Chapter One
Hello, all! A note before I begin: this is my first story about LOTR. I drew inspiration from a book I just read. Actually, a play by Shakespeare. The main content of the second chapter is a parallel between the play and LOTR. Props to anyone who can name the play. Other than that, read, enjoy, review. //Rachel\\
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Long had been the days since last he rode forth from his kingdom. Almost a year since the War of the Ring, Éomer, King of the Mark, had only just deemed his land safe enough for his absence. He had left men in defence of Edoras as a precaution, but his heart was sure that they would not be required to perform their duties. For even as he rode with few attendants to Ithilien, the Riders of Rohan drove the last few Orcs from their realm.
Éomer smiled to himself, to think of how his people would live in fear no longer. And of course, he would soon see Éowyn his sister, from whom he had been absent far too long. He had ridden swiftly, and the small entourage was fast approaching Ithilien. Indeed it was not long before Éomer could see the white glint of the home of his sister and brother-in- law, where it sat perched atop a small hill. He spurred his horse on, riding just before his banner. They were admitted through the gates at once; word of their coming must have gone before them, for the scouts of Ithilien were many, even in these peaceful days. And Éomer knew beyond doubt this was true, for he and his attendants had scare reached the house when Éomer saw the figure of his sister, robed in white, eagerly awaiting them at the top of the stairs that led to the doors.
"Sister!" he cried, grinning openly and tossing the reins of his horse to the man beside him. Éowyn raced down the stone stairs and straight into her brother's arms, and they embraced for a while, as is common with those separated for so long.
Only when the voice of Faramir sounded from behind did Éowyn disentangle herself from her brother's arms.
"You've proved a worthy opponent, Éomer," said Faramir, smiling at his wife. "I say now that the greatest fear I have faced this past year is whether it was you she held more beloved or me."
"A brother's love is sacred in its own right," Éowyn replied, leading Éomer up the stairs, where he and Faramir embraced warmly.
"You are good to come," said Faramir to his wife's brother. "Your people will suffer in your absence, for word has spread of the high regard in which you are held."
"The people of Rohan are not feeble," Éomer replied, bowing his head modestly at the last of Faramir's words. "They will do well without their king, for a little while. But without their fair lady, they do suffer greatly." "You take all humility and leave none for me," Éowyn chided him. She took his arm and began to make for the doors of the house, her other arm in her husband's. "But come, you must be weary, and my husband displays a most excellent table. You will fine yourself refreshed in the wine, and then we shall all sit together a while, for you must tell me all the news of the Mark." "And I shall be only too glad, sister," said Éomer, and he went into the house with them.
Faramir's table was indeed overflowing with food, and the three felt themselves quite satisfied by the time they had finished and were sitting comfortably together in large covered chairs, goblets in the hands of the men, and Éowyn keeping up the conversation with many inquiries.
When finally Éomer was spared from answering his sister, while she and Faramir debated some matter of politics in Minas Tirith, Éomer glanced back towards the great table, where a serving-woman was preparing a great silver tray with small portions of the supper they had only just eaten.
"Why does that woman arrange a tray?" he asked the servant who had approached quietly to refill the King's goblet.
"For the widow, milord," said the man. "She refuses to dine with the lord and lady of the house, and kindly they have obliged her meals be brought to her when she is confined in her chamber."
"And what widow dwells in this house?" Éomer asked, but the serving- man had no chance to answer, for Éowyn's attention had been once again diverted to her brother, and the man slipped away into the shadows.
"What do you say to the servant, brother?" she asked curiously.
"Naught of any importance," said Éomer. "Have you come to an accord?"
"We require your opinion," replied Faramir, his eyes twinkling merrily, for his wife was high-spirited, and always debates with her were enjoyable. "Will you settle this dispute, Éomer?"
Smiling, Éomer held up his hand. "Were it any lady but you, sister," said he. "Or any man but the Prince of Ithilien, gladly would I oblige. But for want of keeping my chamber for at least one night, I must decline."
"I love thee too dearly to discard thee so quickly, Éomer," replied Éowyn. "One day at least must you have, and so I will submit to my lord, and we shall retire. For tomorrow holds many more promises than this eve."
They rose, and Éomer kissed his sister's brow, clasped hands with Faramir, and they parted for the evening. A serving-woman came with a candle and led Éomer through the winding halls towards the chamber that had been prepared for him.
He stood for a time before the windows, looking out on the land that was Ithilien; it was green in its spring, but at night, it appeared dark and mysterious, even menacing.
From this position he stirred only when the soft sound of footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside his chamber. A woman's footsteps were they, and he thought perhaps his sister had come with some message. He moved to the heavy oak door and opened it, only to find darkness in the hall.
But when he glanced again, he saw a faint light bobbing at the end of the hall, flickering as a candle, and the soft sound of footsteps was fading. And just as the light disappeared round the corner, he caught the very faintest glimpse of a black silk skirt, swishing with hurried motion, and then the light disappeared, and darkness ran over the corridors once more.
============================================================= Sorry so short. Probably should have made this a prologue. Will eventually be Éomer/Lothìriel as said in summary. Review please!
Hello, all! A note before I begin: this is my first story about LOTR. I drew inspiration from a book I just read. Actually, a play by Shakespeare. The main content of the second chapter is a parallel between the play and LOTR. Props to anyone who can name the play. Other than that, read, enjoy, review. //Rachel\\
=============================================================
Long had been the days since last he rode forth from his kingdom. Almost a year since the War of the Ring, Éomer, King of the Mark, had only just deemed his land safe enough for his absence. He had left men in defence of Edoras as a precaution, but his heart was sure that they would not be required to perform their duties. For even as he rode with few attendants to Ithilien, the Riders of Rohan drove the last few Orcs from their realm.
Éomer smiled to himself, to think of how his people would live in fear no longer. And of course, he would soon see Éowyn his sister, from whom he had been absent far too long. He had ridden swiftly, and the small entourage was fast approaching Ithilien. Indeed it was not long before Éomer could see the white glint of the home of his sister and brother-in- law, where it sat perched atop a small hill. He spurred his horse on, riding just before his banner. They were admitted through the gates at once; word of their coming must have gone before them, for the scouts of Ithilien were many, even in these peaceful days. And Éomer knew beyond doubt this was true, for he and his attendants had scare reached the house when Éomer saw the figure of his sister, robed in white, eagerly awaiting them at the top of the stairs that led to the doors.
"Sister!" he cried, grinning openly and tossing the reins of his horse to the man beside him. Éowyn raced down the stone stairs and straight into her brother's arms, and they embraced for a while, as is common with those separated for so long.
Only when the voice of Faramir sounded from behind did Éowyn disentangle herself from her brother's arms.
"You've proved a worthy opponent, Éomer," said Faramir, smiling at his wife. "I say now that the greatest fear I have faced this past year is whether it was you she held more beloved or me."
"A brother's love is sacred in its own right," Éowyn replied, leading Éomer up the stairs, where he and Faramir embraced warmly.
"You are good to come," said Faramir to his wife's brother. "Your people will suffer in your absence, for word has spread of the high regard in which you are held."
"The people of Rohan are not feeble," Éomer replied, bowing his head modestly at the last of Faramir's words. "They will do well without their king, for a little while. But without their fair lady, they do suffer greatly." "You take all humility and leave none for me," Éowyn chided him. She took his arm and began to make for the doors of the house, her other arm in her husband's. "But come, you must be weary, and my husband displays a most excellent table. You will fine yourself refreshed in the wine, and then we shall all sit together a while, for you must tell me all the news of the Mark." "And I shall be only too glad, sister," said Éomer, and he went into the house with them.
Faramir's table was indeed overflowing with food, and the three felt themselves quite satisfied by the time they had finished and were sitting comfortably together in large covered chairs, goblets in the hands of the men, and Éowyn keeping up the conversation with many inquiries.
When finally Éomer was spared from answering his sister, while she and Faramir debated some matter of politics in Minas Tirith, Éomer glanced back towards the great table, where a serving-woman was preparing a great silver tray with small portions of the supper they had only just eaten.
"Why does that woman arrange a tray?" he asked the servant who had approached quietly to refill the King's goblet.
"For the widow, milord," said the man. "She refuses to dine with the lord and lady of the house, and kindly they have obliged her meals be brought to her when she is confined in her chamber."
"And what widow dwells in this house?" Éomer asked, but the serving- man had no chance to answer, for Éowyn's attention had been once again diverted to her brother, and the man slipped away into the shadows.
"What do you say to the servant, brother?" she asked curiously.
"Naught of any importance," said Éomer. "Have you come to an accord?"
"We require your opinion," replied Faramir, his eyes twinkling merrily, for his wife was high-spirited, and always debates with her were enjoyable. "Will you settle this dispute, Éomer?"
Smiling, Éomer held up his hand. "Were it any lady but you, sister," said he. "Or any man but the Prince of Ithilien, gladly would I oblige. But for want of keeping my chamber for at least one night, I must decline."
"I love thee too dearly to discard thee so quickly, Éomer," replied Éowyn. "One day at least must you have, and so I will submit to my lord, and we shall retire. For tomorrow holds many more promises than this eve."
They rose, and Éomer kissed his sister's brow, clasped hands with Faramir, and they parted for the evening. A serving-woman came with a candle and led Éomer through the winding halls towards the chamber that had been prepared for him.
He stood for a time before the windows, looking out on the land that was Ithilien; it was green in its spring, but at night, it appeared dark and mysterious, even menacing.
From this position he stirred only when the soft sound of footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside his chamber. A woman's footsteps were they, and he thought perhaps his sister had come with some message. He moved to the heavy oak door and opened it, only to find darkness in the hall.
But when he glanced again, he saw a faint light bobbing at the end of the hall, flickering as a candle, and the soft sound of footsteps was fading. And just as the light disappeared round the corner, he caught the very faintest glimpse of a black silk skirt, swishing with hurried motion, and then the light disappeared, and darkness ran over the corridors once more.
============================================================= Sorry so short. Probably should have made this a prologue. Will eventually be Éomer/Lothìriel as said in summary. Review please!