I don't own Lord of the Rings!


The wedding feast had been going on for hours by the time Lothíriel was ushered into the King's chamber by a dozen pretty, young maidens. Amidst giggles and whispers, they told her how lucky she was to be married to the young King then rushed off to rejoin the celebration, leaving her standing alone in the doorway, unsure of what to do next.

Moments after they floated away in a cloud of perfume and delicate laughter, Willa stepped out of a dark alcove and approached Lothíriel with a wry quirk of her lips.

"It seems your new husband has many ardent admirers, my Lady,"

Lothíriel shot Willa a look and turned to enter the bedchamber.

"I don't appreciate you going into hiding when they came to kidnap me, Willa. Isn't it your job to protect me?"

Willa let out a huff of laughter and pulled the heavy oak door shut behind them,

"Are you still determined to keep the secrets of the marriage bed to yourself?" Lothíriel asked as she swept across the room to sit down in front of a mirror. She watched Willa's reflection in the glass as she carefully arranged her voluminous skirts around her and got to work sliding pins out of her hair.

Willa carefully laid a shimmering white nightgown on the massive bed in the center of the room. The tips of Willa's ears turned pink as she tried to come up with an answer while she busied herself with straightening creases out of the gown.

"My Lady, it truly is not my place to say anything."

Willa abandoned the gown and joined Lothíriel at the mirror to remove the jewels adorning the new Queen's throat and fingers. The heavy ornaments with large glittering diamonds and twisting ropes of bright gold had been a wedding gift from Éowyn in Gondor. They were fashioned in a Rohirric style and created from stones and metals from Dol Amrothian mines, to Lothíriel's delight. Willa gently laid the heavy necklace in a silk-lined chest and began on Lothíriel's hair. Her nimble fingers slid the pins and tiny diamonds out of her Lady's long, dark waves.

"Shall I leave it out, my Lady?" Willa asked as she brushed Lothíriel's hair out of the complicated hairstyle.

"Yes, it would be best." Lothíriel said as she watched Willa, wondering how to phrase her next words. "I kissed the him yesterday."

Willa raised her eyebrows in surprise as her eyes met Lothíriel's in the mirror. Lothíriel continued, carefully contemplating her words.

"It was quite… something,"

"My Lady, I'm not certain this discussion entirely proper."

Lothíriel laughed and waved her hand, as if to brush Willa's concerns aside.

"Oh, Willa. You might as well know now, I'm not one who puts much stock in propriety."

As Willa finished with with her hair, Lothíriel stood to change out of her heavy wedding gown into the gossamer thin nightgown. She was surprised that Willa hadn't had any complaints about the scandalous gown.

The gown was nearly see-through, Lothíriel was sure it would have been completely transparent if she took a few short steps toward the crackling fire.

Willa gathered up Lothíriel's wedding gown and opened the door to the adjoining Queen's chambers. As she slipped through the door, she turned to speak to Lothíriel.

"My Lady, if I may say so, you look lovely. The King will not know what to do with himself when he sees you,"

"Well, I hope he knows what to do with me, Willa." Lothíriel replied with a wicked smile which dissolved into laughter as Willa's expression.

The door shut behind Willa, leaving Lothíriel in the chamber with only the fire for company. Willa, in her customary thoughtfulness, had draped a silky robe to match the nightgown at the foot of the bed - leaving it to Lothíriel to decide whether or not to don it.

She stood in the center of the chamber, alone and more than slightly irritated. She could still hear the revelers in the Great Hall, celebrating and feasting their King's wedding- their King who had conveniently left Lothíriel's side shortly after dinner and still had not reappeared.

It does not bode well that your new husband is already this inattentive, she thought with a flash of irritation.

Patience had never been her strong suit, and after their kiss in the stables yesterday she was even more impatient. Her mind raced as she poured herself a glass of wine from the pitcher which had been brought to the room before Lothíriel had come.

Her thoughts ran in circles, always beginning and ending with the kiss yesterday. More accurately, her thoughts went to the tingles that had ran up and down her spine every time Éomer's beard shad craped against the extremely sensitive skin of her neck. As she lost herself in the memories, the familiar tingles began to shoot up her spine, causing her to shudder and shake her head, hopelessly trying to rid herself of the thoughts.

She took another deep swallow of wine and considered the missing object of her fantasies.

Perhaps he went back to celebrate with his men, she thought, somewhat bitterly, as her gaze flitted around the chamber, taking in the heavy wood furniture and austere decoration. Her gaze fell upon the minuscule hand-carved wooden figurines lined up on the edge of the windowsill. The whimsical little toys looked out of place in the masculine chamber.

She left her goblet of wine on the table, next to the pitcher and a second goblet, and approached the battalion of animal figurines, bending slightly to see them more clearly through the warm haze of wine.

There were horses, of course; and foxes and wolves; rabbits and bears; various birds and beasts she had never before seen, likely imagined from fairy stories and legends of the past. Some were carved by the precise hand of a master craftsman, and others by the clumsy hand of a child. Her eyes landed on a roughly hewn dragon with a too long tail and droopy ears. She looked at it curiously with a small smile on her lips. As she picked it up and turned to hold it to the light, the door swung open, allowing the echoes of laughter and shouts from the great hall into the chamber. She quickly dropped her hand, trying to hide the pilfered dragon among her skirts before remembering that her skirts now consisted of what was quite possibly a transparent handkerchief.

Giving up on hiding the dragon, she watched her husband cautiously step in and glance around the chamber.

He doesn't look any worse for the wear than when he left the feast, Lothíriel thought, coming to the conclusion that he had not gone back after she was whisked away from the Great Hall.

His gaze landed on her and his eyes widened slightly as he took in her bare legs and the regrettably thin night gown. A cold breeze swept into the room- granted entry through the door Éomer held open- and wrapped around Lothíriel. It's icy fingers raked through her hair and slithered across her skin, sending a shiver through her entire body. Éomer must have noticed the motion from across the room because he let the door fall shut behind him, and suddenly the vast room felt too small. This was the first time they were alone together since the stables the day before.

"I apologize for my tardiness, My Lady, there were tasks to be done that could not wait until morning," Éomer sounded regretful.

"A king's work is never complete, My lord." Lothíriel said lightly, letting him believe his absence had not bothered her at all.

He tilted his head in acquiescence and went to the table where the pitcher of wine and goblets had been arranged. While his back was turned, Lothíriel's eyes darted toward the robe at the edge of the bed, mentally berating herself for not wearing it earlier. She briefly considered putting it on it while Éomer was busy with the wine, but quickly abandoned that idea when he put the pitcher down and turned toward her, glasses in hand.

Her heart beat louder and faster with every step Éomer took toward her until it was so loud Lothíriel was certain he could hear it thumping. She was no longer as nervous in his presence as she had been yesterday, but she was still not entirely relaxed.

He stood at a respectable distance but traitorous part of her head kept saying that the respectable distance was too far and she should step closer to him. She ignored that voice, instead, choosing to smile as he held out her goblet, nearly filled to the brim with ruby colored wine.

As she reached for it, Éomer noticed the dragon figurine clenched between the fingers of her other hand.

Her eyes darted down to the forgotten figurine and she began to worry, hoping he would not be too upset by her curiosity. She chastised herself briefly, remember you still did not know enough about him to behave without thinking.

"I apologize for-"

"I see you found my-"

They both began speaking at the same time. Éomer cut himself off with a smirk and motioned for her to finish her thought first.

"I apologize for moving the figurines, My Lord. I was curious about them." Lothíriel spoke as she straightened her fingers and revealed the dragon on her palm.

Éomer's hand came up slowly as he spoke.

"Please, don't be sorry," his said as he stroked one finger over the ridges on the back of the dragon. "I hope you enjoyed them."

"They're lovely," Lothíriel said, transfixed by his fingers and vaguely aware that her own voice had dropped to a whisper. "Who made them?"

Éomer's eyes met hers with a smile, "I did, mostly. Theodored made some of them, and Theoden King as well,"

She smiled back at him and turned to the windowsill, gently placed the dragon back in its place and tilted her head as she took a second look at the little wooden menagerie.

Éomer stepped toward her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body against her skin. He set his wine on the windowsill with a gentle clink of stone against metal and looked at the collection of animals.

"Several days after my father was killed, Theoden King brought me to the throne room. My mother had taken to her chambers in desolation, she passed only weeks later in her grief. He sat beside me on the steps, rather than sitting upon his throne, and let me watch as he carved away at an uneven block of wood. He did not ask me to speak, nor did he force his conversation on me. Rather, we both sat in silence as the block of wood became a thing of beauty."

Éomer paused and reached around Lothíriel to gently tap the back of a nimble horse standing in a perpetual prance between a hulking bear and a block-like bird. He let his hand rest on the windowsill as he continued.

"One day when we sat down, he handed his knife and a new piece of wood to me and watched as I whittled away at the block."

Éomer's voice grew quieter. "Whenever I became unsure of what to do next, he would take it from me and expertly carve some wood away until it looked right again. Then he would hand it back and watch me continue."

Lothíriel gently placed her hand over his as she asked, "And what did you make?"

"The bird," Éomer said, with a smile in his voice.

Lothíriel looked at the crudely carved bird next to the horse and ran her fingers down its tail. Suddenly finding courage in the figurine, she placed her wine next to his and turned to face him. They stood closer than she had initially realized, one tiny step forward would have put her firmly in his arms, but she hesitated- unwilling to throw herself at him… again.

He gaze ran over her face and he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He spoke before she had a chance to, "Lothíriel," he breathed, as her eyes fluttered shut, "You're so lovely."

He let the same fingers drag over her shoulder and down her arm until he was holding her hand in his own. He pulled her hand to his lips, laid a kiss on the back of her fingers and stepped back, away from the window, still holding her hand.

She gladly followed and went into his arms now, eyes opening to admire the man before her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him, pulling back slightly to see his reaction, or rather, to make sure he wasn't frozen in surprise like he had been when she had kissed him in the stables.

His arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand gently cupped her face as he pulled her face back to his and kissed her, deeper this time.

Lothíriel's lips opened in a sigh against his mouth. Without even realizing, she tugged him closer and raked her fingers through his dark blonde hair as Éomer walked her backward toward the bed.

When she felt the wood against her calves and the warmth of the quilts and furs against her thighs, Éomer pulled away from the kiss and picked her up by the waist to lift her onto the bed, which was much higher than she had initially assumed.

She caught his eye and he gave her a wicked smile as he leaned closer and kissed down her jaw and neck. Her head fell back and her fingers fisted in his hair as his beard scraped down the length of delicate skin. Soft gasps fell from her lips every time Éomer's teeth grazed her neck. She had a hard time catching her breath when he sucked and nibbled on the most sensitive parts of her neck.

She heard herself whisper his name among gasps and moans, she didn't know what she was begging for but knew she wouldn't be able to stand it if he stopped. Éomer released her waist and reached down to spread her thighs apart; his teeth against her shoulder made her neck feel weak, until she dropped her forehead against his chest. He stepped between her thighs and slid his fingers down her smooth skin to catch the edge of the silky nightgown. Her hands fisted in the material at the neck of his shirt as he pulled the gown up until it was bunched around her hips.

Lothíriel launched forward and kissed him, unable to hold herself back any longer as he placed his large hands on her bare thighs. Her tongue twisted against his, aggressive and relentless. She wanted everything from him.

His hand snuck between her thighs toward her center while the other reached around and roughly squeezed a handful of her bottom, making her arch into him.

Two of his fingers slid between her wet folds as he groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, sucking and nipping the skin there.

"I wanted to do this yesterday," his voice was muffled by her skin, "In the stables,"

Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and tangled in his hair, holding his head in place as his fingers teased between her legs, sending liquid fire through her body.

She gently bit his neck in curious delight, wondering how he would react.

The hand grasping her arse pulled her closer to him as a rumble vibrated through his chest.

"You should have," she whispered against his ear as she sucked at his earlobe, delighted by his response.

He pulled his fingers away from her and shook his hair out of his face with a devious smile. He rested his hands on either side of her hips, bracing himself on the edge of the bed.

"Ah, my Queen, I must apologize for the missed opportunity yesterday," he teased as he kissed her lightly, pulling away when she tried to deepen the kiss. "I shall do my best to please you now."


Hello All!

1. As always, ask me questions, send me suggestions or just say hi! I'd love to hear from you :)

2. Here's chapter 2! I'm thinking of making this PWP for a few more chapters, hopefully that doesn't offend anybody.

3. I have a few Avengers stories out, you should all take a look if you're into that!

Please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!

-Mo-