A Handmaid's Tale
Celwen had always been cautious when it came to her brother-in-law, the King of Rohan. True, he was an exeptional fighter, a couragous man, always at the forefront of every battle. And yet she could not help but think that Imrahil had sold his only daughter to a barbarian sovereign of the north for a meagre peace-deal. Lothiriel, a kindred soul and selfless young maiden could have easily wedded the Lord of Anfalas or Lord Berion, heir apparent to the princedom of Lebennin. Under her guidance, Lothiriel would blossom into the epitome of a virtuous and gracious lady of the Gondorian court. But if could not be helped. Her dearest sister-in-law came to be the sacrificial lamb, readily provided by the sovereign and his compliant advisors to benefit the barbarian victors.
A Gondorian flower could not be nurtured by foreign soil! When would her selfish father-in-law come to his senses! Not even her dearest love Elphir could understand what was ailing her. But she would not be defied. Soon, everybody would come to see what she had been suspecting all along. No amount of Gondorian blood could change Eomer of Rohan's uncouth ways. She herself had witnessed the way he had looked at his new bride with a feral glim in his eyes. The way he touched her at every opportunity that presented itself - disgraceful. And low and behold, her sister had given in to his ill-mannered treatment as she allowed to be touched by him in public. She had to put a stop to this once and for all. Luckily, she found support in Cossiel, a sturdy but good-natured young woman who was send to Rohan to serve as Lothiriel's handmaiden. Still, it was a daunting task to uphold Gondorian virtures, as her dear sister had always been a free spirit. She tried to cut her wings at an early age, but after her marriage her strange ways had had even been encouraged by her husband.
They even, if one could believe the hasty scribblings of her handmaiden, - naturally, she had only been employed under the condition to report everything to Celwen- slept in one big oaken bed. She sucked in a sharp breath. Elbereth, not even a Queen's solar was provided for her to have a moment's peace from that beast. According to Cossiel, the king didn't even announce himself when she readied her lady for bed. According to her meticulous reports, he on many occasions had relieved her of her duties before she was even finished with her task and pushed her out into the corridor.
She clenched her embroidered handkerchief tightly in her hand while casting a glance at the balcony overlooking the courtyard. When she stepped onto the balcony, a soft breeze caught her skirts. They had arrived only an hour after noon. The sun had blazed over the white cobble stones as several of the royal guards had swarmed the premises. Lothiriel, arm-in-arm with her Lord husband had greeted each member of the family, yet Celwen could only look at the Rohirric riding garb. She wore leggings – she didn't even dare to think of the gossip that would spread in the entire realm of Belfalas. But she was a queen now, as Celwen's husband Elphir had so helpfully pointed out. Nobody dared to cross a queen and a Rohirric one at that.
That remained to be seen. Lothiriel was still her sister. And even though they were miles apart, she cared deeply for her. Her upbringing with three boisterous brothers didn't excuse her from upholding virtues as she had pointed out to her time and time again. Determined not to lose this final battle, she made her way to Lothiriel's chambers. She had made sure that her Lord husband had been appointed the finest rooms in the east wing – a mere five-minute walk from her chambers. That would certainly cool any passions, or so she hoped. Her brothers, including her dear husband had only laughed heartily at her fruitless attempts to keep the couple apart. She sighed to herself. Yes, it would be sorted out in due time. Meanwhile they could look at new dresses she could wear for tonight's banquet. She had instructed Cossiel to lay out a glorious silk dress with the finest embroidery that would even put Elvish dressmakers to shame. Deep in her thoughts, Celwen was unaware of the soft moaning that went on inside the apartment.
"Lothiriel dear, let's try on that new silk dress the maid laid out for…": She choked on "you" when she made out her sister in the back of the room. Celwen's hand still rested on the finely decorated door latch, her eyes widened in shock as she looked at the spectacle in front of her. There, on the dressing table, her dear, innocent sister's limbs were coiled tightly around a broadly shouldered figure. Oddly fascinated, Celwen observed how strong arms forced shapely tighs apart, as the tall blonde man continuously drove into her sister-in-law with such a force that each time his pelvis hit the vanity, the broad, silver looking glass which hung from the wall behind it, quivered dangerously.
Lothiriel's raven locks swung back and forth as she clung desperately to her lover's broad shoulders. Eomer's head was buried in the crook of her neck to stifle his moans which still escaped time and time again. Celwen covered her mouth with her handkerchief, shocked at Lothiriel's obvious wantonness.
As if on cue, Eomer lifted his wife from the dresser and pulled her close. Lothiriel's high soprano mingled with her husband's rich baritone. Celwen backed away, hitting a small table in the process which caused a finely decorated vase to shatter onto the stone floor. Eomer's head snapped to the door in alert, while his wife lifted hers to make out the source of the commotion. The couple, previously so engrossed in their lovemaking, looked quizzically at the intruder. Celwen turned crimson and twisted her handkerchief. Even in her delicate position, the new queen of Rohan was able to look dignified as she glanced at her sister in law.
"Is there something you need, Celwen?"
Celwen petrified in her current state, looked down to the richly embroidered carpet. She gathered her last remaining wits and fled to the door. When the wooden door closed shut with a bang, Eomer let out a roaring laugh.
"That was a sight to behold. How long, do you think, has she been standing there?"
Lothiriel wiggled in his arms which caused him to let her down.
"I wouldn't know, Eomer." She replied pensively as she cautiously stepped over the remaining shards to lock the door.
"But, I know that she and her minion won't bother us any time soon." She smiled broadly at her husband who spread his arms out for her.
"Then let us rejoice wife, for when we will have returned to the Mark, you shall have a new maid who is well-versed in the art of knocking."
Grinningly, she mounted her husband on the soft bed. Her hands glided over his broad chest and came to grasp either side of his face.
"Bema be thanked for small miracles." She whispered as they engaged in a passionate kiss.