Like a Blade Forged in Fire

Chapter 9

Éomer kept the rider who had pestered Lothíriel locked up for three days before making him apologise. He would have liked for that to have happened in the hall, but Lothíriel insisted she wanted to cause as little talk as possible, so they compromised on the library.

However, he made his feelings known by taking a position behind Lothíriel's chair and glowering at the man throughout the short interview. With Khuri standing to the other side with her arms crossed on her chest and watching the proceedings through narrowed eyes, the only person who treated the rider with any kindness was Lothíriel herself.

The man knelt to offer his apologies, which were graciously accepted, and then beat a hasty retreat. Éomer hoped he realised how lucky he was to escape with his life and hide intact. Erkenbrand had shown his displeasure by taking the man's horse back with him, so he would have to walk home to the Hornburg, the ultimate punishment for a rider.

It still rankled him that Lothíriel had been molested in his own hall. But at least the incident meant that no man would ever dare treat Lothíriel with such insolence again, knowing that even if she let him live, he would have to answer to their king afterwards.

Once the man had gone, Éomer went to look out the window. Rain pattered on the glass, brought from the western sea by a steady wind that had been blowing for a couple of days now. It would be a long, damp walk home for the rider. Good.

Khuri had excused herself to go and check on what Tarcil was up to, but Lothíriel lingered, browsing the books on the shelves. "I've not been in here before," she remarked.

"Feel free to use the library whenever you wish," Éomer said.

She glanced at his desk standing near the window. "But I wouldn't want to disturb you at your work."

"You won't," he assured her. Strictly speaking not quite true, though not in the way she meant.

"Thank you," she said, turning back to the shelves. "Is there any particular system you use with your books? They do not seem to be arranged alphabetically, nor by topic." She sounded puzzled. "Or do you go by acquisition?"

Éomer felt caught. He usually put books back wherever there was an empty space and had a whole pile lying around in his own rooms as well. While there was no dust on the shelves – Weynild would never have countenanced that – nobody looked after the library properly.

"I'm afraid I've not had time yet to take care of that," he said. "It should have been Wormtongue's task, but he must have neglected it."

"Would you like me to sort them out for you? I could make a catalogue, if there isn't one already."

"But you're my guest."

Lothíriel smiled. "Don't worry, you're not forcing me to work. I like to be useful." She traced the leather spine of a book. "Tarcil is so busy with his new friends these days, he doesn't need me as much as he used to. So I have free time on my hands."

Despite her deliberately cheerful voice, she sounded adrift. He sometimes thought that she kept her son too close, forcing him to always be within sight of her or Khuri. When he had been a boy, he and his friends used to disappear into the woods above Aldburg for the whole day and not come back until hunger called them home. Though after what she had told him about being attacked, he found her worry much easier to understand.

"If you don't mind me asking," he said. "What will you do when he's a bit older? One day soon he'll take up weapons training and spend more and more time with boys of his own age." Unspoken were the words that she would have to let go then.

Lothíriel forced a smile. "I know. But I will just have to cross that bridge when I come to it. It won't be easy. Tarcil is all I've got."

"Of course." His heart ached for her. He couldn't help thinking that what she really needed was a whole brood of children to mother. And personally, he would have been happy to do his part towards such an end.