The Abduction of Éomer, King of Rohan

Chapter 3

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.