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Chapter 4

She was distraught over her own actions, but she could not see Éomer until dinner. By the Valar, she had been shrewish by anyone's regard. How had she dared to say those things to a king? What had gotten into her? This really was not how she conducted herself.

By some magic of her father's, she was sitting right next to him, even though it was quite noticeable that she was wrongly placed.

Aragorn and Arwen sat at one end of the table, while Éomer sat at the other. She by her rank, was supposed to be somewhere in the middle next to her brothers. But she was sitting to Éomer's left, while his sister and her husband were at his right.

Even Éowyn noticed this breach of code and raised an eyebrow as Lothíriel removed her name placement and sat. Because of this arrangement, Lothíriel had no conversation partners. Éomer seemed to be avoiding her altogether, and on her other side was one of Éomer's captains, a surly Rohirrim soldier named Éothain, who was both reticent and stern.

All in all, it was a miserable dinner, and it was only at the very end that she saw a window of opportunity. Her father had just finished a lavish and lengthy toast, and the guests had all sat. Conversation had just picked up.

"My lord Éomer," she said loud enough so the King of Rohan could not ignore it. The King had not yet resumed his tête-a-tête with his sister, and, very unwillingly leaned toward herself. His face was blank.

"I…" she paused. "I want to apologize for what happened this morning," she said finally, her tone hushed so that no one else could hear her. "I did not mean to offend with my words. We were jesting, and I was merely continuing in that fashion."

Her eyes met the King's, and once again, she was taken aback by how handsome he was. His rugged features made him exciting enough to make her catch her breath, but his eyes promised civility and kindness. To her surprise he inclined his head.

"I am sorry, too," he said. "I am afraid I have behaved boorishly toward you, my lady. You are right, we were jesting, and I took your words to heart. How shall I make it up to you?"

Make it up to her? Had she not been the one in the wrong? Lothíriel shrugged off this thought. At least now, he was speaking to her, and she could feel herself break into a smile. Why she was so happy to have his attention, she did not know.

"Well, since you seem already so familiar with Minas Tirith, perhaps it is only fair that you tell me about Edoras," she said, still smiling. It was only after she finished speaking that she realized she had asked to spend more time along with the King, and Éomer her was giving her a strange look.

It was almost a look of wonder, but it was tinged by something else. Lothíriel struggled to read him. The first word that came to mind was "hunger," but that could not have been it. Éomer had just had a multi-course meal.

But almost as soon as it had come, the look had disappeared. "Of course," he replied, inclining his head once more. His voice was smooth and he smiled at her. "May I propose a walk through the halls after dinner?"

Lothíriel nodded. "Friends, then?"

The king chuckled at this. "Friends."

The two had decided to meet in an hour. This allowed time for Éomer to speak to a few important people, as well as thank Aragorn and Arwen. Lothíriel was to do the same, but she had a much shorter list of people to talk to, thank Eru.

After a quarter of an hour, she returned to her chambers, where she was met with a difficult decision: what gown she would wear to meet Éomer. She threw open the doors to her wardrobe and fingered a few dresses, but decided on none.

What exactly did one wear while entertaining the King of Rohan? He was a horsemaster. What if he detested frills and lace and the like? She considered this for half a minute before throwing up her hands.

"Lothi, you idiot," she muttered. "Since when did you care what Éomer thought of you?" She blew out a breath before realizing he had just called the King by his first name out loud as she had been doing all day in her head.

When had he warranted such familiarity?

She chewed her bottom lip. "You are a mess," she murmured. Perhaps it came from being around Éowyn for too long. Yes, that was it. She always referred to her brother by his first name, and it must have rubbed off on her.

But in all seriousness, she could not wear the same gown as she wore to dinner.

You are an idiot, a voice in her head said. This man risked his life to save his and your people, and you're here trying to figure out what color he likes best. Grow up.

"She is a remarkable woman, 'Wyn," Éomer said as soon as he was alone with his sister after dinner.

Éowyn turned to find her brother smiling, his eyes shining. While he had liked certain women before, he had never looked like this. "Um… who?"

Éomer snorted. "Lothíriel, of course!"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You are on a first name basis with her?"

The man frowned. "Well… no."

His sister sighed. "And did you not just tell me before dinner that you found the Princess of Dol Amroth disagreeable, pig-headed, and altogether shrewish?"

The man put up his hands. "Well, yes. But I did not mean that. I was angry then, and she did say some regrettable things." He paused, and at the look on his sister's face, he added, "For which she apologized."

The woman could not help but roll her eyes. "All right, so Lothíriel is a remarkable woman. What would you have me do about it? Tell her?" at the look on her brother's face, she laughed. "I am jesting, dear brother," she said. "But in all seriousness, what do you intend to do with her? Is this all fun and games, or are you going to marry her?"

Éomer frowned. "Bema above! I tell you that I find a woman interesting, and you automatically jump to marriage. What if I just want to be friends?" After all, those had been Lothíriel's words.

She shrugged at this. "Fine, brother," she answered, slightly annoyed. "But I know you."

The man crossed his arms, also annoyed. "Oh, do you?"

Éowyn sighed impatiently. "All right, perhaps you do just want to be friends, but take care not to take up too much of her time." At the confused look her brother gave her, she snorted. "Come now, Éomer. She is the Princess of Dol Amroth, and in the marriageable age bracket. Her father has been setting her up with many noble lords. But all of his work will be for naught if they see her always walking about with the unmarried King of Rohan at her side."

"And?" he questioned stubbornly. "If they truly wanted her, they would pursue her nonetheless." But he could not deny that having the beautiful princess all to himself brought about a certain jealous happiness.

His sister, thankfully, did not see that. "Really?" she exclaimed. "You are so daft at times, it is a wonder you are king!" She stopped herself before she could say more. "Sorry, I suppose you do not see yourself this way. You realize you are nearly twice the size of some of these men, and being King of Rohan, your status makes you even more formidable. These men see you and immediately give up!"

That, too, made him secretly happy. But, his sister was right. "Fine. I promise not to get in the way of Lothíriel's marriage prospects."

That was not enough for Éowyn, however. She turned to him with serious eyes, and an iron-set mouth. "Do not dally with her, Éomer," she warned. "She is truly one of the sweetest, most sincere friends I have here, and I regard her as a sister. If you want to be friends, fine. But leave her be otherwise."

Those words set Éomer aback. "What is that supposed to mean?" He was not known to toy with women, to sleep with them and then set them aside.

"Just do not hurt her, brother."