keeper of the Keys.”

At the assurance in his voice, she gave him a watery smile. “Thank you.”

Léona rose and clapped Bornathron on the back. “Let’s move your stuff over here. And we’d better pull your boat further out of the water as well.”

All decisions taken out of his hand, the lad nodded happily and followed Léona like an eager hound who had found his master.

Maedwen’s eyes followed them. “I don’t know what I would have done without Bornathron,” she said.  “We grew up together. What a fool I was to marry Gordir!”

“Did you do it to please your family?”

“Father arranged it all,” she answered. “He said that a weaver’s apprentice like Bornathron had no prospects, that I needed a proper man to take care of me. Besides, my family runs a bakery and they would profit from having a miller as a son-in-law.”

Not an uncommon arrangement – and really not so very different from strengthening an alliance between two countries with a marriage bond. I wondered if the King of Rohan liked his drink?

“We are nothing but bargaining pieces in our menfolk’s games,” Maedwen said.

I stared at her. Had she read my thoughts? “But you have taken your life in your own hands now,” I pointed out.

She nodded, her determination evident. “It was that princess who taught me that.”

I got a hollow feeling in my stomach. “What princess?”

“The one who ran away. It’s the talk of Minas Tirith! They say she sailed down the Anduin all on her own, and by now she might be halfway to Umbar.” Maedwen hesitated. “Although I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea. There are still corsairs left there.”

I wasn’t really listening, for I had a vision of girls running away all over Gondor, following my example. What had I started? Léona would laugh himself silly, if he ever found out!

“Please don’t tell Léona that, will you?” I blurted.

“Your husband?” She looked at me in surprise. “You don’t want to run away from him, do you? Believe me, if you find yourself a good man, you’d better hold on to him.”

I blushed. “I know that!”

Fortunately the men came back that moment and rescued me from more such personal conversation. Bornathron happily gulped down the remains of our stew and made inroads into the bread as well.

“That was delicious,...”

He looked at me expectantly, and I realized I was supposed to supply a name to this well brought up young man. “My father calls me Rhovaniel,” I replied after a brief pause, borrowing a nickname from my childhood.

He blinked at my strange phrase, but was too polite to say anything. “Just delicious, Rhovaniel,” he repeated.

When he was finished, I collected the bark bowls and put them in the empty kettle, so I could carry everything down to the water to wash out.

Léona reached past me and took the heavy kettle from me. “Let me do that.”

Under Maedwen’s admiring eyes, he carried it to the water’s edge for me. At least he condescended to let me do the actual scouring of the pot with wet sand, or I would really have started to doubt my knowledge of men.

Léona sat down on a stone to watch me. “Well, Rhovaniel,” he said, rolling the name on his tongue as if savouring a private jest, “or should it be Lady Rhovaniel?”

“My brothers tell me that I am no lady,” I replied, flicking some water his way, “and you’d better remember that!”

Léona chuckled. But certainly I looked nothing like a princess any more. When he had sent my bowl of stew flying earlier on, some of it had landed on my tunic, to blend nicely with the grass stains from lying in hiding the day before. I pushed back my tangled hair, which I had forgotten to braid that morning – that had seen better days, too.

With the kettle cleaned to my less than exacting standards, I rinsed the bark bowls in the water. Perhaps we could use them for tea in the morning.  Then I rose and stretched. The moon had climbed over the Ephel Dúath, and lined the delicate new leaves of the birches in silver. A couple of bats flitted across the water and somewhere in the forest an owl called softly. I sighed. It was nice to enjoy a moment’s peace after all the excitement. When I turned to Léona, I found him watching me. A good man, Maedwen had called him.

I put my head to one side. “Tell me, Léona, after all you’ve heard tonight, do you still want me to marry the King of Rohan?”

He tensed at my challenge and cast a quick look towards our campfire, where Maedwen and Bornathron were talking to each other in low voices, oblivious to us. “That’s not the same,” he objected.

“He does not drink any ale?”

“Of course he does! But-”

“There you go,” I interrupted him triumphantly, “for all I know, he’s down the tavern every evening and has a string of mistresses.”

“Mistresses!” He laughed out loud. “In the Mark, if a man is unfaithful, his wife may burn his bed in public.”

“Really?” I asked, momentarily diverted.

He grinned at my enthusiasm. “I’ve seen it happen. Though not to the king.” He considered that for a moment. “And anyway, the bed in the royal chambers is so big, you’d never get it outside.”

“I could dismantle it first,” I pointed out.

“You probably would,” he agreed. Then he rose and stepped up to me. “But only a complete fool would take a mistress when he has you in his bed.”

His low voice made the blood rush to my cheeks. “You think so?” I stammered.

“I do,” he murmured and slipped one arm around my waist. Suddenly I found myself caught against his chest. He slid his other hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “And the King of Rohan is no fool,” he whispered. “Lothíriel...”

The King of Rohan? I pushed him away. “Let go of me!”

“No! You misunderstand me-” He reached out for me.

“I understand you perfectly!”

“Let me explain-”

“No!” I stomped away to the fire, where Maedwen and Bornathron had fallen silent and were regarding me with wide eyes. “I’m tired,” I snapped, picking up my blanket and wrapping it around myself. “Good night.”

“Good night,” they echoed uncertainly.

When Léona returned a while later with the kettle and bowls, I turned my back on him and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, but he did not try to talk to me anyway.

I buried deeper into my blanket.

Rhovaniel  - wild daughter

A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind wishes! The hand is not much better, but at least no worse either. Looking after three children makes it difficult to rest it, but I’ve bought a special mouse and keyboard for work, so hopefully that will improve the situation. However, I’ve still got to rest it as much as possible, so have decided to forgo answering reviews for another week – sorry about that. Let me just say again that I really appreciate hearing from you. Thank you!

Chapter 11

The first thing I noticed upon waking was that the nice warm cushion against my back had vanished. Had I only dreamt it? The second was that I could hear low voices somewhere off to the side. I rolled over and had a look around. The fire had burnt down to cold ashes and the sky to the east turned to a pale eggshell green with the coming dawn. Yet surely it was too early to get up?

The voices rose in volume and I sat up in alarm. Where was Léona? Then I spotted him down by the waterside, near Bornathron’s abandoned campsite, talking to somebody. I squinted into the gloom and realized there were two new boats drawn up on the sand! Where had they come from? Even as I watched, three men got out of one of them and joined their comrade on the beach.

“I’ve told you,” Léona’s voiced carried clearly to me, “I am travelling to Minas Tirith with my wife. Now get you gone.”

The other man said something, but again I only caught Léona’s answer. “No, you can’t have a look,” he said, “she is asleep. Come back when the sun is up.”

I froze. Were they searching for me? Exactly at that moment one of the men looked up and spotted me. He pointed my way and Léona glanced round. “See, now you’ve woken her!” he said and beckoned to me.

There was no helping it. Feeling very exposed, I rose and went to join them. Facing Léona was a fat, elderly man dressed in working clothes with a white apron wrapped over them. However, the three men standing behind him were of an altogether different kind: their leather jerkins might be worn and patched in places, but they all wore swords on their belts and one of them even had a hauberk. In the boats drawn up on the sand, two more sat, paddles in hand. Sharp eyes examined me as I walked up, making me shiver, even though I told myself that I looked nothing like a princess in my stained clothes and with tangled hair. The sand was cold under my bare feet.

Léona wrapped a warm arm around my waist. “Rhovaniel, my sweet, this good man here is looking for his wife, who has been abducted from their home.” I started and he squeezed my waist in warning.

“How...how dreadful,” I stammered.  Was it possible they were after Maedwen and Bornathron? It took all my self-control not to look back over my shoulder. The two slept on the other side of the fire from me, and in the gloom might just be taken for heaps of blankets. I studied the fat man more closely. Could he be her abusive husband? He did not look particularly threatening, but then you never knew what drink did to a man.

“Have you seen them?” he asked. With his large hands clutching his apron, he described the young couple.

I was just about to deny any sight of them, when Léona broke in. “Now that I come to think of it,” he said, “there were two young people who asked to stay here for the night.”

The miller leant forward eagerly. “Where are they?”

Léona shrugged. “I told them to move on.”

“Yes, that’s true,” I said, catching on to Léona’s plan.

“Did you hear that, Corethir,” the man exclaimed.

He turned to one of his companions, who seemed to be the leader of the other men, for he was the only one to wear chainmail and had some kind of device on the short tabard that went over it.

“They were in a hurry,” I added, anxious to have them gone. At any moment the sleepers behind us might wake up and give themselves away. And I hoped the men did not think to ask us why we had two boats – although traders did sometimes have a second one along.

“It has to be them,” the miller said.

The man addressed as Corethir regarded us suspiciously. “How convenient that you should remember this encounter all of a sudden.” He had a narrow face with eyes so pale they held no emotion whatsoever. It came to me that this man had killed before and would do so again without the least hesitation. I shuddered as his glance slithered over me like the touch of a damp, chilly hand.

Léona tightened his arm around my waist. “What of it?” he challenged him.

“We’re only trying to help,” I chimed in, willing to say anything to have them gone. “It’s a terrible thing for a woman to run away from her husband.”

Corethir expelled his breath in triumph. “But Gordir said nothing about his wife running away,” he pointed out.

“Oh!” I closed my mouth with a snap. Why hadn’t I thought before speaking!

“Oy, you!” Corethir yelled suddenly. “Show yourselves!”

From the fireside an exclamation of dismay showed that the sleepers had finally woken up. Léona cursed and once again I found myself pushed behind him. “Listen,” he whispered, “I do not like the look of these men. If things go ill, you grab the girl and get away in our boat. I will stay them.”

“But-“

“Do as I say,” he snapped.

“I will,” I promised. You do not argue with your commander in the midst of battle. “But please be careful,” I whispered.

He nodded absentmindedly, obviously already busy with assessing his options. The two additional men in the boats had alighted and taken up station behind their leader, while Gordir tried to peer round Léona, whose hand on the hilt of his knife deterred them for the moment. I took a step back to give him room in case he had to move suddenly. Was there anything I could use as a weapon?

“It is her!” Gordir exclaimed. “Maedwen, come here at once.”

Did he think his wife was a dog? I risked a glance behind me. The two had struggled out of their bedclothes and to their feet. Maedwen clutched at Bornathron, her face white as chalk. The boy suddenly dived for his blankets and came up with his sword, which he drew with a ring.

“You won’t have her, you brute!” he yelled, stepping forward. “Not while I live.”

I winced at these heroics, well aware that Léona had so far tried to avoid drawing steel, for the very reason that we were badly outnumbered.

He held up a hand to bar the boy’s way. “Put your sword away and let me handle this,” he commanded and Bornathron stopped beside him. Léona addressed the miller. “Your wife has raised certain accusations which will have to be cleared in a court of law. We are taking her back to Minas Tirith.”

Gordir turned red in the face. “This scoundrel has run away with my wife – he belongs in court, not me!” He appealed to his companions. “Do something!”

One of the other men put his hand to his sword hilt. “My lord?”  He looked at Corethir for orders.

The man with the pale eyes had crossed his arms on his chest, content to watch for the time being. Now he shrugged. “Gordir, when you hired us to get your wife back, you said there was only a runt in the way. You never mentioned any Rohirric warriors...”

“He’s hired you?” Léona asked sharply. “For how much?”

And to do what? I could not help wondering what would have happened, had they caught up with the couple without any witnesses about. Or what still might happen.

Corethir jutted out his chin. “My hire is none of your business, horsemaster.” He narrowed his eyes at the miller. “If you still want the deed done, the price has just doubled.”

“Doubled!” the fat man looked like was about to have an apoplexy. “You’re robbing me!”

I saw Léona hesitate. Did he consider offering for the mercenary’s services himself? But how could you trust such a turncoat? And why had his man called him a lord? Was he noble born? What if he knew me!

Gordir decided to appeal to Léona directly. “You are a married man, too.” He pointed at me. “How would you like it if another man stole your wife?”

“Nobody lays a hand on my wife, or he’s a dead man.” Léona said in a cold voice. “But yours wasn’t stolen, she ran away because you abused her. You will get in your boat and we in ours and then we’ll travel down to Minas Tirith and get it cleared up there.”

“I don’t care what she told you, but it’s all lies,” Gordir replied. “I’m a good husband.”

Behind me, Maedwen gasped. Although she was the bone of contention, I had almost forgotten about her. “A good husband!” she exclaimed. “Every night you hit me when you got home from the tavern!”

“Nonsense! Those were love pats-”

“Enough,” Léona interrupted them. “That is for a court of law to determine.”

The blood rushed to Gordir’s face. “I won’t have my private affairs dragged through some stupid court. The woman is mine, to do with as I please!”

That was too much for me. “Not if you beat her up!” I protested hotly.

“She lives under my roof, she follows my orders,” Gordir retorted. His fingers clenched by his side. “Listen, horsemaster, if you’re too soft to control your womenfolk, that’s your problem, but don’t tell me how to handle mine.”

A growl rose in Léona’s throat. “Your duty is to protect your wife. How dare you mistreat her, you fat little dumpling!”

Gordir’s chin quivered at the insult. “She belongs to me! And if she needs a few blows around the head to learn her proper place, that’s what she’ll get.”

“So you’re admitting hitting Maedwen?” I interrupted, before Léona could reply – either verbally or with a knife in the miller’s guts.

“So what!”

“You have just admitted causing bodily harm with intent, and done so before witnesses,” I answered triumphantly, “which is one of the three grounds for which a spouse may seek dissolution of their marriage: bodily harm, adultery or barrenness.”

Corethir stirred from his stance as a bystander. “You know the law well.”

I froze. During our argument the sun had cleared the Ephel Dúath, and now he examined me with sudden interest. Had I met him before? But there were always so many younger sons of impoverished families hanging about court, hoping to make their fortune.

“You don’t know me, do you,” Corethir breathed, “but you will. You will indeed!” He started laughing. “Three days we’ve been searching for you in vain and now that I’d given up...”

Léona decided to act. “Run!” he shouted as he yanked his knife from its scabbard.

Corethir only just caught the blow on the sleeve of his hauberk and swore. Stumbling back, he drew his sword, and so did his men. I did not wait to see more; I had my orders.

Spinning round, I grabbed Maedwen by the arm and pulled her with me. “To the boat!”

Gordir launched after her, but found himself intercepted by Bornathron, who dropped his sword and planted a fist in the other’s man’s face. Behind me, somebody cried out, a horrible gurgling sound. Sweet Elbereth! Not Léona, please not Léona! But a glance back over my shoulder showed the melee still going on. A dark bundle lay on the ground with a knife quivering in it. Good!

“The woman is getting away!” Corethir yelled and disengaged from the fight. He started after us.

Running past our campsite, I picked up the iron kettle and hurled it at him. Corethir tried to dodge it, but it hit him right in the chest and he went down with a heavy thud. Where was the boat! There!

“Get in and sort out the oars,” I shouted to Maedwen and threw my weight against the prow of the skiff to push it into the water.

Perhaps if we got away, they would leave off Léona to pursue us? Shouts and curses echoed across the beach, interspersed by the clang of steel. At least that meant the fight was still going on, however uneven the odds. I pushed harder, but the keel would only slide agonizingly slowly across the sand. Why had Léona pulled it up so far!

“Move, you stupid thing!” I breathed through clenched teeth.

In the boat, Maedwen was fumbling to pick up the oars. Then suddenly the resistance gave way and Cawelcwén slid out onto the water. I waded after her and hoisted myself over the gunwale. “We need to row upriver to get away. Quick!”

Maedwen nodded and started to fit one of the oars into the oar lock. Another glance back showed Bornathron and Gordir still grappling with each other. Léona had somehow managed to seize one of the mercenaries and was using him as a shield against the remaining two. That moment he pushed the man forward into his comrades and rolled in the sand. When he came up, he held Bornathron’s sword in his hand! But Corethir had struggled to his feet again, and was coming in our direction. What took Maedwen so long? We had to get away!

“Let me do that,” I said, pushing Maedwen towards the stern of the boat.

One oar was in, now for the other one. Then a gauntleted hand grabbed the side of the boat.

“Got you, you wildcat!” Corethir exclaimed.

“First you have to catch me!” I threw a cabbage at him and instinctively he let go of the boat to protect his face.

Swinging round the loose oar with all my strength, I only just missed hitting him. He sidestepped, lost his footing in the shallow water and went under with a splash. But my triumph was short lived; before I could do anything else, he surfaced again, all the more enraged.

“Just you wait! I will beat the wildness out of you,” he spat.

I swung the oar back, but this time he managed to duck in time and it went whistling over his head. If only I could lure him out into the deeper water, where he would drown beautifully in his heavy chainmail! A cabbage flew by, as from behind me, Maedwen took up the fight as well.

“Try to paddle backwards,” I shouted to her, striking at Corethir again.

But this time he was prepared and grabbed the oar as it went by. For a heartbeat, we strove over it, but he was too strong for me. I had to let go or be pulled into the water. The piece of orc bait laughed as he threw it aside!

Corethir gave me no time to think; he lunged for the boat again and began to heave himself over the side. Cawelcwén listed dangerously from his weight. I snatched up another cabbage and tried to smash it in his face, but he let go of the gunwale for a moment and dealt me a swipe of his hand that sent me sprawling to the bottom of the boat. The back of my head rang from where I had hit it on the wood. Maedwen cried out in fright.

Then Corethir loomed over me and threw himself on top of me, driving the air from my lungs and dousing me in cold water. “Now I have you!” he crowed. “And I won’t let such a chance slip through my fingers! By tonight the haughty Prince of Dol Amroth will have a new son-in-law.”

No! In breathless panic, I tried to kick and scratch, but he caught my fingers and forced them back from his face. I struggled uselessly like a fish caught out of the water, trying to wriggle away from him. He was so heavy! Straightening up, he sat astride me and gathered both my hands in one of his own. With the other he reached past me to pick up a piece of rope.

“You had better get used to submitting to me, woman,” he hissed. His pale eyes no longer were cold, instead they glittered with horrible excitement. “I enjoy breaking the wild ones.”

“No!” I gasped. Léona! Where was Léona!

Then I remembered a trick from childhood scraps with Amrothos and thrust my hips up, bucking like a horse. Unbalanced, he had to let go of my hands and I went for his eyes, leaving a bloody gouge across his cheeks. Scum!

Cursing, Corethir twisted his head away, when suddenly the boat tilted. A hand grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him off me. Léona? I pushed myself up to see what was happening. Corethir got dragged out of the boat, hitting the water with a splash. But with his weight gone, the boat rocked back and nearly capsized. I was thrown to the floor, where something hard connected with the back of my head.

The world went black.

A/N: Again many thanks for your good wishes. My hand seems to be improving slowly, though I still have to be careful. However, there’s a long weekend ahead, so I’m hoping to be able to rest it further. Happy Easter to all of you!

Chapter 12

An army of dwarves was hammering away inside my skull and my clothes clung to me damp and clammy. I groaned. Strong arms tightened around me. “Lothíriel?”

Slowly, the events of the morning came back: Corethir and his men, the fight. A stab of pain thrust through me. I struggled against the arms confining me. “No! Let me go!”

“Lothíriel, it’s me!”

Blinking at the painfully bright sky above me, I tried to get my bearings. Soft sand lay under me and a man was kneeling by my side, bending over me. “Léona?”

“Yes.”

He was all right! I tried to sit up, but the world spun round me. Léona slipped an arm under my back and steadied me. “Slowly! You’ve had a bad knock to the head.”

Cradled against his chest, I took deep breaths and the dizziness receded. When I closed my eyes, I heard his steady heartbeat and felt his skin warm and firm against my cheek. A sob of relief rose in my throat. Léona was alive. Then the tears came.

He stroked my hair. “Hush, dear heart, it’s over. I’ll keep you safe. Now and always.”

I nodded and clung harder. But the tears just would not stop. The thought that I might so easily have lost him was like a stab to the core of my being. Then the realization hit me that from now on I would have yet another man to worry about, another warrior in danger of sword, arrow and axe.

“Don’t ever leave me,” I sniffed.

“I promise,” he whispered into my hair.

Not wanting to ever let go of him again, I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed. Léona winced.

That instantly cut through my teary mood. I straightened up. “Léona, are you hurt?”

I got my first proper look at him: sweaty and splattered with fine droplets of blood, a bruise forming along one side of his jaw and his shirt slashed all along the left arm, showing a nasty cut on the forearm. To say nothing of the small nicks and cuts all over him.

“Léona!” It came out as a squeak.

He patted my hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve had worse.”

“How can I not worry! Look at that arm!”

He glanced down at the blood soaked shirtsleeve and shrugged. “Took that at the beginning of the fight, but things improved once I managed to use one of them as a shield against the others.”

“We have to get you to a healer,” I protested and struggled to my feet. A mistake. The edges of my vision darkened and my temples throbbed with sudden sharp pain.

Léona caught me as I swayed. “Lothíriel, are you all right?”

“My head hurts,” I groaned.

He peered into my eyes and gently probed the back of my head with his fingers. “That’s a nasty lump you’ve got there, my sweet,” he said. “I think it’s you who needs to see a healer!” Carefully, he lowered me back onto the sand. “Rest a moment longer.”

Sitting down helped with the dizziness, if not with the headache. For the first time since coming round, I took stock of my situation beyond the simple fact that Léona was alive. We were on the beach, just above the waterline. Cawelcwén wallowed in the shallow water in front of us, her bow drawn up on the sand. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw something lying further down the beach, a pool of red congealing around it. Chainmail glittered in the morning sun.

“Corethir?” I asked.

“Dead.”

I tried to feel regret for the death of a human being. He had been some mother’s child after all. Yet I felt nothing but relief that he would never again prey on another woman.

Léona followed my glance. “I warned him.” The statement held cold finality.

I looked away. “His men?”

“Two dead, one knocked unconscious, one fled.”

I could not fault his efficiency. “What about Bornathron and Maedwen?”

“The boy has a few bruises, but got off lightly, considering,” he answered. “As for the girl, she is a bit dazed, but will be fine, I judge.” He stroked lightly across my cheek. “How’s the head now?”

I tore my attention away from the distracting feeling of his fingers caressing my skin and considered the matter. “Still hurting a little.” Which was an understatement, but I did not want him to think that I was complaining.

Léona wasn’t fooled though. “You’re as white as chalk,” he said with a frown. Then he seemed to come to some kind of decision and stood up. “I want to get you to the Houses of Healing as quickly as possible. You wait there while I sort things out.” Looking round, he waved to somebody. “Maedwen, can you please sit with Lady Lothíriel for a moment?”

The girl obeyed with alacrity, but I noticed she gave him a wide berth, as if in awe of him. Ignoring her, Léona collected Bornathron and set him to gather our belongings, while he went to tie up the remaining mercenary, who by his groans was slowly coming round.

Maedwen took my hands in hers. “You look awful!”

Not really what I wanted to hear. She seemed to realize her lack of tact at the same moment, for she hurriedly corrected herself. “That is, a little under the weather, my lady.”

I sighed and let go of my vanity. “No need for the ‘my lady’, Maedwen, just call me Lothíriel. And no need to mince words with me either. I probably look how I feel: as if a mûmak had accidentally sat on me.”

She gave me a weak smile. “Not quite as bad.” Then she produced a handkerchief from somewhere, dabbed it in the water and proceeded to clean my face. “You really are that princess who ran away?” she asked.

I could not fault her for her disbelief. “Yes.”

“Fancy that! And you’re truly running away with him, or did he...” her voice petered out as Léona approached to fetch another rope from the boat.

I did not feel myself sufficiently coherent to explain the exact circumstances of my flight. “I am running away,” I answered, “but Léona kind of came along.” Better not go into the matter of carpets.

“I see,” Maedwen said, clearly doing nothing of the sort.

She fished out a comb from a pocket of her gown and offered to do my hair. To find out if there truly was a princess underneath the mess? Still, I was grateful.

“It’s a good thing he did,” she said and shuddered, “or those awful men would have carried us off.” Her eyes shone with admiration. “He was magnificent! But I wouldn’t want to cross him for anything in the world, not after the way he killed that thug. It was more of an execution than a fight.”

She seemed very much in awe of Léona, almost a little frightened, and admittedly he had to be a good swordsman to take on those odds and win. But I had grown up amongst some of the best warriors of Gondor and knew that in the end they were just men like all others – fallible, vulnerable to sharp steel, in need of companionship and love. Perhaps with her experiences Maedwen found it hard to believe that somebody could be strong, yet not use that strength against those weaker than him. But Léona would never hurt me, on that conviction I would have staked my life.

Suddenly I remembered her husband. “What’s happened to Gordir?” I asked.

“Bornathron knocked him out,” she answered, her satisfaction evident. “They’ve trussed him up like a chicken.”

An agreeable image. “Lovely! And now that you have your two witnesses of good standing, you can get your marriage dissolved.”

“You really will help me?”

“Of course,” I answered.

She paused in combing my hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more of a help when that horrible man attacked you. I just didn’t know what to do!”

I shrugged. “It turned out for the best.” After all not everybody grew up with three elder brothers to teach them how to keep their own against them.

Léona, meanwhile, had finished with tying up the mercenary and was busy despoiling the bodies of the man’s comrades. All the weapons he found he tossed in the bow of our boat, while his throwing knife disappeared in its sheath on his arm again.

“Bornathron,” he called, and handed him back his sword. “It’s a good weapon. Learn to use it.”

“I will,” the boy promised. Now that I got my first good look at him, I noticed that he had a black eye. However, the fight seemed to have filled him with fresh purpose and he gripped the hilt firmly.

Léona knelt down by my side. “We are ready to go.”

But when I wanted to get up, he simply scooped me into his arms. “Lie still,” he commanded and carried me over to the boat. I snuggled into his chest. Would it be unreasonable to demand to stay there for the rest of my life?

All the sacking and clothing had been piled up in the stern to make a comfortable bed and he put me down on it as if I were as fragile as glass. I sat up straighter. Whilst I did appreciate his concern, I wasn’t at death’s door yet!

Bornathron had pulled Maedwen to her feet and stood watching us.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked.

“I will take Maedwen to stay with my brother and his wife, and then I’ll return to Minas Tirith,” he answered. “Léona has promised to speak to Lord Húrin on our behalf.”

Léona nodded. “I will see you there.” He pushed Cawelcwén in the water and jumped in. “Goodbye!”

They waved to us as we pulled away. “Goodbye!”

“What about Gordir and the other man?” I asked.

“I’ll send somebody to collect them.” Léona grinned. “Meanwhile they have the opportunity to spend some time appreciating the fact that they’re still alive.”

The morning was getting on and the sun sparkled on the water when we joined the river proper again. I squinted as the brightness hurt my eyes.

“Why don’t you try to sleep?” Léona suggested. “It won’t take long to reach the Harlond, and from there it’s only a short ride on horseback.”

I nodded and closed my eyes. Having a bit of a doze and forgetting about my headache sounded like an attractive proposition. I did wonder though, why he was so certain of getting horses at the Harlond.

***

I did manage to fall into a fitful sleep for a while, but woke up again once we had passed the ruined bridges of Osgiliath. The Pelennor now stretched flat to our right, overlooked by the White City, and the Anduin was busy with boats of all sizes. I sat up and peered ahead.

Flowing in a wide curve, the river bore us ever closer to our destination, the great harbour of the Harlond. First the outlying warehouses came into sight, then the many jetties stretching out into the water. The sky, so bright and sunny in the morning, had clouded over and now a breeze sprang up, tugging at my hair and chasing shadows across the dull grey river. I shivered.

Léona noticed of course. “Nearly there,” he said.

For some reason he kept glancing over his shoulder as he rowed, studying the shore. Was he looking for something? I straightened up and followed his eyes. Though the sun no longer shone, still I had to squint against the brightness. What wouldn’t I have given for a cup of willow bark tea to take the edge off my headache!

The main docks, where the big merchant ships from the south moored, lay just ahead, but there were many smaller quays as well. Would we land at one of them? I let my eyes roam over the forest of masts, when suddenly something caught my attention: a sleek hull, standing out amongst the wide bottomed merchant vessels like a racehorse in a herd of cows.

“Oh, no,” I breathed.

Léona twisted round. “What is it?”

“Bane.”

He cast me a confused look, so I explained further. “Corsairs’ Bane, one of Father’s warships. But she is supposed to be in Pelargir, awaiting orders!”

And there the blue and silver pennant of Dol Amroth fluttered in the wind. At the top of the mast as well, which could only mean one thing.

“My father’s on board.”

“Are you sure?” Léona asked, nearly dropping his oars.

I nodded.

That moment a shout echoed across the water. “Hlaford min!”

I twisted round to see who it was. From one of the docks, a man was waving to us. Just then a gust of wind streamed his blond hair out behind him. Léona answered back in the language of the Rohirrim and I realized it had to be somebody he knew. The only word I understood was the name of King Éomer, which occurred several times.

“Who is that?” I asked, nonplussed by this turn of events.

“One of my men.” A vertical frown had appeared between Léona’s brows. “I had meant to take to horseback at this point, but if your father’s here...” He came to a decision. “We had better see him first. Imrahil must be frantic with worry, or at least I would be in his situation.”

I agreed reluctantly. While I had known I would have to face my father in Minas Tirith, I had not expected it to be quite so soon! Still, some things were better tackled head on.

Léona called what sounded like instructions and with a wave of his hand the man disappeared amongst the warehouses. Which left me with a lot of unanswered questions.

“Léona,” I said, “how come one of your men was waiting here?” Surely it could not be a coincidence.

He shook his head. “I can explain everything, but now is not the time.” The stone pier where Bane was moored loomed up ahead of us. “Do you trust me, Lothíriel?” he asked.

“Yes.” I needed no time to consider the answer.

Léona took a deep breath. “Then trust me in this.”

The skiff bumped into the side of the pier, where a narrow platform protruded onto the water and stone steps led up to the top. Léona jumped ashore and tied the rope to an iron ring set into the wall. Then he held out a hand to help me alight and I stepped across the narrow gap between the boat and the pier.

Our adventure was over.

Léona had delivered me safely to Minas Tirith, just as he had promised that morning three days ago – it seemed in a former lifetime. The damp smell of rotting wood hung in the air. Time now to wake up to reality after a long dream?

With his uncanny ability to read my thoughts, Léona touched my cheek. “A sad ending to our journey. But perhaps we will repeat it one day, without the worrying and the bloodshed.”

A princess and a rider from Rohan? But why not cling to the dream a moment longer. I smiled up at him. “I would like that.”

Suddenly Léona closed the distance between us. “Lothíriel, there is something I need to know, here and now,” he said, cupping my face between his hands.

“What is it?” I stammered, taken by surprise.

His hands cradled my cheeks, warming them. Strong hands, calloused from wielding a sword, but always gentle with me.

“Lothíriel,” he said, “you know me, don’t you? Not Léona, the courier from Rohan, but the man standing before you.”

“Yes, of course I do,” I answered. How close he was.

“Will you marry me?” 

Marry him! “But-”

“Don’t think,” he interrupted me, “just answer. Will you be my wife?”

“Yes,” I said. As simple as that.

Warm lips seized mine. Any other thought I might have had got drowned by the pounding of blood in my ears. My conscious mind was sent spinning as Léona flooded all my senses. His taste, his musky smell, strong hands roaming across my back, rapid breaths matching mine. Somehow it was the most natural thing in the world to respond by slipping my arms around his neck and clinging to him. Léona. He knew what he wanted and I let him sweep me along with him, willing to follow wherever he would lead.

When he released me at last, he stared down at me. “You’re mine,” he said, his eyes fierce. “Always remember that.”

I nodded, too stunned to speak.

“You down there!” somebody called.

I started, yanked brutally back into the world around me.

A guard was standing at the top of the stairs. “You there! This is the Prince of Dol Amroth’s dock. You can’t tie up your boat down there.”

“It’s the Prince of Dol Amroth, I seek,” Léona answered, “for I’m bringing back his daughter.”

“What?” he peered at me. “Is that really you, Lady Lothíriel?” Then he seemed to get his first good look at Léona. “You?”

The short exchange had enabled me to regain my composure. Recognizing the guard, I stepped forward. “Yes, Himdir, it’s me. Is my father on board?”

He tore his gaze from Léona. “Yes...yes, my lady.”

“Can you tell him I’m back, please?”

“Of course.” With a last disbelieving glance our way, he turned round and started running towards the ship, hailing it loudly.

I swallowed. “Now for the reckoning.” My headache, momentarily forgotten, returned in double force.

Léona took my hand and pulled me up the stairs. “It might not be as bad as what you fear. At least I hope not.” These last words were spoken so low, I wasn’t sure if they were meant for me.

When we reached the top of the stairs, we found Bane thrown into turmoil. Sailors ran across the deck to lean on the railings and stare down at us. I stole a glance at Léona. He had an abstracted, inward facing look, as if bracing himself for a fight.

My mind still reeled from his kiss and the promise I had given him. Marry him! The thought made my heart give a funny lurch, as if it wanted to escape its cage and fly to him. Even though in reality he already held it firmly – and had for a while, I realized. But what would my father say? And his king! Suddenly the impulse to run away rushed through me. To turn around, jump in Cawelcwén and lose ourselves in the many boats on the Anduin. If only we could find a place where nobody knew me, where we could forget all matters of state. Léona and me together. Alone.

As if reading my turbulent thoughts, he squeezed my hand in reassurance. “Leave it to me,” he whispered.

Then steps pounded down the gangway. Father. He ran along the pier and swept me up.

“Lothíriel!” I found myself caught up in a tight embrace. “You’re safe!” After a long moment, he held me away from him. His eyes widened in shock as he took in my appearance. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Father.” I took one of Léona’s hands in mine. “For I found somebody to keep me safe.”

He looked from me to Léona. “It is you!” he exclaimed. “But how did you get here? The last I heard, you were lying ill at Cormallen. Aragorn and I were worried.”

Léona inclined his head to my father. “A bit of misdirection, my friend. I’m afraid that I owe both you and your daughter an apology.”

Ill at Cormallen? And King Elessar was worried about him? But before I could ask for an explanation, my father spotted Léona’s bloodied sleeve. “Your arm!” he exclaimed. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Only a scratch,” Léona assured him. “Imrahil, I would gladly explain the whole matter, but I suggest we retire to more private quarters first.”

How familiarly he addressed my father! That moment a commotion at the other end of the pier drew our attention. A group of horsemen in green rode up, one of them leading a stallion. Surely that was Léona’s grey? But how could that be? Léona waved to the newcomers to stay there and obediently they dismounted. Very obediently.

At the sight I got a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach. Something strange was going on here and I did not like it one bit. Also my father was taking us turning up on his doorstep remarkably well. Too well.

“How come you know Léona?” I asked him.

“Who?”

“Lothíriel,” Léona interrupted me. “I really think we should discuss this in the privacy of your father’s cabin.”

My father took in our audience of guards and sailors hanging on every word. “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Come along.”

Léona slipped his hand under my elbow to guide me, but I twisted away. I’d had enough of the men in my life making up my mind for me! “No!” I exclaimed. “I want an explanation now, not when it suits you.” I turned to Léona. “Who are you? What are you?”

He hesitated.

“But Lothíriel,” my father broke in, “you must know that Éomer is the King of Rohan.”

The King of Rohan? I closed my eyes, refusing to believe. It could not be. It must not be!

“No!” I whispered.

But suddenly so many things made sense: the easy way he had with my father, his unconscious air of command, his swordsmanship. And how he claimed to be able to speak for King Éomer! I opened my eyes again. Léona stood before me, looking the same as before, tall and handsome. Only now I noticed how straight he held himself and how an invisible space seemed to surround him. In one word: kingly. The pig!

“You lied to me.” I had meant to scream, but all that would emerge was a strangled whisper.

He flinched. “Lothíriel, I’m sorry! Please let me explain.”

I balled my hands into fists. “From the very beginning, you lied to me, playing the simple courier from Rohan!”

He took a step back. “No! So many times I meant to tell you, but it got more difficult every day!”

“You lied!”

Léona – King Éomer! – extended a hand towards me. “Please, Lothíriel!”

I struck it away. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

My father made a strangled sound, but I ignored him. Instead I advanced on Léona, who took another step back. If I’d had a knife that moment, Rohan would have lost her king! My headache reached a new intensity.

“Listen to me,” he said, “I understand your anger. What I did was not very wise. But I meant what I said just now, when I asked you to marry me. Me, the man before you, not Léona!”

I had forgotten about the promise I had made him. How dared he try to trap me into marriage like that! Tears of rage rose to my eyes when I remembered his kiss.

“You piece of scum, to trick me so!” I breathed. “But I’ll kill you first, before I marry you.” I had thought I was angry before, but now my rage reached a new stage. Blood pounded in my ears and everything seemed to be tinged red.

“No, you misunderstand me!” Taking another step back, he reached the edge of the pier. There he hesitated. “Listen, my sweet-”

It was too much. I jumped forward and pushed him in the chest as hard as I could. “I am not your sweet!”

“Lothíriel!” For a heartbeat he teetered on the edge of the pier. The last thing I saw was an expression of complete surprise on his face as he fell backwards. Then water splashed across my feet.

A lance of pain shot through my head. I crumpled to the ground.

Hlaford min  - my lord

Chapter 13

I don’t remember much of the rest of that day. I woke from my faint in Father’s cabin aboard Bane and once he heard about the knock on my head, he sent for our healer. Curuvoron must have stocked up on valerian again, for after prescribing rest and complete quiet he dosed me with a horrible tasting brew, which sent me to sleep almost immediately. But I welcomed the darkness.

After that I have a vague recollection of being roused repeatedly, each time to find Curuvoron peering into my eyes, but those episodes somehow merged seamlessly into my nightmares of Corethir and his men.  When I finally awoke for good, the setting sun was slanting in through the windows, casting a golden glow on the polished wood of the deck. I lay still, listening to the familiar creaking of the great ship around me, punctuated by the sound of water softly lapping against the side. Yet the lack of rocking motion told me we were still tied up in port. Turning my head, I found one of the maids I knew from our town house waiting next to my bed. When she saw I was awake, she helped me sit up.

“Would you like a wash, my lady?” Gwaeleth asked.

I nodded, and let her assist me to my feet. I felt curiously light-headed, but at least my crippling headache had vanished. And my mind was clear again. Far too clear. Had I really done what I had done? I groaned softly.

The maid stopped in the process of peeling off my dirty clothes. “My lady, am I hurting you?”

I waved at her to continue. “No, no.”

In one corner of the room was a tub, just large enough to stand in while Gwaeleth sponged me down with lukewarm water. I closed my eyes and searched for the fury that had run through me earlier on, but found the fires of my rage burnt down to bitter ashes.

He had lied to me. From the very beginning. No wonder he had treated the Princess of Dol Amroth as his equal, looking her over like a mare for sale. A tiny spark of rage lit in my soul, but no matter how I tried to fan it into a blaze, it just drowned in a sea of desolation. Léona had lied to me.

“I hate you!” Perhaps if I said it loud enough, I would believe it.

“My lady?”

I jumped, having completely forgotten about Gwaeleth’s presence. “Nothing. Don’t mind me.”

The maid wrapped a towel around me and helped me step out of the tub. Somebody must have sent for spare clothes from the town house, for a clean gown awaited me. Gwaeleth slipped it over my head, tied up the laces and then brushed out my hair, before settling me in a chair by the window. A quick glance out at the dusk confirmed my guess, we were still moored up at the Harlond. Dropping a curtsy to me, the maid withdrew.

As I expected, a few minutes later my father entered. He had a couple of servants in tow, one of whom proceeded to light the brass lamps hanging from the ceiling, while the other carried a tray of food, which he placed on a table by my chair. At the sight of it my stomach growled loudly. Then I got a surprise. My brother Amrothos strode in!

I straightened up. “Amrothos! What are you doing here?”

He pecked me on the cheek. “Finally catching up with you. You’ve led me a merry chase, little sister, haven’t you!”

“But how did you get here so quickly? The last time I saw you...” I stuttered to a halt. Would he be very annoyed with me for giving him the slip?

“You saw me?”

“Let Lothíriel have her dinner first,” my father interrupted, “then we’ll have her version of the events.” Waving at the servants to leave, Father settled down in a chair opposite me. “Eat! I won’t have you fainting on me again.”

But my appetite had deserted me. “Are you very angry with me?” I whispered.

“What for?” my father asked back. “For running away? For keeping dozens of my men busy searching for you? For sending poor Amrothos here up and down the Anduin on a wild goose chase?”

I hung my head. Listed up like that, my crimes sounded pretty impressive. And he hadn’t even mentioned the worst yet. “For pushing the King of Rohan in the water?”

He leant back in his chair. “Ah, yes. That.”

Amrothos poured us each a glass of watered wine and sat down on my bed. “Perhaps not the most diplomatic thing you’ve ever done,” he quipped.

My father scowled at him. “Enough of your levity.” He sighed. “Lothíriel, you realize the whole of Minas Tirith has been speaking about nothing else these last two days? Speculation about what he’s done to you is running rampant!”

I could well imagine. This was worse than I’d thought! But then something else struck me. “The last two days?” I asked. “How could that be?”

“Healer Curuvoron considered it best that you recover fully from the blow to your head, so he dosed you heavily,” my father answered. “You’ve been sleeping for well over a day.”

“Oh!” That explained how Amrothos had made it here. And why I was feeling light-headed.

I picked up a roll of bread from my tray and started nibbling it. “You said you wanted my version of events, does that mean you have spoken to Lé-” I caught myself, “to King Éomer?”

Father took a sip of wine. “Yes, indeed. We had a long talk last night and he has told me everything about this regrettable affair.”

Everything? But before I could enquire further, my father continued. “I have yet to encounter a more unfortunate chain of events,” he said. “And it appears that nobody is quite blameless. I am sorry that my offer of a reward sent those ruffians after you. Luckily Éomer was there to deal with them.”

Why, I had been asleep for a day and the man had already managed to twist my father around his little finger! “Has he told you how he came to Dol Amroth last autumn?” I demanded to know.

“Oh, yes, and I understand your ire,” my father said, sounding annoyingly complacent. “But Éomer assured me he only had the best intentions. You see, being Queen of Rohan is an exacting position, so he wanted to make sure of choosing a suitable bride, one who could handle the demands of state. It’s unfortunate he did not act more openly.”

Pigswill! Éomer had not come to Dol Amroth to check my suitability as a queen, I was sure, but only to see if he fancied marrying me. Men! Already they were closing ranks on me again. However, it was no use arguing with my father on that. “What else did he tell you?” I asked.

Amrothos stirred from his position on my bed. “That I was lucky to escape a ducking in an ice cold river.”

He was no help! But my father waved him down. “Never mind about that, Amrothos.” He leant forward and twirled his wine glass between his fingers. “Éomer explained that he felt compelled to offer you his escort to Minas Tirith, Lothíriel. And he assured me upon his honour that nothing inappropriate happened between you.” A sharp look accompanied that last statement.

Nothing inappropriate? Involuntarily my mind went back to our kiss. But I did not want to go into that! “No, nothing happened,” I said, lowering my eyes.

Father sighed. “Unfortunately that’s not the impression that your actions engendered. The gossips have been busy, for you couldn’t have chosen a more public spot to call the King of Rohan a liar.”

“I didn’t choose it!” And he was a liar. An odious, loathsome, detestable liar! I held on tight to my anger, for it was the only thing that kept the misery at bay.

Amrothos leant back on the bed and watched the swaying shadows the lamps cast on the ceiling. “The story of how Éomer abducted you in a fit of unrequited love has made the rounds of Minas Tirith,” he remarked.

“Him abducting me!” My father winced at my tone, so I modulated my voice. “People will believe anything! As if I would let that...” Swine? Scoundrel? Troll bait? “...man abduct me.”

“An abduction is usually involuntary,” Amrothos pointed out.

I drew breath for a heated reply, but my father held up his hand. “Please, children!” He set down his glass of wine. “Unfortunately Amrothos is right about the wildest rumours circulating at court. Some even say that Éomer enticed you into running away with him by promising to marry you and then broke his word.”

“Nonsense!” I protested. “He would never break his word.”

Father raised an eyebrow. “You and I know that, but your arrival at the Harlond, hurt and dishevelled, and your subsequent accusations paint a different picture.”

Silence descended while I mulled his words over. What had I done! Even I could see how damaging such rumours would be to the relations between Gondor and its closest ally. For a moment I considered blaming Amrothos for the whole mess, because he had so disobligingly slept in his bed instead of on the carpet that night, but then reason reasserted itself. It was entirely my fault. I closed my eyes as my headache threatened to return. If only I had never come to Cormallen.

Outside, the guards exchanged a few words of muffled conversation and some ducks quacked softly. I opened my eyes again.

“What is going to happen now?” I asked my father.

“Éomer has withdrawn his offer of marriage...”

“What?” He dared!

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Amrothos asked.

“No!” I snapped, only to correct myself. “Yes, of course.”

“Peace!” my father interrupted. “As I was going to say, Éomer has withdrawn his offer of marriage and instead has asked for permission to woo you.” He rose from his chair. “Lothíriel, I want you to think over this proposal when you’re home.”

My mind still spinning from his words, I could only stare at him. “Home?”

“On my orders Amrothos is taking you back to Dol Amroth tomorrow. Enough damage has been done and I am not willing to countenance anything until we’ve all had the time to calm down. I will have no hint of scandal attached to the noble name of Dol Amroth.”

“Does Lé-... King Éomer know?”

“Not yet,” Father answered. “I will see him tonight and explain my decision.” He embraced me and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Goodbye, Lothíriel. I intend to stay in Minas Tirith and smooth matters over, but will be home in another month or so, I hope.”

“Goodbye, Father,” I said, my mind still in a whirl. Home to Dol Amroth! Why did the prospect please me so little? And the King of Rohan wanted to woo me! You are mine, he had said.

Father took his leave, but my brother lingered behind a moment longer. At the door, he hesitated. “Lothíriel, what did Éomer do to you?”

“Nothing.”

Amrothos nodded, but before he shut the door behind him, he stuck his head back in. “Is that the problem?”

I was too slow. By the time my roll of bread hit the door he had already ducked out. Brothers!

***

After a restless night, I awoke early the next morning. Fed up with lying in bed the whole time, I did not wait for my maid to come, but got dressed on my own and went up on deck. My father’s men were already busy storing away supplies in the hold, and I went up on the poop deck in order to get out of the way of the sailors rolling casks of fresh water up the gangway. The large drum up there, which governed the rowing speed of the galley, sat wrapped in its oilcloth cover – it would not be needed for the journey down the river. Amrothos was conferring with the captain and greeted me absentmindedly, but did not interrupt his conversation.

That suited me fine, as I did not feel like talking. Instead I leant on the railing and watched the goings-on below me. Only today the sights of a busy port did not excite me as they usually did. Always before, I had dreamt of starting out on some grand adventure, but now that I’d had it, I felt empty and depressed. The sun sparkled on the waters, promising a cloudless day, and mocking me. It should be grey and drizzly!

That moment hoof beats carried over the noise of the merchants hawking their wares. Lots of hoof beats. I straightened up. Was my father coming to see us off after all? But the horsemen trotting onto the pier in perfect formation did not wear the blue and silver of Dol Amroth. Anyway, I did not need to look at the white and green pennant they carried to know exactly who had come, my treacherous heart had already told me who it was. At some unseen signal, the company halted, except for their leader who continued along the pier: tall and blond, sitting his stallion with arrogant ease, a long green mantle sweeping from his shoulders and a sword at his hip. Every inch the king. What a fool I’d been not to see it!

At the bottom of the gangway he dismounted and handed the reins to one of the gaping sailors. Then he looked up, straight at me. White teeth flashed in a grin. I gripped the railing as my knees threatened to give way. I would not disgrace myself by running down there and throwing myself into his arms! Instead I raised my chin in a challenge. His grin widened. Infuriating man!

“What is he doing here?” Amrothos said next to me, drawn by the commotion. “Father won’t like it.”

He hurried down the steps to the main deck and then down the gangway. I was too far away to overhear what the two men discussed, but it was obvious from my brother’s gestures that it concerned me. After a short while, he came back up.

“Éomer wants a quick word with you,” he explained, “but it’s up to you if you want to speak to him or not.”

I hesitated, for my mind was in turmoil. Speak to him? What more was there to say between us? He had lied to me... he wanted to woo me! If I sent him away without a word, would he take that as a final refusal? My heart gave a pang at the thought. But wasn’t that exactly what I wanted?

“A quick word would only be polite,” I said to my brother, “don’t you agree?”

He shrugged. “Well, it can hardly get worse than you pushing him in the water. But remember, we’re nearly ready to go.”

I nodded and let him escort me down to where the King of Rohan awaited me.

“My Lord King,” I greeted him and dropped a curtsy of the exact degree required by a Princess of Gondor to a foreign ruler, say the Sultan of Harad or an equally unsavoury potentate.

“Princess Lothíriel, I am honoured,” he replied, “will you walk with me?”

The request took me by surprise. “Walk where?”

He gestured at the pier. “Up here?”

Amrothos leant against a conveniently placed bollard. “Go ahead, Lothíriel.” He seemed amused.

Éomer offered me his arm, but I ignored it. Silently we walked along the pier until we were out of earshot of my brother, stopping near the steps that led down to the stone platform where we had tied up Cawelcwén two days before. A quick glance showed the boat still there, looking a bit forlorn. The place where he had kissed me. I pushed that memory firmly into the back of my mind.

“Why have you come?” I asked, turning to him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why, to woo you of course.”

The way he said it sent a shiver through me and I just knew that he was thinking of our kiss. But did he now expect me to forgive and forget everything and fall into his arms? And what was even more annoying, as his dark eyes caressed me, I was tempted to do just that. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kill him. What a maddening, maddening man!

“Is this where I say how honoured I am?” I snapped. It came out sharper than I had intended.

His brows drew together. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You have settled it all with my father to your mutual satisfaction, haven’t you,” I said. “What more is there to add?”

“All I did was to resolve our misunderstandings,” he protested, “surely that was in your interest too.”

“Misunderstandings,” I spat. “What a fine word.” As if he had ever cared about my interests! “You have the gall to tell my father that you only concerned yourself with Rohan’s welfare, when you came to Dol Amroth with the simple purpose to look me over. You lied to my very face!”

He coloured. “I didn’t exactly lie. My men call me The Lion, Léona in our tongue. And anyway-”

“You’re splitting hairs,” I interrupted him. “You just don’t want to admit that you lied!”

“And you don’t want to listen!”

“I don’t have to,” I shouted at him, “I am going home.” And I turned my back on him so he would not see the tears in my eyes.

I had not taken more than a couple of steps away from him when something heavy was thrown over my head, cutting off my sight. For a moment I was too surprised to act and then it was too late. Deftly he wrapped the thick fabric around me, entangling my arms in the heavy folds. His cloak!

“Let me go!” I cried, but my words came out muffled. What was he doing!

Strong hands grabbed me and lifted me up. He dared! I tried to struggle free, but only managed to entangle myself even further. A confused impression of movement, then I was dumped on a hard surface. The floor tilted below me. It couldn’t be!

A/N: there will be one more chapter of the story proper and then an epilogue, so 15 chapters in total. However, as I’m going away on holiday at the end of next week you will have to wait for the epilogue until I get back. But I promise to get the next chapter out in time for Wednesday! This might mean that I will not have the time to answer all reviews, but I hope you’ll forgive me.

Chapter 14

After a brief struggle with the heavy cloak, I managed to wriggle free and crawled out from under it. Gasping for air, I found myself face to face with a wilted cabbage. As I had thought: I was on board Cawelcwén! When I twisted round I saw that Éomer had already opened up a wide gap between us and the pier. Then I became aware of shouting.

“Éomer!” Amrothos was yelling. “Are you mad? What are you doing?”

“Can’t you see?” Éomer shouted back, sitting on the rowing bench and ploughing the oars through the water. “I’m abducting your sister.” Already we were near the open river.

Amrothos ran along the pier. “You can’t do that to me,” he wailed. “I’ve just spent the last week chasing her up and down the Anduin!”

One of Éomer’s riders nudged his horse forward and called out something. Éomer shook his head and shouted what sounded like orders. The rider saluted and turned back.

I sat frozen with surprise. This couldn’t be happening!

“Lothíriel!” my brother shouted, waving frantically. “Swim over here!”

I looked over the gunwale and hesitated. Streaked with swirls of mud, the water did not look particularly inviting.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Éomer said in a conversational tone. “It’s mucky and cold. Believe me, I know.” As if to emphasize his words, a dead fish floated by.

“Have you lost your mind?” I asked, still stupefied. “Father will be livid.”

“I will deal with that when I have to. First I want to talk with you. And you will listen!”

I cast a look at the receding shore. Not too far away to swim yet for a daughter of Dol Amroth. Should I chance it? Meanwhile Bane resembled an anthill that somebody had poked a stick in.

“We will lose them in the traffic on the river,” Éomer said, following my eyes.

“You are mad,” I declared.

Yet I could not help feeling a grudging sort of admiration for his bold action – it was the kind of thing a pirate princess might have done.

Despite his words, Éomer seemed to be in no hurry to talk. Threading his way between the many small boats that dotted the Anduin, he steadily made for the opposite shore and let the current sweep us along. Soon the docks dropped out of sight behind us. I settled down in my usual place in the stern and wrapped the cloak around me, for the early morning chill still hung in the air. Almost I could believe that the last couple of days had never happened.

The hills of Emyn Arnen rose ahead of us, sloping down through open meadows dotted with birches. In one place a small stream emptied into the Anduin and the trees formed an arch over it with their branches clad in fresh green. When Éomer beached the boat on the shingles, a pair of white egrets took off with a rush of wings and circled over us before heading off upstream.

He held out his hand to help me get out of the boat. “Are you cold? Shall I light a fire?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.” Wrapping his cloak around myself, I sat down on a boulder warmed by the morning sun.

Éomer – I would have to get used to thinking of him by that name – pulled Cawelcwén further up onto the shore. Next he tidied the oars away and threw the last few cabbages in the water, where they bobbed up and down for a moment before the current took them. I watched him in silence. After all he was the one who had wanted to talk.

All possible chores done, he picked up a stone and tossed it in the water. Then another one. And another one.

“It seemed like such a clever idea at the time,” he finally said. “I would meet you away from Gondor’s court, with nobody the wiser.”

I kept silent.

Another splash. “That way I would see you for who you really were...” He shifted uncomfortably. “The servants thought highly of you, how you had run the castle during the war. And you rode well...” Suddenly he looked up. “I liked your spirit. I liked you.”

I said nothing, just let my silence speak for me.

He looked back down. “And then I suppose I got greedy and impatient. I wanted to make absolutely sure nobody else would have you, so I opened up negotiations with Imrahil.” He tossed in another stone. “It would have been better to have waited.”

I got the feeling that was probably as much of an apology as I was ever likely to get from this proud King of Rohan, and still the admission cost him dearly.

“You admired my spirit, yet you thought I would just agree to this arrangement meekly?” I asked.

“I did think of that. Just a little too late.” He cast me a rueful smile. “In fact that was what I wanted to consult Amrothos about, that evening in his tent. Only I never got round to it.”

Out on the river, Bane hove into view, all her sails up and the oars rising and falling rapidly. Surrounded by the little boats bringing their wares in for the markets of the Harlond, she looked like an eagle in a flock of starlings. Fast, powerful, deadly – and utterly inefficient for the task set her. Unless I started waving and shouting they would never spot us.

“All very well,” I took up the conversation again, “but that still does not explain why you did not tell me your true identity later on.”

“Well, that’s where my temper comes in. You might have noticed that it sometimes runs away with me.”

“Hmm...”

Absentmindedly Éomer watched Bane sail by. “When you dumped me in the water in that memorable carpet, it got the better of me.” He sighed. “I decided that I wanted nothing more to do with such a wildcat. While I felt honour bound to get you safely to Minas Tirith, my plan was to melt into the crowd there. I truly meant it when I promised you need never look on my face again.”

Bane had rounded the next bend of the river by now. “Ah yes,” I said, “the King of Rohan who likes his women docile.”

“It’s not exactly nice to abduct people,” he snapped, then stumbled to a halt.

“No, it’s not, is it,” I agreed.

“Or throw them in the water!” he added gamely.

“I did not do it deliberately. The first time.” And that was all the apology he would get!

He snorted. “Anyway, I decided to keep my true identity hidden. And when you fell asleep later that morning, I turned back and found somebody willing to carry a message to the captain of my guard.”

Suddenly I saw his plan emerge. “That you were ill!”

“Exactly. Éothain was to keep everybody away and send an escort to wait for me at the Harlond.”

How crafty! “And nobody found out?” I asked. His men had to be devoted to him!

“Aragorn eventually bullied his way in and had to be told the truth, but nobody else knew.” He grinned reminiscently. “Fortunately your father left almost immediately, or he might have put two and two together.” Slowly the grin faded away. “But then I found that I enjoyed your company far more than I should have...the way you accepted the hardships of the journey with no complaining...your infectious spirit of adventure...and how you would sit in the boat, hat askew and hair all tangled up, and smile at me.”

I blushed at the picture he painted. Had my feelings been so transparent?

Éomer took a step towards me. “You trusted me instinctively to keep you safe, though you knew nothing about me, and I did not want to lose that trust.” He sighed. “So every time I opened my mouth, I ensnared myself even more thoroughly in my web of lies. And if I as much as mentioned the King of Rohan, you got mad.”

“Of course I did!” I jumped up. “Can’t you see? I thought you were a simple courier and you and I... we could never...”

“I’m sorry!” He lifted a hand, but didn’t quite touch me. “I should have told you.”

I sniffed defiantly. “Yes, you should have.”

His hand ghosted across my cheek. “I think I was scared.”

“Scared? You?”

He gave a crooked smile at the disbelief in my voice. “Yes. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? The King of the Mark, survivor of all three great battles of the Ring War, afraid of what a slip of a girl might do.” Éomer took me by the shoulders and stared down at me. “But I thought you might do something stupid and dangerous, like running away on your own and getting into trouble without my protection.”

Remembering my consideration of exactly such a course of action, I blushed. “I might have done.” I struggled with my pride for a moment, but the truth won. “You’re right, it would have been stupid.”

He slipped a hand round my back and pulled me closer. “I cannot bear the thought of something happening to the woman I love.”

The woman he loved! To have him state it in such plain words sent a thrill of excitement racing through my veins. With unsteady hands I traced the embroidery of his shirt, half afraid of what I might see in his eyes if I looked up at him.

He covered my hand with his. “But do you know what I feared most?” he whispered.

Not trusting my voice, I shook my head.

“I feared that you would hate me. That I would lose you when I had only just found you.”

I let go of the last remnants of resentment.  “Oh Éomer,” I sighed, “I tried to hate you, but...”

“But?” he prompted.

“...but my efforts were pretty poor.”

Sudden laughter rumbled in his chest. “Pretty poor?”

“Dismal,” I admitted and yielded into him.

He needed no further encouragement to bring his lips down on mine and continue where he had left off two days ago. The need to hold him rushed through me, to make sure it was truly him and not a dream. A sob rose in my throat as I flung my arms around his neck. Éomer! Muscles tightened under my touch and suddenly his arms closed around me like bands of iron, crushing me against him. My skin came alive wherever he touched me. Yes! I buried my fingers in his hair. Breathed in his scent. Tasted him. Like a howling gale rising out of nowhere, desire mounted within me, and I felt an answering tremble run through him. We were caught up in the eye of the storm, about to be swept away.

But then his touch stilled. I whimpered a protest. Warm breath brushed across my cheek as he gave a big, shuddering sigh. “Lothíriel,” he whispered, “you have no idea how much I want you, but...”

Blood rushed to my cheeks and I buried my face in his shirt. He was right of course. A Princess of Dol Amroth and King of Rohan could not just abandon themselves to their passions. And no gently bred maiden of Gondor should feel such disappointment.

Éomer placed a kiss on my temple. “Anyway, I still owe you a proper wooing.”

As he trailed a gentle hand along the hollow of my back, I relaxed against him. We could wait. After all, we’d have our whole lives together. The thought made me giddy. Tracing light kisses across my skin, Éomer explored the curve of my brows and I lifted my face to him. As far as wooing went, I had to admit that his was exceptionally nice. And thorough. Yes, we could wait.

When we separated an eternity later, I leant my head against his chest, content to simply listen to the sound of his steady heartbeat. He slipped his arms protectively around me, holding me close. Home at last. Happiness welled up in my heart and spilled over until it filled my whole being.

“I could get used to this,” I whispered.

He sighed with satisfaction.  “Believe me, dear heart, you will.”

My stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. Éomer chuckled. “Not thinking of food again?”

I pushed him playfully in the chest. “It’s all your fault for snatching me away before I had my breakfast.”

“No breakfast! We will have to remedy the situation at once.” He picked up his cloak, which had fallen to the ground quite unnoticed and wrapped it round me. “Will my lady be seated again? All the Riddermark’s resources are at her service.”

With a grin I settled down on the boulder, while he went to rummage through our belongings in the boat. Triumphantly he held up the bag of flour. “We should be able to hold off starvation for another day.”

Above the beach there was a stretch of turf, turned a rich spring green by the morning sun and dotted with yellow buttercups. Éomer cleared off a circle of grass, then collected deadwood from amongst the trees and soon had a small fire going. He was humming under his breath as he worked.

Wanting to be closer, I spread the cloak on the grass and sat down beside him, where I would have the sun warm my back. A woodlark launched into its chirping song, and I felt as light as a feather, as if a great weight had been lifted from my soul. Later we would have to make explanations to my father and face down the gossips, but here and now none of that mattered. As if he had heard my thoughts, Éomer looked up suddenly and exchanged a smile with me. Life was good.

Then he filled our kettle with water and fetched a thin slab of stone to knead the dough on. However, I would not have him do all the work, so I took over that part of the preparations. Soon I had the first batch of trailbread ready and handed him the flat loaves to place near the fire. But when he rolled back his sleeves, I suddenly spotted a bandage on his left arm. Of course, the wound he had taken in the fight with Corethir’s men!

“Your arm!” I exclaimed.

He glanced down at it. “Oh, that. Don’t worry, my sweet, it’s a lot better already.”

I bit my lip. And to think that I had shoved him in the water when he had been hurt defending me! “I’ve behaved abominably,” I burst out, “can you forgive me for what I did at the Harlond?”

He cocked his head to one side. “Well, it helps that I behaved abominably myself, so I think we’re even.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “It certainly impressed my men. They’ve taken to calling you the Lioness of Rohan.”

My mouth dropped open. “Of Rohan?”

Éomer cast me one of those looks that was as intimate as a caress. “I made it clear I intended to make you my queen.”

“And I suppose that settled the matter in their minds?”

“They don’t know you yet,” he quipped, “that’s why.” He turned over one of the breads to make it brown evenly and sobered. “I knew better. The idea that you would go home to Dol Amroth, hating me, perhaps being pressurized into agreeing to a match that was utterly loathsome to you...” He shook his head. “I had to talk to you!”

“I’m glad you came.” What a miserable journey that would have been. Where was Bane now, I wondered. Probably halfway to Pelargir! Suddenly the memory of my brother’s face as we pulled away from the quay came back to me and I started chuckling. “But Amrothos will never forgive you!”

Éomer grinned back. “It’s his own fault. He should have listened to Éothain.”

“The captain of your guard? Why?”

“I shouted to him that I’d bring you back before nightfall, and to tell your brother so once we’d got away. Obviously Amrothos didn’t believe him.”

Really! Of all the high-handed things he had done, surely this was the most outrageous. “What do you mean, before nightfall!” I demanded to know.

My ire did not impress him. “I just thought I’d better give myself ample time to persuade you,” he answered with a quiver in his voice, “in case you turned out recalcitrant.”

“Oh! Are you telling me you came with the sole purpose to abduct me in the basest way-”

“No, no,” he interrupted me. “It was one of those spur of the moment decisions one has to make in the heat of battle. Not like drugging an unsuspecting victim, rolling him down a hill in a carpet and then dumping him in the water – now that’s what I’d call truly base behaviour.”

There was no arguing with the man! “Do your riders know the details of that?” I inquired sweetly.

Éomer threw up his hand as if to concede a point. “No. And I beg you not to tell them how I was overcome by such a puny foe. It would destroy all their faith in me!”

That moment a burning smell tickled my nose. “Éomer! The breads.” Unnoticed by him, they had slipped onto the embers.

“Oh!” He snatched the loaves out of the fire and flipped them onto the grass, where they smouldered a moment longer. I regarded the black lumps dubiously, suddenly not feeling particularly hungry any more.

“I’ll make more,” he offered.

Two more loaves went onto the stones by the fire and the unsuccessful first batch he threw into the woods. A crow dived down to snatch one of the breads, but dropped it again after one peck.

My eyes met Éomer’s, brimful with laughter. “You’re a distracting presence,” he sighed.

I blushed and drew my legs up to my chest. “Sorry!”

He poked the breads with a stick. “You have no idea how many times I was tempted to head the boat upriver and continue all the way to the Mark. We could be in Edoras by now, getting married.”

I must have looked at him with big eyes, for he smiled. “I know. It’s a crazy idea.”

Not crazy, no. “If only I weren’t a princess!” I exclaimed.

He laughed. “Would you come with me then?”

“Yes.”

Éomer caught his breath. “Don’t tempt me.” He picked up my hand and traced my fingers. “Lothíriel, I want to show you my home. At this time of the year, the Mark briefly turns yellow, pink and white with wild flowers and in the mountains the air smells of spring. We could ride out to check on the new foals, or simply race the wind across the plains...”

The longing to see this distant land rose in me. “I’d love to,” I sighed.

“You will,” he told me. “And soon.”

I hoped so, too, but at the same time I wondered what my father would have to say about this newest escapade. The thought put a damper on my happiness. “Do you think Father will be very annoyed with us?” I asked Éomer.

A wry grin. “Probably.”

I bit my lip. “What a tangle I’ve caused!”

“Well, I’m hardly blameless either.” He smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, dear heart. We’ll disentangle the whole affair. Together.”

Together.  Warmth spread through me, driving out the chill of apprehension. We would succeed. “If Father is unreasonable you can simply abduct me again,” I suggested.

Éomer gave a grim smile. “The thought has crossed my mind.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and his fingers lingered on my cheek. “I swear I will claim you for my wife. And with you there, Meduseld will finally feel like home.”

“Oh, Éomer.” As I leant my head against his chest, I knew I’d found my home in him. To think that I had nearly thrown it away! What a fool I’d been.

He nuzzled my hair. “Finally I’m able to kiss you with a clean conscience.”

I liked the sound of that! Smiling in anticipation, I lifted my face to him.

That moment one of the branches in the fire broke with a loud crack.

Éomer hurriedly let go of me. “Not again!” he exclaimed as he bent over the fire. Two more blackened loaves got flipped onto the grass.

I poked them gingerly. “Do you want to try again?” My stomach protested at the thought.

He sighed. “I don’t think it’s any use. Not unless you go and sit in the boat.”

At the chagrin in his voice, mirth bubbled up within me. I picked up a stick and scraped off the worst of the burnt crust. “We will just have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“That these are tasty pastries.” I handed him one. “Just tell yourself that we’re in the gardens of the Citadel, enjoying a light repast.”

Falling in with my game, he inclined his head to me. “Thank you, my lady.”

“The servants are handing out glasses of wine,” I elaborated, “while one of the bards is playing on his harp.”

“Hmm, yes, he’s very talented.”

“And the cook has baked these delicious little breads, which melt on your tongue.” I took a cautious nibble, not wanting to risk a tooth. Hard as stone!

Éomer regarded his piece dubiously. “May I pretend that I have a full stomach?”

I ignored him. “We’ve only just been introduced to each other by my father,” I went on and held out my hand to him.

He recognized his cue and placed a kiss on it. “Princess Lothíriel, I’m delighted to meet you.”

“I’m honoured, my Lord King,” I replied.

But instead of letting go of my hand, he pulled me into his arms. “Fine, now that is sorted, let me kiss you again.” His bread went flying into the bushes.

“I don’t kiss strangers!”

With a laugh Éomer closed the distance between us. “Really, my pirate princess,” he said, “what happened to your spirit of adventure!”

*

*

*

A/N: I’m going away on holiday in a couple of days’ time, so I probably won’t have time to answer any reviews. However, I’d like to say a general thank you to all my reviewers for their enthusiasm and good wishes. When I get back, there will be a short epilogue added to this story. Until then, take care!

Lia

Epilogue

The Field of Cormallen, a year later.

Swallows dived and skimmed across the clearing; the setting sun turned them into black specks and their high, twittering call filled the air. Chasing insects for their evening meal, they were oblivious of the colourful assembly below them.

I smiled to myself. The courtiers of Gondor were not so very different – moving in a complicated dance of greeting and bowing and equally bent on filling their bellies. Or at least the throng was thickest amongst the eaves of the wood, where great pavilions had been set up for the farewell dinner, holding long tables with food and drink.

An arm slipped around my waist. “The festivities are even more lavish and crowded than last year,” my husband grumbled. “If I have to be polite to one more noble who fills my ears with boring tales of hunting, I will jump in the river.”

I chuckled and leant back against him. “It adds to their importance, to be seen to be on friendly terms with the famous King of Rohan.”

Éomer snorted. “At least they have stopped throwing their daughters at me. For that alone I will be eternally grateful to you.”

“Really? In that case I might have to consider how you can repay me,” I teased him.

He pulled me closer against his side. “I will come up with something,” he murmured in my ear and breathed a kiss on my temple. His skilful fingers traced the gold necklace he had given me as an engagement present and which I had worn ever since. My family thought the delicate shapes were furled roses, but I recognized cabbages when I saw them.

I caught the eye of a portly matron regarding me with disapproval written all over her heavily painted features. But then Lady Aeves had never approved of my wild ways anyway, and in addition I had ruined her matrimonial plans for her youngest daughter by so selfishly marrying the King of Rohan myself.

“We’re scandalizing the court of Gondor,” I whispered to Éomer.

“But I haven’t even kissed you properly yet,” he complained.

Briefly I considered giving in to temptation – after all my reputation here was probably in the gutters anyway – but I did not want to distress Father any further. My escapade the year before had caused quite a few white hairs.

“Father wouldn’t like it,” I reminded Éomer. I did not need to add that we owed him quite a lot for being so reasonable at having his daughter abducted.

Éomer gave an exaggerated sigh. “And what about your poor husband?”

“He will just have to wait.”

“Lately I seem to spend a lot of time waiting,” Éomer said, but relaxed his grip reluctantly. “Why, it took me half a year cooling my heels in Meduseld to gain my wife!”

I snorted. “It’s traditional for grooms not to see their brides until the wedding day. And anyway, six months’ engagement is scandalously hurried by Gondorian standards. Most women take longer than that just to settle on their wedding dress.”

“I would have preferred six days.”

We grinned at each other, both remembering my father’s face when Éomer had told him as much. It had taken a fair amount of persuasion on my part to assure Father that indeed nothing inappropriate had happened between us that day. And even more persuasion to let us marry without the traditional waiting period of a year. Éomer of course claimed that it had been the alluring prospect of having me off his hands and in the responsibility of a husband, which had swayed my father in the end! 

I looked up at Éomer. “I seem to remember that you told me on our wedding night that some things are worth waiting for.”

“So they are,” he said, suddenly serious. “And I’ve waited many years for you to enter into my life...and turn it upside down.”

I melted against him. Éomer’s charm was hard to withstand when he was teasing me; in the rare moments when he dropped his mask of easy assurance with me, he was irresistible. And increasingly he was learning to let go around me, after living under constant tension for so long. Éowyn had told me a little of the years before the war and I understood his ceaseless wariness and need to protect those he loved much better now. Nobody had escaped the war unmarked; Éomer’s wounds were just less visible than others. If it meant finding knives under my pillow and having a husband who woke at the least disturbance, I could put up with that. Besides, being woken up by Éomer in the middle of the night had its compensations.

So he got his kiss after all, with nothing hurried about it – my reputation was past saving anyway. And shouldn’t a docile and obedient wife like me do her best to keep her husband happy and fulfil his every wish?

He let go of me again with a satisfied sigh. “Later...” he murmured.

Warmth pooled in my stomach. “Is everything ready?” I asked.

He nodded. “As arranged.”

“Éothain?”

“Still suspects nothing.”

We exchanged another grin. Poor Éothain! I had come to like him over the last few months, but he often reminded me of an anxious mother hen, the way he fussed over his king and queen’s safety. Éomer’s disappearance the year before had probably taken years off his life, and only the prospect of eventually having an heir to the House of Eorl had cheered him up again.

Éomer offered me his arm. “Shall we, my Lady Queen?”

Together we moved out into the clearing. I caught a few more scandalized stares by elderly matrons, but with my husband by my side they were easy to ignore. To my relief the Rohirrim had viewed the whole affair with a much more tolerant attitude. Éomer’s riders even seemed to admire my action of pushing him in the water! Which was completely irrational when you considered how they worshipped him.

As usual people instantly cleared a way for him and we hardly needed the guards trailing behind us as at a discreet distance. It amused me with how much awe people here regarded him. But then they had not seen him overcome by the children of Edoras on the first snowfall of the winter. Everybody had pitched in the ensuing snowball fight and nobody had escaped unscathed, not even the king and queen! Or how he would stay up all night when a foal was due from one of his favourite mares, partaking of the thick black tea of the stable-hands. I’d fallen asleep against his side more than once while sharing his vigil, but he did not seem to mind, only carrying me back to our chambers in the morning.

At the other end of the clearing our table awaited us. Marshal Erkenbrand called a loud greeting and I resigned myself to endure the usual teasing of how I had mistaken him for Éomer the year before, but fortunately Éowyn and her husband rescued me.

“All set?” she enquired as she embraced me.

“We are,” I answered.

Her eyes glittered with amusement. “Éothain?”

“Knows nothing,” I reported.

She chuckled. “I’ll take care of him, as promised. And we will see you in Emyn Arnen...eventually.”

Aragorn had joined the group as well. “Ah yes,” he threw in, “I’ve heard you’re paying a visit to Éowyn and Faramir after the festivities.” He kept his face carefully bland.

Too bland! Was there anybody present who did not know of our secret plan?

Éomer nodded, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We are hoping to see some of the natural beauty of Gondor along the way,” he answered in a matching tone.

“Well, I hope there will be less excitement than the last time you took a tour of Ithilien,” Aragorn answered.

“And less work for my court of justice,” Faramir threw in.

My husband inclined his head. “I’ve taken precautions.”

A bow, two quivers full of arrows, a couple of spears, his sword, to say nothing of the knives hidden all over his person – you could certainly call that precautions!   

Just then my father and brothers joined the group and thankfully the conversation turned to other topics. All during the following meal I had to suppress the rising sense of excitement coursing through me. After the farewell dinner tonight most of the nobles would depart for their homes, although some might linger at Cormallen a day or two longer. But Éomer and I had different plans...

However, first we had to mingle with the crowd a little longer. Usually I did not mind this royal duty, as it enabled me to make contacts that would hopefully later benefit our trading efforts, but tonight I was impatient. Slowly we threaded our way through the crowd, by no means in a straight line, but continually edging nearer the trees circling the small clearing. Éomer had dismissed our guards earlier on, and now he casually bent down as if he had dropped something. I moved on and with a loud exclamation of pleasure hailed Lord Uilthor, a neighbour of my father’s. He looked a bit startled at my enthusiastic greeting, but was pleasant enough, and when I chanced a glance back I saw that Éomer had taken the opportunity to fade into the shadow of the trees. For such a large man he could move surprisingly softly. Everything was going as planned.

Now it just remained to wait a little, while he collected a bag of food from the kitchen tents, and then I would make my own disappearance. I discreetly craned my neck to see if Éothain had noticed anything, but true to her word Éowyn had engaged him in talk. Soon I took my leave of Lord Uilthor and made my way to where the crowd flowed in small eddies amongst the trees. Fanning myself with my hand as if I were hot, I edged further away. How fortunate that the colour of my adopted country was green, for my dress blended in nicely with the foliage.

Surely now nothing could go wrong anymore. In an unobserved moment I slipped away amongst the bushes. Small paths led to the encampments and down to the river and I took one of those. A nightjar churred from the shadows, mirroring my exultation. Nearly there!

“Lothíriel?” somebody called at that moment.

I froze. Father?

“It is you!” he exclaimed.

When I turned round I found him descending on with me with large strides. “What are you doing here unescorted?” he asked, frowning down at me. “Where is Éomer?”

“He...he had to get something,” I stammered.

My father took me by the arm. “And left you here all on your own? Really, I thought he looked after you better than that.”

“He does!” I protested hotly. “It..it was my own idea to catch some fresh air.”

“You and your ideas.” Father shook his head fondly and I expected another of his lectures on the behaviour appropriate to a noble lady of Gondor. However, he only tucked my arm into his and began to stroll down the path with me. “At least it enables me to enjoy my daughter’s company for a bit,” he said. “I’ve missed you over the winter.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I said, not altogether truthfully. In fact I’d been so busy getting to know my new country and my new husband that I had hardly thought of my family. Also Éomer had taken me of a tour of the Mark, showing me Helm’s Deep, the Fords of Isen and the Eastfold.

Father patted my hand. “I’ve observed you tonight...”

“You have?” Thoroughly alarmed, I wondered if he had seen Éomer slip away.

“Yes. And I was thinking how well you’ve grown into your new role.”

Could it be he actually approved of me? I blushed under his praise. “Thank you, Father.”

“You make a fine Queen of Rohan,” he said. “And I also think that Éomer makes you a fine husband?”

My blush deepened. “Yes, he does.”

“You two suit each other. I’m glad, for what more could a father ask for.”

Just then the path divided into two forks, one leading down to the river, the other to our camp, and quite naturally my father took the one he thought I’d been heading for. I craned my neck to see if I could spot Éomer down near the river, but nothing moved in the shadows. What would he do when I did not turn up as arranged?

Our sentries were alert as always – even in peacetime Éomer took no chances – and hailed us the moment we emerged from the trees. My father solicitously insisted on escorting me to our tent and handing me over to my maid.

“After all, your husband would expect me to do no less,” he said with a gentle smile as he kissed me good night. “I will see you in the morning, Lothíriel.”

Not if I could help it! But first I had to escape from the best guarded camp in Cormallen. And from the clutches of my maid...

Aethelhild had not been included in our plans, and I did not feel up to long explanations, so I just let her help me into my nightgown and excused her as soon as possible. She saw nothing strange in this, as I did not usually ask for much assistance anyway. I heard her rummage around in the anteroom for a couple of minutes, but the moment she left, I jumped out of bed. However, when I poked my head round the canvas that divided our bedroom from the rest of the tent I nearly swore aloud. She had taken all my clothes with her for cleaning! And my shoes were missing as well. What should I do now? My nightgown, a frothy piece of silk and lace, might please my husband very much, but it was hardly the right apparel for creeping through the woods.

I looked round the tent for inspiration. Don Éomer’s chainmail? A nice figure I would cut! Besides, I’d helped him into it in the past and knew how much it weighed. What else was there? The white sheets of the bed would give me away at once, but then I spotted the dark green coverlet that Aethelhild had folded up and deposited on a chair.

I wrapped it around myself, discovering that it covered me completely and could even be arranged to provide a makeshift hood to hide my face. But the problem still remained of how to leave the tent. Two guards were stationed at the entry at all times and though Éomer dismissed them at night, I doubted they would heed my words if I ordered them to abandon their posts. It was a foolhardy rider who went against Éomer’s orders where the safety of his queen was concerned.

The back? After blowing out the lamp so its light would not give me away, I knelt down and carefully lifted the canvas of the outer tent. The first thing I spotted was a pair of boots, only three paces away. The guard it belonged to was just turning around smartly and I froze where I was. However, he strode past and moved out of sight. Yet just as I breathed a sigh of relief, another one came into view from the other side. He too turned around after a moment, but clearly they covered all angles. Why did the Rohirrim have to be so efficient! And what was Éomer doing meanwhile? Surely he’d worry if I did not turn up soon.

I had to distract them somehow, but how? What would a pirate princess do? Light a fire and slip away in the ensuing confusion? But I doubted that my husband would appreciate me setting fire to our tent – or the bed. I grinned to myself when I imagined what rumours that action would cause amongst the Rohirrim. No, clearly a more subtle plan was called for.

Then I had an idea.

After I had readied everything, I sat down on the bed and pulled up the sheets. Next I let loose several piercing screams.

As expected, that brought the guards running, swords at the ready. All four of them, I noted.

“What is the matter?” they exclaimed.

“A mouse!” I shrieked.

They relaxed. “My lady, it will be long gone,” one of them laughed.

I apologized for the commotion and they filed out of the bedroom. But the moment the piece of dividing canvas dropped behind the last of them I dived out the bed, slung the coverlet around me and rolled out under the back of the tent. I could still hear them chuckling and talking amongst themselves in the anteroom and that gave me the time needed to race over to duck behind the next tent. Success!

A cautious glance back revealed them taking up their posts again, but I wasted no more time. Éomer would be waiting for me and I still had to get past our sentries. However, I already had an idea of how to accomplish that.

Wrapping the bedspread closer around myself, I strolled through the camp, but avoided the main thoroughfare. At the path leading down to the river, only a solitary rider stood guard. Excellent. Trying to conceal myself would be stupid, but I pulled up my improvised hood and took care that the light of the cooking fires did not shine on my face.

“Hey, you!” I called, pitching my voice so it sounded higher than usual. “I’m looking for the King of Rohan. Where’s his tent?”

The guard frowned. “What do you want with him, woman?”

I let slip my coverlet, so a bit of bare shoulder showed. “What do you think?” I giggled.

He made a shooing motion with his spear. “Get you gone! The likes of you aren’t allowed in camp.”

I took a few steps down the path, praying to the Valar that my father wasn’t still hanging around. “Really, a girl has to earn a living somehow,” I complained, “what’s wrong with that!”

He took a step forward. “Éomer King would have my hide if I let you pass. Try one of the other camps.”

Still grousing under my breath for authenticity, I walked down the grassy path and into the shadow of the birches there. Dew moistened my bare feet. The things I did to please my husband!

Once I was out of sight, I paused. Would Éomer still be waiting for me down by the river? But what if he had decided to come and find me?

Suddenly one of the bushes behind me rustled softly. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed a dark figure. What! Instinctively I drew breath to scream, but a large hand covered my mouth and only a muffled squeak emerged.

“Lothíriel, it’s me!”

Éomer! I sagged against him and he loosened his grip. “Weren’t you just asking for me?” Amusement swung in his voice.

I tried to kick his shin, but got tangled up in my coverlet. “It’s all your fault! That camp is more difficult to escape from than Angband!”

He laughed and slipped an arm around me to steady me. “What were you doing up there? Did you forget something?”

“My father happened upon me and insisted on escorting me home.”

“Ah, that explains why you kept your husband waiting.” His fingers had somehow wormed their way past the bedspread. “By the way, what is this very interesting garment you are wearing under here, my sweet?”

I pushed against his chest, but with little effect. “You know exactly what it is! Aethelhild took all my other clothes away for cleaning.”

Éomer chuckled. “How very obliging of her.” Somehow I had ended up squashed against him. His arms imprisoned me neatly, while I was handicapped by having to hang on to the stupid coverlet. Giving up the unequal struggle, I let go of it and lifted my face to him. He accepted the invitation eagerly. His lips brushed across my cheeks and down to that sensitive spot in the hollow of my throat. I dug my fingers into his shoulders at the sudden wave of desire rising from the pit of my stomach. Six months of marriage and still he could turn my legs to water with a mere touch.

The crunch of footsteps on the path brought us back to the present. Éomer whirled round and a branch broke with a crack.

“What was that?” somebody asked.

I recognized the voice. Amrothos! What was it with my family tonight, they seemed determined to ruin our plans. And just when I finally had Éomer to myself and he had started kissing me properly. Go away! I thought at my brother. It took all my self-control not to stamp my feet and shout the words aloud.

“I’m sure I saw something move in there,” another voice said. “Show yourself!”

Muttering a violent curse, Éomer pushed the bedspread at me. “You stay here,” he whispered.

“What is it?” he said as he emerged from behind the bushes.

“Is that you, Éomer?” Amrothos asked.

“Obviously,” my husband snapped back. From the tone of his voice he was in a foul mood, too.

I crouched down out of sight, the damp mosses making a soft cushion under my feet.

“What were you doing in there?” my brother demanded to know.

“Answering a call of nature.”

“Oh! Well, my friend Lagornith and I were just on our way down to the river with a couple of bottles of finest Moragar,” Amrothos said. “Would you like to join us? I guarantee that the wine’s not been tampered with this time.”

Down to the river! There would be no way we could get by without being spotted. Éomer seemed to realize the same. Thankfully he was a quick thinker.

“I wouldn’t go that way,” he said, “I saw your father take that path for a stroll not long ago.”

“My father!”

I had to bite down a laugh at the dismay in Amrothos’s voice. How had he come by those bottles of my father’s favourite wine? Éomer’s ruse worked though, for the two of them quickly decided to find a more congenial spot for their carousing.

“Thank you!” my brother called back as they doubled back on their tracks. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, oh tamer of wild horses?”

I frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

“No, thank you...” Éomer called after him, “....oh chaser of princesses.”

My brother’s laughter echoed back to us as I picked my way out of the undergrowth. There were some sharp stones hidden underneath the moss!

Éomer plucked me up and deposited me on the path. “Now where was I?”

“You were kissing me,” I suggested hopefully.

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “So I was. And I intend to continue where I left off, but I think we had better make our getaway before we get interrupted again.”

I nodded and let him pull me along. Perhaps the next time he could simply persuade Éothain that we would be perfectly fine on our own? Or did he consider that too little of a challenge, compared to stealing out of camp? Just then I stumbled over a stone and bit down an exclamation.

Éomer stopped at once. “You’re barefoot! What happened to your shoes?”

“Aethelhild took them.” It came out rather plaintively.

“Why didn’t you say so!” I found myself gathered up in my husband’s arms, a most welcome development.

He strode along the track as if I weighed no more than a feather, and I buried my head against his chest and breathed in his scent. His warm male musk always made me feel safe and I loved to listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

To our right the murmur of the river grew steadily louder and then I glimpsed an expanse of silver through the thinning trees. The path dwindled to no more than a track trampled through the bushy grass before we reached our destination. As Éomer ducked under the hanging branches of a willow I finally saw it.

Almost reluctantly Éomer set me on my feet again, his hands lingering on my waist. “Cawelcwén,” he announced.

The skiff was tied up in the shadow of the great tree, well hidden from view. She lay deep in the water, for Éomer had made sure to stock her up with everything we would need. It was only when I had pointed out that the boat might well capsize from the weight that Éomer had stopped adding more supplies. You’d think we’d be away for months instead of a week or two! But he had wanted to pack for every eventuality. As if I cared about getting a little wet or only having trail bread to eat. And anyway, if the weather turned bad, we could stop over at Maedwen and Bornathron’s place as we had intended to in any case.

He pulled the boat close to the bank and helped me step into it. In my usual place at the stern blankets had been heaped up to form a comfortable cushion for me to settle on.

“How did you manage to smuggle all this stuff past Éothain?” I asked.

Éomer’s teeth flashed white in the gloom. “Eafa helped me,” he said, naming his squire. “And I stole away from some of my meetings with Aragorn to get everything ready.”

Such an ingenious husband! I grinned to myself. Poor Éothain would be deeply unhappy at the idea of his king and queen gallivanting through Ithilien without a proper escort. I got the impression he would not sleep easy until the nursery at Meduseld was filled again at last. Still, he could not fault us for our efforts in that direction.

Éomer took up the oars and cast off. A few strokes and we emerged from the trailing branches of the willow trees onto the Fainglir River. I leant over the gunwale to dip my fingers in the water. Above me, the stars were strewn across the cloudless sky like a wealth of diamonds and over the Ethel Dúath rose the full moon, casting my shadow before me. The night would turn chilly before morning, I thought, although I had no worry of being cold.

“Are we going far tonight?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Just far enough to shake off any possible pursuit.”

I leant back against my cushions and a deep sense of contentment swept through me. We were alone. For once there was nobody to make demands on his time, no advisors to bring papers to read or his Marshals with military concerns. Although much to the Rohirrim’s amusement my arrival at Edoras had put an end to any late night conferences.

With a yawn I wriggled deeper into my blankets and stretched lazily. The way my husband’s eyes followed my movements warmed me from inside. My coverlet had slipped to reveal my bare legs and he paused in his strokes for a moment to lean forward and run a possessive hand up to the white lace peeking out. A shiver started deep within me and Éomer grinned when he saw my reaction. The man knew far too well what his touch did to me!

I lifted my chin. “Well, oh tamer of wild horses?”

For some reason my brother’s words, though spoken in jest, still rankled. Was that what he thought, that Éomer had tamed me?

My husband chuckled. “You know, pirate princess of mine, your brother can be a bit of a fool sometimes.” He gave me the smile he kept for me alone. “Tell me, does a lion tame his lioness?”

FINI.

A/N: as always I’m very grateful to my wonderful beta, Lady Bluejay. Also many thanks are due to the lovely ladies of GoI for their suggestions for improving the stories. And finally a big thank you to you, my readers, for your enthusiastic support throughout the telling of this tale. It’s much appreciated!

If you want to read more of my writing, there are other Éomer & Lothíriel stories of mine on this site, or you can find my original stories on Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, Scribd, etc. by searching for ‘Lia Patterson’:

Wind Weaver (out in June 2022)

Daughter of Wolves (free on iBooks, Kobo, Nook and Smashwords)

Elephant Thief

Bride to the Sun