This is my first attempt at an Éomer/Lothíriel pairing. I've started dozens of stories for the two of them, and never manage to get past the first few chapters. So I figure, why not a series of one-shots? This is the first installment of what I hope will be a happy little set of vignettes. I hope you all enjoy it, and I would love to hear your feedback!

XOXO

Vermillion


She did not hear him enter the garden at first, so he took a moment to observe her. Her thick, curly hair was pinned up on her head, off her neck and a few little curls were sticking to the back of her neck. Her form looked slim under the pale dress she wore, and she was not nearly as tall as he expected. The sleeves on her dress were elbow length, revealing the smooth, slender expanse of her arms. All around, a very pleasing young woman to look at. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and he saw her shoulders stiffen. She set down her small spade slowly and stood to face him. He was met by a pair of enormous blue eyes that looked neither surprised nor startled to see him, merely resigned. He was surprised to see that she was not tanned like her brothers. Her skin was pale and apparently freckled with the addition of plenty of sunshine.

"King Éomer." Her voice was flat as she curtsied.

"I am pleased to meet you, Princess Lothíriel." Best to start out courteously, he thought. She was surely not pleased about all of this.

"I wish I could say the same." Her brothers were right, she spoke her mind. He chuckled.

"I am not in the least bit surprised to hear you say that." She frowned at him, and those mesmerizing eyes narrowed.

"Why are you here?" She demanded, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I came hoping to explain everything to you." He replied, taking a cautious step toward her. "I wanted to speak to you myself about the whole betrothal and marriage thing." Her frown deepened.

"I don't think there is any need for you to speak to me about it." She told him. "It seems you've all decided everything so well without me, there is really no need to discuss it with me now."

"Ah." Éomer nodded his head, understandingly, but that set her off.

"Don't you 'Ah' me like you presume to know how I feel!" she snapped at him. "You have the gall to make an offer for my hand without meeting me or giving me the privilege of meeting you, and then stroll into my PRIVATE garden like you have every right. Well you don't! And I don't want you to explain anything to me!" Her cheeks were flushed and she was out of breath after her tirade, and he decided right then and there that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met and would never want to marry anyone but her.

"You could give my advisors a few lessons." He told her as she stomped back over to her gardening tools and set about ripping out weeds.

"Shut up." She spat. "Your presence is vexing enough without having to hear you speak." He suppressed a laugh and stood in silence while she dug angrily for a few moments. Finally, she drove her spade into the dirt and stood to glare at him. "Do you want to know what makes me really angry?" When he did not answer she continued. "You did not even write me. You knew all along that I would not have a choice in the matter, but you didn't even write me, asking me yourself. All I got was a really official looking document that my father passed along to me." She sighed and slumped down on the edge of one of the vegetable beds. "It just would've been nice to be included in the process, even if I didn't get any say so."

"I'm sorry, Lothíriel." He sat down next to her hesitantly. "I would have asked you personally, but your father made it sound like you would want no part in the process, and I would do best to leave you alone."

"Well, he was wrong." She murmured, plucking at a thread on her dress. He suddenly felt bad for his behavior. She had no input in the future chosen for her and he had the nerve to interrupt what was surely the only solitude she got from the mad flurry of activity now surrounding her.

"Lothíriel, please forgive me." She looked up at him, her pale cheeks tinged with pink. "It was wrong not to write you. And I'm sorry for imposing on your privacy. I am sure you get so little of it these days." He stood. "I will take my leave of you and perhaps we may continue this discussion at a more convenient time." He turned to walk away, but her voice stopped him.

"No. Don't leave." She was standing, twisting her hands nervously in front of her. She would not meet his eyes. "I'm sorry I shouted at you, it was very unbecoming of me." He stepped up to her, taking her small, dirty hands in his.

"No, you had every right to dress me down the way you did." He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. "It was wrong of me to impose myself on you the way I have." He met her eyes, discovering that those beautiful eyes were framed by long, thick lashes.

"I wouldn't have minded so much if you would have acknowledged me the beginning." She told him. "The way things went, it felt like you were more interested in the strengthened alliance with Gondor than you were in marrying me." He laughed lightly.

"Believe me, Lothíriel, the allure of the alliance pales in comparison to you." He watched her blush again and without thinking, cupped her cheek in his hand. It was silky soft, just as he expected. "Besides, alliances do not warm a bed in winter." That blush deepened, but she met his eyes squarely.

"I hope you mean that." She told him, and then moved away, as if she anticipated the kiss he was preparing to plant on those delicious looking lips. "Perhaps I could give you a tour of the garden?"

"That would be wonderful." Éomer welcomed the distraction. His thoughts were straying down less than chaste paths, and a thorough description of every exotic plant would surely help redirect them.

She took his offered arm and they started down the path together. "I grow mostly fruits and vegetables here." She told him pointing at the largest, southernmost part of the garden. "It gets full sun every day and the cook is always happy to have the produce in the summer. There are carrots, tomatoes, a very spicy pepper that comes from Harad, peas, and a few different varieties lettuce." She motioned to each of the beds. "Over here," She led him toward the garden wall that was covered with climbing vines. "I am growing raspberries. This is their second year, and I am optimistic that we will have a good crop of berries. You see, the first year, you have to pinch back all the blossoms so that the plants will use all their strength to grow and not bother with producing berries. The growing season was good last year, and the have grown marvelously. We will let them blossom this year." She looked up at him and blushed. "I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He shook his head.

"Not at all, you seem very knowledgeable about the plants."

"This was my mother's garden." She told him. "I would work out here with her everyday when I was younger. After she died…" Here she paused. "After she died, no one came out here for a long time."

"How did she die?" Éomer hoped she would not consider this prying. She started pulling up weeds, and did not speak for a moment.

"She died of a fever. We both had it, actually. I am told that I was near death more than once myself, but I don't remember any of it. I was unconscious. When I finally woke up, my mother was dead and already buried." She sighed and collected all the weeds into a pile.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She scooped up the weeds and deposited them in a nearby bin. "Everything happens for a reason, even if it takes us years to see the reason." She brushed her hands off on her dress. "I've gotten along well enough without her, although…" She paused, as if weighing whether or not she ought to say something. She shrugged. "I do wish she was here now. I know she would sit me down and say to me 'Now, Lothíriel, I know this is all very distressing right now, but I promise you it will all work out for the best. Why, your father and I had an arranged marriage, and I could never love anyone more than I love him. You just have to be sensible about it and commit yourself to making things as happy as you can.'" Éomer was in front of her in one move, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.

"I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make you happy."

"I know." She looked up, meeting his eyes. She was so beautiful and vulnerable in that moment.

"Besides," He whispered, leaning down to claim her lips in a kiss. "I love you already."

The End