The next morning arrived hot and sultry, even in the early morning, a stark contrast to the milder temperatures of the previous day. Huan had moved from his cushioned bed to the cool stone of the floor, panting lightly. When Fingwen had stumbled into Lothíriel's room slightly frazzled and tired looking, Lothíriel had given her maid the day off. Lothíriel was not upset at the young woman so she had sent her on her way, wishing her maid well and telling her to enjoy the day to herself.
Since her maid was gone, and with the early heat of the day, Lothíriel brushed her thick hair into a sedate ponytail with the hopes that it would keep her hair from sticking to her neck as the day progressed. In light of the early heat, Lothíriel decided to wear a dress of light Harad silk. Her father had spoiled Lothíriel at her last birthday and had bought her several dresses made of Harad silk. He said it was so that his daughter could enjoy the summer months in ease and still be tastefully dressed. Lothíriel had laughed at her father's explanation, knowing that he had a bad habit of spoiling her, even when she was grown. But after Lothíriel had teased her father, she was truly thankful for the indulgence he bestowed on her for there were days in Southern Gondor that were relentlessly hot and silk seemed to be the only practical fabric to wear for its coolness.
Lothíriel ran her hands over the precious dresses, choosing one that was a deep blue, matching the color of Dol Amroth's standard. It was Lothíriel's favorite, but her aunt Ivriniel's least approved. The dress was rather modest in form but bore no sleeves, only small fluttering epaulettes that fell just over Lothíriel's shoulders, showing most of her arms. But, her aunt's approval did not matter to Lothíriel, as a hot gust of wind blew through the arch of her balcony into her room, reminding the princess why she dressed so.
"Come along, Huan; it will be cooler downstairs," Lothíriel said, patting the hound's shaggy head as he lumbered to her side, still panting.
As Lothíriel left her chambers, she saw Berion carrying a small silver tray with a fizzing cup of liquid towards Amrothos' chambers. Their eyes met, and Lothíriel smiled gratefully at the butler as he entered her brother's chamber.
It was a relief to come to the cooler temperatures of the great hall, and Lothíriel saw that many of the palace's guests were already up and about. It was barely an hour past sunrise but Lothíriel was not surprised that many could not sleep any longer because of the sudden heat. As she scanned the hall, Lothíriel saw that Faramir and Éowyn stood at the far end of the hall; Éowyn waved Lothíriel over when she spotted her.
"You should make more of an effort sometimes, Lothíriel," Éowyn said, her tone teasing and light. "Truthfully, you look beautiful," Éowyn smiled and Lothíriel smiled back. She genuinely liked Éowyn and in the short time she had known her, Lothíriel could not think of a better match to her cousin Faramir's quiet calm. Lothíriel decided that she would spend as much of the day as she could with her cousin and his wife if they allowed.
"Do you two have any plans for the morning? I could show you around the palace, Éowyn, or we could spend our day on the shore?" Lothíriel looked hopefully between her cousin and his wife. In her hopefulness, Lothíriel did not notice the silent conversation the married couple was having.
"We would love to spend the day with you!" Éowyn said, linking arms with Lothíriel. "Let us break our fast and then we can be off for the day,"
"Excellent. I can meet you at the stables in an hour, if that is fair to you? I have a few things to see to in the kitchens before we can go," Lothíriel said.
"We will certainly be there," Éowyn then dropped her arm, letting Lothíriel go. Éowyn watched the younger woman and her hound as they walked away, a plan forming in her mind.
"I have seen that look many times, and it does not always bode well," A deeper, male voice sounded next to Éowyn. Éomer stood next to his sister, having just come from his chambers.
"Would you like to spend the day with us, brother?" Éowyn suddenly asked, spinning to face her brother, a sweet smile on her face. Éomer recognized that smile as well, for his sister had used it on him many times when they were younger to get him to do many things for her. Little did Éowyn know that Éomer had no intention of rejecting her request, for he had seen Lothíriel speaking to her and Faramir minutes before he joined them.
"I could spend the day with you, if you do not think I will be a hindrance otherwise," Éomer said, calling Éowyn's bluff. His sister only smiled.
"Good. Meet us at the stables in an hour and then we shall be off," Éowyn smiled at her brother then, taking Faramir's hand and leading him away from Éomer. The young king watched as his sister and her husband disappeared into the hall leading to the garden, Faramir slightly scowling and Éowyn beaming in triumph.
Lothíriel came to the kitchens, her eyes meeting those of her miserable brother, Amrothos. Erchirion sat next to him and was smiling a little too broadly.
"Good morning, little sister," Erchirion said, a mite too loudly. Amrothos flinched and sent his brother a dark look. Lothíriel as well, sent a quick scowl at Erchirion, even though she knew Amrothos' current state was brought on by himself.
"I thought you spent last night with Elphir and Alarwen?" Lothíriel asked of her middle brother.
"Yes, I did. But when Elphir did not rise with the sun, I surmised that he and Alarwen were best left alone," Erchirion's comment elicited a weak snicker from Amrothos and Erchirion smiled broadly again. "Marriage duty and all," Erchirion added, drawing another snicker from Amrothos.
"Enough!" Lothíriel said, casting a disparaging look at her brothers. "You know that Elphir and Alarwen struggled to have Alphros, do not begrudge them in their efforts for another child," Lothíriel turned away from her brothers then, going to the large pantry at the back of the kitchen. From it, she took a waterskin then marched back to her brothers.
"I was coming down here to see how you were faring, Amrothos, but I see Erchirion is keeping you company well," Lothíriel leveled a guilt inducing stare at her brothers, then left the kitchen, not noticing the limp wave Amrothos gave her, or the light punch Erchirion gave Amrothos.
With her time in the kitchen done sooner than what she planned, Lothíriel returned to her rooms. The palace was quickly becoming unbearably hot. Lothíriel kicked off her light leather shoes in favor of her leather laced sandals. She also braided her hair and wound it into a knot on the back of her head; the loose strands from her early ponytail were sticking to the back of her neck in a most annoying fashion and Lothíriel could not stand it. While in her room, Lothíriel took her worn leather satchel; she never knew what she would find upon the beach and wanted to be prepared. The worn leather of the satchel looked out of place against the dark silk of her dress but Lothíriel did not care, for oftentimes, practicality ruled over fashion. Just as she was about to leave, Lothíriel dashed back into her room, taking an old pair of trousers and a dark tunic from her wardrobe. It never hurt to be prepared, Lothíriel thought, and she hoped that Faramir and Éowyn had had the same thoughts.
The prospect of a day with her favorite cousin and his wife quickly drove Lothíriel's irritating encounter with her brothers from her mind and she walked into the stable on light feet. The shade of the stable was not nearly as hot, and the wind blew from one end of the building to the other, making the place feel a little cooler than in the sweltering sun.
"It seems like we may be in for a storm tonight," The old groom said, when he noticed Lothíriel wiping the sheen of sweat from her brow.
"Aye, I think you may be right," Lothíriel agreed with the old groom. The day before had been mild and fair and this sudden change in temperature never boded well for those living on the coast.
With a smile at the old groom, Lothíriel walked leisurely through the stables. She first went to the large stack of hay in the broadest stall.
"Berúthiel, where are you?" Lothíriel crooned, searching the giant pile of hay. After a few moments, the dark head of a black cat poked out of the hay, followed by the faces of several kittens. Lothíriel laughed in delight as the kittens bounded out of their hiding place, followed by their mother.
"You have been a good mother, Berúthiel," Lothíriel said, picking up a kitten in each hand and holding their soft fur against her face. It was almost too hot to do so but Lothíriel never tired of the downy soft fur of the kittens. One of the kittens, a spunky orange tabby, puffed up his tail and hissed at Huan when the large hound came forward to investigate the kittens. Lothíriel laughed again as the kitten batted at Huan's nose, and then ran back into their hollow in the hay. Berúthiel, their mother, though was not afraid of the large dog, and wound herself around Huan's legs. Lothíriel had found Huan and Berúthiel within days of each other, and they had slept together to keep warm when they were puppy and kitten. Even when Berúthiel had moved to the stables to keep the rodent population at bay, the hound and cat kept their friendly relationship. Lothíriel watched the kittens for a moment more, then turned away to walk through the rest of the stables.
After a few moments, Lothíriel finally stopped to talk to her father's stallion, Silver-mane. She had missed the lively horse and he was Lothíriel's favorite and the Stallion seemed partial to her as well. Imrahil occasionally let Lothíriel ride Silvermane upon the beach, for she was the only one outside of her father that the Stallion tolerated upon him. Lothíriel did not know why, but she imagined it was because she and her father were so much alike in mood and temperament, that the horse did not feel the need to test his rider. Lothíriel rubbed the Stallion upon his forehead, scratching between his ears when he lowered his head. When Silvermane had his fill of scratching, the horse nudged against Lothíriel's hands with his broad nose, huffing out a large breath when he found no treat.
"I was told to stop spoiling you," Lothíriel giggled, giving the stallion an affectionate pat upon his neck. Silver-mane nickered but his head quickly shot up and his ears pricked forward. Huan as well turned quickly and let out a low growl.
"You have a way with that stallion; only your father could control him when we were in the South," a deep, male voice spoke behind Lothíriel.
Lothíriel turned around quickly, the voice startling her. Behind her stood the king of Rohan; he was wearing his characteristic green garb but Lothíriel noticed that the top of his tunic was not fastened all the way up, and a light gleam of sweat was upon his forehead. He was studying Lothíriel and a small smile graced his lips, though he stood several spans away from her. Lothíriel wondered why until she heard the uneasy snort of Silver-mane behind her and Huan's warning growl. She snapped her fingers at Huan and then turned back to the Stallion, rubbing her hand upon his neck.
"He is a friend and a king, you two; you don't need to be afraid of him," Lothíriel said in a soft voice, almost to herself. She gave Silvermane another light pat before turning away from the horse. Éomer watched this all with mild amusement. He had heard and seen by the hound Huan's constant presence that the Princess was a friend to animals but now that he saw her with her father's stallion, he knew her personality was most at ease with the animal kind in general. Animals ask nothing of you and are trusting to a fault. Yes, Éomer thought, he was starting to understand the princess a little more.
"What brings you down here, my lor- Éomer?" Lothíriel asked, walking next to the king but keeping Huan between them. Lothíriel realized that her question was silly as soon as she asked it; she was talking to a Horselord after all. He was probably coming to check on his horse.
"I came to see how Firefoot was doing," Éomer started, and Lothíriel nodded, "but I am also to meet Éowyn and Faramir here. My sister invited me to spend the morning with her and Faramir," Éomer said, not missing the sudden stillness of the Princess' face.
"Oh, well then we are here for the same reason. I did not know your sister had a previous engagement, or I would not have asked," Lothíriel said, her face impassive but her voice downcast. Lothíriel's response stung Éomer a little and he was about to say something when a cheerful shout range from the opposite end of the stable.
"There you two are; we were wondering if we had arrived first," Éowyn walked between Éomer and Lothíriel, linking arms with each one in turn. Faramir walked next to Lothíriel and shot his cousin an apologetic look.
"I did not know that you had made plans with your brother; I do not wish to impose," Lothíriel said, having no choice to follow Éowyn as she marched forward.
"Nonsense; you aren't imposing at all. I invited Éomer after you had asked. I figure my brother needed a day in the hot sun to blow away some of his kingly stuffiness,"
Lothíriel looked up over the top of Éowyn's head and met eyes with Éomer. The man's expression was patient but he rolled his eyes at his sister's enthusiasm. The expression from Éomer caught Lothíriel unawares and she found herself stifling a laugh. Perhaps this day would not be so bad.
Once they had exited the stables and started on their way to the shore-line, Éowyn freed Lothíriel and allowed the younger woman to lead the way. Huan ran ahead of the group as the self-appointed scout. Faramir followed Lothíriel, leaving the two siblings of Rohan at the rear of the small procession.
"What are you up to, sister?" Éomer asked in rohirric, suddenly suspicious if she knew of the arrangement between him and Lothíriel. Éowyn looked over her shoulder, an overly innocent expression on her face.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Éowyn responded, though her mischievous eyes gave her lie away.
"People who meddle oftentimes do not have a good end," Éomer said again in rohirric. This time Éowyn snorted and rolled her eyes. Éomer was about to question his sister more but she ran to catch up to her husband. Éomer was the one to roll his eyes this time and continued silently down the path. If Éowyn knew of his betrothal or not, Éomer did not necessarily want Éowyn's help to woo Lothíriel.
They came to the shore several minutes later and Éomer's ire at his sister was momentarily forgotten. He had looked upon the ocean from the height of his balcony and had marveled at its expanse and that awe was not diminished as he beheld the ocean upon its shore. The crash of the waves and the cry of the gulls overhead coalesced into a striking cacophony of sound of which Éomer had never heard the like.
"It's marvelous isn't it?" Faramir asked, stepping next to the king.
"Indeed," Éomer replied, still watching the surf. The princess' hound had already bounded into the water and Éomer wondered if the hound had the right idea. His sister's voice, though, suddenly pulled him from his observations. He turned to look at the women and saw that Éowyn held a tunic and trousers in her hands.
"Come now, Éomer has seen me in men's clothes, he will not begrudge you the same," Éowyn waved a hand back at her brother for emphasis. "Besides, I know the only way we will survive this beastly heat is if we cool ourselves. What better way than to swim?" Éowyn looked at Lothíriel hopefully. Éomer as well studied the princess, not missing how the small tendrils of hair that escaped her bun clung to her face and neck. There was a moment of hesitation upon Lothíriel's face, and she flicked her eyes to Éomer, almost as if she were seeking his permission. Éomer only smiled and watched a bead of sweat trickle down Lothíriel's temple.
"Oh all right!" the princess said, throwing up her hands in defeat. Éowyn clapped her hands in glee then took Lothíriel's hand and ran behind an outcropping of rock.
"She is one of a kind," Faramir said, a strange look on his face. Éomer assumed he referred to Éowyn and he agreed. If anyone could talk someone into something, it was Éowyn. Éomer listened to the women's chatter as it floated from their hiding place; it was beastly hot and a swim did sound good, all propriety aside.
Gondor already thinks me a Wildman. Éomer thought, wondering about the reactions of the more cultured nobles that were also Imrahil's guests. Éomer chanced to look over at Faramir; the steward had already deposited his boots and tunic in a pile on the sand and stood waiting, bare-chested. That was enough convincing for the Horselord, and Éomer had his boots kicked off by the time the women were ready. He was just pulling his tunic over his head when Éowyn and Lothíriel came from their hiding place. When he looked up, he met the wide eyes of the princess. She seemed unable to look away from Éomer's bare chest and he looked down upon himself to see if something was amiss. All he saw were the patchwork of scars that he had inherited over the years and he looked up with a smile. The princess now had her eyes down but her face a shade more red than the heat allowed. Éomer took this moment to study the princess, noticing right away that, although the tunic and cut-off trousers she wore were a little baggy, they did nothing to hide Lothíriel's womanly figure.
"Shall we?" Faramir said, suddenly grabbing his wife and tossing her over his shoulder. Éowyn kicked and screamed and tried to free herself but it was evident to Lothíriel and Éomer that she rather enjoyed Faramir's actions. Éomer chuckled and looked back at the princess, flirtatious boldness coming over him.
"If you would like, I could do the same for you? Practice makes perfect," Éomer grinned, having to stifle a laugh as Lothíriel's cool façade cracked and a look of mortified terror crossed her face.
"No, I think I am alright," Lothíriel said quietly, walking quickly to the surf.
As soon as her feet hit the water, Lothíriel wondered why she had considered not swimming. The water was cool compared to the air and the salty tang was refreshing. As soon as she was deep enough, Lothíriel dove into a wave, relishing the coolness of the water around her. She swam as far as her air and the sea-current would allow, popping back to the surface with practiced ease. She screamed though, when something warm brushed against her churning feet. But then Faramir's head broke the surface of the water and Lothíriel had to bite back an oath she had learned from her brothers.
"Faramir, you are the worst!" Lothíriel said, swinging her arms at her cousin and splashing him in the face. Faramir only laughed, sending a wave of water at Lothíriel that drowned out all her words. She ducked below the water, taking hold of Faramir's shoulders and pulling him underneath. Her cousin was stronger than she, though, and Lothíriel felt herself being lifted out of the water and tossed aside. The crest of a large wave fell over her and Lothíriel tumbled along the ocean's sandy floor until strong hands pulled her out of the water. Lothíriel was not out of breath or scared but her hair had fallen from its bun and was tangled about her face, making it impossible to see.
"Now you are trying to make up to me?" Lothíriel laughed, pulling her dark locks away from her eyes.
"No, only making sure Imrahil doesn't blame me for the drowning of his only daughter,"
Lothíriel looked up through her hair and saw that it was Éomer, not Faramir that had pulled her from the water. The water where she stood was just past Lothíriel's waist; with the king's height, Lothíriel could still see his entire bare chest down to the curve of muscle at the top of his hips. Éomer's hands were still upon her waist, Lothíriel noticed and she stepped quickly away from the man.
"Thank you," Lothíriel said quietly, and then she turned and dove back into the surf. The water did little to clear her head and Lothíriel only hoped that Éomer would blame the heat for her red face. What Lothíriel missed when she had dove away from the man, was the fire that ignited in Éomer's eyes and the roughish smile upon his face.
Almost two hours later, Lothíriel drug herself out of the surf, collapsing into the sand with a stifled groan. Huan's nose was instantly in her face and Lothíriel pushed the hound's long nose away. Lothíriel felt the sand shift next to her and the coolness of someone's shadow fell on her face.
"You never learn do you?"
"I hate you, Faramir," Lothíriel said, swinging her arm weakly at her cousin's feet. She heard him chuckle and then the coolness of his shadow left for a moment.
"Faramir! I will throttle you if you've killed my newest favorite cousin!" Éowyn's voice rang over the surf and Lothíriel could not stop the smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth. She knew Éowyn would take revenge for her.
"I did not kill her, she is fine," Faramir said, his voice his usual calm tinged with a bit of humor. "Lothíriel and I have raced many times and she has survived worse,"
Lothíriel let out an incredulous laugh, sitting up and spearing her cousin with a look. She stood and pointed a finger at Faramir.
"You are too fond of cheating. And you," Lothíriel's voice faltered when she looked at where Éomer walked toward her. Sea water ran down Éomer's chest and shoulders, outlining the muscles of his arms and abdomen. When she looked back at his face, Éomer winked at her and that seemed to snap Lothíriel out of her trance somewhat.
"You are far too excellent a swimmer for a Horselord, and you should be ashamed of yourself," Lothíriel said weakly, balling her hands into fists as Éomer walked toward her, his smile unrepentant.
"Why should I be ashamed for being an excellent swimmer?" Éomer asked as his expression remained unchanged. With the man close, Lothíriel studiously kept her gaze away from Éomer's bare chest.
"You very well know why, you oaf!" Éowyn chimed in, punching her brother in the arm. Éomer had enough sense that he caught Éowyn's other punches before Faramir pulled his wife away from her brother.
"Darling, calm down; it was all in the spirit of fun," Faramir said in his most placating tone. Éowyn calmed down some but was still sending Éomer daggers when Faramir placed her back on the sand.
"Fun indeed," Éowyn sniffed, turning and taking Lothíriel's hand and walking further up the beach. The women sat down in the sand, and the men followed, though Éomer still looked unrepentant. The men sat next to Éowyn, and Lothíriel chanced a glance out of the corner of her eye. Éomer was looking her way, and he winked when their eyes met. Lothíriel's anger quickly melted and she had to stifle a giggle. Éowyn noticed Lothíriel's shaking shoulders and gave her a questioning look. It only made Lothíriel giggle more until she was full out laughing.
"I am sorry; it's just that, now that I think about it, it was a little funny," Lothíriel said, trying to quell her laughter. At the time it happened, Lothíriel had been absolutely terrified but now, she saw what happened as something she and Amrothos had done to each other many times.
Faramir had challenged Lothíriel to a race, to see who could swim to a large rock nearly two bowshots away from shore. As they had done this many times, and Lothíriel had beaten Faramir before, she had agreed to the race. She had gotten off to a quick start and was nearly to the rock when something brushed against her. She was only mildly alarmed, for sometimes, sea lions were seen in the bay of Belfalas and it was known that they were quite curious. So Lothíriel had continued and was still out-pacing Faramir. But when she had reached the rock and turned around, something clamped around her foot and pulled Lothíriel under the water. Sheer terror had risen in Lothíriel's chest and she thrashed against whatever held her, kicking with all her might with her free leg. Her foot had connected with something warm and slightly soft but then she was free. When she bobbed to the surface, she was still able to catch up with Faramir and beat him to shore. When Lothíriel had looked back as she stumbled from the water, she had seen Éomer's golden head, as he swam back to the shore, and knew he and Faramir had been in league the entire time. It was a mild prank, at best and Lothíriel now saw the slight humor in it, if not, Faramir's unknown weakness; a hatred of losing.
Lothíriel looked back over at Éomer, noticing a bright red patch along his side; it must've been where Lothíriel kicked him and the princess smiled with some satisfaction. Éomer lifted his face to the sun as Lothíriel watched him and for a moment, the king looked younger. But then he dropped his face and looked right at Lothíriel and she nearly groaned when he winked again.
"It is nearly noon; you ladies should change before everyone else arrives," Faramir said, looking back toward the palace. Lothíriel followed her cousin's gaze, jumping up when she saw the small caravan of servants and nobles headed their way.
"Father would be mortified if he knew you saw me like this," Lothíriel said, looking quickly at Éomer. Faramir and Éowyn noticed their sudden exclusion and Éowyn had to hide a smile. Lothíriel dashed away to the rock she and Éowyn had changed behind, combing her fingers through her loose hair. The White Lady was not far behind her and Lothíriel handed Éowyn her dress when she came behind the rock. Thankfully, for the heat, Lothíriel was nearly dry, and dressing in the appropriate attire was quick work. Then with deft fingers, Lothíriel braided her hair and twisted it into a bun. As she reached for her sandals, Lothíriel quickly decided against them. Her dress was long enough to hide her bare feet and she would keep her toes buried in the sand. Though her sandals were cooler than boots, Lothíriel could not stomach the thought of her skin sweltering against the leather. Éowyn watched Lothíriel in silence, smiling some when Lothíriel stuffed her sandals into the worn leather satchel she had brought with her.
When the women left their hiding place, Lothíriel saw that Faramir was already presentable looking and pulling on his boots. When her eyes drifted to Éomer, Lothíriel caught herself staring again, as the king pulled his tunic over his head, leaving several of the top laces undone. Éomer looked up and met Lothíriel's eyes, and she looked away, her nerves hitting her with sudden force. Huan seemed to sense Lothíriel's change in mood and came to the princess' side, nudging her hand with his nose. Then the hound's ears perked and Lothíriel followed Huan's gaze; closer to the base of the sea-cliff, servants had already set up a broad pavilion in the sand. Lothíriel saw Erchirion and Amrothos among the first-comers and she started walking to them as Éowyn went to Faramir and Éomer.
"Sister, we wondered where you had been," Erchirion said, taking note of Lothíriel's sun-pinked cheeks and windswept hair.
"Just enjoying the sun; Faramir and Éowyn and Éomer spent the morning with me," Lothíriel said, taking a cup of chilled wine one of the servants offered her.
"So we are on a first name basis with the king of Rohan, now, are we?" Erchirion asked, taking his most superior brotherly tone that irritated Lothíriel to no end. Lothíriel knew he was only teasing, for he had knowledge of the arraignment between her and the king of Rohan, but Erchirion's tone still bothered her.
"I am only following his wishes; you may ask him yourself if you feel man enough to," Lothíriel retorted coolly, taking another sip of the wine. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing that Faramir and Éowyn were talking with Aragorn and Arwen but Éomer stood idly in the shade of the canopy the servants had raised. Without thinking, Lothíriel took another cup of chilled wine and walked over to the king of Rohan. Éomer's eyes instantly locked on Lothíriel as she walked toward him and he smiled as she held out the glass of wine.
"My lord," Lothíriel said, handing off the cup with a small smile. Éomer's hesitated as his hand brushed against Lothíriel's. Lothíriel only smiled, and gently pushed the cup toward Éomer.
"Thank you," Éomer said quietly. His face became inscrutable and Lothíriel wondered at the expression but her nerves sprang up again and she did not voice the question on her lips.
Faramir walked up behind Éowyn, wrapping his arms around her. He smiled when his wife sighed and he kissed her lightly on the neck.
"Today was a good day," Éowyn said, leaning into her husband's embrace. Faramir kissed Éowyn's neck again, making her shiver.
"Matchmaking is hard work, I'm told," Faramir said. Éowyn was about to laugh, not ashamed of her brazen attempts against Lothíriel and Éomer, but her husband's tone gave her pause.
"You think I'm wrong, don't you?" Éowyn asked, her tone holding a little fire. Faramir remained silent for a moment, only moving to kiss the other side of Éowyn's neck. Patience was not one of Éowyn's virtues, but she had learned in her short time of marriage to Faramir to cultivate that missing trait. Her efforts were rewarded oftentimes, this time being no different as Faramir finally spoke.
"I just think that perhaps if they are meant to be together, they will find each other without our help. They certainly seem interested in each other but they are both adults and in no need of our conniving," Faramir did not add that he had a suspicion that Éomer and Lothíriel already had some sort of an understanding with each other. The familiarity with which they greeted each other was enough to reignite the rumors that had flown about when they had kissed at his and Éowyn's wedding. Faramir felt Éowyn take a deep breath, and he abandoned his musing thoughts quickly.
"Éomer has sometimes needed a push to do the right thing. What if…"
"Leave them be, wife," Faramir said calmly. Éowyn took another deep breath, about to speak again but thought better of it and instead settled back into Faramir's embrace. She did not wholly agree with Faramir but she did not want to end the night on a fight.
Husband and wife stared at the darkened horizon in silence for a moment until the flash of lightning split the sky. Éowyn shivered and Faramir held her more tightly. It had been a surprise to Faramir to find that his wife, the slayer of the Witch-king, was afraid of storms. He had found out on their honeymoon, of all times and Éowyn had threatened him with death or at least a beating if he ever told anyone else. Being a wise husband, even for his newness to the title, Faramir had agreed, locking Éowyn's secret away but telling his new wife that she could tell him when she was afraid, for they were one person now and he wanted to help her when fears came.
"Let's go inside; I don't like this," Éowyn said quickly as another bolt of lightning split the sky. Faramir nodded, running his hand softly down his wife's arm before taking her hand and leading her back into their rooms. As Faramir closed the louvered glass doors to the balcony, lightning ripped through the sky again, and he heard an uncharacteristic squeal from Éowyn as she dashed for their bed. Once everything was secure, Faramir walked calmly to his wife, who sat on the bed clutching a pillow to her chest.
"I hate storms!" Éowyn hissed through her teeth. Faramir only smiled, wresting the pillow from his wife's hands.
"Then let me distract you," Faramir said, claiming Éowyn's mouth in a sudden, hungry kiss.
Lothíriel stood at the edge of the palace garden, watching the storm clouds in the west. The old groom had been right, and with the setting of the sun, a storm had risen on the horizon. Its dark clouds were now indistinguishable against the night sky, save for the absence of stars and moon. Lothíriel loved to feel the charge in the air and the cool winds that came with a storm whenever one blew in from the sea. She could most usually be found outside when a storm was near and this time was no different. The wind gusted against Lothíriel, cool and crisp with the smell of rain. Lightning flashed in the distance, making Huan whine anxiously. Lothíriel put her hand upon the hound's head for his comfort, unwilling to go inside just yet.
"This is a strange place to be with a storm coming,"
Lothíriel looked over her shoulder at the increasingly familiar voice of the king of Rohan. Éomer stood just behind her, causing butterflies to erupt in Lothíriel's stomach. She looked away from the man, distracting herself with the coming storm.
"I've loved storms, ever since I was a child. My brothers think I'm crazy," Lothíriel offered in the silence between them. Éomer only smiled, moving to stand next to Lothíriel. Huan gave Éomer a cursory glance but allowed the man to stay. Éomer had given Huan several secret treats throughout the day, hoping to put himself in the great hound's good graces. His efforts seemed to win the hound over enough to let Éomer close to Lothíriel without a growl. Éomer moved his hand to pat the hound on the head but decided not to push his luck at the hound's dour look. But lightening flashed and with the distant roll of thunder, the great hound shrank against Lothíriel's side, letting out a small whine.
"Éowyn would kill me for this but she is terrified of storms," Éomer said, watching the horizon for the next flash of light.
Lothíriel looked at the king, staying silent when he continued to speak.
"One summer, when we both were still quite young and mother and father were still alive," Éomer paused for a moment and Lothíriel was surprised at the flash of pain on the man's face but he rallied quickly and continued speaking. "A storm swept across the plains and with it came a whirlwind. I remember standing in the doorway of our home as pieces of ice the size of a man's fist fell from the sky. And then, it all suddenly stopped, and then came the roar. The whirlwind was heading straight for our home; mother took us both and we three squeezed into our tiny root cellar until the whirlwind passed. Father had been out on a patrol with his Éored and had seen the whirlwind afar off and knew that it was near to us. We did not come out of the root cellar until we heard father yelling our names. When we came out, our home was still standing but the thatch of the roof was nearly blown away and our stables were destroyed. Ever since then, Éowyn has feared storms and rightly so, but I have always loved them; they make me feel so, so…" Éomer dropped off, searching for words.
"So alive?" Lothíriel finished quietly. Éomer looked at the princess quickly.
"Yes,"
For once, Lothíriel did not look away from Éomer when his eyes searched her face. Lothíriel could not stop the twinge in her heart as stark loneliness shone from Éomer's eyes.
"Storms remind me of happier times," Éomer nearly whispered his expression suddenly raw. Lothíriel reached a hand towards Éomer but stopped just short of touching his arm. Éomer saw her movement and looked at Lothíriel, his eyes still full of the gnawing loneliness. They stared at each other, each one's hands hovering between them, until a flash of lightning lit the night sky. Lothíriel looked to the west quickly, pulling her hand back and clenching her fists as an unexpected wave of disappointment washed over her.
"Goodnight, Princess," Éomer said quietly, leaving suddenly without another word.
Lothíriel stood in silence for some time, her thoughts in turmoil and her heart racing. What she had seen on Éomer's face had shaken her to her core. It was like a curtain was pulled away and Lothíriel realized that though the king of Rohan exuded bravado and charm, it was merely a shield from others. He was still a man with a fiery will and of great power but beneath it all were open wounds in the king's soul.
A/N: I had a fun time writing this chapter when I did but I hope it didn't come off as "Middle Earth Beach party- yeah!" I thought the characters needed some lighter events to help explain who they are. :) Thank you all for your continued reads and reviews!
The Moonlily- Thank you for your review! You already know I am a fan of yours so I have to tell you that I had some crazy nerves come up when I saw that you had reviewed my story! As for the wedding tradition in the beginning, I was up in the air about it when I first wrote it. I had done research on the tradition and found that it originated way back in 14th century France and England. Brides and grooms at that time started tossing their bouquets/garters to keep those at the wedding from snatching pieces of the bride's clothing for good luck... I'm sure glad we aren't in the 14th century anymore... That time period may still be a little "younger" compared to Tolkien's Middle Earth society but I thought it was close enough in dress and times that I would keep it. I also figured that since Faramir and Eowyn had practically announced their love from the walls of Minas Tirith that their wedding would be a little less formal than say, Aragorn and Arwen's wedding. But, truth be told, there is just something about wedding traditions that grabs ahold of all of us at one time or another. ;)
HeartoftheArtsari- Thank you for your review! I am glad to have your interest and I hope I do not disappoint in the coming chapters!