Life was not eternal. For the dwarfs it was long, as for the dundedain. A man's life was spent in a mere second of an elf's life, but neither was ever eternal. Everything comes to an end. It is only then that something new can begin, at the end of something old.
The age of men had begun. The crownless king sat upon the throne. The dark lord no longer on his dark throne. Life was returning to the realm of Gondor.
It was the night of the coronation, celebrations could be found all across the seven levels of Minas Tirith. The Citadel seemed to be buzzing; laughter, music and conversations, all competing to be heard. Sweat and rosewater filled the air, each trying to outdo the other.
Lothiriel found herself in a group of tittering noble women, all trying to catch the eye of the flaxen-haired king of Rohan. She waited patiently at first, but after the third had told the man how great of a man he was, her patience ran dry.
"King Eomer." Nothing, nobody noticed her.
Taking a step towards the inner circle she tried again, this time she was successful.
"King Eomer, my brothers, your sister and my cousin wish to speak to you. They want your input in a discussion."
The horselord inclined his head to his flock of women and offered the princess his arm. Soon the pair slowly found their way through the hall.
"In what matter to they want my opinion?" He enquired.
"I cannot answer you, my lord. Probably horses or weapons. I don't know, and quite frankly, I'm too drunk to care, I have not been listening to their jabber for a while now."
The king chuckled. "Why do you not find entertainment elsewhere?"
"Ah! You see, my lord, that when the princess of Dol Amroth has had a "few" too many, and let me tell you, she has, it is quite easy for this noble princess to do stupid things. So my dear brothers have to watch over me, so that I suddenly don't accept any marriage proposals."
"Would you accept me?" Eomer did not know why he asked, but her drunken frankness was refreshing, and quite entertaining.
Lothiriel looked up at him with hazy eyes, brows furrowed, as if she was actually considering it.
"Well, yes… no… I don't know, I'll have to ask my brothers."
Once the pair had joined the group Lothiriel immediately asked cheerfully "The prince wanted to know if I'd accept him as a husband, tell me brothers – would I?"
The group did not bat an eye, clearly they had been listening to her drunken ramble for a while. Her oldest brother started talking about the political benefits of such an alliance, which Lothiriel listened intently to, but was quickly interrupted by Eowyn.
"That may be true, but Eomer does snore and awful lot!"
"Oh! Well then I can do nothing but decline!" Lothiriel said gravely. Amrothos agreed, you simply could not have spouse that snores.
The whole situation was rather absurd, so to think of something else than waking up next to Lothiriel – a thought he really had no opposition to – he raised the question of why he was called upon.
Thus as discussion about what the best weapon was ensued. Eomer and Eowyn argued for a regular one-handed-sword, the two oldest children of Imrahil for a two-handed-sword and Amrothos and Faramir for bow and arrow. Lothiriel seemed lost in her own little world, standing besides Eomer and Amrothos with a glazed expression, clutching her drink.
Eomer followed Lothiriel with his eyes as she crossed the small circle to Eowyn. She spoke intensely to the other women, before both left hurriedly, and whatever she had said – it had caused Faramir to choke on his drink. The rest looked to where the two when had disappeared, all with worry in their eyes.
When the women returned they both seemed very chipper, each holding a full jug of mead in one hand. Elphir enquired as to where they had gone, the answer he got clearly caught him of guard.
"To vom!"
"Lothiriel, perhaps it is time that you go home?" He tried, speaking softly like Eomer would to a youngster about to be broken in.
"Nonsense!" The princess exclaimed. "I'm not leaving until I've seen Mithrandirs fireworks!"
Amrothos tried to take her jug away, but she simply scowled at him over the drink of it as she drunk half of it at once.
Eomer decided to try his luck, and asked if he could have some. "Sure!" she smiled and gingerly handed him the jug, which earned him a mouthed thank-you from Amrothos.
Slowly the conversation started again, though the Dol Amrothian princes held a close eye with their youngest sibling.
Sometime later they heard the first fireworks, which caused Lothiriel to shriek in excitement and walk fast towards the balcony. But after a few steps she stopped dead in her tracks, turned around and sped to Eomer. "Come on, husband! You do not want to miss this!" she grinned as she hooked their arms together. Eomer could do nothing else but chuckle at the petrified faces they left behind, it was clear that many more than ought to had heard her comment.
It was past noon the next day when Eomer entered the House of Healing, some of his captains had taken the night's festivities too far. Walking through the gardens he caught eye of a small figure lying on the ground, hid behind two large rose bushes. As he stepped closer he recognised the figure to be that of Lothiriel. Laying in the shadows with her eyes closed, it looked as if she was sleeping. Eomer stopped a few paces away from her, but never got the chance to speak.
"Whomever you are, go away!"
"I do not want or need any water or food or blankets or books or a lecture in how to behave in public, I want to lay here in self-pity and misery until my body is functional again and my head doesn't hurt as if Mithrandir let off all his fireworks up inside it!"
Eomer could do nothing but smile, it did not surprise him that she was suffering the consequences of last night.
"That is no way to speak to your husband!" he chuckled.
Her eyes flew open, and even in the shadows of the bush she caught his gaze right away. Her cheeks turned red, he could see that she wished to disappear.
"King Eomer. I'm glad that somebody sees the humour in this." She retorted dryly. Eomer smiled.
"It was quite entertaining, I must admit."
Not wanting to stand over her, Eomer seated himself besides her. Taking this as her queue, the princess began to rant. "My father is absolutely furious with me, not only because of my comment – which it seems half of Gondor has heard by now! - but also because I "may have gotten a bit drunk". Bema, these are times of celebration, surely I'm allowed to drink a few to many!?"
Eomer did not know how to answer to this. It was not uncommon for women of Rohan to drink far more than what Lothiriel did last night, though he doubted that bringing that up would please Imrahil.
"So you have taken refuge here?" He asked instead. A vague sound of agreement could be heard. Neither knowing what to say, a silence fell. It was not an awkward silence, nor forced, it was relaxing and comfortable, causing no need for words.
"Do you actually snore?" Lothiriel had sat up, and was looking intently at the horselord. Eomer met her gaze. She had wonderful grey eyes, small wrinkles on her nose caused by her smile, soft lips. She was beautiful. How many times had he said those words to himself. The question he had asked the night before had been part in jest, but oh how he wished it could become true.
He bowed down to her and kissed her, a kiss she willingly returned. It was a kiss full of hunger, full of promises of what could be. He leaned his forehead on hers, looking deeply into her eyes.
"No." he smiled.