A/N: I'm back! I had so much fun with my last E/L story (if you haven't read it, go check my profile & look for Stunned Disbelief) that I decided to do another one. This one is going to be rather longer that Stunned, and so will update at a slower rate. This one is independent from Stunned. I have taken the opportunity to make this Éomer less gormless than in my previous E/L, in which he is regularly confronted by overwhelming news. Without further ado, I present Sunrise out of Sunset. Enjoy.
"Tell me again why you want your daughter to accompany the funeral procession to Rohan?"
It was the day after his arrival in Minas Tirith to pick up his uncle's body for burial, and Éomer was closeted in a meeting with his friend and war-time companion Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Having caught up on news and discussing a variety of trading opportunities between Dol Amroth and Rohan, Imrahil had mentioned that he wished his youngest child and only daughter, the Princess Lothíriel, to join him and his two younger sons on the trip to Rohan to see Théoden King buried.
"Several reasons, Éomer, all of which are quite valid. Firstly, your sister's betrothal to my nephew Faramir is to be announced after your uncle's funeral, with the couple marrying in ten months, as part of the anniversary of the first year of the King of Reunited Gondor's reign in May. Your sister knows little of the ways of the Gondorian court, and as much as Faramir loves her, she will be eaten alive by the courtiers without instruction. Lothíriel can help with this. She is familiar with the ways of the court, and as she and Éowyn are fast friends, she will help your sister without embarrassing her. You've seen how some of the Gondorian ladies treat Éowyn – she needs the help if she's to navigate the quagmire that is high Gondorian society."
"Does Lothíriel even want to come to Rohan, Imrahil? I know that Éowyn likes her, but she sounds rather worn out."
"Which is, in fact, another reason why she should go. Lothíriel held Dol Amroth together while my sons and I went to Minas Tirith, and she's spent the last weeks helping Queen Arwen settle in. It's too bad that you haven't had a chance to meet her yet, but she hadn't arrived in Minas Tirith before you left and she was busy yesterday when you arrived. I firmly believe that the change of pace on the trip to Edoras will do Lothíriel good. And I know that spending time with Éowyn will be good for her, for both of them. Éowyn will benefit by the learning, and the two will hopefully become better friends. My daughter has few friends – she is limited somewhat by her station and many of the other noble girls deem her a bit odd."
"Odd? That does not sound promising."
"Lothíriel may give the appearance of a proper young princess of Gondor, but do not let that fool you. She is rather strong-willed, and has a temper than can be worse than Erchirion's." This gave Éomer pause – as much as he liked Erchirion, his temper could sometimes get away with him in a rather spectacular fashion. Seeing that Imrahil had noticed his consternation, he motioned for him to continue.
"Lothíriel is quite intelligent, and has pursued scholarly learning as well as the traditional female skills. She is also an excellent rider, and prefers to ride astride when she can. So you can rest assured that she will not slow the party down overmuch by riding sidesaddle."
"We will not be travelling overly quickly anyway, Imrahil. We will be accompanied by wains, and they can only go so fast. But it is reassuring to know that Lothíriel can manage herself with horses."
Imrahil nodded. "Lothíriel can definitely manage herself around horses – she has been riding since she was a small child. Now, are you amenable to Lothíriel staying in Edoras for a few weeks after the rest of the funeral party leaves? "
"I suppose that I am, but I will have to double-check with my sister. They will be spending a good deal of time together if all goes according to your plan."
"Good. Now, do you have anything else you wish to discuss before we adjourn for lunch, Éomer?"
"I think that we've covered everything, Imrahil. Now, if you will excuse me? I promised my sister that I would visit those of my people who had to remain in the Houses of Healing for more treatment when we returned to Rohan. Hopefully most of them will be able to return with us. I promised Éowyn that I would visit them before midday, and it is nearly so, so I had best hurry."
"Of course. You are coming to Aragorn's dinner tonight, yes?
"Indeed I am. It will be a good opportunity to meet Aragorn's lady – I regret not being able to attend their wedding, but duty called me home to Rohan."
"You will like the Queen, Éomer. And the dinner will also provide you with a chance to meet my daughter, who will also be attending."
Éomer nodded, standing and stretching muscles that protested to long a time in a chair.
"I look forward to it, my friend. I will see you then." With that, he strode out of the study and began making his way towards the Houses of Healing.
Éomer sighed to himself as he rode down from the second circle of the citadel to the Rohírric camp just outside the city after visiting the injured Riders and lunching with the Warden of the Houses to discuss his men's condition. Why does this king business have to be so complicated? He knew his duty to his people, would fulfill it to the best of his abilities, but he was skeptical about his abilities to rule his people. He just wished that his cousin and his uncle had survived. Théodred should be king now, and him a Marshal of the Mark. It would have been enough, more than enough; it would have been the fulfilment of all his hopes and dreams since he had been old enough to understand his duty to lord and land.
He knew little of treaties, of how to solve a problem with diplomacy and words. Give him a horse, a sword, and a solid éored, and he could and would defend his people to the death through feats of arms with a light heart. But this was different. He was no smooth-talking Gondorian to seek advantage in ever-changing alliances between nobles, to use a cutting turn of phrase to bite deep into another's mind. He longed to be back among the rolling plains of Rohan, where life was not easy, but much less complicated. But he knew his duty. The treaties and the cunning words, the snide comments and the noble ladies seeking advantageous matches with the foreign king. He was glad that he was only in the city long enough to pick up his uncle's body. Rude though it may be, it allowed him to avoid a great deal of the maneuvering and awkwardness involved in a state visit.
He had made the gates of the city, and nodded to the guards as he nudged Firefoot out the gates and towards the camp. He snorted to himself, and thought of the upcoming meeting with Imrahil's daughter. It would surely be awkward. While he doubted that the girl would be as simperingly stupid as many of the other noble maidens of Gondor – Imrahil had high standards for all of his children, and Éomer knew his sons were intelligent and unusually commonsensical for nobles – he had to reconcile himself to likely spending another boring evening with an empty-headed girl, even if she was better than average. Reaching the camp, he swung off his horse and passed his reins to the stable hand. When Firefoot tried to bite the boy, he shot his horse a glare and told him to behave. He watched the stable hand lead Firefoot to the horse strings as he went to his own tent, keeping an eye out for any more bites. Éothain met him on the way to his tent, his hands full of papers.
"Your meeting with the Steward and his people went well then, Éothain?"
Éothain gave him a withering look. "You know that it was bad. That's why you had me do it instead of dealing with it yourself, sire."
"The joys of delegation, Éothain. Though I am saddened to not have seen Faramir – he's to wed my sister within the year and I would like to get to know him better."
"He's coming with us to bury Théoden King, milord, so you will have the opportunity if you wish to take advantage of it."
"He is? But Aragorn and Imrahil are coming with us – who will be in charge of the city?"
"I believe that the Lord Húrin will have the honour, my lord."
"Honour my ass, you mean the duty." The men shared a smile. "Is my sister back from the city yet?"
"The lady Éowyn is not yet returned, sire. She said that wished to visit with the Princess Lothíriel before the feast tonight. She said that she would be back well beforehand, though."
Éomer, who had started at the mention of the Princess' name, calmed himself. So it seemed that Éowyn actually was friends with Imrahil's daughter. That boded well for her accompanying the funeral procession to Rohan. He didn't have to like it, but he was becoming less unhappy with the prospect. But he needed to talk to Éowyn about the travel arrangements, and he couldn't do that if she was still up in the city.
"Éothain, could you send a messenger up to the city to find Éowyn and tell her to come down to the camp as soon as she can? I need to talk to her about a matter that needs to be resolved before we go up to the feast."
"As you say, my lord. After I've done so, will you look over the results of my talk with Steward Faramir? He's wrangled the Gondorians accompanying us to send down most of their luggage ahead of time, and he sent a good amount of supplies – says he doesn't want his folk to be a burden to us on the trip."
"If you will give me your notes, I'll start looking over them while you find a messenger. Meet me at my tent when you're done."
"Of course, my lord." Éothain handed over the pages and headed towards the horse lines to find one of the messengers on duty.
By late afternoon, Éomer was beginning to worry. Éowyn had still not returned from the citadel, and Eothain's messenger had returned with a reply that Éowyn said that she would be back when she was back, and he should not worry overmuch. The messenger had been worried over the temerity of the message, and he had had to convince him that it wasn't his fault that the lady was disregarding her kingly brother's orders. But now, several hours later, it was time to begin preparing for the feast, and Éowyn had not appeared.
Éomer reached a decision, and strode out of his tent. He turned to the pair of guards outside the door and addressed the one to his right. "Cenhelm, can you bring me Éothain, Elfhelm, and the other captains? With all speed, please." The guard replied with a quick affirmative and went off to do his bidding. Shortly the called-for men arrived, and settled into Éomer's tent.
"Éothain, you'll need to send another messenger to my sister, as it's getting on in the day and we need to prepare our party to go up to the Merethrond for the feast soon."
"That won't be necessary, Éomer, your sister sent a messenger down a little while ago. She is preparing for the feast up in the citadel and will be down soon to ride up with us."
Relieved of at least one worry, Éomer continued. "Good. We'll leave in an hour and a half. Prepare yourselves and the people that you'll be bringing with you. We shall meet at the north side of camp." A chorus of affirmatives. "Then begin your preparations."
Forty-five minutes later Éomer was washing up behind a screen when a small whirlwind entered his tent. Éomer guessed it was his sister, back from the citadel, as no one else would dare enter his tent without announcing themselves, and was vindicated when his sister's voice came at him from the other side of the screen. "I am returned, Brother! Did you miss me?"
"Of course I missed you. Éowyn, I know you wanted to visit with your friends in the city today, but aren't you cutting it a little close for time? How will you be able to dress and prepare yourself in what time remains?"
"That won't be a problem, brother. I am already ready to go. Did I not have Éothain tell you that I was visiting the Princess Lothíriel earlier? I got ready there. The princess wanted to show me how to ride sidesaddle in a fancy dress, and this provided a good opportunity. I had to borrow one of Lothiriel's horses, though, since Winfola is not trained for sidesaddle riding."
Éomer felt a spurt of admiration for the princess. Even Théoden had rarely managed to get Éowyn to dress in what he called a manner befitting her station very often. And a sidesaddle – Éowyn must be serious about learning the ways of Gondor to even attempt it, for those devices seemed extremely uncomfortable. If this was the sort of results this Lothíriel could achieve in an afternoon with his sister, maybe he should re-evaluate his opinion of her.
"This princess must have a will of steel if she stuffed you into a dress and onto a sidesaddle, sister. With all that I have heard today, I must admit that I am rather in fear of meeting her."
A moment of silence, and then Éomer heard giggling on the other side of the screen. He was glad to hear his sister's mirth, but he was sure that there was more than one voice joining in.
"Éowyn, who do you have with you? That doesn't sound like your maid." Éomer winced. He knew that Astrud, Éowyn's maid, could keep her mouth shut about any tactless or indelicate comments, as could Eomer's manservant, but he could only assume that Éowyn had brought someone down with her who would now in all likeliness spread unfortunate rumours throughout Minas Tirith. He cursed himself for not making sure that Éowyn was alone before speaking. But it was not Éowyn who answered, but a new voice, low for a woman and musical.
"I shall take that as a compliment, my lord king. While I am not often praised for my fear-inducing capabilities, I can assume that it is supposed to be to my credit."
Éomer froze. Shit. Éowyn brought the Princess with her, and I've just stuck my foot in my mouth. Well, I'm just going to have to deal with the mess now.
"Princess Lothíriel?" he asked.
"At your service, my lord King," the musical voice replied.
"It is a great pleasure to meet you, my lady, but I must ask you to leave my tent for a moment. I am not entirely fit to greet a lady at the moment. I shouldn't take long, though, especially if Éowyn is kind enough to assist me. If you wouldn't mind waiting outside for a moment?"
"Of course, my lord. Éowyn, I will be with the horses. I'm sure that one of the guards will show me the way." He thought that he heard traces of a controlled laugh in the firm tones, but he wasn't sure. He heard footsteps leaving the tent, and then what must be Éowyn gathering up the clothes he had set out.
Attempting to control his anger, Éomer spoke. "Éowyn, what were you thinking, bringing the Princess here? Let alone bringing her into my tent when I was clearly indisposed?"
"Éomer, do calm down. Here's a towel – be quick." A towel shot over the screen; Éomer took it and began to dry himself.
"You'd better have a good explanation for this, Éowyn."
"Like I told the messenger, Lothíriel and I prepared for the ball earlier. She wanted to show me how to ride sidesaddle in a fancy outfit, and I thought that this was the perfect opportunity to do so. Lothíriel came with me to show me the finer points."
"Can you pass me my underthings, Éowyn?" The offending garments were exchanged for the wet towel, and Éomer continued arguing while dressing. "That makes a moderate amount of sense, but why did you bring her in here with you?"
"Here's your next layer, Éomer. I did not know you were bathing. You are always horrible at answering summonses – I thought that you were just ignoring me. I just wanted you and Lothíriel to meet without having all sorts of people watching you for signs of a match."
"Pass my shirt over, will you? Why would they be watching for a match?"
"You and Lothíriel are both extremely eligible, Éomer. You are the young, handsome, unmarried King of Rohan, and Lothíriel is the highest-ranking female lady of marriageable age in Gondor. You are also good friends with her father. People will assume that you're at least considering it."
Éomer sank onto his camp bed, his head in his hands. "You may have a point. This is going to become extremely awkward."
"True. Now, let's fix up your hair and your clothes. You need to look imposing at this feast."
"As imposing as you?" For, now that he got a good look at Éowyn, she was looking very imposing indeed, in a pale green dress than picked up the blue of her eyes and the pale gold of her hair. It was very pretty, but definitely unsuitable for riding astride, with a rather full skirt, though not nearly as bad as some of those he had seen some of the Gondorian court ladies wear. He remembered her green-and-gold jewelry as mostly pieces belonging to their mother, but he had never seen the dress before. "Is that a new dress?"
"Yes. You remember how light we had to travel to come to Gondor's aid, so none of us had many changes of clothes? Lothíriel forced me to have my measurements taken for new clothes while I was in the Houses of Healing so some could be made up for me. She took the liberty of having some dresses made up for me in Gondorian styles that are not to odious and allow for some freedom of movement, like this one." Éowyn spun around to prove her point.
"How did she know they were needed?"
"Faramir told her." Seeing Eomer's scowl, Éowyn hurried to explain. "You know that they are cousins, brother. Faramir and I both trust Lothíriel to be close-mouthed at need, and so even though it is not generally known about Faramir and I planning to wed, we told Lothíriel so she could work on things like the dresses."
"I still don't like it. Where did the money for this come from?"
"Lothíriel said something about 'paying off the debt owed to our people,' and wouldn't hear of repayment."
"I'll talk to her about it. Rohan pays its debts."
"Shouldn't we be going to the meeting-point soon? It's getting on to the time for the feast."
"You're right. Let's pick up the princess and get ready to go."