Bathed and polished, Lothíriel gazed at her reflection in the mirror as the maid was adding finishing touches to her hair. She was getting ready for the feast that was to be held tonight in Merethrond, as King Elessar and Queen Arwen had insisted on hosting a celebration to honour their friend's betrothal. Father had seemed a little bewildered to have his daughter's impending marriage announced in a setting so grand, but the prospect of uniting herself with an actual king was not a small matter.
She couldn't deny she felt a little giddy when she thought of the night she had ahead of her, and so she had seen some unusual effort while making ready and choosing her attire. In earlier days, she rarely had made the attempt to stand out by her appearance, as she had rather stayed nice and quiet in the background. Partly it was because of her shyness, but there was a good deal of insecurity, too. How could she dare to try and compete with the confident, elegant beauties of the court who could crush a man's heart with half a word and a smile?
But tonight was different. Tonight she would stand next to a man whose shining splendour could rival the dawn, and she felt confident. For so many occasions, she had followed him with her eyes, admiring him from afar and feeling she had as much chance of getting close as a mortal can hope to cross the Sea and reach the shores of western starlight. And the game of seduction had raged around him ruthlessly as the ladies of the court tried their considerable charms on him and made their plots how to outsmart others in their competition to get his attention. Lothíriel had known she would not fare well or long in such a battle.
And that was another reason for her effort to look her best tonight. For this one time, she wanted to indulge her vanity, to celebrate a victory she had taken. As Éomer's wife, she would act with dignity and grace, but perhaps a bride could afford a little more light-heartedness.
So she had picked a deep blue gown with sleeves of silver and embroidered at the generous neckline. Made of light silk, it had something of an Elven air about it, as was the fashion these days; the Queen Arwen's influence had manifested in society very soon after her marriage to the King. Her belt was silver as well, and on her brow there was a white jewel in a light chain that disappeared into her hair. The princess had to admit she looked nice tonight, for a faint blush adorned her cheeks and there was light in her glance.
"There! You are all ready, my lady", said the maid and stepped back as if to admire her handiwork. And for a good reason, as Lothíriel couldn't remember when she had last felt so pretty. Maybe she would look like she belonged by the the tall, handsome king's side, after all.
"Thank you, Maewen. You did a good job", said the princess with a smile and the maid curtsied.
She got up from her seat and smoothed her hands across the soft, cool silk of her gown. It was time to go and meet her fate.
Down in the entrance hall, Father and Amrothos were waiting for her. They too wore blue and silver, though her brother's attire was more in line with the latest fashion, with daring cut and fanciful decorations at the neck. Father always appeared in a simpler array, but he never lacked in dignity.
"You are lovely tonight, daughter", Father said with a warm but a little sad smile. It was easy to understand why he would be so, for this was one of the last few nights he would be escorting her to the courts. For he had agreed to give them his blessing, though he had made it his condition they should wait until spring. Relieved to have his approval, Lothíriel and Éomer had quickly agreed to the waiting period - even if they both knew it was going to be more than frustrating.
"Thank you, Ada", she said and placed her hand on his forearm. Excitement was starting to grow in the pit of her belly and she was eager for the moment they would see him.
Father walked a little too slowly for her tastes, but Lothíriel tried to keep her own pace even as they made way for the Citadel. Amrothos too seemed anxious to get there already, but he remained close by, along with the Swan Knights trailing them. The air of summer's evening was heavy and sweet and the path to Merethrond had been decorated with flowers, as though to invite the guests into a fragrant garden.
The doors to the Great Hall of Feasts were wide open and soft chatter carried outside. Before them on the paved road went other lords and ladies of the court, arrayed in fine silks and polished jewellery. She recognised members of distinguished families here and there, and noted many had chosen to stay in the city for the season. Then again, society had generally been much livelier since the Ring War had ended and it often felt like each night, some kind of a gathering took place in the halls and parlours of the White City.
A herald clad in the black and silver livery of the Guards of the Citadel announced their arrival. Some heads turned, for Father was a mighty lord and adviser of King Elessar. But there were those who studied Lothíriel as well, and she guessed they knew she had ridden with Éomer. Now they wondered what it signified. Had she won his favour somehow, or had the King of Rohan simply escorted her after some kind of an injury?
But she smiled and looked ahead, all the way to where Éomer was conversing with King Elessar and Queen Arwen. As always, it was easy to find him in the crowd. He looked magnificent, arrayed in dark green and wearing his long mane in braids traditional to his people. Lothíriel's heart picked up its pace and she breathed deeply. Here was the very embodiment of summer. And somehow by an incredible stroke of luck, she was to marry him.
Father offered a greeting here and a smile there when he saw friends and relatives, and she too was able to deliver a couple of pleasantries. Her voice threatened to grow breathless in her excitement.
At last, they reached the company of two kings and a queen. Éomer gave her a beaming smile and bowed to her, and Elessar and his lady nodded their heads, their eyes twinkling warmly.
Father looked solemnly at the Rohir and the young king met that gaze with one of his own. Some message or understanding seemed to pass between them, and then Father reached for the hand of her intended.
"Here is my daughter. Treat her well", Father said and with those words, he gently placed her hand in the extended palm of Éomer King.
She had never been more beautiful than the moment her father put her hand in Éomer's own. He felt warm and exhilarated, as though he had sipped some exquisite Elven draught. He was aware Aragorn was speaking nearby, announcing the happy news to the crowd, but most of what he said went unnoticed by the Rohir. He was far too busy gazing at his lovely bride, and feeling bewildered at the sheer happiness of this moment.
Following the announcement, there was a bustle around them as friends and family came to congratulate them – or threaten, as was in Amrothos' case. But the young king just beamed at his future brother-in-law, and Lothíriel shooed him off.
When the scene calmed down a little, he lifted her hand to kiss it, even if he'd have preferred it to be her mouth. But perhaps it was better not to try his luck with her overly protective brother around.
"You look very beautiful", he told her in whispers and let his eyes travel over her. She was arrayed in blue and silver that became her complexion so well, her dark hair cascaded like rivers of black silk, and couldn't help but rest his gaze on the gentle swell of her breasts and the hollow of her throat. It rather filled his mind with wholly improper ideas that would have sent Amrothos after him with vengeance, but this was hardly the first time his imagination ran away with him while in her company. Did his bride even know how very tempting she was?
The soft blush on her cheeks deepened a little – perhaps she recognised the brazen way he stared at her – and her eyes sparkled.
"Thank you. But you shouldn't look at me like that, or otherwise everyone will think we have already... well, got Rohirric with one another", she scolded him softly and the colour on her face became crimson.
Éomer couldn't help but laugh at her choice of words. When he managed to get control of his bout of humour, he smiled warmly at her.
"I'll try to behave, my lady Princess", he said to her, though to himself he considered he couldn't wait to 'get Rohirric' with her.
"Not that I mind the idea. I'd just like to fit in my bridal gown on our wedding day", she uttered under her breath. He swallowed hard and looked elsewhere; it was not easy to keep his promise to behave when looking at her straight. Oh, his lovely, alluring Lothíriel! She may be young, but she wasn't as innocent as one might have believed.
"Speaking of which, if you do come and visit Edoras before the winter, you should be prepared for some personal questions. The ladies will want to know if they need to make arrangements in case of a baby", he told her quietly. Though her cheeks still glowed, she didn't seem taken aback by this information.
"Yes. Éowyn already told me that I should expect it", she said softly. Then she gave him what was probably meant to be an accusing look, "I must admit, I didn't really understand how... intimate this is in your people's eyes."
"Is it a bad thing? Would you have preferred to do this in a wholly Gondorian way?" he asked her in a lowered voice. He didn't know for sure what he hoped her to answer, but at the very least, he knew he didn't want her to feel regret.
"No, not at all. You're not Gondorian and if you tried to be like one, it would just feel fake to me. And I don't want some false version of you, Éomer. I want you", Lothíriel stated boldly, much to his shock... and to his delight.
It was a good thing they were interrupted before he could say anything. For an elderly cousin of Imrahil's came to wish them well and to engage him in a long interrogation. Thanks to said cousin, Lothíriel would indeed fit in her bridal gown.
Probably.
Lothíriel could not recall ever having enjoyed the court gatherings as she did that night. In times before, she had always felt so self-conscious and even when she knew no one was looking at her, it was still as though she was constantly being evaluated and judged.
But with Éomer by her side, it was easy to feel confident and resolute. He didn't try to blend in with the background – he just was, claiming the space around himself fully and unashamedly. And the thing about him was he didn't make her feel lesser, but rather like he was lending her his splendour and warmth. Perhaps that made it so easy to be in his company.
Up until their conversation in Éowyn's garden, she had always felt so shy around him, unable to open her mouth and just speak. But all of that had changed with their reconciliation and she was afraid no more. Now she felt easy and comfortable to talk to Éomer, even things she had previously thought woman would and should only spare for her wedded husband. To herself she thought if her sister-in-law had felt so close to Elphir as soon after their betrothal. It was a pity Aredhel was back in Dol Amroth and so Lothíriel couldn't ask for her opinion. On the other hand, what could her brother's wife say about a Rohirric betrothal?
In any case, now as they made their way through the crowd and received congratulations from lords and ladies, she felt strong and secure. She was happy as well, and – she couldn't help it – a little smug. For they met not a small number of other young ladies who had hoped to catch Éomer's eye and attentions, and she could see how they wondered at his choice. Few of these maidens had ever even considered Lothíriel a potential rival, yet here she was by the side of the man who had been most eligible and prestigious among the unmarried lords of the western realms.
Lothíriel knew she would have to be careful, lest she became arrogant; she didn't want to insult Éomer by treating him like some kind of a prize stallion. He deserved better than that.
They joined King Elessar and Queen Arwen for the first dance of the night, and after a while, other couples also entered the floor. Éomer did not look like he particularly enjoyed the opening dance, though he was concentrating enough to get the steps right – he whispered to her that his uncle had insisted him and Éowyn to learn enough Gondorian dances to know their way in southern courts. She smiled to herself, imagining his frustration when ordered to waltz around in the Golden Hall.
"But do tell me", he said then after a set of a bit more difficult steps, "do you actually want to have these southern court dances at our wedding?"
The princess felt a certain amount of pleasure at his question. Somehow the surety and confidence he spoke with of their wedding made it feel so much closer to this moment than next spring.
"Well, I suppose we can negotiate about it", she responded, whirling before him and then tipping herself into a curtsy, which he answered with a bow. "And you will have to show the dances of your people, so that I may make an informed decision."
"Visit me in Edoras", Éomer said, throwing her one of those looks of his that were so very, very tempting. "Come to Rohan and I'll show you everything you could ever hope to see, and more."
She smiled at him, eager for the thought of seeing his land before the wedding.
"You know Father hasn't given an answer yet", she reminded him. Indeed, her sire had agreed to let them marry, but he hadn't said anything when she had requested for a permission to visit Rohan before the winter. She guessed he was still trying to digest the whole idea of her marrying Éomer and wasn't ready to agree to yet another request so soon. Or maybe Amrothos had got to him and filled his ears with horror stories of what might happen if she was allowed anywhere near Meduseld.
"Hmph. I'll have to persuade him, then", Éomer said and reached for her hands for the following move. He frowned, "Or do you think blackmail might be more effective?"
She laughed so hard at the question, she nearly collided with Queen Arwen.
The next tune was livelier, which he seemed to like, and soon enough her beloved was smiling once more. But Elbereth, he was breathtaking when he smiled! Lothíriel always felt a little weak in the knees when he smiled at her.
At the end of the song, Father cut in and Éomer gracefully made way to him. Lothíriel saw him asking the Queen Arwen for a dance. Maybe Father had observed her growing a little too giddy and had come to save her from the dashing King of Rohan.
"You two look tremendously happy together", Father said softly when the new song began. "I admit I had my doubts, but... perhaps this will turn out all right."
"I'm certain it will, Father. I feel sure about it already", Lothíriel said, glancing at her betrothed, who was dancing not far from them with the Queen, and feeling a warm flutter in her chest when their eyes met. "He's just... he's wonderful. I don't think I've ever met anyone else who is so warm and..."
She blushed when she realised she was babbling and saying things a young woman should perhaps keep from her father. So she let out a small embarrassed laugh before finishing her answer, "I'm just really lucky. I see that now."
Father looked at her with a faint, if a little melancholy smile.
"What is it? Do you disapprove after all?" Lothíriel asked worriedly, but he shook his head.
"No, it's not that. I'm glad that you have found someone who makes you feel this way. He's a good man and I rest easy knowing that my daughter will have someone so worthy by her side. But I suppose I haven't really prepared myself for this day, even if I knew it would come eventually. It's just not easy to let go of a beloved child", Father said fondly. His words had her blinking tears from her eyes, and when the song ended, she hugged him tightly.
"Thank you, Ada", she whispered, as nothing else would suffice.
"Just... don't make me a grandfather before the wedding", he said and his smile became a pained one.
"Father! You have been listening to Amrothos, haven't you?" she nearly exclaimed, feeling her cheeks grow hot once more. "I can't believe you just said that!"
Her sire had the modesty to look a little embarrassed. Thankfully, the musicians were not immediately starting another song, and she was able to disengage.
When she joined Éomer's side again, she let out a small sigh of relief.
"Everything all right?" he asked her as she placed her hand on his arm, hoping that no one would be tearing her away for a while at least.
"Of course", she said and looked up at the man next to her. In a solemn tone, she asked, "You know what I was thinking of?"
"Do tell me", he replied with a lopsided smile.
"That spring can't come soon enough."
To be continued.
A/N: I have had a truly shitty day, but at least this time Éothiriel cheered me up! So here comes a new chapter. :) This is a fun little thing and I enjoyed writing it, though I suppose an equivalent of such a scene can be found in many stories about them. Then again, I never claimed to be reinventing the wheel, and clichés are clichés for a reason!
I hope you have a lovely weekend, and leave me a comment if you got time!
Anon - It didn't seem to me like he would be, but though it may not be apparent from this chapter, I think you're right about the betrothal time!
EStrunk - You are quite correct about that. Neither option would have fit this very well, I think.
Nerdanel - I'm glad either way, whether I manage to cheer up or just improve one's day a little! Also thank you for the compliment! I was rather pleased with how I managed to write Imrahil, too. :)
