On the Wings of the Storm

Chapter 7

***

I needed that determination the next day to stiffen my spine when I went down to the gates to see my men off. Dirhael had managed to delay his departure until late afternoon, yet finally all the horses had been checked over, all the loads balanced evenly, all the journey bread stored away. The time to say goodbye had come.

Leading his horse behind him, he came over to me. "Please, Lothíriel," he said. "It's not too late yet. Won't you reconsider?"

At a loss for words, I stroked the gelding's nose. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

I shook my head and gave him the letters I had penned for my father and brothers. "Will you deliver these, please?"

"The Valar only know what Prince Imrahil will say to me when I come back without his daughter," he muttered, tucking them away in his pocket.

"Tell him I will be fine."

Behind him, the leader of the escort detailed to see my guards to the border cleared his throat. He looked ill at ease at the task given to him, but I did not doubt that he would do whatever needed to see his king's orders fulfilled. Reluctantly, Dirhael and his Swan Knights mounted up and left. By the time I had climbed the hill and reached the platform outside Meduseld they had passed the Barrowfield and turned right along the Great West Road. I stood there a long time, watching them dwindle into the distance.

It was strange that night to sit at our usual table without Dirhael and his men keeping me company. Yet I had no sooner taken my place than Háma's wife and her young daughter joined me. A pretty woman with reddish hair and her face covered in freckles, Aescwyn was heavily pregnant with their second child and laughed at having to squeeze her large belly between bench and table. Her little girl watched me solemnly all through the meal while Aescwyn kept up a flow of amusing chatter. Several riders dropped by for a word and later Marshal Elfhelm made a point of coming over to our table and enquiring after my day. Unusually for him, Gríma had also chosen to take his evening meal in the hall, and several times I caught him watching me. Still warmed by my anger I stared back boldly. Let him remember that the Princes of Dol Amroth had been warriors for over a thousand years.

***

Marshal Elfhelm had told me to just ask for an escort if I wanted one, but in truth I did not really need a guard while going about Edoras. My black hair and unusual height made me stand out from the crowd and by now everybody knew me for a guest of King Theoden's anyway. Éowyn for her part never bothered with guards unless she went for a ride further afield. In the end it was mostly Dirhael's silent companionship that I missed, the certainty he would be there to back me up if I ever needed him. On the other hand I found a curious kind of freedom in the fact that for the first time in my life I had nobody to account to anymore, not even a kindly old servitor of my father's. Like a bird about to try its wings - a feeling both daunting and exhilarating.

However, my daily life continued much as it had before Dirhael left. A few days later I was in the stillroom of the Healing Houses when one of Aethelstan's fellow healers called me over.

"Somebody here you know, Lady Lothíriel."

Thinking it one of my patients, I joined him. A big burly man sat in a chair, having his arm examined. He did look faintly familiar, but I could not quite place where I had seen him before. Then I spotted the irregular scar running from his elbow to the armpit and recognized my own handiwork. The rider I had stitched up that night in Aldburg!

"This is Beorngar," the healer introduced the man. "Neat work," he commented, inspecting the fading scar.

Beorngar looked up with a grin. "I know. Though I did not appreciate it at the time." He held out his hand. "I never thanked you either, my lady."