Near Misses
Chapter 2
(early April, 3020 III)
"Lothiriel, will you not reconsider?" Erchirion entreated. "I know you wish to see Father as much as he wishes to see you, dearest."
"I do, that is true," she admitted, "but Aunt Ivriniel especially needs my help, now that she has broken her leg. You know how disagreeable she can be, and I seem to be the only one who can keep her moderately satisfied. Much as I would wish to go, I think I must remain here and see to her. Father will understand, as I am sure Faramir will. But give them both my love, and I will see them as soon as possible."
"Very well," Erchirion sighed, accepting her decision.
"Personally," Amrothos announced, coming to join them, "I think this is just a ploy by Lothiriel to avoid meeting Eomer!"
"It is not!" she snapped. "Truth is, I should very much like to meet both kings, but for the moment that is not possible. I have other responsibilities that prevent it. And with Alphrin teething, Alcathir will need help with Alphros. I simply cannot leave just now." She shrugged apologetically.
"Another time," Erchirion assured her, kissing her forehead. "As you said, they will understand and approve your reasons for lingering here. Father has mentioned inviting Eomer to come visit Dol Amroth, so perhaps you will meet him soon anyway. And if he does come, that will certainly bring Father home as well. But I am sorry you will have to miss the wedding. Aunt Ivriniel chose a very poor time to trip over one of her cats!"
They all laughed lightly at his remark, but then she kissed each of their cheeks so they could make their way aboard the ship that was to carry them north. From the dock, Lothiriel waved a frantic farewell when the boat finally began to ease its way out of the harbor, and her brothers stayed on deck until they caught the tide and were too distant to readily be seen.
With a sigh, Lothiriel turned back toward the castle. She was sorry not to see her Father or attend the wedding, but it could not be helped. Perhaps she simply was not supposed to meet either king. Certainly fate appeared to be conspiring against it.
xxxxx
It had been a lovely wedding. Even Eomer, who tended to be rather bored by such festivities, enjoyed it. Admittedly, that he had to play a certain part increased his interest, and that happiness virtually radiated from both Eowyn and Faramir made him very content to witness this event. The only problem of it was that it reminded him all too forcefully of his own need in the marital arena.
At least this celebration had brought out the likeliest candidates, and he could study his choices a little more closely. Elessar had introduced him to Lady Pethmil earlier, and his eyes now found her, standing along the edge of the room, watching the dancers. She had seemed agreeable, and was quite attractive. Perhaps she warranted a closer view.
Accordingly, he moved to join her, and when the next dance began, escorted her onto the floor. She maintained a cheerful chatter through the course of it, and her high spirits fed his own. Before excusing himself to dance and visit with others, he invited, "Would you care to show me about the town tomorrow, my lady? I have some time available in the morning if that is acceptable to you."
"Oh, yes!" she agreed brightly. "I should enjoy that very much, my lord."
She gave him directions to her house and he excused himself, pleased at having made progress in his goal. A few of the other ladies he met during the course of the festivities also struck him as possibilities, so if things did not go well with Lady Pethmil, he could move on to the next.
The morning dawned clear and sunny, and even the wind had abated to make for a very pleasant day out of doors. When he finished with a couple of meetings, Eomer made his way to Lady Pethmil's home, finding her eagerly awaiting his arrival. They were soon underway, strolling down through the various circles of the city, stopping at shops or viewpoints along the way.
Almost from the moment they left her door, Lady Pethmil had begun speaking, and Eomer was hard pressed to get a word in. Even when she asked a question, she barely gave him time to respond before launching on another discourse, happily oblivious to any attempts he made to join in. He could not see that she had much interest in hearing his views on anything; indeed, she was solely intent on regaling him with her thoughts on any and every topic.
"Oh, let us look in this shop! Are not these the finest dresses you have ever seen? Another shop on the fourth Circle pretends theirs are the finest wares, but I do not believe it," she babbled.
"They are–"
She cut across his response. "Look at this one. Is it not an exquisite color? I think it will look very well on me. Oh, and that lovely green one there. The Rohirrim are fond of green, are they not? But it is not my favorite color. Ooh, these hair ribbons will look nice with it."
On and on she droned. It did not take long before her words became a buzzing in his ears, and with it his focus on her waned. He did not know how long they had walked, or how many shops they entered, without his having spoken a single word, or do more than make some small murmur of agreement to her. He snuck a look from the corner of his eye. She was utterly unaware of his inattention, concerned only with what she had to say – not that it was particularly worth saying, in his view. How long could a woman talk about dresses and hair and dances? This one seemed capable of doing so for hours, without drawing breath.
It was still early, but he judged it was near enough to midday that he could suggest they stop for a meal. Food in her mouth might shut her up for a time, and he was badly in need of a drink. Perhaps that would help him make it through until they parted company. With difficulty, he interrupted her momentarily to suggest, "Shall we dine at that inn, Lady Pethmil?"
"Oh, yes," she replied uncaringly, and then promptly resumed her former dissertation.
Then, once they were seated at a table, she began a new monologue about her favorite foods and the worst meals she had eaten. Eomer concentrated on his mug of ale, closing his ears and his thoughts to her. He could cross this one off his list. She would talk him into an early grave. As soon as the meal was finished, he would see her home and that would be the end of their association.
Dinner was interminable, but at last he was rid of her and turned to fall in beside Eothain as they walked back to the Citadel. For a lazy morning of merely strolling with a lady, he felt incredibly exhausted.
After several minutes of restrained silence, Eothain could hold back no longer. "The lady did not suit you, Eomer?"
Eomer skidded to a halt, clasping his head, as he growled out his frustration. "Was I mad to wish for a woman who was more talkative?" he rhetorically asked Eothain.
The other man suppressed a grin, replying, "Perhaps you merely assumed that she would be more talkative because she actually had something to say?"
Eomer dropped his hands and tilted his head to scowl at his friend. "Aye! And certainly I was mistaken there. While I confess that I stopped listening to Pethmil's words quite some time ago, I cannot say that I noticed she spoke anything of consequence. I suspect she merely enjoys the sound of her own voice!"
Eothain chuckled, and shrugged. "May I assume we will not be entertaining this particular lady in the future, then, my Lord?"
"I am surprised that you even need to ask," Eomer retorted, turning abruptly. "You know, I had not thought it would be this difficult to find an agreeable woman. It is much easier to spend meaningless time with a barmaid at a tavern, or dancing with many women at gatherings, than it is to find one a man wants for a wife."
Eothain turned as well, clapping him on the shoulder. "It can be done. We see evidence all around us, including Eowyn. Give it more time. You are used to quick results from your actions. It is merely the time involved that frustrates you. And, admittedly, there are yet a great many women for you to consider. A wife is desirable, especially for a king, but there is no reason that you must rush into something as soon as possible. Find the right one before you act, Eomer. The long years ahead may be very cold if you act in haste."
"Wise words from an unmarried man," Eomer observed wryly.
Eothain shrugged. "I just speak as I find. Perhaps I have only observation to bolster my argument, but I am convinced of the truth I speak all the same. I have seen men rush into marriage during the first blush of passion, only to discover that the having was not so pleasing as the wanting. But when a man takes time to know a woman first, and feels confident in his choice, it all seems to work out better in the end. I know your advisers would hasten the process, but you are no weakling they may bully into doing their bidding. Do what is right for you, Eomer. In the end, that is what will be right for the Mark also."
Eomer grinned in amusement at his friend, but nodded. "Well spoken. And I will trust you to help me hold to that course."
Without further comment, they resumed their climb up the hill, but at least the discussion had eased Eomer's tension somewhat.
This misstep, however, made Eomer more reluctant to approach another lady. Perhaps sensing his hesitation, Elessar spoke to him the next morning after their meeting with the Gondorian council had ended.
"Eomer, I know things did not go well with Lady Pethmil, but do not allow that to color your view of the others. I can assure you that there are many worthy ladies at hand. I have never known you to be squeamish about facing a challenge head on!"
The young king grinned at his friend. He knew Elessar spoke the truth, likely the reason he had confessed the previous day's mishap. With a sigh, he replied, "You are right. But one does tend to shy away after once being bitten!"
Elessar laughed loudly, and clapped him on the back. "It is like riding horses – you must get straight back on when you are thrown, lest you never return to the saddle. Now, then, there is a small gathering tonight. Take a look around and see if any will entice you into another attempt."
That agreed upon, each went about the remainder of their day, and Eomer gave little more thought to the discussion until he approached the dining hall that night. Most of the guests were those he had already met, and included in their number were one or two of the other ladies he had considered as possibilities. Seated next to Lady Balardil, he enjoyed pleasant conversation for the course of the meal, and by the time it ended, they had agreed to meet for a visit to town. It was not a particularly inspired attempt to acquaint himself with the lady, he knew, but it would give him a chance to see her behavior with others and with him out in public.
Certainly she was not so talkative as Pethmil had been, speaking in moderation and with great sense. Possibly he could be optimistic about pursuing this association further.
"You have lived in Minas Tirith all of your life?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Most of it, but I was born in Lossarnach. My father moved to the City when I was but a child. His business kept him here so much that he thought it more reasonable for his family to join him than make the journey between the two places."
"My grandmother was from Lossarnach. Is it a long way off? I have heard those who fled the City during the War took refuge there – did you go with them?" he inquired.
"It is less than half a day's ride, my lord. And, yes, I went there with the others who fled. Lord Denethor sent all the women and children from the City before the siege began, save those who could help in the Healing Houses. I do not know if we were a great deal safer, but Mordor had not yet spread its blight there, so it was a great relief to be away from the war."
Eomer's brow wrinkled slightly at the response. While he did not expect women to go into battle, and would not have them trapped in a city besieged, he was more used to women who stepped up and helped in such moments. Surely she could have provided aid in the Healing Houses, for he knew they had been completely overwhelmed with the number of wounded they received. How could anyone sit off at a safe distance and merely be relieved to have the ugliness kept away from them? Still, it seemed a rude thing to ask, so he did not pursue it.
"And how is Gondor taking to having a king once more?" he asked curiously. Most that he had seen appeared to approve of Aragorn, but he wondered what someone might say on the matter, though perhaps they would not be honest with a friend to their king.
"He seems a good man, though why he waited so long to come to our aid is troubling. We shall see whether he proves to be wise and just, and worth the wait. Certainly we managed very well under the Stewards, and Lord Faramir would have been quite able in that regard. Everyone thinks so, but at least the king had the sense to keep him on as Steward. His wisdom and experience will surely be invaluable."
She spoke her mind quite decidedly, which he supposed was a good thing, though he did not get the impression she was open to any other view than her own. There was a hint of haughtiness in her words, suggesting she knew best and all should agree with her. Still, he did not know her very well as yet, and perhaps he was misjudging her.
On the other hand, he did not appreciate her disparaging words regarding Aragorn. While he valued honesty, he thought her words both harsh and unfair. Aragorn had not been sitting idle during the years prior to the great battle, and his efforts probably had prevented the war coming sooner than it did – and before they had a hope of winning it. Still, it was likely she spoke from ignorance of the truth. Perhaps if she knew the facts she would see her king in a better light.
Just as he was going to offer what he knew about Aragorn and his reasons for not revealing himself sooner, they were interrupted by someone calling out behind them.
"Sir! Sir!"
Eomer turned at the entreaty that seemed directed at him. A small, dirty boy in raggedy clothing was running toward them, an earnest expression on his face. Eomer judged he was likely not even ten years of age as yet. "Yes?" Eomer asked, smiling, as the boy skidded to a halt before him.
As the child was catching his breath to speak, Lady Balardil intervened. "Be gone, urchin! Do not trouble the king with your begging!" She waved him off with an impatient gesture.
The lad flinched and fell back a step, but seemed resolved to carry out his mission. "I'm not begging!" he exclaimed, "I just wanted to warn–"
She cut him off again, more angrily this time. "I said be gone! The King has no time for your prattle."
She turned to Eomer and advised, "Pay the beggars no mind, my lord. They are a plague on our streets. It is a shame that the poor do not have nurses to tend their brats and keep them out from under foot of good folk."
Eomer raised an eyebrow at her remarks. "You do not care for children?" Suddenly the vague misgivings he had been having about her earlier were becoming much firmer.
"Children have their place, of course, but ladies of the nobility cannot be expected to contend with them when they are in those trying growing-up years. Once they reach adulthood and have developed manners, then they should take their rightful place in the household and at gatherings," she explained. Her expression showed clearly that she thought him deficient in what should be common knowledge, an ailment he suspected she considered present in most men. "You must be firm with these peasants, my lord, or they will never cease to trouble you."
"But those men, those men with pale hair are following him!" the boy blurted out, before she could prevent him again. The boy pointed a short distance back the way they had just come.
"Of course they are following him!" Lady Balardil snapped. "He is the King and needs protection! Now, go! You have nothing to say to King Eomer that will be of any consequence to him."
When she reached to grab the boy's shoulder, Eomer intercepted and caught her by the wrist. "The boy has something to tell me, and I wish to hear it," he said firmly. "As I will be otherwise occupied, I am sure the streets are perfectly safe for you to make your way home alone. However, I will send a guard with you if you feel you need one." He quirked an eyebrow to emphasize his dismissal of her and she blanched. When he stood silently waiting, she gave a curtsy and walked away from them, slowly moving off up the road with as much dignity as she could muster.
Returning his attention to the boy, Eomer said kindly, "You are very alert to have noticed my guards. Normally they would be closer to me, but they wished to give me time alone with the lady."
The lad's face fell as he realized his mistake. "I…I didn't mean to bother you, sir."
"You did not," Eomer reassured. "A friend alerting me to possible danger is always a welcome thing. So, friend, did I smell a bakery back there? I could use a treat and wish to share with you, as a token of my appreciation."
A wide grin split the boy's face and he nodded eagerly. "I know just the place, sir! This way!" He caught Eomer's hand and tugged him along, the King smiling with pleasure. Certainly this was more agreeable company than that which he had just quitted. He supposed that was another lady gone from consideration.
Once they had bought their treats, and Eomer had signaled his guards forward to share in it, he and the boy found an obliging bench on which to sit and eat them.
"Are you really the king?" the boy asked around a mouthful of cinnamon roll.
"I am," Eomer acknowledged, adding, "the king of Rohan. Elessar is your king."
"But…but I heard the king of Rohan was a great warrior. Why would you need guards?" the boy questioned, his eyebrows knit together in confusion.
Eomer chuckled, and the guards standing nearby hid their grins. "A very good question!" Eomer asserted. "It is not that I am unable to defend myself, but…well, I suppose it is assumed that I will have other matters claiming my attention and I might not notice danger so readily. They are with me to see that I am not attacked unaware. But, if it came to a fight, you may be sure I would be involved! I am not one to stand idly by."
The boy grinned at that, but glanced down at Eomer's hip with a frown. Eomer could guess his thoughts, and explained, "Usually I do wear my sword, but when one is spending time with a lady it is not entirely appropriate. This time I would have to rely on my guards, should anything happen."
The boy licked his hands clean and then dried them on his pants leg. Finally, he said, "My name is Tarendil. I am pleased to meet a king." He offered his hand and Eomer readily clasped it, sticky fingers and all.
"And I am Eomer, though I suppose in public you should probably not be so informal with me." He gave the lad a wink, eliciting a grin in response. "But now, Tarendil, I fear I must be about my day. It has been a pleasure meeting you, and again I thank you for guarding me from danger. A king needs such good friends."
The boy smiled broadly and rose as Eomer stood. "I will warn you whenever I see a danger to you, I promise! But now I know about your guards, so I will be more careful next time."
"Agreed!" Eomer chuckled. "And good day to you!"
The boy turned and ran off down the street, and Eomer watched him go, smiling in amusement, before at last moving up the hill.
After two failed attempts at courtship, Eomer decided against further efforts on this visit to Gondor. He would take another look at the ladies of the Mark and see if he could not find someone there. Perhaps he was not meant to woo someone from this land.
TBC
Rohan women:
Afrehold – "perpetually loyal" (ch 3)
Fegenferth – "happy heart" (ch 6)
Mithanmag – "hidden woman" (ch 1)
Rohan male (mentioned):
Aldfrid – "old peace"
Gondor women:
Ardagnir – "bane of royals" (MT) (ch 5)
Balardil – "lover of power" (MT) (ch 2)
Gaermil – "sea lover" (DA) (ch 4)
Pethmil – "lover of words" (MT) (ch 2)
Vaniel – "beautiful daughter" (DA) (ch 4)
Gondor men:
Angamor – "black iron" (ch 7)
Belcam – "strong hand" (ch 3)
Faramil – "sufficient affection" (ch 6)
Pethraug – "demon words" (ch 4)
Tarendil – "friend of kings" (ch 2)
Vanendil – "lover of beauty" (ch 4)