A/N: Wow! Looks like I'm not the only one who is fond of "Persuasion"! Many of you count it as a favorite! I wasn't expecting this idea to be so popular, but, hey, I can live with it!
A reminder: I mark my stories "complete" because they are completely written, even if they are not entirely posted yet. With few exceptions (usually due to the site being down more than anything), I tend to post a chapter a day. If I didn't mark them complete up front, I'd forget to go back and change that, and then people would keep waiting for more!
Chapter 2
Lothiriel dabbed at her brow with a handkerchief. She had not fully understood what her father had in mind by summoning Lothiriel and her aunt to Minas Tirith, but it turned out he wished them to accompany him on the trip to Edoras for the funeral. She had thought perhaps her aunt would decline, as she could tell the woman was not eager to make the rigorous journey, but Lothiriel underestimated her aunt's desire to secure a match between Lothiriel and Rohan's king. The woman apparently would do whatever it took to bring it about, even if it meant traveling with few amenities to a backward country for a funeral of someone she did not know or care about. She could have sent Lothiriel alone; after all, her father and brothers would be along to supervise the girl, but they were men and unsuited to the intricacies of courtship. Only she was properly skilled to bring the couple together, and fend off all those other would-be queens lurking about the man. Her niece was the only one proper to make such a match, and she would see it done before she departed this earth. Only then could she consider her duty to the girl to be adequately discharged.
Thus far, the travel had been hot, dirty and tedious, and Lothiriel had little to do but ride in the carriage with her aunt, and listen to longwinded dissertations on how to secure a husband. There was no doubt in her mind who specifically Ivriniel expected her to 'secure', though no name had been mentioned. Ivriniel's eyes watched Eomer whenever he was near, like a predator stalking its prey. Lothiriel's insides squirmed uncomfortably every time she witnessed it, but knew that any protests on her part would fall on deaf ears.
As for Lothiriel, Eomer continued to ignore her as though she did not exist, managing a polite nod or comment only when it was unavoidable. Lothiriel had noticed her father and others eyeing him in surprise at his behavior toward her, but she was not aware that anyone had spoken to him about it. She very much hoped no one would; she did not like to think what he might say if pressed.
Still he could not entirely shun her. As Imrahil's daughter, he could not totally snub her without doing the same to the rest of her family, which he clearly did not wish to do. Indeed, the men of her family got on exceedingly well with him, and he appeared to greatly enjoy their company. That realization only added to her considerable feelings of guilt.
For all her youth and inexperience, she had loved him. He was like no one she had ever known before, and she had wanted nothing more than to be with him always. True, she had not fully considered the implications of marrying a mere soldier rather than a nobleman, but Eomer had been a good man then, and he was an even better one now, from all she could see and had heard. Whatever she would have had to give up on his account, she felt sure would be insignificant to the joy of being his wife. But Aunt Ivriniel had guided most of her life since her mother died when she was ten years of age, and it had seemed impossible to go against her or argue with her judgement. Only now that she had matured was she persuaded that she should have been happier had she chosen a different course back then.
Life as Imrahil's daughter was both a blessing and a curse. It held material advantages, of course, and she had little with which she needed to concern herself. All that was truly expected of her was to make a good match in marriage, and then provide her husband with an heir. Aside from that, her life would primarily be one of leisure and comfort. The men handled the details and difficulties of life, not their wives. Yet, she could not help thinking there must be more than that. She had seen the new queen of Gondor, and envied her. Queen Arwen was not the shy, retiring type as so many of the noble women were. She did not merely accept that her place was in a sitting room, mildly doing stitch work and gossiping with ladies of the court. The king had her beside him on numerous occasions, and sought her opinion on a variety of matters. Despite the rather shocked looks of staid Gondorians, Lothiriel had thought their relationship quite remarkable – and enviable.
Then, too, there was the White Lady of Rohan. Eomer's sister, Eowyn, had ridden to battle, disguised as a man, doing her part to defeat evil. Though many looked askance at such behavior, still they hailed her a heroine, and Lothiriel's cousin, Faramir, did not seem to find her lacking in womanly charm for it. How Lothiriel longed to be more than just an ornament on some man's arm. She could almost believe such a thing might be possible in Rohan, but she would never find it in Gondor, she was sure.
"Lothiriel?" Her aunt's voice imperiously broke through her reverie, and she realized she had been inattentive to the conversation.
"I am sorry, Aunt. Did you say something? My mind must have wandered," she apologized.
Ivriniel frowned at this perceived disrespect, but set the matter aside to address more pressing issues. "We will be stopping for dinner soon. Freshen your appearance. We cannot have you looking like a wilted rose before King Eomer. There is nothing appealing in that."
How she was supposed to "freshen" in this withering heat, she was not certain, but Lothiriel kept silent. An argument would serve no purpose. Pulling out a fresh handkerchief, she dabbed again at her sweat streaked face and neck, and then patted down her hair. It was so tightly bound that it was unlikely to be in disarray. Ivriniel's appraising eye seemed to have reached the same conclusion, for she did not press her regarding it. Just as her aunt had anticipated, the cortege came to a halt a short time later, and Lothiriel waited for her aunt to exit the carriage first. Instead, the older woman leaned back against the cushions with a sigh, fanning at herself.
"I believe I will eat in the carriage rather than get out in this sun, my dear. I will have a servant escort you to your father. He should be fairly near to King Eomer, and so you will have the opportunity to speak with the man and let him come to know you better. Remember – your best manners at all times!" Ivriniel instructed, her eyes closed during the discourse, and thus missing the wry amusement on Lothiriel's face.
A servant was opening the carriage door then, and Ivriniel turned her attention to giving him instructions regarding Lothiriel and her own dinner. When she finished, the man offered Lothiriel a hand down from the carriage and gestured in the direction of where he had last seen her father. They had only gone a short distance, when Lothiriel came to a halt and turned to face him. "I know my aunt expects you to hand me over to my father, but that is not necessary. I will be perfectly safe in our camp, and I wish to walk about and stretch my legs while we are stopped. Stay out of my aunt's sight for a short time and then take her her dinner. She will assume you have filled your charge, and if she spots me unattended, I will say Father left me briefly."
The servant hesitated, but then gave a nod and short bow. "As you wish, m'lady."
Lothiriel was rather surprised at how easy it had been to gain her freedom, if only temporarily. Glancing around the area, she saw that the trees provided some shade along the bank of a creek, so she turned in that direction, thinking to dampen her handkerchief and gain a little added relief. Apparently others had the same idea, for there were several men and women there, in addition to men farther downstream watering the horses. She greeted a few women that she recognized, before moving to dip her handkerchief in the water. Straightening, she dabbed at her face and neck, grateful for the coolness the water provided. Rohan had proven to be a rather windy country, but considering this extreme heat, it did little more than give some slight reprieve from the misery.
Idly wandering along the bank, she found herself alone in a small brushy area, somewhat cut off from everyone else. She knew they were only a short distance away, but this brief isolation was refreshing after the close quarters of an encampment. As she stood there, admiring the view of the creek before her, voices drifted to her from somewhere to her right. Obviously others had also wandered away from the group for a few moments.
Her pulse quickened as she recognized Eomer's distinctive voice. Even when talking quietly, his voice carried, though at first she could not make out the words. Then another voice, a female voice, responded to the king. "I understand you were acquainted with Lady Lothiriel from before, my lord." Lothiriel's jaw tightened, both at the words and a recognition of who was speaking. Linsul was the daughter of a respected nobleman of Minas Tirith, and quite beautiful. It was hardly surprising she had set her sights on Eomer, or that he might be attracted to her. She was everything a man could want, everything that Lothiriel was not.
"Yes," Eomer answered reluctantly, clearly not wishing to discuss Lothiriel. "We met at Minas Tirith a few years ago when I was here with my cousin. She is a pleasant enough girl, though I find her so altered I would hardly have recognized her. Her looks are quite severe now."
"Oh, I know," Linsul agreed. "I believe her Aunt Ivriniel guides her in her dress, but it is not the most appealing, nor is the way she wears her hair. But do not think too ill of her for it; she truly is a delightful person."
Lothiriel swallowed hard at their assessment of her appearance, though she could hardly argue their point. She had thought much the same thing when she gazed upon herself in a mirror. What Aunt Ivriniel deemed proper was not particularly attractive, and she had longed to wear some of the brighter, prettier gowns she had seen on others. However, Ivriniel had made it clear that such frivolity was fine for those not of such a noble family, but they had an obligation to set a higher standard.
To Lothiriel's mortification, Linsul continued, "I do wish she had accepted my brother's suit for her hand. I feel certain he would have had her dressing in a more pleasant manner once she was away from her aunt. But, alas, Ivriniel always gets her way, and I am sure she is behind Lothiriel's refusal of Arastel. I do not think Lady Ivriniel considered him of adequate prominence in society to wed the daughter of Dol Amroth's prince!"
"When did this take place?" Eomer asked mildly, seeming to feel the need to give polite attention to the conversation, though surely he must loathe being made to discuss anything regarding Lothiriel.
"Oh, just a little over a year ago, I think. Poor Lothiriel! I fear she will end an unwed maid, or at least unhappily matched, if Lady Ivriniel has her say," Linsul breezily answered.
Lothiriel quickly moved away before she overheard any more of the couple's discussion, thinking it best she return to the campsite. She should probably eat, though what she had heard and the heat combined to give her little appetite. Why must her life be so very different from everyone else's? Her brothers were not made to adhere to Ivriniel's idea of appropriate dress or deportment. And she did not see that anyone truly looked askance at Queen Arwen or the Lady Eowyn; they were perhaps shocked a bit, but all they did was eventually accepted. Could not she do likewise and be equally acceptable? It was not that she thought doing so might endear her to Eomer – she had quite given up hope on that – but she did not like the life she was living. Could she not at least find some personal happiness and contentment while doing the things she must do? She dabbed at her face and neck, pretending to cool herself, but actually to disguise a tear that had slipped out at her bleak outlook.
Amrothos was approaching, and Lothiriel quickly took on a cheery countenance, not wishing him to see her distress. "Come, Thiri. I will get you something to eat, and you can tell me all the things Aunt Ivriniel is discoursing on!" he snickered.
She could not restrain a laugh. Dear Amrothos! He always made her smile. She was sure spending an hour or so in his company would improve her mood immensely. Moments later, they were seated on one of the benches set out under the trees, eating while Amrothos entertained his sister with ridiculous tales. In the middle of a story, he glanced up, calling out, "Eomer! Join us!" He gestured to free space on the bench next to theirs.
Lothiriel stiffened, stealing a quick glance toward Rohan's king. Linsul was clinging to his arm, clearly delighted to be the recipient of his attention, but she was a social creature and enjoyed any gathering of people. "Oh, yes, my lord! Let us join them!" she enthused, and Eomer gave a consenting nod.
Withdrawing his arm from her hold he motioned to the bench. "Have a seat. I will bring our food."
Linsul plunked down next to Amrothos, leaving a space beyond her and farthest from Lothiriel for Eomer. Amrothos' attention was now diverted to conversing with Linsul, and Lothiriel resumed her meal in silence. It seemed to ever be thus; when any other woman was in a room, she was overlooked as inconsequential. Though she could not fault her brother – she was only his sister, after all – he was not alone in this tendency. Good old Lothiriel! She makes a very nice fixture on the wall! Take no notice of her other than to make casual mention of her existence! It was too much, and she could not sit here pretending all was well.
Rising abruptly, she said, "If you will excuse me, I believe I will walk more before we resume our travel."
There was a brief acknowledgement of her departure, but then their conversation quickly continued. Lothiriel was glad to escape before Eomer returned and she had to endure his presence. She did not notice Eomer's gaze upon her as she hurried toward the creek bank once more, seeking solitude.
Whatever his thoughts, Eomer did not comment on Lothiriel's absence when he joined the others, though his gaze flicked toward the creek several times. A half hour later, the company was preparing to proceed on their journey, and Eomer saw Linsul settled back in her carriage. He had not glimpsed Lothiriel returning to her own carriage, and wandered that way. Ivriniel noticed him from the window and called out to him, "My lord Eomer! You are looking well."
Her address gave him an excuse to move closer and verify that she was alone. "Thank you, Lady Ivriniel. You are managing the travel without too much difficulty?" he asked politely.
"It is not easy, but I will manage," she assured him. Then, changing direction, she asked, "Have you seen my niece, Lothiriel, by any chance? She has not returned yet, and I grow concerned."
"I have not seen her for a while, my lady, but I will ask someone to fetch her to you," he said, stepping away. The woman clearly sought to ingratiate herself to him, but still she wore on his nerves. She behaved as though the past had never happened, as if she had not orchestrated keeping him from Lothiriel all those years ago. Now that he was sufficiently important, she wished to alter her course and thought he should just go along with it. She would not find him so malleable as her niece!
He moved quickly away from the carriage, before his temper made him speak out of turn and tell the woman his opinion of her. Despite his irritation, however, he could not help be somewhat concerned about where Lothiriel had gone. He had not seen her return from the creek. He could send a servant, but that was inefficient; best to just go have a look himself and be done with it.
It took several moments of searching before he finally located her. She had settled on the bank, leaning against a tree, where she had fallen asleep. As he stood across the clearing gazing upon her, her features softened by sleep despite her severe hairstyle and clothing, the longing he had felt three years before resurfaced with a vengeance. How could she cause that reaction in him so easily? He tried to despise her, despise her weakness and giving in to her aunt's counsel, but at this moment it seemed impossible to do. She was so young then, and perhaps it was not entirely her fault that she felt she had to obey.
While he stood there musing, Lothiriel stirred, stretching and giving a yawn that she demurely hid behind her hand. Not wanting her to catch him spying on her, he called out, "Lothiriel!"
She jumped slightly, and hastily scrambled to her feet as he moved closer. "Your…aunt is looking for you. The company is preparing to depart." Even in his own ears his words sounded cold and stiff, but he could not bring himself to act differently.
"Oh! I am sorry! I did not mean to delay you. I sat down for just a moment and must have drifted off. My sincere apologies, my lord!" she exclaimed.
He cleared his throat gruffly, then answered, "No harm done. We are not delayed, but you should return to your carriage." He gestured back toward the encampment, and she moved forward, noticing he did not offer his arm to her. He walked slightly behind her the entire way, as though herding a wayward cow back to the barn, and she could not restrain a blush of embarrassment.
Once they reached her carriage, he gave a curt bow and moved away without comment, and she watched him leave with sorrowful eyes until her aunt called out to her, and summoned her inside. For the duration of the afternoon, she was made to listen to chastisement for not doing more to engage the king during the dinner hour, and further plotting by her aunt as to what course they should take upon reaching Edoras. Lothiriel leaned her head against a cushion and let her thoughts wander, knowing full well that her aunt seldom required a response when giving such dissertations.
To her surprise, the cortege ended their travel earlier than usual. Normally they pressed on until nearly sunset, leaving only enough time to get the tents up before darkness fell upon them. Not until supper with her father and brothers did she discover the reason for it. Eomer had determined that the ladies were being excessively tired by the heat and travel, and had decreed a shorter day to give them additional rest. While Ivriniel waxed eloquent about the king's thoughtfulness, Lothiriel privately wondered at it. Surely it could not have to do with Eomer's finding her asleep on the creek bank. Rather, it must be due to a complaint by Linsul that had caught his notice, but still she found the timing of it curiously coincidental.
Whatever or whoever the reason for the decision, Lothiriel was grateful, but not nearly so grateful as when Edoras appeared in the distance. She would be very glad to exit this carriage, and not revisit it for a good long while. She had hoped to get to do some riding along the way, and better see the sights, but there were no horses to spare and no sidesaddle for her use. And Aunt Ivriniel made it clear that riding out in the hot sun was not to be done. Wind and sun would ravage her skin most abominably.
Lothiriel had little experience with any place other than Dol Amroth or Minas Tirith. She was not sure what she had expected to find at Edoras and the mead hall of Meduseld, but certainly it was not the reality before her at present. It was far more rugged and rough than what she was used to in Gondor, but yet she found a certain warmth and appeal to it. It was soon evident, however, that Aunt Ivriniel did not share that opinion. She barely concealed her scowl of disapproval, and soon after their arrival she retired to her room with a sick headache. As Lothiriel had been housed with her aunt for the duration, space being at a premium with all the funeral guests, she determined to spend as little time as possible in the room if her aunt was in residence.
They had arrived in the late morning, so after the midday meal Lothiriel ventured into the town to look around. She was quite sure her aunt would be mortified, but she had seen nothing here to give her alarm. Granted, Minas Tirith could be rather dangerous for a woman unattended, but she had the feeling that was not the case in Edoras.
It made her self-conscious that so many stopped and stared at her, though she thought it was likely more a case of curiosity than anything else. Perhaps it was that she was alone, since she was not the only visitor perusing the town. She had not explored more than one shop before she encountered a familiar face. "Lady Eowyn," she acknowledged with a curtsy.
Eowyn eyed her with surprise; she had been told that the girl was rarely seen without her aunt hovering nearby. "Lady Lothiriel," she answered. "Come to do a little shopping, or are you merely looking around?" she asked politely.
Lothiriel smiled, wanting to like this woman who was to wed her cousin, but feeling more than a little intimidated by her. "I am mostly just looking, though I would not be averse to making a purchase!" she offered, and Eowyn reluctantly grinned.
"What interests you?" she asked, glancing around the store where they stood. Pickings were slim in Rohan after the War, and it would take time for business to thrive or offer much, particularly to fastidious Gondorians.
Lothiriel was longingly eyeing some gowns hanging nearby. There was nothing overly extraordinary about them; indeed, they were rather plain in design and not at all up to her usual standard of quality, but they were cheery and looked comfortable. How she wished she dared purchase one, much less dare to wear it! Aunt Ivriniel would have the vapors if she saw her in such a thing.
Eowyn's eyes followed her gaze to discern what had her attention, and could guess the girl's thoughts. Surely she could not like the dresses she routinely wore. They were hideous, and Eowyn suspected it was her aunt's influence rather than Lothiriel's preference that included them in her wardrobe.
Reaching for a pale green gown, Eowyn held it up to Lothiriel with a critical eye. At length, she announced, "This would look wonderful on you! It goes so well with your lovely dark hair. Shall you not buy it?"
There was almost something of a challenge in Eowyn's voice, and Lothiriel's breath hitched at the prospect of something so rebellious. Dare she? While she was doing mental battle with herself on the matter, Eowyn decided to sway the outcome. "The clothing you are wearing is much too dark and heavy for summer in Edoras. You would be far better served attired in something like this while you are visiting us."
Eowyn concealed her grin as she saw the wheels of hope turning in the girl's head; she was rather enjoying encouraging Lothiriel to kick over Ivriniel's traces!
"Well, perhaps…" Lothiriel said hesitantly, still not quite ready to yield.
With a twinkle in her eyes, Eowyn determined to secure the matter completely. "I wish to make it a gift to you, Lothiriel. Please, you would not refuse to accept such, would you?"
"Oh! I could not…you should not…" she began, but Eowyn cut her off with a raised hand.
"Nonsense! Why should I not? We will be relations soon enough. Please, allow me to do this," Eowyn wheedled, and could see the capitulation in the younger woman's eyes before she voiced it.
"Well, if you are certain that you wish to –"
"I am certain! Go – try it on. There is a room back there. Let us see how you look in it. I do not think it will require much adjustment to fit you," Eowyn instructed, not giving Lothiriel an opportunity to rethink her decision.
As it turned out, other than hemming, the dress was virtually ready for Lothiriel to wear. The shop owner's wife assured her she would make the alteration, and see the dress delivered by the next day. As Eowyn accompanied Lothiriel back out into the street, Lothiriel could hardly believe her temerity. Aunt Ivriniel would have a fit when she saw the dress, and likely insist she not be seen in it, but Lothiriel's jaw tightened. She would wear this dress. Besides, it was a gift and it would be rude to Eowyn not to wear it publicly. No, unless her father had some objection also, she would wear it.
TBC
Erglass – "lone joy"
Linsul – "wind song"
Angcam – "iron hand"
Arastel – "deer foot"
Ivriniel: Sister of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Ivriniel was born in 2947 (69 in 3016). She was the eldest child of Prince Adrahil of Dol Amroth. She had a younger sister Finduilas - wife of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor - and a younger brother Imrahil.
Theodred born 2978 (38 in 3016); died 25 Feb 3019
Eomer born 2991; 25 in 3016
Lothiriel born 2999; 17 in 3016
Theoden began to fall under influence of Grima in 3014
3018
September 19: Gandalf comes to Edoras and is refused admittance.
September 20: Gandalf has an audience with King Theoden and warns him of Saruman's treachery, but Theoden sends him away. Soon afterwards, Saruman begins to act openly in his plan to conquer Rohan.
September 23: Gandalf leaves Rohan with Shadowfax.
3019
February 25: Theoden's son Theodred is killed by Saruman's forces at the First Battle of the Fords of Isen.
February 27: Theoden learns of Theodred's death. Erkenbrand sends a request for reinforcements but Grima advises against it and Theoden follows his advice. Eomer leads his eored in pursuit of the Orcs against King Theoden's orders.
February 30: Eomer meets Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli and decides to aid them. On his return to Edoras, Eomer is arrested.
March 2: Theoden is freed from Grima's influence by Gandalf and decides to ride to war against Saruman.
August 7: The funeral escort arrives in Edoras.
August 10: Funeral of King Theoden. Eomer announces the betrothal of Eowyn to Faramir of Gondor.
August 14: The Fellowship leaves Edoras.
