Flowers in Her Hair

Chapter 1: In Which Lothíriel Insists She Isn't Dumpster Diving

It is an upset Éomer that stomps down the streets of Minas Tirith, kicking cigarette butts and crushed soda cans out of his way and resenting the shiny gleam of his dress shoes on concrete.

He doesn't like attending big company events, never has, but tonight's mixer felt even worse than usual. Logically, Éomer knows it's just because it's his first big event since his uncle died, since the company was left to him to run, but the rest of him screams that this isn't what he's meant to do, isn't what he's good at. I'm going to run this company into the ground, he thinks grimly. I'm too rash, too hot-headed, too inexperienced, too incapable. I'll destroy everything Uncle has worked so hard to build.

The emotion bubbling up inside him is too much to suppress, so Éomer unleashes all his anger and grief upon another soda can, this time not quite empty, kicking it as hard as he can and sending it flying at the dingy wall of the alley he's pacing in. Unfortunately, the can catches the wall at the perfect angle to come flying back into his face, and before he knows it, he's drenched in lukewarm soda with a gash on his cheek from the soda tab. Even more infuriated now, both at his situation and his stupidity, he winds back to throw the can again.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice interrupts cheerfully. "I don't think it'd hit you again, but it might hit me, and with my luck I'd get some kind of nasty infection and be bedridden for days. And we all know how boring being bedridden is."

Éomer wheels around, hand on the knife he always keeps with him, and it takes him a couple seconds of spinning around like a dog chasing its tail to locate the owner of the voice. It's not entirely my fault it took me so long, he thinks with a frown. I didn't expect someone to be in the dumpster.

The girl rests her chin on the back of one hand, which is gripping the side of the dumpster, and grins at him with a flash of white teeth. She's almost completely buried in trash - there's even a cheap plastic lei someone threw out slung haphazardly over her head, the fake petals crushed and dirty - but her skin is smooth and her grey eyes twinkling, and Éomer wonders just what exactly a nice-looking girl like her is doing in the trash.

"I'm not dumpster diving or hiding a body in the trash, in case you were wondering," she says, all matter-of-fact. "I'd dumpster dive on one of the higher levels of the city if I really wanted anything of value, and you can check if I'm hiding a body in here if you'd like."

Éomer stares at her in disbelief. Who is this imp? "I'd rather not, thanks."

She shrugs. "Suit yourself. I know if I found a stranger hiding in a dumpster, a dead body would be the first thing I check for. Actually, I checked this dumpster for corpses before I climbed in. Personal hygiene and all that, you know."

"Ah," Éomer says faintly, feeling rather out of his element. "And what exactly are you doing in the dumpster, if you're not treasure hunting or stowing away corpses?"

The girl laughs, and Éomer wishes he could bottle away the sound, it's so happy and bright, nothing like what he usually feels at this time of night. "I'm hiding, silly."

"Hiding from who?" He scans the alley for signs of other people but finds none. It's almost dawn now, and no one is around but the two of them. "Is someone chasing you?"

"You could say so." The voice comes from the side of the alley Éomer entered from, and Dumpster Girl yelps in surprise at the dark-haired man who appears with a maniacal grin on his face.

"Run!" she cries, vaulting out of the dumpster with remarkable velocity considering the amount of trash she was buried in. Grabbing Éomer's hand, she pulls him along after her, and Éomer nearly falls flat on his face trying to keep up with her.

Bema, she's fast! She bobs and weaves, turning corners with no regard for Éomer and his too-small, pinching dress shoes, and before long they're jumping over trash cans in a part of the city Éomer has never seen before. I hope this isn't some sort of set-up where I get robbed at gunpoint, he thinks. Eowyn will murder me if I get killed and leave her in charge.

Dumpster Girl pulls him into another alley and stops, heaving for breath but grinning madly at the same time. "D'you think we lost him?" she whispers, breath blowing on his neck and making him shiver.

Éomer's having a hard time thinking because she's so, so close to him and that mischievous grin is making his brain turn to jelly, and she still has that stupid plastic lei tangled in her hair, but all it does is make her look more rumpled and adorable. "You're not going to mug me, are you?" he whispers back, and that makes the girl toss her head back and laugh.

"Only if you're actually helping Amrothos lay a trap for me." The name Amrothos sounds vaguely familiar and for some odd reason reminds him of a meeting he'd had earlier that day, but Éomer is too busy trying not to stare like a fool at her to ponder much more on that.

It's not fair, he thinks in a haze, she shouldn't be this attractive when she smells like trash and is covered in who knows what, but somehow she is.

The girl remains blissfully unaware of Éomer becoming an unsalvageable, goopy mess inside and smiles up at him again. "You're not, right? You seem like a nice guy. You wouldn't set me up for my first loss ever in extreme hide and seek, right?"

Éomer blinks. "Extreme hide and seek?"

She nods, the lei dangling from her hair flopping up and down. "It's a family tradition! Not that Father knows about it. But the rest of us always play it at night when we visit the city. I've never lost a game yet - Erchirion claims I lost once when I was seven, but he's a liar, don't believe him."

Something about the way she talks reminds him of Eowyn, or at least Eowyn as she was before Grima joined the board of directors and slithered his way into the company. Eowyn as she should have been, he thinks with a frown, carefree and confident in her youthful energy. He appraises Dumpster Girl again, eyes lingering on her dancing grey eyes and the smattering of freckles that testify to happy days spent in the sun. If he had to guess, he would say she's maybe five years younger than his sister. Five years ago, Eowyn would have loved to run free in the city at night too. Not that she wouldn't enjoy it now, but the time for playing games is over for both siblings, for better or for worse.

The thought brings the frown back to his face, which Dumpster Girl doesn't miss. Laying a hand on his arm, she peers at him, laugh dying on her lips. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Éomer feels a twinge of regret at putting an end to her mirth. It's refreshing to be around someone so unmarred by the cruelty of life. "It's nothing."

She makes a face at him. "That's your lying face, isn't it? I've only known you for twenty minutes and I can already tell."

Shifting on his feet, Éomer grimaces. "No?"

She snorts and pats his arm again, this time to get his attention. "Hey, I'm getting thirsty from all this running around. What do you say we go grab a coffee and you can complain about whatever it is that's bothering you there?"

"What - why would you want to grab coffee with a complete stranger you met in a back alley?" Éomer asks, appalled. Coffee does sound awfully nice to him right now, especially if he gets to drink it with this strangely attractive girl, but he can't help but question her sanity just a little. "Do you have no sense of self-preservation?"

"Oh, I have plenty of that," she says happily, already dragging him out of the alley. "Too much of it, according to Amrothos, because I throw him under the bus all the time when Father gets angry about something we did. But anyway, why not? I like you, you like me, and I like coffee. It's a match made in heaven!"

Éomer gapes at her. "You - you like me?"

Pausing to peek around the corner for this Amrothos fellow, she shushes him, then straightens back up when she sees the coast is clear. "Of course I do, silly. Otherwise I would've let you keep throwing that soda can at the wall until you had a concussion."

Reminded of the soda, Éomer glances down and grimaces. There's an ugly brown splotch on the right side of his shirt, his pants are still dripping soda, and his shoes are horribly scuffed. A glance at his dumpster-frequenting companion reveals she's not in much better of a state, and she certainly smells much worse. "Are there even any coffee shops open at this time of night? And will any of them let us in?"

She winks. "I know a place. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

Something about her expression tells him that yes, he should worry, but more about losing his heart than anything else, and he swallows, his mouth feeling awfully dry all of a sudden. "Alright then," he says, brushing his hands off on his pants. "Lead on."

Grinning, she takes his hand. "My my, what a brave soul you are."

"Éomer," he says, and smiles back shyly. "My name is Éomer."

"Yeah?" The sparkle in her eyes takes his breath away. "Well Éomer, it's nice to meet you. I'm Lothíriel."

Hand reaching up almost unconsciously to touch the crushed lei in her hair, Éomer can't help but laugh. Lothíriel. A flower-garlanded maiden indeed.

A/N: I'm not sure how many oneshots will be part of this collection, but there will definitely be more coming. Reviews, follows, and favorites are all greatly appreciated!