Five suns have risen and set since Lothíriel's last encounter with Lady Esdeline and Éomer King. She did not see the blonde woman throughout that time and had only brief dry meetings with Éomer, none of which have been private.
It was the eve of her wedding and Lothíriel had already unbraided her hair, changed to her night gown and taken a warm bath and was now leaning against her bedpost, covered in sheets, intending to go to sleep. And to speek honestly - to squirm in bed from side to side trying to sleep while playing through all the worst possible scenarios of tomorrow's wedding ceremony and wedding night in her head. Her plan was cut short though, by the knock on the door. Before Lothíriel could even open her mouth to send the person away, the door opened and revealed lady Esdeline leaning on the doorpost with a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hand.
"Good evening, my lady." she smiled. "Care to celebrate the last day of your maidenhood with some fine wine from the cellar of late King Thengel?"
"Are you serious?" the princess didn't know whether to frown or to laugh. "How did the guards let you in here this late?"
"Let's just say I have my ways." Esdeline smirked shutting the door behind her with her leg. "And they may or may not involve the use puppy-dog eyes." she put the glasses on Lothíriel's night table and began to uncork the bottle.
"I thought you do not admit any other animals but horses here in Rohan?" Lothíriel asked.
"Gondorians and their perceptions. . ." Esdeline sighed shaking her head.
"Why would you want to celebrate me snatching away your potential husband?"
"Well," the blonde woman sighed, handing Lothíriel a full glass. "my genuine purpose was to make you so drunk you do not make it to your wedding tomorrow." she took a glass herself and sat on the bed. "But now that you caught me, I guess I will have to settle on giving you a mild headache and hope that you forget your vows."
"Then it is time I call the guards." she sipped.
"You do that and in the meantime I will use a chance to cut your dress in peaces."
"In that case, it seems that I will have to endure your visit."
"Yes," Esdeline nodded thoughtfully. "that does sound like the smartest option, although terribly inconvenient for me."
They had touched upon a great many topics before the bottle stood empty. Esdeline told Lothíriel about the fashion currently in Rohan, Lady Éowyn's defeat of the Witch-king of Angmar ( "Do not cross the White Lady" ), Éomer's many flings and Grima Wormtongue's disgustingly pale face to name a few. None of these subjects interested Lothiriel quite as much as the story of Lady Esdeline herself - maybe because she was the only person of all the afore mentioned that she really found emotional connection with.
Turns out, Esdeline had been a widow for half a year, as her husband, Lord Fendrel, was one of the men that fell at the Battle of Helm's Deep ( "That is why my marriage with Lord Éomer would have been so poetically correct." - she shot Lothiriel a look. ) Even Lothíriel was surprised at how matter-of-factly Esdeline spoke - she had been married to Fendrel for barely six months, and half of those he spent away, so basically, he was just a bit better than a stranger.
When the last gulp of wine had been swallowed, Esdeline kissed both of Lothíriel's cheeks, collected her "equipment" and left the queen-to-be alone in a spacy, unfamiliar room just hours away from the most important day of her life.
"Lady Lothíriel? Princess? Wake up! It is time to wake up, my lady! Is she dead? . ."
The alarmed voice was right in her ear and did not sound pleasant at all to Lothíriel at such an early hour. She suspected it belonged to her maid Maerwynn, but opened one eye just to make sure nonetheless. She came to regret it the very next moment as Maerwynn, who saw her waking up, slapped her hand on her sweaty forehead relieved.
"Thank sweet Elbereth," she breathed. "I thought you would never wake up and miss your wedding."
And then it hit her - it was her wedding day. Suddently all the sleepiness went away like it was never there in the first place and Lothiriel could almost feel herself glowing. Today was the day that Rohan would be blessed with a new queen - the prettiest, fairest, most elegant queen they had ever seen. The shadow went over her face when she thought of the wedding night or just simply about the disrespectful brute she was going to marry - but then she began imagining everyone bowing to her as their new queen and smile rose again.
Five maids were circling around in her spacious bedchamber, two of them were helping her put on a traditional baby-blue wedding gown with crystal drop-like embroidery ( it wasn't overly flashy but anyone with half a brain would realize that it cost a fortune ), one was doing her light make-up, another one was putting her chestnut hair in a neat bun as Maerwynn was ordering all of them around.
Lothíriel wore no jewelry that day. It was not going to outshine her tiara.
"We need to think of a way to compensate the families of fallen Riders." Éomer stated readjusting his dark green cape in front of a mirror. Gamling, Éothain and Aragorn were in the bedchamber with him, the first two were practically rubbing their hands with joy as two goofy children in the firework storage. "Even if it means taking away from the monthly purse of Meduseld. Any suggestions, Gamling?"
"Yes." the man said without even hearing what the question was. He was way too excited about the 'perfect marriage' to really bother about anything else at the moment.
"Are you even listening to me?" Éomer shot him an irritated look.
"Are you sure you would be willing to reduct the royal family's income for these compensations?" Aragorn asked with a respectful look in his eyes.
"Why not?" the king shrugged. "We do not need that much gold anyways."
"What about your wife?" Éothain and Gamling almost melted at the word. "Will she agree with that?"
"I am not planning to give her much of a choice." Éomer responded sharply. "We shall go now. The sooner it begins, the quicker it will end." he turned towards the door. "I expect carefully prepared projects on the subject by the evening from you two." she glanced at his overly excited friends.
"Oh, but my lord, you will be rather busy this evening." Éothain grinned.
The king frowned at his brother-in-arms and one of his closest friends. He had to admit though, the wedding night was the only thing he was looking forward to in this whole entire ceremony.
"By the morning then." he mumbled stepping through the door and into his new life.
She could hear the silent talking and laughing of the people behind the door - it was like a bee hive: seperately they were silent, but together they made quite the noise. Lothíriel's throat was dry and she felt sickness in her stomach that even her father's presence couldn't shoo away. Her palms were a bit sweaty and Lothíriel, irritated by that, rubbed them on her dress before returning her right hand to her father's left.
"Are you ready?" Prince Imrahil smiled warmly at his daughter as all the voices died down and the soft solemn melody took it's place.
"I have been waiting for this day all my life, but now I am afraid." she looked at him teary-eyed. Imrahil pressed her hand gently as he could feel it shaking.
"There is nothing to fear." he smiled at her reassuringly. "Sometime, you will look upon this day with a smile on your face and wish to relive it."
"Yes, hopefully." she smiled back gathering herself together.
"Now come, before the king begins thinking you stood him up."
"I will not stand him up, although he deserves it." she said dryly as two servants opened the hard wooden door, revealing them to the large crowd in the hall of Meduseld.
She was mesmerized. That is really the only way to describe that feeling in her chest as she slowly made her way to the altar through what she guessed to be at least 700 - 800 people. Lothíriel recognized none of the pleasantly smiling faces near the entrance - the very end of the hall from where she started her walk. Those were probably the lower-rank nobles, the princess guessed, and she will hardly ever know their names.
The violins kept playing as she walked further, closer and closer to where Éomer ( who she refused to glance at on principle ) and Gandalf - an extremely old White Wizard, who she only heard tales about - stood.
The nearer to the altar, the more people started looking familiar. She saw a mischievously grinning Lady Esdeline in lovely peach dress, who mouthed "It should have been me", making Lothíriel stick her tongue out at the blonde and then chuckle. She did not notice Éomer raising an eyebrow at that as she ignored him. . . on their own wedding! Esdeline was surrounded by what Lothiriel guessed to be her family members, all of whom had dry cold smiles on their faces that did not reach their eyes.
Her gaze quickly ran through the crowd and returned back on the extremely handsome golden-haired man with a little birth mark on his cheek who was smiling pleasantly at her and bowed slightly as she passed him. Lothíriel bit her lip without noticing. She will have to ask Esdeline about him later.
In the most honorable seats she saw all three of her brothers - Elphir and Echirion looked rather pleased, Amrothos gave her a "there's still time to run" look, which she giggled at. Run from what? Becoming a queen? Elphir's wife Mariel was standing nearby and gave her a wink. They left their little son Alphros at Dol Amroth with a governess that looked after Lothíriel in her childhood too. With them stood her dear cousin Faramir, her first crush and idol, with a smile on the face of a man, who wouldn't hurt a fly.
She bowed her head slightly to the King and Queen of Gondor, receiving the same from them and feeling a rush of excitement flow through her. With them stood the most flawless looking man she ever laid eyes on, his long light hair neatly brushed, his eyes deeper than any ocean. Clearly an elf. His smile almost put a spell on her and she could hardly look away - but when she did she saw a dwarf at his side, looking more excited than anyone in the hall.
Even smaller than Gimli were four lords, that were the strange mixture of children and grown men. Lothíriel could only identfiy them as hobbits, which she thought to be a myth before.
Straight at Éomer's side stood Lady Éowyn, which Lothíriel, after Esdeline's telling, feared. She knew she needed this woman's approval or her neck would be in jeopardy. She bowed her head to the blonde too.
Only when Imrahil put her hand in another - a bigger and more tanned one - she was forced to look at Éomer. Lothíriel almost gasped. He looked. . . attractive. Moreso than she ever saw him. His eyes were burning holes in her, but not in a judging or threatening way. He studied her just as she studied him. Maybe my eyes are burning too?
She forgot all about her principles and smiled brightly. His responding grin was way less excited.
"Dear friends from all over Middle-Earth," Gandalf began as the couple turned to him. "We are gathered here today, after many storms and struggles, to celebrate peace and love." Éomer smiled ironically at the word. "For there is no greater power than love and no more valuable gift to man than a loving wife." Lothiriel looked down with a small mocking smile.
She didn't really hear what followed next as her mind wandered on many other things, more important than listening to meaningless words. She thought of Dol Amroth and the Sea, comparing them with the dry hot fields of Rohan. She thought of the upcoming wedding celebration and the attractive blond man she saw on her way to the altar. Lady Éowyn and how to gain her liking - if she couldn't manage, the beautiful blonde must get married to Faramir and leave to Gondor immediately. And, of course, the wedding night. Shiver ran down her spine. She did not look forward to it at all.
Éomer gently pressed her hand, waking her up from her thoughts.
"Lothíriel, if you are ready and willing, you may make your vows." Gandalf smiled warmly at her. In return, a smile raised on her face bright like a sun. Just a few words. Just a few simple words stood between her and the throne she desired so greatly.
"I, Lothíriel, princess of Dol Amroth, daughter of Prince Imrahil," she could barely restrain her smile even as she was talking. "take you, Éomer, son of Éomund, King of Rohan," her smile widened, he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "to be my rightful husband. I vow to love and respect you in happiness and sorrow, victory and defeat, health and desease or injury. When shadows come and they pass, I will be there with you, my love, my king, my husband." For some reason, to him it sounded more like a threat than anything else.
"Éomer, if you wish, you may follow." Gandalf turned his eyes to the king. Lothíriel's smile was hurting her cheeks by that time. Eomer sighed like a man in defeat. Her face darkened and a grin died down like a flower in autumn.
"I, Éomer, son of Éomund, King of Rohan, take you, Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil, princess of Dol Amroth," he couldn't help a little sting. "to be my rightful wife. I vow to love and take care of you no matter the circumstances and the bumps in our road. I shall come back to you and you only after battles - victorious or not, in war or in peace. I shall desire and cherish no other woman but you for the rest of my life, my love, my queen, my wife."
The corner of her lip lifted a little at the word 'queen'. This was her moment and she was not going to let that arrogant brute ruin it for her.
"In that case, you shall conseal your oaths with a kiss." Gendalf said loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. It seemed that every person in the hall extended their necks.
Still offended, she did not move an inch towards him, not even moving her neck closer to welcome his lips. When they came, a group of butterflies appeared in her stomach and all 700-800 people vanished. His kiss was soft yet firm, like that of a man trying to restrain himself. By no means was this her first kiss, but the previous ones were innocent and playful. Éomer's kiss was somehow. . . different. She sensed that for him, it was merely a tiny little step towards what he really wanted from her.
Lothíriel felt a smug smile on his face when she tilted herself up on her tiptoes to press closer against his lips.
When Éomer lowered a gorgeous emerald tiara on her head soon afterwards, she wanted to cry from joy. This was, undoubtedly, the best day of her life.
Cheers go out to LadyNostarielofMirkwood, Talia119, Glory Bee, Pipkin in the Grass and wondereye !
Oh and to Glory Bee:
I have actually been thinking about your comment all week. Am I really making Lothiriel very unlikeable? Maybe I am going overboard with the whole arrogant, spoiled princess thing. . . But I am terribly afraid of making her a meek and bland sunshine that she's usually portrayed as ( not that there's something wrong with it, some of those stories are brilliant ). Anyway, I'm afraid it's too late now to change her character ( I have already written like 8 chapters and a bunch of outtakes that I will use in further ones ). I can only hope now that even if I can't make her a somehow-likeable character, I will make her a memorable one.