A.N.: I am back if only momentarily. As usual when I find myself back here, I always seem to stumble upon these two. I absolutely love Eomer and Lothiriel, even if Lothi was never actually written into LOTR, I find her character as familiar in my mind as any of the others who do appear there. I hope this does justice to what I imagine of her. This is a one shot because that is basically all I write these days, but I was rereading some of Lialathuveril and Lady Bluejay's stories about this couple and their absolutely fantastic writing (some of the best I have ever read, period.) inspired me to write this. Hope you like it. Drop a comment if you feel so inclined.
At First Sight
The sun had long dropped from the sky and the stars had come out to greet the guests who crowded in the hall of Meduseld. There were Kings and Queens, Princes and Pricesses, and various soldiers and armed guards all about, mingling in happy companionship with the men and women of the Rohirrim. It had been just yesterday that their King had been buried in the newest mound outside the gates of Edoras and everyone seemed eager to celebrate his memory and the start of peace earned upon the field of battle.
One such soldier was hanging back toward the dais with hands resting on his hips where his sword belt should have been. He felt naked without it. Though the loss of the weight of it, as well as that of his armor, should have made him feel lighter, he felt anything but. He was smiling politely to those who walked past him acknowledging them as they did him, but his mind was full of all the tomorrows to come. The Rohirrim around him seemed happy and he wanted them to be, with all his heart, for the rest of his days, but he had no idea how to make that happen.
He was just about to raise his goblet to his lips when a tall, fair man with jet black hair to his shoulders approached him.
"Eomer! There you are! Why are you hiding back here?" The man asked with a breathlessness that told him the man had been dancing. Eomer had seen the dancing break out in the center of the hall, but with little experience of such things and feeling completely out of spirits and unworthy of the company of a beautiful young lady decided to hang back.
"I decided the excitement was too much for me, my friend. I sought refreshment and peace and quiet."
"Well you are unlikely to get it now that I am here," the young man pronounced with a laugh. Amrothos, the youngest son of Prince Imrahil, had a character well known to Eomer as they had marched to battle side by side on more than one occasion. His pronouncement was not far from the truth and before Eomer had a chance to excuse himself, Amrothos launched into a lengthy monologue about the attributes of his last dance partner and the other beauties he was promised to dance with at various intervals during the evening.
"I've never seen so many beautiful ladies in all my life," he pronounced with a suggestive shove to Eomer, "This would undoubtedly be a good time to find yourself a wife."
Eomer simply scowled and crossed his arms; he wouldn't give into Amrothos' teasing with a snarky remark of his own. Instead his eyes strayed back to the dance floor where his eyes followed the movements as if they were in slow motion. The colors of the dresses of the women and the tunics of the men swirled into one mass of greens and reds and other ruddy earth colors. It reminded him of the plains of Rohan waving in the breeze.
He was momentarily transfixed as Amrothos continued talking at his side, but just as he began to lose interest in the swirls on the dance floor a bright blue, like the sea he had heard of but never seen, crossed his vision. It swirled along with the other colors of the dance, but with a fluidity that belied the sea it emulated. It was like watching a great tidal wave cover the land like the stories he had heard of Numenor in his lessons when he was a kid.
He tried to pull the splashes of blue into one solid form, but found it difficult amongst the tightly dancing couples. He heard like through a fog the voice of Amrothos asking if he was well and then it happened. He saw it.
Or more accurately, he saw her. A beautiful young lady, clothed in blue with hair like the blackest night and eyes that sparkled grey with laughter as her partner swirled her in a circle. Her smile stole something from deep inside of him, but he could not name it. He felt his own mouth raise in a smile.
"Who is she?" he heard himself ask as if to himself in a whisper.
"Who do you mean?" he heard Amrothos utter from close beside him. He must have seen the source of the inquiry for he laughed softly and turned to the unseeing Eomer. "That is Lothiriel, my dear baby sister!" He seemed astonished at the question, but Eomer didn't care about Amrothos, he was transfixed by two glowing orbs of grey.
The young lady was giggling now and laughing heartily in turns, clearly enjoying her dance. "Oh dear Lothi," Amrothos continued, "A girl after my own heart. Wild and crazy and as free as the sea. I once saw her jump from the highest cliff in Dol Amroth into the roaring sea below simply because her maid told her 'gently brought up ladies do no such thing'. The look on my father's face was priceless when we brought her in the house dripping wet in her morning dress."
Amrothos was laughing now quite lost in his thoughts, but Eomer was no better. He was thinking of the great joy awaiting him, if he could only find a reason to draw closer to her.
As he discovered over the course of the night, that very thing was more difficult than it might at first appear. Shortly after leaving Amrothos he had gone to seek her out for a dance, but as soon as he approached, another man stepped up to claim her for the next dance. It was the same situation as they sat down to dinner. He had gone to take her arm to escort her to a seat close to him, but her father had interceded before him. Instead he had taken his sister's arm who was none too happy with him for stealing that pleasure from Faramir.
Despite being unable to be near her, he certainly stared at her plenty, thinking of what Amrothos had said.
Wild. He liked the idea of that. As he watched her at the dinner table, he could see that spark of fire in her eyes. He was conveniently sat beside Erchirion, her middle brother. Erchirion was a polite, quiet sort of man, with a power and wisdom in his silence. He sat eating his dinner without raising his eyes to share in the conversation around the room, but Eomer could see by the subtle twitches of his cheek, the slight raise of an eyebrow, and the near soft chuckle that Erchirion was paying rapt attention to the goings on of the dinner table.
"I hear," Eomer began breaking Erchirion of his diverted attention by addressing him directly, "that the food on our table came largely from Dol Amroth lauders. So it is you I have to thank for such fine fare, then?"
Erchirion raised his head elegantly as only his proud regal meen could allow. "As you well know my friend, I am neither a celebrated cook or a very good housekeeper, so praise would be wasted on me. If anyone is to benefit from such praise, it should be my sister, for she has been managing our household since our mother passed."
Eomer's eyebrows raised and his eye was drawn down the table to the same face he couldn't keep his eyes off all evening. She was smiling again with a beautiful blush to her pale white cheeks and talking to one of his rangers who sat across the table from her. He hadn't been this envious of a fellow rider of the Rohirrim since he was a lad and had just joined his first Eored.
"She is always thinking of others and their needs before her own,"Erchirion said with obvious pride in his voice. His eye had followed Eomer's down the table toward his sister and a certain whimsical, far off look had crossed his face as he spoke. "During the war, she took in refugees from the farming communities and gave them shelter in our home. She fed them, clothed them, entertained them to keep their minds from dark thoughts and when I asked her why she did this, she simply said, 'I did what any person would have done'. You know, I think it was Mithrandir who once said, 'Hope wins wars, not feats of arms'. My sister proved it."
Erchirion was smiling now, with so much affection in his eyes as he looked at his sister. Eomer felt the wisdom of her words, but more than that he felt the heart of the person who said it. He couldn't help the images that came to his mind of the young woman holding a small child with sandy colored hair in her arms and cooing over him. He had to close his eyes to shake the image and allow himself to breath once more.
When his eyes opened Erchirion was staring at him with curiosity, but that soon turned to understanding as he saw Eomer look down the table again. Eomer realized with one look that Erchirion saw his interest in his sister, even if Erchirion's next words weren't obvious.
"She would make any man a very worthy and affectionate wife."
Eomer, in his embarrassment, turned back to his food and began scarfing it down, trying not to look about the table anymore.
By the time the dinner table was cleared and tankards of ale began to wheel out on either side of the hall, the Rohirrim around the room were back in spirits and talking in lively turns as their voices filled the space. The visitors were less lively and many of the Gondorians drank only a little before they retired. Eomer, for his part, drank sparesly to keep an eye on the hall and make sure no trouble arose, as it almost always did when ale was involved. He instead took the time to have some conversations with Aragorn and a few of the elves.
Gimli and Legolas were talking of their battle prowess and drinking too much in one corner and at one point Gimli asked him to break up an argument about whether they should go to Fangorn or Helm's Deep first on their journey they had planned to go on. Eomer had already given permission for them to journey to both locations, but on which held more wonder for the pair, he was at a loss and after much proding, the elf and dwarf promptly gave up on getting anything out of Eomer.
Finally, Eomer found himself standing beside the last person he expected to see. Elphir, the eldest of the Dol Amrothian Prince's sons had moved up beside him with purpose. He was the perfect example of what a ruler should be: strong, stern, responsible and leaderly. His face was set in stone as he addressed Eomer in the traditional fashion a Prince might address a King.
"My Lord, I wondered if we might broach the subject of greater trade and commerce between our two realms. It has been my wish to have greater ties with the Rohirrim ever since we fought side by side on the field of battle."
Leave it to Elphir to discuss business at a banquet.
"I would be happy to discuss it tomorrow in council, but now is a time of mourning and celebrating a life, Elphir."
Elphir cast his eyes to the ground in seeming reverence to Eomer's words, almost as if he had been reprimanded like a small child.
"Elphir, please call me Eomer. I feel stiff and uncomfortable already in this formal attire, I would have my friends call me by my given name."
That seemed to brighten his friend more and for a moment they stood in complete companionship.
"I could not help, but notice those beautiful horses you keep in your stables, are they all yours or are any for sale?"
Eomer rolled his eyes. "Business tomorrow, Elphir. Truly, I promise, we will discuss such things."
Elphir always had found it hard to chit-chat. He was a man of action, carved out of the rocks of Dol Amroth as much as his palace was. He returned to silence and Eomer felt the need to releave some of his friends burden.
"Erchirion told me the food at our table was organized by your sister."
It was not a question, but it gave Elphir somewhere to direct his attention.
"Yes, she did very well during the war. She organized refugees, maintained the food stores and diverted crop yields to within the city walls where it could be protected against raids. While the rest of Middle Earth lost all of it's harvest, Dol Amroth continued to florish. All of this she did while maintaining the dignity of a ruler and at such a young age." Elphir spoke with no flourishes to voice, no dramatics, and yet Eomer could clearly see the love for his sister shinning from his eyes.
All these strong powerful men brought to their knees over a little slip of a thing. Myself included, he thought quietly to himself as his eyes sought her out in the hall. It didn't take long to find her. The Dol Amrothians were some of the few Gondorians who remained and their black hair made them stand out like a raven flying over a sea of grass.
Her hair fell in waves down her shoulders and back, her blue dress shinned in the moonlight and her face was ethereal and glowing with youthfulness and yet he saw the way she tended her father covertly. She was telling a passing serving wench with subtle hand signals not to bring any more ale for her father and was ushering in glasses of water that he might find it easier to wake up in the morning. Clearly the Prince was not used to such strong ale as they had among the Eorlingas and it showed in his slightly less sure step and the slight sway of his body when he stood in place.
She managed him like a woman who truly knew how to command with a calming and servile presence as if she had been born to it. Perhaps, she had. Elphir had told him how their mother had died when his sister was yet very young and being the only female in a house of men, she surely had to learn fast. All anyone had to do was look at Eomer and see the necessity for a female presence in the lives of great men, though he would never admit to being one such "great man".
"I don't believe you have been introduced," Elphir interupted Eomer's thoughts. "I can now if you would wish."
However, it was not to be, as, at that very moment, the young Princess was taking her father's arm and ushering him toward the exit. Eomer did not know if he could stomach an introduction to the beauty after all he had heard of the girl that night. She seemed like a dream created out of his consciousness. How could one person imbody all these things? If the brothers were to be believed she was wild and carefree, kind and gentle, leaderly and responsible.
He found his mind could not bring all such visions into one, and it occupied his thoughts the rest of the evening, alongside her obvious physical charms. He had never seen such a beauty, other than perhaps the Lady Arwen. She seemed to float on air in his minds eye.
How could he ever hope to win such a one as her for himself?
The thought terrified him and liberated him in equal measure, the thought that here was the first woman he had ever and could ever consider as the one to stand beside him for the rest of his days, and he hadn't even spoken to her yet!
The next morning he was up very early as he usually was and decided to visit the recently plotted grave of his Uncle. He found himself on his way to the Stables before he ever had the chance to tell anyone where he was going. Eothain would be livid for not taking a guard, but he cared not. He had survived the Ring War, he would survive a short ride just outside the walls of Edoras.
As he entered the darker space of the Stables and the airy scent of horse filled his nose, he felt free for the first time since he had been declared King of the Rohirrim. His peace was disturbed, however, by a rustling sound from further down the line of horses, coming from the guest stalls. He saw a head of black appearing from atop one of them and recognized the man immediately.
"You are up early, my friend," Eomer said as the head of Prince Imrahil turned with great fluidity toward him. He recovered nicely from the night before then, Eomer thought.
"Eomer! How are you, my Lord? I did not get to speak with you much last night."
Imrahil remained where he was with only head appearing above the stall door as Eomer approached.
"I thought a ride would do me good this morning. The weather is fine and Firefoot gets restless if I leave him too long." Eomer was still walking but suddenly his words broke off abruptly as another head appeared above the stall door. Intrancing gray eyes met his blue ones as a slow pink blush arose on her cheeks, he knew that face so well now as it had inhabited his dreams the night before.
She must have been crouching in the stall for him not to have seen her before, she was nearly the height of her father. From the looks of her, she was tending the horse herself as she had a brush in one hand and a fist full of hay in the other which she was casually presenting to the mare, he noticed as he drew closer out of instinct to be nearer to her. She was covered in hay herself and wore a simple brown riding skirt with a plain white blouse that had seen better days and there was a smudge on her left cheek that attempted, but failed to hide her blush.
Eomer had never seen anything so glorious in all his life.
"Ah," Imrahil stated drawing Eomer's eyes toward him. "I didn't have the opportunity to introduce you last evening. Eomer, this is my daughter, Princess Lothiriel of Dol Amroth," he continued as he ushered her forward toward the door of the stall which was now the only thing separating them. "And, my dear, this is Lord Eomer, King of Rohan," he stated simply as Lothiriel presented her milk white hand above the stall door palm down.
He bowed with reverence over her hand as she dropped a silent curtsy.
"We were about to enjoy a morning ride ourselves, Eomer," Imrahil said as the two young people had eyes locked upon one and the other: one looking with utter shamelessness, the other with a blush of embarrassment.
"I think that would be a great idea, Imrahil. I have left my guard behind so perhaps we can have a nice gallup over the plains, if the lady is up for it."
She smiled shyly and then opened the stall door inward toward herself. "I find I am more than amenable to the task, for it was my dearest wish as soon as I first caught sight of the plains of Rohan. Unfortunately, I was unable to give my horse reign at the time, as we were traveling in cortege."
"Do you profess to be a horsewoman?" The question came unbidden from Eomer. Was there anything about this woman that was not agreeable?
"I am, though I doubt if one of the Rohirrim would name me so." Her eyes sparkled with a silent joke.
"Well, we will find out soon as I must confess I am one of these Rohirrim of which you speak." His joke sounded stupid to his ears, but he was dumbfounded by her voice, her hair, her very being that gave off in great waves that unmistakable womanness that drew him near to her.
"Yes," she said with a low laugh. "We shall see." She smiled again before dismissing herself to get the tack for her horse. She moved with elegance across the stable and the sway of her hips was hard for Eomer to draw his eye away from.
"Does she always tend her horse?" Eomer asked into the empty void where she had once been.
The answer came from behind him where Imrahil was still standing in the stall, "Often, she does, at home where she is allowed such liberties. I was just telling her that it was unnecessary to do so here, but she was appalled at the idea of not tending her horse herself amongst the great horsemen of the Rohirrim." Imrahil was smiling like he found her statement to be that of a small child who knows nothing, but Eomer greatly disagreed with him and told him so.
"She has the right of it and I must admit I am rather impressed."
"I had thought perhaps there was more than simply respect for my daughter coming from you just now, my friend."
His words astounded Eomer enough to make him turn away from the vision of loveliness that was now sorting through the tack to find her saddle across the expanse of the mansion sized stables.
"I will not lie to you, my friend, I am...transfixed."
Imrahil smiled knowingly and moved from inside the stall to stand beside Eomer as he lay a hand upon his shoulder. "I recognized the look as the same that graced my face when I first saw my wife."
The weighty statement and all it implied stayed in the air, though the men spoke no more of those words.
"Last night I had no opportunity to speak to you about it, but your sons gave such different reports of your daughter that I found it hard to imagine such a person could exist."
"Ah yes, my boys, all so different, Amrothos: wild, Erchirion: affectionate, Elphir: responsible. They all see in her themselves and they are not wrong. She is the wildest, kindest, most Queenly woman I could have ever imagined to call daughter. I am quite proud of her."
He paused for a short moment as he watched his daughter returning with saddle in one hand as she flicked her hair out of her face with her other.
"Which is why I could not part with her, but for the most worthy of men. Why I might even say I would not part with her but for a King."
Before Eomer could even respond but to open his mouth in shock, the young lady was back and hurdling the saddle upon her tall mount. Eomer felt his internal gentleman come out and he began to assist her.
The day that followed surpassed all Eomer's expectations when he had rolled out of his bed that morning. He now knew that he had not been abandoned to a lonely existence without his family, there was hope around the corner that family could be made anew.
That hope had shimmering gray eyes and an infectious smile.