Notes: Hello there!

Thank you for the kind comments and the kudos!

In this chapter we have a bit of wha'ts going through Lothiríel's mind and how she's dealing with those dreams. At least Éomer has a friend in whom he can confide...

Chapter 4

"For Béma's sake, woman…" The rest of his words were lost in a moan that came out more like a growl.

Lothíriel shouldn't feel this proud of his reaction… But she did anyway. She loved how her powerful husband melted when she touched him, just like she did when he touched her.

She'd never imagined that kneeling for a man would make her feel this powerful and free, but then again, there weren't many men like her husband.

They didn't have much time -there was a feast they had to attend -but when she saw her husband dressed in all his kingly glory she couldn't resist.

She'd kissed him, pressing her body tightly against his, then let her hand fall to his member until she felt him growing hard under her touch, then she opened his breeches and got down on her knees.

She'd never imagined something like this could happen between a man and a woman, but her husband had showed her many things. He was the one to do it first: he laid her down and supped from the place between her legs until she was boneless with pleasure.

Eventually she grew curious to know if she could do the same for him. He'd assured her he didn't expect it from her, but she'd wanted to try anyway.

She learned she loved the power it gave her over him.

By now she knew what he liked better than he did. If they had a lot of time to do this she'd go slow and tease his cock with her tongue. She'd lick him from base to head, then lavish attention to the tip. Sometimes she'd kiss it gently before swallowing him whole.

Today she just took his cock into her mouth and sucked in a way that had her husband cursing like a mad man. She used her tongue as she bobbed her head. He was big enough she couldn't take him completely in her mouth, so she also used her hand on him.

"Lothíriel…" His voice was ragged and rough.

She hummed around him and he grasped desperately at the wall, because he couldn't grab her hair. Normally she wouldn't mind, but they did have to be somewhere after all and it took her a long time to arrange her hair like this.

"Lothíriel, I'm about to…" He gasped when she sucked him harder.

He always warned her when he was about to spill, so she could stop, but today she was feeling daring, so instead of stopping she just kept going, sucking him and moving her hand on him.

"Lothíriel!" His voice was a bit desperate now, on the brick of release. "I can't anymore, I…"

He didn't have to wait. She just raised her eyes to his, so she could see the answer in them, and with a loud curse he finally came.

She took it all, and when she was sure he was finished, she got up. Lothíriel observed as he leaned against the wall, feeling smug by the fact that he apparently couldn't keep standing on his own.

"See something amusing, my lady?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath.

"Not at all, my lord." She replied with a cheeky grin.

Lothíriel yelped when he pulled her to him and kissed her until she was breathless.

"The feast." She protested weakly.

"I'm afraid we're going to be late for it." He said, not sounding apologetic at all. "And I'm about to ruin your hair."

She couldn't say she cared.

XxX

Lothíriel put down her charcoal and looked at the face she'd drawn. His face.

She was starting to think she was truly losing her mind, but she wanted to remember his face.

She wasn't a great artist, but she could do faces well enough. She thought she wouldn't be able to draw him properly -he was a dream after all -but once she started it, it was as if she was possessed. She remembered everything about him: the shape of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the strength of his jaw… When she finished it, the picture made him look more real, less like a delusion.

She'd done it; she'd draw him. It wasn't perfect, as previously said, she wasn't a great artist, but it was good enough. She could recognize him perfectly.

The man her dreams referred to as her husband.

Lothíriel let her finger trace his cheekbones, even as she called herself a foolish girl. He wasn't handsome, not really. Her brothers were handsome, with their dark hair and grey eyes. The Swan Knights were handsome, with their clean faces and polished words.

But now she was only lying to herself. He may not be like the man of the Gondorian court, but he was handsome. In a way that was totally his.

Lothíriel got up from her chair and turned her back to the drawing. She went to the basin and washed her hands.

She had to stop this.

Every day she spent thinking about this man and the dreams she had about him, it was another day she was bringing shame to her family's name. She shouldn't be wasting her time on an imaginary man, because soon she'd have to marry a very real one. Her behavior on those dreams was positively vexing and shameful.

She looked at the drawing once again. She was going to burn it!

Decision made she turned to her fireplace. Of course, it was unlit, since it was still far from winter, but she'd just put it there and use a candle to burn it. It'd be less messy that way.

Or it would be if she could put the damned drawing there.

She couldn't. She kept holding it tightly between her fingers, until she turned around, walked to her writing desk and put it there gently.

Lothíriel sat, then let her head fall, hiding her face between her arms. What was she to do?

There should be an answer to all of this, some way to make these dreams go away.

But then again… Who would she ask for help? She had no close friends, and she couldn't talk about this with her family or her governess.

If she was going to solve this, she'd have to do it alone.

A knock sounded on her door and she put the drawing on a drawer and closed it quickly, fixing her hair -even though it wasn't messy. "Come in." She called, standing up.

The door opened and Helga -her brother's wife -poked her head in. "Hello, Lothíriel. Do you have a minute?"

Lothíriel smiled at the older woman. "Of course, Helga. Como in. How can I help you?"

Helga cleared her throat, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. "I was sent by your father." She admitted.

Lothíriel was puzzled. "Is something wrong?"

Helga sighed and sat down on the chair closest to Lothíriel in what could almost be called a sprawl.

The princess really liked her sister by marriage. Helga was older than her by seven years, and she was different from the other ladies of the court. She was actually considered to be loud and too opinionated and not a proper lady by many.

However, Elphir loved Helga dearly, and refused every single advice about finding a more "proper" match for a prince. Lothíriel was glad for her brother; he had a wife that truly loved him and a lovely son.

But… As much as Lothíriel liked Helga, they were two completely different women and hardly spent any time together, since her sister-in-law took care of the palace in Dol Amroth and Lothíriel had been taking care of her uncle's place Minas Tirith for the last three years.

Why would her father send Helga to talk to her?

Helga was clearly unhappy with the situation, but something in her way, her posture, made it look like she was embarrassed in someone else's behalf.

What did father want? Lothíriel thought once again, confused.

"Your father…" Helga took a deep breath. "He told me you are… Aware of…" She huffed frustrated, even as she tried to choose every word carefully. "He believes you know he'd like to see you married -or at least betrothed – to the King of Rohan." She finally finished in a rush.

Lothíriel wasn't sure if this was a statement or a question, and it took her a second to grasp what Helga was saying.

"He…" The Princess cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes, father may have expressed some hopes in that regard."

Helga arched a brow as she looked closely at Lothíriel. "What about you? How do you feel about this?"

"How… I feel?" Lothíriel was bewildered.

"Yes. Do you want to marry him?" Helga prodded.

Oh Valar… "I'll do whatever is best for Gondor and our alliances." It was a very good answer, diplomatic.

Helga didn't seem to think so, since now she was frowning. "But you don't know the man. You may not like him when you meet him." She offered.

"That's possible." Lothíriel agreed carefully. "However, father thinks highly of him. And so do my brothers."

"I know. But what about you?" Helga insisted. "Isn't there anyone you think highly of?"

Lothíriel immediately thought about the man of her dreams, the one who loved her so passionately, so intensely, so truly.

"No." She said firmly. "I'll do my duty as a princess. If my father thinks the King of Rohan is a good match, then he's probably right."

It was time to let of dreams.

Notes: Next chapter there will be a turning point on those dreams!

I hope you enjoyed it.

Let me know your feelings.