Yours to Command

Fireflies

You will recognise the true leader in the way he will take whatever circumstances are accorded to him and turn them to his advantage.

(Hyarmendacil: The Art of War)

***

Éomer hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, suddenly realizing he had no idea where to find Lothíriel's room. A servant carrying a pile of clean linen passed him, giving him a curious glance, but he held back from asking her for directions, not wanting to fuel the gossip about him and the Princess of Dol Amroth even further. And what if Lothíriel had retired to bed already?

More servants went by on their errands and he was starting to feel rather conspicuous when behind him one of the side doors opened. A grey-haired woman entered. He recognized her as the maid who had looked after Lothíriel in the courtyard earlier on. She recognized him as well, for when he held out a hand she stopped and gave him a respectful curtsy.

What had Lothíriel called her again? "Hareth, isn't it?"

"Yes, my Lord King."

"Hareth, would you carry a message to your mistress to ask if I may have a word with her?"

She put her head to one side and regarded him shrewdly. "The princess has already retired."

He put on his best smile. "I know, but I would still like to speak to her. It won't take long."

Under her steady gaze his smile faltered. She really had a gift to make him feel like a little boy.

"It's important," he added quietly.

Her eyes seemed to bore into him. "Lothíriel has had two difficult days. She deserves not to be upset any further."

"I never intended to upset her," he exclaimed, then hurriedly lowered his voice. "That's why I need to speak to her... please."

Hareth examined his face closely, then she seemed to come to some kind of decision. "The princess claimed she had a headache." She gestured back the way she'd come. "Lothíriel wanted some fresh air and has gone for a walk."

"In the garden?"

The maid nodded. "There's a small secluded kitchen garden just round the corner." She grinned suddenly. "Perhaps somebody should check on her?"

"I think so, too." He squeezed her hands for a moment. "Thank you!"

***

The cold water felt good on her aching feet. Lothíriel settled down on the low rim of the fountain and hitched up her skirts a bit more. While she had changed into a more comfortable gown before coming out, she still did not want to get it wet. She took a deep breath, enjoying the cool night air caressing her face and the solitude at last after a long day of feeling everyone's eyes fixed on her. Crickets filled the garden with their chirps and rustlings told of small creatures going about their business in the tall grass. Before leaving her, Hareth had remarked that this part of the garden still looked a bit neglected, but that suited Lothíriel fine. She just wanted to be left to her thoughts for a while.

She wriggled her toes and the water lapped gently against her calves. From beyond the walls, the faint sounds of celebration reached her ears: laughter and singing and every now and again a horn being blown. Music drifted through the air from the direction of the hall, a lively Rohirric dance tune, and she frowned. Earlier on, King Elessar had asked her for a turn on the dance floor and she could not forget his words. I know Éomer well, he had said, his voice kind and sure, and believe me, there exists no man more honourable than him. She had been at a loss what to answer and had just smiled noncommittally. Fortunately, the king had not pressed her any further and the dance had ended soon after. A good thing, because for a moment she had been tempted to spill all her troubles into King Elessar's sympathetic ears.