On the Wings of the Storm

Chapter 7

The next morning I excused myself from accompanying Éowyn down to the training grounds. Instead, I spread all my silken nightgowns and petticoats out on the bed, hoping to find enough suitable material to make four kites. I had decided it would be good to have spares available if one got broken or lost and now the time had come to decide which of my clothes to sacrifice, as I would need a considerable amount of material. Looking down at a nightgown embroidered with tiny red roses and hemmed with frills of lace I could not suppress a giggle at the thought of bits of my underwear flying around Rohan. I put that one aside again and made a note to myself not to tell the Marshal where I had got the silk from.

That moment somebody knocked on my door. To my surprise it was Dirhael, who entered my room with quick strides and slammed the door behind him.

His eyes alighted on the pile of clothes on my bed. "You're packing already! Good. When can you be ready?"

I stared at him. "Ready for what?"

"So you haven't heard!" Dirhael's usually placid face was flushed with anger. "I've just had an audience with this so called councillor of the king. Lord Gríma has informed me that the presence of me and my men is no longer necessary. We are to leave on the morrow."

"What!" I could not believe my ears. "And what about me?" I asked.

"You have guest rights in this benighted place, so the king has apparently decided that a guard is unnecessary."

Not the king. Wormtongue. Gríma wanted to get rid of me! Trying to force my thoughts into some semblance of order, I jumped up and paced to the window. As clearly as if I'd heard him issue the command, I recognized the councillor's hand in this. A warning? Or possibly revenge for foiling his plans in the Hall the day before. I had asked too many questions, had helped the Marshal against him, so now he wanted to remove this particular pawn from the board.

"Lothíriel?"

"I'm staying."

"What? Certainly not!" Dirhael exclaimed.

I pressed my forehead against the cool windowpane. "Steward Denethor sent me to Rohan, so that's where I'll stay."

He gripped me by the shoulder and forced me to turn round. "Listen, Lothíriel, now is not the time to turn stubborn. Nobody would expect you to stay here without a proper honour guard, not even your uncle."

"He is my liege. I won't go against his wishes." And I was no pawn.

"It's because of that Marshal, isn't it!" Dirhael exploded. "He is the reason you do not want to leave."

"Nonsense!" But my flushed cheeks gave me away. "I will not be pushed around by Wormtongue. And that's my final word."

And I stood my ground, even though Dirhael did his utmost to convince me to go with him. In the end he left in disgust to tell his men to get ready. I stood a long time staring out the window, wondering what had got into me. Only a little while ago I would have jumped at the chance of returning home, but now that I had it, I did not want to take it.

What would have happened the day before if I had not intervened? Nobody could say. I just knew that I did not want Gríma to succeed with his plans, for whatever they were, they did not bode well for my friends here. Not just Lord Éomer, I told myself, but Éowyn, Aethelstan and the other people of Edoras I had come to know. I would do whatever I could to oppose Gríma.

And besides, I had promised to make those kites by Yule. As my father always said: once you make a promise you keep it. With fresh determination I returned to my task.