After Aragorn's coronation, there had been an extravagent feast filled with delightful music and more types of cuisine I had ever seen in my life. The meats were dripping with tart, sweet, and spicy sauces, and the fruits and vegitables displayed about in huge gold bowls from all corners of the world. There was wine, ale, and beer every few people along the narrow dining table seating only the innermost of Aragorn's people.
I was famished, and ate alongside Eowyn. I sat cheerless, eating small delicate bites until I was almost bursting. Though her words from after I had sang was kept like a thorn in my side, always stinging and replaying within the back of my mind.
"It was not I, but Eomer." The words were disturbing, and though I might have felt a great spire of intrigue well up inside me, there was more than that. How could I face the man, as he was to thank for my exalted preformance? I sat between Eowyn, other men and women, set directly across from Eomer. My mind buzzed with heartrending luxuries, and I listened to him speak with others, his voice echoing in my mind so that I might treasure each and every situation he was present in. I felt as a child must, hanging onto the little things, which more than often meant nothing, but always meant the world to the child.
I drank my wine with a sullen expression, never looking at Eomer for the remainder of the dinner, though I listened with a ferocity I could not explain. I could not place my feeling. Was it shame? Was it that I disheartened? Was it timidity? I could not capture the intensity of my emotions into one, and this pained me to the point of lamentation. I wept silent cries, drinking my wine and feeling so lost, as a girl usually does when she likes a man to the core of her.
Should I thank him, and gain his gaze upon me, I might crumble beneath it. Yet the idea became more and more inviting as the night pressed on. My wine made my head feel clouded and careless, and my limbs tingled warmly. I could not remember being this drunk since youth, and as I swallowed the fiery liquid, I finally lost control of my eyes and their wanderings.
I stared with aspiring eyes at Eomer, who sat back in his chair surveying others with a relaxed expression, joining in the conversation ever so often, only when he was called upon. He was…beautiful. A masculine image of perfection. Though, what I realized was that he did not have anything perfect about him, he was simply perfect for me. He had to know. Could he not feel my burning for him, stretching out as my invisible appandages, coaxing him to look at me?
Then, as if my prayers were answered, he glanced at me, finding me looking at him. My breath was bated, and my heart quivered dangerously. My mouth watered. I hungered for him, and it was apparent as I did not look away, growing more and more brave with the heavy intoxication I was administrating unto myself. Though everyone around seemed to be living beyond the hazy lines just as I, he seemed to be the only one yet to cross the line of drunk.
We sat there, staring across the narrow table into one anothers eyes. Though I was drunk, I let out a coy smile, and flirtaciously looked down. He seemed startled, and simply looked at me, watched me with unwavering eyes. I had to look away. I could not stare into his mahogany eyes too long, for fear of entering my crazed mannerisms. He would surely be the end of my sanity, this man with his swoon-inducing expressions and delectable persona. I felt passion creep, and I had to stifle it, feeling rather giggly.
"Eomer!" Eowyn snapped from my side, calling him not to stare. Within myself I howled with victory. If he was entranced by me, that was all I needed. All I needed. What I wanted…was much more than I am wanting to form into words. Needless to say, you can understand a girls feelings. I had triumphed, and Eowyn shot me a look I had never seen upon her face, yet I simply cast aside her warnings. Of what, I thought? Oh yes. If Eomer was caught staring intently at the 'maid-servant', there might be talk. Well let them talk, leave us be- I thought with brutality. The morning after, of course this scene was nothing.
As some men and women stepped off for the night, Eomer excused himself. I sat there perplexed and enraged, wanting to be amongst him. I stood, myself, not knowing why, or where I would go. The wine had made me extremely dizzy, and I stumbled from behind my chair. I recall Eowyn calling my name as I sauntered after the man I loved, but I paid her no heed.
In real life, you can assume what panic and horrors I would be undertaking with myself. Even now as I think back upon my reckless behavior, following him down the hall until I caught up with him, I feel my heart jumping and my stomach clenching. How foolish was I, yet I followed through with my desires. I went after him.
"Thank you, my lord." I said, my voice cracking on that last vowel.
Eomer turned round in a gracefulness only men hold, and his eyebrows raised, as if he had not heard me, or was amused, "What?"
"Wasn't it you, that asked Eowyn if I would sing this day?" I spoke, stepping lightly, ever more heartbreakingly close to him.
He returned to his pained, morose expression and nodded, "Thank all the men in their own part."
I was confused, what did he mean? He obviously could see my struggle, and was about to brandish another well thought out set of statements, but I stopped him. I breathed heavily, staring into his eyes, very close to him now, just wanting to feel him hold me. That was it…
"And what does that mean?" I spoke with heightened senses, and swayed on my feet, falling forward. He caught me in his arms, his muscled arms, and their strong, built, bulkiness wrapped round me for a split second, rearranging my stance so that I stood on my own two feet. At this point, there was nothing in the world that could stop me from reacting the way I did.
Tears streamed down my face, and I wished to cling to him, to feel his strength and security wrapped round me once more. My heart might have burst if I was not drunk to a capacity that rendered me unbenownst to myself, obviously an entirely different woman. The tears were something I wished I could stop, but they kept flowing, and I choked up.
"You drunk." He stated, turning and leaving me to crumple in the hallway. But I did not, I bit my lip and sucked in the intense feeling of panic, alarm palpitating through my already useless body. I stood there, feeling more lost than ever, knowing that he hated me beyond any urchin creature on this earth, but he stopped, just as I placed my hand on the wall for support. Disgusted with myself…my tears. I wallowed in the apitamy of what was sincerely, a crestfallen misery so beyond anything I had ever bore, I felt my stomach liven with nausea.
" I will escort you to Lady Eowyn's chambers." He spoke low, as emotions flooded through me.
He sighed through his nose when I did not answer in my heartsick state. He would never long for me as I longed for him, and the thought of it blew my innards apart. I shook my head but he said, "Yes, yes, yes." In a droning manner, almost drearily, contrary to my shaking head. I just wanted to be alone, and when he reached out to hold my arm and guide me down the hall, I felt my stomach clench. His hands were warm, and soft despite the years of weaponry and horseriding. I slagged alongside him, trying to contain my animosity, as well as the lingering prowess that had sent me after him. What had I expected, I thought bitterly.
We walked slowly, and I made a point to remember his hand on my arm, the way he lead me as if I was a child. Though it was nothing like a man did to a woman, every fiber in my body delighted in it. These fragments of awkward scene would keep me alive and cheerful the next months.
"Remember you are not to drink so much, next time." He said as a father might say to his daughter very tiredly, but the glance that he gave me was nothing like fatherly. It was filled with pain, the pain I so longed to rid him of. His eyebrows furrowed, he then looked straight ahead. Inwardly, this moment and that of before made me glow, but I was sick all the same. Yet again, maybe that was the wine. Maybe everything I saw that night was my imagination, you never really can be so sure when there is alcohol involved.
As we reached the door to the chambers, I stood before the door, recognizing what I had done, and as a wave of grief overtook me once again, I pulled it open.
"Speak of this to no one." He told me as I stood, frail and despondent in the threshold, lost of words. What did he take me for? Someone that adored her shame spattered across the walls? It was not until morning time that I realized how he could have got that idea. I had drank. I had openly cried. Feeling that I had to redeem myself, I bowed low to him, staring at the stone floors for a few moments until I raised up once again.
"Forgive me, my Lord Eomer, I am not in the right…frame of mind," I said dutifully, and crept to the confines of the room shrouded in black, shutting the door in his face to hide again. If I ever uttered a hearbeat of a word to anyone, they would know my overbearing obsession, and that was something no one would ever know of. It was mine, mine alone. I wanted to curl up and pity myself in the patheticness of what I had done…but how could I? I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling feeling more lost and dizzy than ever, wishing I had never felt for him.