On the Wings of the Storm

Chapter 28

Éowyn showed that she had forgiven me by dragging me down to the practice grounds at the crack of dawn the next morning. My bow had been lost in the cavern in Helm's Deep and probably still lay there somewhere underneath rotting orcs - not that I had any intention of ever recovering it - but Heorogar, the master-at-arms, lent me one suitable to my strength until I could have a new one made. It was almost like old times, except for the missing faces. Most of Théoden's guard had been slain with him on the Pelennor Fields and been replaced by men from Éomer's own éored.

The rest of the day Éowyn spent closeted with Meduseld's steward and the housekeeper, leaving me free to show my father around Edoras, and so we went for a walk down to the gates and then up along the encircling wall. I tried to look at the town as if I were a stranger. Was my father comparing the thatched houses made from wood to the stone building of Minas Tirith or the elegant, rambling houses of Dol Amroth? And did he find them crude and rustic? Yet surely he had to see the care lavished on the beautiful woodcarvings and the pride of the women busy sweeping out their homes, keeping them scrupulously clean. Everywhere I looked, I could see signs of renewal: roofs freshly thatched, doorposts repainted, gardens planted neatly. And the people! Instead of displaying the faint air of dejection that had hung like a pall over them during Théoden's last months, they looked you straight in the face, smiling and confident. Many of them remembered me from my time at the Healing Houses and exchanged greetings and news of their families with me.

From the wall we could see the lush fields where this year's crop of foals was pastured, surely superior animals to anything Gondor could offer, and further to the White Mountains, which furnished an impressive backdrop. I made certain to point all this out to my father, but he returned only polite nods of acknowledgment. Climbing back up the hill, we stopped at the Houses of Healing, where I was overjoyed to meet Aethelstan, fully recovered from the injuries received at Helm's Deep.

And then when we crossed the square in front of the hall on our way back, I suddenly found myself hailed by a familiar voice.

"Lothíriel!" somebody screeched.

I whirled round to see Aeffe fling herself from her horse. She rushed up to embrace me, closely followed by her twin sister. We hugged and laughed and then Ceolwen was there as well with little Ermenred in her arms. How much he had grown!

"He's so big!" I exclaimed. "And he looks just like his father."

A deep laugh from Erkenbrand made me recall my manners and I turned to greet him as well. To my delight he had brought Gamling along, the old warrior who had commanded the garrison of the Hornburg in his absence.

Aeffe was squeezing me so tight, I had trouble breathing. "Oh Lothíriel, it's so nice to see you back!" She lowered her voice to what she probably considered a conspiratorial tone. "Father told us about meeting you on the road to Gondor. Was Éomer King very much displeased?"

I met Ceolwen's questioning eyes over Aeffe's head. "Not too much once he got over the shock of seeing me." Ceolwen seemed to understand my message, for she flashed me a grin.

My father clearing his throat behind me finally made me remember his presence. Although he had probably met Erkenbrand during the war, he would of course not understand a word with us gabbing away in Rohirric. So I took his arm and introduced him to my friends.

"Lady Lothíriel's father!" Gamling beamed. "What a pleasure to meet you."

As we walked up the steps to the hall and the twins plied me with questions about Gondor, I was suddenly struck by a thought – all my life, I had been known as the Prince of Dol Amroth's daughter, the relationship defining how people regarded me. Yet the warm welcome extended to us in Rohan was due to my help during the war and had nothing at all to do with my rank. The pensive expression I surprised on my father's face as he talked to Erkenbrand made me wonder if perhaps the same thought had occurred to him.