Smoke & Mirrors

Chapter 11

The next morning, Éomer woke to the smell of kahva. For a moment he felt disorientated – the hard ground under him, the stamping of hooves and the low talk of men warred with a vivid picture of Lothíriel having breakfast in her bed, called up by the aromatic smell.

He sat up and blinked. Unfortunately his first impression had been correct – they were camped above the Entwash. The weather being dry, he had not bothered with having his tent erected the evening before and had just settled down near one of the campfires, so now he had a good view of the camp coming to life under the rising sun. Wafts of mist rose from the river, where already some of his riders watered their horses, and the sky stretched above them streaked with pink clouds. Then the smell came again.

Turning round, he saw his squire crouched over a fire, watching a pot of something with a frown of fierce concentration. Surely that couldn't be...

"What's that you're brewing?" he asked.

Ceola looked up. "Your kahva, my Lord King. Mistress Dordes gave me precise instructions how to prepare it." He bit his lip. "Only the fire is hotter than I thought and I burnt the beans. But only a little! You won't tell her, will you?" He sounded anxious.

"No, of course not."

In fact the beverage his squire served him was a vast improvement on the herb tea they usually made do with on campaign. "I'm surprised Dordes let you in on the secrets of brewing kahva," Éomer remarked. He had got the impression the elderly woman considered herself a cut above the other servants, let alone a lowly squire.

"Oh, it was the queen's idea," Ceola said. "I don't think Mistress Dordes was too pleased about it, but she had to agree." The lad beamed at Éomer. "Lothíriel Queen particularly thanked me for my efforts."

So his wife made her influence felt even when he was far from home. He took a large gulp of hot kahva, savouring the invigorating taste. The married state definitely had its advantages!

Just how advantageous it was, he found out the next day when they got caught in a rainstorm and he discovered he possessed a new cloak, made from oiled cloth and lined with soft wool. Whereas his old cloak would soak up the water after a while and hang heavy and limp from the shoulders, this one just shed the rain like a duck's feathers. All the riders of his personal éored had one of these miraculous cloaks and stayed cosy and dry, much to the envy of the other men.

"Lothíriel Queen ordered them from Dol Amroth specially," Ceola informed him. "She said that sailors wear overcoats made from this cloth in heavy weather."

His wife had been busy! Everywhere he turned, he found small signs of her touch, from Firefoot's new saddle blanket embroidered with swans and horses, to an ample supply of fresh shirts – a completely novel experience on campaign for him.

And when after three days' riding they reached the Anduin, there of course lay the largest proof of her efforts: what his men just called 'the queen's ships', a small army of flat bottomed boats lately emptied of supplies and now ready to ferry them across the river. Also awaiting them impatiently was Amrothos, who had been sent by Aragorn with the latest news to coordinate their attack.

They crossed the Anduin the next day, loaded up their pack horses and then set out along the narrow strip of land between the uncertain ground of the Dead Marshes on one side and the clefts and fissures of the Emyn Muil on the other, sending their scouts out before them. Though nobody lived in this barren land, this was enemy territory now, which meant constant vigilance and cold camps.

Éomer found he missed his morning kahva, but to his surprise even more he missed his wife's company. During the day he was busy enough with the concerns of a large host on the move, but at night he often lay watching the stars twinkling through the fetid mists rising from the marshes and his thoughts turned homeward. Did she think of him at all, he wondered, or was she content just going through her daily routine? Without really noticing it, he had got used to her presence in his life, her company over breakfast, the rare glimpses of dry wit and the even rarer smiles of genuine warmth. And disconcertingly, his body chose the most awkward moments to remind him of the feel of her silken hair gliding through his fingers or the smooth softness of her skin.