Smoke & Mirrors

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lothíriel did not, in fact, attempt the course again, though she began to ride out regularly with Hild and her friends. Éomer made sure she always had Éothain or a similarly reliable guard along to keep an eye on her, but got the impression that she was rather amused by it. Perhaps the feeling was justified since not even he himself had been able to keep her out of trouble, so what could poor Éothain possibly do? However, nothing more untoward happened, though he did not know whether she had actually listened to his admonitions or was just humouring him.

Riding back from Aldburg a few weeks later, he reflected on the changes in his life. It had only been a quick visit, a day's ride there, two nights spent with Elfhelm and then the journey back. He had not considered it worth taking Lothíriel with him and she had not asked to come after hearing of his plans. Nearly all his time with Elfhelm had been spent inspecting the herds kept near Aldburg, something that could only be done in person, and discussing military matters. It had been strange staying in the hall in Aldburg, where he had grown up until the age of eleven and which had been his headquarters as Third Marshal of Riddermark. He still had his own rooms, but Elfhelm and his numerous family now occupied the house and though Elfhelm's wife had made him welcome, it did not feel like home anymore.

Up ahead the golden roof of Meduseld glinted in the setting sun and Firefoot quickened his pace, eager for his food and stable. And what about himself? Was Edoras his home now? It had been nearly two years since Théoden had passed him the banner on the Pelennor fields, yet he still sometimes felt adrift, as if he didn't quite belong.

A gust of wind whipped around him, streaming his hair out behind and tangling Firefoot's mane. It had been blowing hard all day, but Éomer didn't mind, for the storm was a harbinger of spring, bringing warm, wet air from the far-away sea and melting the snow up in the mountains. Already the trees on the slopes of the foothills blushed a delicate, light green and the ground at their feet was covered in a riot of wood anemones, dog violets and other flowers.

Firefoot felt the spring too, walking with an extra bounce to his steps and shying playfully at the sight of a cart full of piglets. Éomer grinned and patted the stallion. "Soon, my friend, you can visit the ladies."

As they rode between the barrows and approached the gates, people hailed him, calling out his name, and he felt warmed at their greeting. The guards gave a short blast on their horns, announcing the return of the Lord of the Mark, and he looked up towards Meduseld where his banner rippled in the wind. Suddenly eager to see his wife, he urged Firefoot along the road winding up the hill. If he were honest, his bed had felt surprisingly cold and empty those two nights in Aldburg.

At the foot of the stairs leading up to the hall, he dismounted and gave Firefoot into the care of the stable lads. Gone were the days when he'd had to groom the stallion himself, though he still sometimes took that duty when he had time. Not tonight however. Hailing him, the doorwardens pushed the doors open for him and he strode into the hall, noticing anew after his brief absence how the flagstones gleamed freshly polished and the tapestries shone in the firelight, having been cleaned and restored. Servants were busy laying the tables for the evening meal and he felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. Those who wanted could still have their meat plain, but he liked the new spicy sauces and pickles Lothíriel had introduced.

In their private quarters, he found the door to the queen's room slightly ajar and on an impulse pushed it open and went in. At first he thought that he had missed Lothíriel, then he spotted her in the small study adjacent to the bedroom proper. She sat at the writing desk she had brought with her from Dol Amroth, a thoroughly elegant piece of furniture with spindly legs and a row of drawers gleaming with lacquer. The whole thing looked so delicate, he'd been afraid to touch it when it had been delivered, miraculously whole after the long journey.