Éomer was looking at the plain fields in front of his eyes as the gentle autumn breeze from the window was stroking his face. He felt a strange sort of pride - like a satisfied parent - as he viewed the mountains with the snowy tops in one side, cosy little houses that were simple yet charming in their own way in another. Rohan was a gorgeous place, he thought as a shadow of a smile touched his lips. And the rohirrim had so much more to be proud of than just thier lightening-speed horses, which have long been recognised as the best in the world.
"Our ties with Gondor tightened a great deal when Lord Aragorn stepped up to the throne." Gambling said a little louder than usual as if to bring his lord and friend back to the discussion. "And yet the people are still uncertain. Eorlingas do not trust Gondorians just yet and the hostility is still avid."
"The people remember that Gondor did not come to our aid at the battle of Helms Deep." Éothain agreed. "And the fact that our own men - husbands, fathers and sons - died while helping Gondor is like salt on the fresh wound."
"King Theoden fell at the battle of the Pelennor Fields." Gambling mentioned what could not have ever been forgotten, but he had to convince his king on making the right decision even if it meant bringing back stinging memories. "Quite frankly, my king, the Rohirrim feel wronged."
"And having Gondorian Queen will erase that?" Éomer snorted turning away from the wide window into the gloomy room. "Being chased around by the princess of Dol Amorth will. . . ease their pain?"
"It actually might." Éothain smiled at his friends sarcasm. "They would get to see that the Gondorians are good people and that their lack of support during dark times is to be blamed on. . . unfortunate ruling, not the hearts of the warriors." he took a breath. "And even more important than that, you need an heir, Éomer. And not just one - with your temper you have to have at least a couple so that we can no longer sit at the edge of our seats every time you go hunting, my lord."
"I have just taken the throne, Éothain." the king frowned dropping to his seat. "Do you not think that I have enough time to produce a heir?"
"Time is a great luxury for a warrior, Éomer." a small and sad smile appeared on Éothain's lips. "You are the last male descendant of your blood line. We can not risk it being ended." At this point Éomer was staring into space, rubbing his forehead. Seeing that the young king is taking his words into consideration, Éothain carefully took a chance: "Nobody can compare with the beauty of the elves, of course, but Princess Lothíriel is said to be the prettiest of the human women."
"Her character." Éomer shot a glare, feeling utterly defeated in probably the most important battle of his life. "What about her character?"
"The princess. . ." Gamling blushed. "She has her flaws." he admitted.
"Is that so?" the king raised his eyebrow, finally seeing a weak spot in his councelor's plan. "And what would those be?"
"I prefer to put more emphasis on people's admirible traits."
"Do not make me order you around." Éomer glared.
"She might be. . . a little immature at times." Gamling rubbed his eyebrow uncomfortably. "Maybe a little spoiled which is rather understandable. One could describe her as capricious too."
"We can not expect her to be perfect considering no one is." Éothain chimed in. "Besides, women change greatly after marriage. I speak from experience."
"I do not want to have such experience with some spoiled princess!" Éomer threw his hands to his sides standing up. "I am a rider not a nanny. I worry about upcoming winter not marriage feasts."
"A good feast would raise the kingdom's spirits, my lord." Éothain smiled a little.
"Éomer, you know you will do it. You see the reasoning behind it and you can not deny the benefit of such deal." Gamling said. "So I suggest, my lord, we stop deciding what is already decided and start talking about matters of even greater importance. Winter is expected to be harsh this season."
"Fine." Éomer let out a tired breath. "Make it official." - he grabbed Gamling's arm as the man turned towards the door. "But let it be clear that I will not put up with her whims. All I ask from her is to be quiet and to not hinder me in the ruling of Rohan. If she can do that, we will be fine. If she can not, I will send her right back to where she came from. Political scandal or not."
"Éomer King has officially asked for you hand, daughter." Prince Imrahil pointed with his eyes at the parchament on his table. "And I believe you two would make a good match."
"So do I, father." Lothíriel shyly looked at her hands neatly put on her light blue dress.
"Very well." Imrahil raised his eyebrows quite suprised with his daughter's quick acceptance. He has witnessed more than a few such conversations before between his noble friends and their daughters; he's seen their tantrums and tears, almost hysterical sobbings and deep depressions afterwards, so he was rather pleased to not have to go through it once more - this time with his own child. "We will set off to Edoras in a week, in that case. The king does not want to delay the marriage as the winter months will be extremely busy for him. Make sure to sew yourself warm clothing, Lothiriel, there's nothing like Rohirric winter."
"I will, Ada." small dimples showed in her cheeks as she smiled. His daughter was truly beautiful, Imrahil thought. She was petite with big grey eyes, pale skin and long dark brown hair that made her strawberry-red lips even more noticible. He wished her mother lived to see her - this human size porcelain doll. Yes, there hardly were any flaws about her appearance, the prince smiled, yet some of those things he noticed about her character were quite disconcerting.
"Lothíriel," he said awkwardly, feeling guilty about making her marry a man she's never even seen before and being thrown off because of her such a call stance upon hearing the news. "King Elessar is of high opinion about King Éomer, which is almost a guarantee that he is a good and noble man. And, of course, his bravery in battle is legendary. But I am not forcing you to marry him if you do not wish so. Say a word and I will decline his offer."
"No, Ada!" there was fear in her eyes as soon as she's heard his words. "I meant to say. . ." she gathered herself not being able to stop the blushing, "I would be happy to call a man, who is so well respected by our king, my husband. Also, I highly doubt there is a better match for me in the Middle Earth."
"Yes, of course." Imrahil nodded. "In that case, with your approval, I will send a messenger to Rohan with our official response."
"I will leave you to it then." Lothíriel smiled raising from her chair and kissing her father's cheek.
"YES! YES! YES! WOOHOO!"
For the first time in his life, Amrothos of Dol Amroth was confused. Watching your sister jump up and down on her bed, squeaking, throwing around pillow feathers and messing her hair - all because she's got in an arranged marriage with a stranger, can do that to you.
"Jumping on bed was all fine and dandy when you were 5, Lothí, but at 20-something that's considered quite. . . improper."
"Who's the queen?" she ignored him completely. "I AM! Not you, not her, not anyone else, but me! No more bowing, no more following orders, no more blushing, uh-uh, no more. Woohoo!" she threw full fists of feathers above her head before falling backwards on her soft pillows.
"No, Lothíriel, indeed, I am not the queen." Amrothos shook his head, collecting feathers from his tunic.
"No, you're not. I am!" she paid no attention to his sarcasm, just laughing out joyfully.
"You mean you will be." her older brother corrected her. "As of right now, you're merely a princess, sister."
"Not for long, brother dear." she brought a pillow on her chest and hugged it biting her lip. "In a week, I will be the queen. . . of Rohan." she said dreamily.
"The queen of barbarians and savages. What an exceptional honor." Amrothos yawned. "Are you sure they have baths there? I wouldn't be certain. In fact, I wouldn't be certain they don't sleep in the stables and eat raw meat." he moved his gaze to her. "Think, Lothíriel. Better 'princess of something' than 'queen of nothing'".
"Oh Rohan isn't nothing," she lifted herself up with her elbows. "That's like a quarter of the world. And I am going to be the queen of it!" she screamed again, closing her eyes tightly and falling back down on her pillows.
"You want to be the queen so much you are willing to marry that uncivilised horse master?"
"I want to be the queen so much I'd be willing to marry Lord Sauron if I had to." Amrothos instinctively straightened up looking around as if checking if no one overheard his sister.
"What about Dol Amroth?" he asked finally. "What about the sea? In Rohan, they probably don't even know what that is. What about the sandy beaches and white houses? The balls and fancy dresses?"
"Oh, I will miss that, a lot." she admitted biting her lip and staring into the ceiling.
"The lands of the Riddermark are dry and boring." Amrothos shook his head. "Their houses - simple. Their manners - non-existant. Their men are tall and gnarly, women - dirty and masculine. How can one live there is beyond me. And you will marry the king of those brutes? The worst one of them all?"
"The king is a respected. . ."
"The king is feared." Amrothos cut her off. "I rode with him, Lothiriel. He's always furious like someone just stole his sword and raped his sister. Glaring at everyne for no reason. . . He doesn't even wear a crown or a tunic - just an armor and a helmet which is no different from his soldiers."
"A repellent man he sounds." Lothíriel frowned. "But," - her face lit up with a bright smile again. "I am going to be the QUEEN!"
"Ugh," somewhere in Rohan Éomer sighed supporting his forehead with his hand, holding a mug of ale in another. "I am going to have a queen."