Chapter 3: A Change of Heart

"My parents were very much in love," Eomer began. "Happy, not exactly without care, for times were difficult even then. But they were content, deeply attached to each other. When my father was killed… it broke my mother, Lothiriel. She became just an empty shell, leaving my sister and I to fend for ourselves without a mother's love and guidance. She died soon after. I was nearly a man by this time, and I fared all right, but my sister? Her childhood had ended too soon.

"I was angry… angry that love, which was until then something noble and great, had left such damage in its aftermath. How could something that was supposed to be a gift bring so much pain?"

Eomer looked out towards the sea, and Lothiriel bit her lip. She wished she could find an answer to that question, but she was at a loss for words. Sensing that there was more, much more, that he was about to tell her, she simply said, "Go on."

"I was not, however, entirely set in that opinion and then," Eomer swallowed. His gaze was far off, on the horizon. "Eventually, I fell in love."

Lothiriel was not entirely surprised, but she kept silent.

"She was the daughter of the woman who had been my mother's dearest handmaiden. Perhaps we were not quite of the same social class, but nearly so, and no one who knew of our relationship had any objections." Eomer took a breath. "I should have married her as soon as we realized we loved each other, but…"

"Why didn't you?" Lothiriel asked softly.

Eomer shook his head. "In part for selfish reasons, I now realize. I was constantly riding with the Rohirrim, and I did not want to be tied down to caring for and providing for a wife, as much as I loved her. And then there was the timing – the War was beginning and I knew that there was a strong chance that I could be killed in battle. I did not want to make her a wife and then a widow in a matter of months. I thought that in the slim chance that there would someday be peace, then I would marry her, and if peace did not come, then it would hardly have made a difference. And then…" Eomer's face was shielded by his curtain of golden hair, but Lothiriel saw his grief and regret in the line of his shoulders.

"What happened?" she asked, somehow sensing the answer before he replied. She thought that she was beginning to understand, and she was so caught up in his story, in the gravity and raw emotion in his voice, that her lips and chin were beginning to tremble.

"She died," Eomer said, clenching his fists around the reins. Firefoot felt the tension in his master's body and came to a standstill. Lothiriel stopped also.

"How?"

"She became ill with a disease in her blood, and no healer could cure her. I had been away for a time, and when I returned, she was impossibly weak and in great pain. Somehow she lived for almost two more months, but then she could not hang on any longer and I had to let her go. It has been nearly three years since."

Lothiriel bowed her head, feeling her heart clench with pity. She had known that Eomer had experienced loss in his life – she knew a little about his family and his history. She knew that the war had left so many people psychologically wounded even in this time of peace. But she had not expected that there had been yet another tragedy in Eomer's life. She could only imagine such pain.

She brought her hand to her face and it came away wet with unrealized tears. She stared at her hand. There was no need for him to say anymore. She raised her head to study the man. "You have not had the –" she stopped herself. "That is, I think even after all this time you still have not had time to grieve over her properly, have you?" Eomer did not respond, although she saw him lift his chin a little. Lothiriel took it as an affirmation. "Perhaps we should start to ride back. Or if you wish to remain, I shall leave you."

He shook his head as if to clear it. "Let us return," was all he said, and so together they rode back the way they came, once more in silence, although now the silence was less tense and more subdued. Little had changed, for things were still awkward between them, but it seemed now as if they had formed a tentative… something.

"I am so sorry," Lothiriel said finally. "And I am sorry that I have made you speak of such a difficult thing."

He shrugged and looked at her briefly. "I thought it something that you deserve to know, given the circumstances. I hope that now maybe you see why I find it impossible to marry for love."

Lothiriel hesitated. "I think so. You have seen firsthand how loss has affected the ones that you love, and you yourself have loved deeply and lost," she took a breath. "Not just your lover, but many others in your life as well, I know. Of course people talk. And so, I am trying to understand. It seems to me that you are unwilling to look for love again because you deeply associate love with loss." Eomer looked at her, astonished. She bit her lip. "Is that right, milord?"

"Well, yes, very much so," he said, still looking at her with a strange expression on his face. "But there is more, something far more basic. I loved her more than life itself, and with her gone, I have no desire to love again. I know that to seek a marriage of love would be futile, because I will not, I cannot, love again. My heart will not let me." He paused.

"And yet, Rohan must have a queen, Lothiriel. And this is what has brought me to you, a woman who I hardly know and yet who seems that she would be capable, were she willing, and yet who is young and full of hope and ideals and who deserves so much more than a loveless match." He said the last words with guilt, and looked down at his hands. "Which is why I think it so important that she consider her choice carefully. I wish not to cause her unhappiness."

Lothiriel looked at him as he said this speech, and felt her heart slowly change. It was painful, as if someone had reached inside her chest and twisted, and yet it was a permanent new shape. Her course was set, and she knew that no matter how hard she tried she could not refuse him now. But strangely, as frightened and as hopeless as she felt, she did not want to try. Although she could not see any hope for her happiness, she felt that it would be cowardly and selfish to say no to this poor, sad man, for whom she had gained a new respect. Despite his personal discomfort, he was nobly and bravely trying to aid his country.

It felt like an age as Lothiriel opened her mouth to seal her fate. "I will marry you," she choked out finally, quickly. "I cannot refuse." Then, tears blinding her eyes, she kicked her horse into a gallop and left him.

------

Imrahil knocked on his daughter's door, feeling about to burst with the combination of pride, concern, and wonderment that had come upon him after hearing of his daughter's seemingly sudden change of heart. Earlier, Eomer had come to him and told him what had happened that afternoon, appearing equally flummoxed as he expressed his own concern over Lothiriel's refusal. The man, Eru bless him, was now worried that Lothiriel would be compromising her own happiness by accepting his proposal.

After receiving no response from within Lothiriel's chambers, Imrahil knocked again, and then again a third time. Lothiriel's voice, rough and sharp from what he guessed was crying, called "Who is it?"

"Your father," Imrahil replied. "May I come in?" She was silent for a while. Finally, he heard her stalking defiantly to the door. As she opened it, Imrahil had to suppress a fatherly grin. His daughter, gentle and collected on the outside, had the temper of a kraken when provoked or frustrated, and when she was troubled, had the depth of the sea behind her eyes. Currently, the sea was stormy and a chasm had opened, about to breathe flame.

Lothiriel wordlessly stepped aside to let her father enter, then returned to her window seat, which was in hopeless disarray.

"Have you been here all evening?" Imrahil said gently. She looked out the window and let out a ragged sigh.

"Yes," she said bitterly, her eyes flashing. "I take it you have heard?"

Imrahil nodded. He knew that the best way to approach his daughter when she was angry was by using the care that one might use when navigating through broken glass. "May I sit, daughter?" She moved over to make room for him, her eyes fixed on the view of the sea and the rocks that her window afforded her, but did not speak.

Imrahil took a breath. "So you have changed your mind since morning, and therefore have accepted his proposal, and yet it brings you no joy."

"I have not changed my mind," Lothiriel replied. She did not look at him. "I still do not want to be queen of Rohan or any country, and I still do not want to leave my homeland, and I still most definitely do not want to marry Eomer, father." She picked at the edging of her sleeve, which was spotted with tears. "And yet I have accepted his proposal, as I know you knew I would."

The lines around Imrahil's mouth deepened. "I did have the feeling that you would accept it, but I was not sure."

Lothiriel raised her head. Her lips were trembling. "Why? Why did you offer my hand to Eomer?" Her hands gripped her own elbows with a strength that threatened to bruise. "You knew that I would not be able to refuse."

Imrahil shook his head. "Your hand is not mine to offer, daughter." He reached out and took those hands in his own. They too were trembling and tense. "You know that."

"I do not understand, then," Lothiriel said, staring down at their hands. Imrahil realized how small her hands must still seem to her, encased in his own large and callused palms. He tried to calm their quaking.

"Lothiriel, look at me." She shook her head. "Please. Listen and I will explain. As you already know, I befriended Eomer in Minas tirith. I could tell that he was deeply unhappy, but I did not know the whole of why. And then he told me that he was looking for a wife, a queen to help rehabilitate Rohan and its people, and his story spilled out." Lothiriel's hands were starting to still. Imrahil raised his daughter's chin. "And I thought of you. My daughter, who is strong, and brave, and capable under pressure. Who cares deeply about her own people, and her duty to them."

"You knew then, that duty would compel me to accept him," Lothiriel interjected.

"Let me finish. Pray, I did not think of a marriage to Eomer as your duty. But I thought that perhaps because you care so much about your own people, you would find it within yourself to care about those in Rohan. And while you would help find healing for Rohan, you might also soothe the pain of Eomer along the way, and find solace of your own, for I know you have your own hurts to heal."

Lothiriel, after sitting for a minute to take this all in, shook her head. "I do not believe that I could help any of those that you mentioned, for I have not the knowledge of ruling that is necessary, and my pain would be tied to Eomer's, and I do not believe that Eomer could heal by my hand or anyone else's. For he does not want to heal, Papa."

Imrahil chuckled. "So it appears. But you have seen this in him, proving that you have a deeper insight than you know," he replied. "And I have confidence that you would be a good Queen, good for Rohan."

"As would be my dowry," Lothiriel muttered. Imrahil chuckled.

"Yes, but without your guidance of how to put it to use, it would no doubt be wasted." He smoothed a lock of hair away from her brow. "Not that Eomer is incapable, of course, but he is a warrior at heart, not a healer of lands and people. And he is petrified." Imrahil chuckled. "Though he would kill me if you told him I said that."

Lothiriel let out something that might have been a laugh.

"But my daughter. This morning, when you stumbled upon the idea, it appeared that you would prove me wrong, that you would refuse. I confess I would have been disappointed, but I would not have loved you any less for it." He furrowed his brow. "And now, yet again, you surprise me, and confuse us all. You have accepted him, and neither Eomer nor I can attest to what has changed your mind. And Eomer," he paused. "He is concerned that you are compromising your happiness for the wrong reasons, and bids me tell you that he will not think any less of you if you say no."

"And I thank him." Lothiriel looked distressed. "And I confess that I am not sure why either. He told me his story and that, even though it causes him discomfort, he is looking for an arranged marriage for the good of his people, but that he did not want me to say yes against my will. And… well… something changed within me, and I knew could not let myself say no, even though I dearly wished it."

She buried her face in her hands, and Imrahil put his arms around his youngest and shushed her tears, full of sorrow and pride and thinking that perhaps things were going to work out the way he hoped after all, for both his daughter and for his friend.

--

[A/N: See, I didn't leave you hanging too long from the last chapter!

Once again, I thank you for your wonderful reviews, and I hope you still enjoy where this is going. I'm scared that this plot won't work out, but after two years of thinking about it, I'm glad I'm finally going for it. And I'm sorry I've made poor Eomer into such an angsty character. I blame the movies. I don't think Karl Urban ever smiles!

Please review! Constructive criticism (if you have it) is welcome, I want this to be good.]