Like a Blade Forged in Fire

Chapter 14

Over the next few days, had Éomer been asked to describe Lothíriel, it would have been in a single word: busy.

Of course there was always plenty of work to do, but she literally threw herself into it. Cathwulf's people ran many flocks of sheep, and since it was the middle of the shearing season, the fleeces had to be washed and carded. Much of the wool was turned into felt to use as carpets or for tents. This meant separating the fibres and spreading them out evenly in several layers on a cloth, before sprinkling them with hot water. Then the cloth was rolled around a pole, bound with string and kneaded. Sometimes this was done by dragging the roll behind a horse across the grass, but the more delicate felt had to be done by hand, which was traditionally women's work.

Sunnild would never have expected a guest of her king, a lady from Gondor as well, to take part in this, but Lothíriel insisted that she enjoyed learning something new. And when Sunnild discovered how much she knew about natural pigments, she enlisted Lothíriel's help with dyeing the wool prior to felting. Besides that there was all the other work necessary to keep a large camp like theirs going: cooking, baking bread, milking sheep and making cheese.

It meant that Éomer saw very little of her. She declined his invitations to go riding with him on the grounds of being too busy and in the evenings retired straight after dinner, claiming tiredness. As a result his resolve to wait patiently for her to come to him got sorely tested. He told himself that you did not catch a horse by running after it, but could not help thinking that much more of this would drive him crazy. Or at least more crazy than he was already.

The only ones to enjoy themselves unreservedly were the children. Éomer took them fishing for trout in the stream and his riders taught Tarcil how to stand on his pony's back. Hildwyn, a shieldmaiden in the making if ever he had seen one, also got Khuri to show them some of her tricks of how to take out a bigger opponent. They loved being outside in all weathers and having a break from lessons.

Éomer too was glad to do without council meetings for a bit, though every now and again messengers arrived from Edoras, bringing letters and reports from his scouts. As arranged with his Marshals, they had stepped up patrols along their eastern border, and some of his riders had brought back rumours of orcs lurking in the Emyn Muil, though so far no sightings had been confirmed.

One afternoon he was training Flamewind, one of the younger war horses he had brought along with him from Edoras, when they spotted a rider galloping for the camp, raising a cloud of dust. Instantly alert, Éomer exchanged a look with Éothain. This boded no good.

The man drew his horse to a halt in front of them. The poor animal was exhausted and flecked with foam, while the rider looked little better. "Orcs," he gasped and slid from the saddle, "a whole pack of them across the Anduin."

Éomer motioned for his squire Beortulf to take care of the horse. "Where exactly?" he asked, handing the rider a flask of water.

The scout, who on closer inspection turned out to be a lad of perhaps seventeen winters, took a grateful gulp. "At the South Undeep."

Éomer did a quick mental calculation. The South Undeep, a bend of the Anduin that afforded a shallow crossing, lay to the north-east of the Emnet, a full day's ride away.

"Have you warned the other camps?" he asked. There would be many much closer than their own to this menace.

The rider nodded. "Yes, lord. I alerted the ones I passed through; they will spread the word."

"Good man." The Rohirrim had learnt from past experience to get their people and animals to safety quickly. "We need to consult the maps," he stated.