5. Battle and Waiting
It wasn't long after, that a messenger from Gondor arrived. Èomer explained what had been arranged.
"Aragorn and I are going to hunt what is left of the orcs," he shrugged off his chainmail.
"Where will you find them?" I asked, as I picked the heavy chainmail up and put it on the stand.
"East, in Rhûn," he sighed, rubbing his shoulders. "That is the only place they can go without our allies killing them."
"How many men you take?" I asked, making him sit down on the edge of the bed and started massaging his shoulders.
"As many as I see fit to," he murmured.
"Come back safe," I said as a warning. "I don't want to see you come back with stitches or missing a limb."
"Don't fret Lothíriel," he turned around, and took my hands in his. "I will come back; I am King and a War veteran. I have had enough experience with orcs to know they won't dare to kill me. You are a fantastic queen! Everyone knows that. If you have any trouble you can send word to my sister, alright?"
I nodded, and rested my head on his shoulder.
"You have helped open my eyes to the new world where I don't have to look over my shoulder for shadows and fight them all the time," he whispered, and leaned his head on mine.
Within the week Èomer had organized about twenty thousand horsed men, and four thousand infantry. Aragorn and his men arrived three days before they all left for Rhûn.
"Fare thee well my lord husband," I said to him after I helped him fit into his armour, instead of his esquire.
"Only for a short while," he squeezed my hands.
"I know," I said quietly, as he turned to leave the room. "Èomer! Before you go, I need to tell this last time that I love you."
"And I you, dearest one," he cupped my chin before gently kissing my trembling lips and hugging me. "What did you say? Speak up. Hmm?"
"You have a child," I whispered louder.
"I swear an oath to you now that I will see to our child has his father home by the end of this spring," he swore, a hand over my stomach, with a fierce look of love and dedication.
"We'll be waiting for that day," I smiled.
"No word yet?" I asked a guard, he shook his head with a sad smile. "Thank you."
I had managed to leave Edoras with Elfhelm and travel in a horse-cart to a small castle that was being sieged by our men. Two days after my arrival, in the midday sun, Èomer had stopped only for food, after battling all day, when I noticed a deep gash on his forearm.
"Lothíriel!" he gaped. "Nothing happened to me!"
"It has to stop, now," I said to him.
"We've all most overrun the place," Èomer stood up slowly, swallowing his last mouthful of bread. "I need to get back."
"No!" I hiss, pressing his shoulders down, to make him sit. "Not yet, I'll have to bandage this well before you go. Don't flinch; it's bad enough as it is! Go. And be more careful!"
(Later that day……)
I grabbed Aragorn's arm tightly, who was walking past with his healing thing and nearly dragged him to my bloody husband. I gesture to the bloodied bandage.
"You can't be serious Lothíriel, it's just a scratch," Èomer stared at Aragorn and I.
"I have to and don't argue with your wife," Aragorn started to unbandage it and prepare a needle and thread. "Lothíriel?" I hit Èomer across the head. "Thank you. Drink this while I stitch it."
"We lost about a hundred and fifty so far since it started back start of winter," he winces at the tugs of the stitches and swallowed the rest of the wine.
"That is better than during the war," Aragorn agreed.
"At least we had one person who knows all the hiding places," Èomer chuckled.
I look at Aragorn, puzzled, knowing he will know the answer.
"Being an ex-ranger has to count for something," he shrugged.
"Too right," my husband nodded. "Lothíriel, how are you?"
"Tired," I sigh. "All you men are walking around as one drunk."
"Go on then," he turns me around by my shoulders. "To bed."
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.