Destiny

Chapter 7

Eomer had only visited the Harlond that one time with Erchirion. In the Riddermark, there were small boats and ferry crossings, but nothing so grand as this port on the Anduin. It was bustling with activity, and he watched it with a curious eye as Faramir explained all that he was seeing, reiterating much of what Erchirion had previously told him.

Eowyn had joined them for the outing, though Eomer suspected it had more to do with a desire to spend time with her betrothed than an eagerness to greet his Dol Amroth kin. For all his teasing, he couldn't fault her that. She had been correct yesterday – he would have behaved similarly were he here for his own wedding, and being reunited with his betrothed. For some reason, the realization that he was not made him a little sad. He had been feeling that more and more often lately, and he very much thought it partly had to do with sorrow at the idea of losing Eowyn to Gondor. He would still see her, it was true, but not nearly so often. When he returned to Meduseld, he would be alone, all his family gone in one way or another.

His advisers were still nudging him toward marriage – some more blatantly than others. The idea had merit, of course, and he was not opposed to it, but he would not marry simply for marriage sake or a desperate need of heirs. He wanted a beloved wife and mother to his children. Any woman free of child-bearing difficulties could provide him with children, but she could not necessarily be what he wanted in a wife – and a large part of what he wanted was love. Political alliances and practical considerations be hanged! It was easy enough for a woman to inspire lust in a man, but not so easy for her to set a fire burning inside him that would never be quenched. He saw that fire in Aragorn, and Faramir as well. And, though long years had passed since he had wed, Eomer still saw it in Imrahil also. Was he expecting too much to want that for himself? His advisers seemed to view it as an unnecessary consideration, but in this he would not yield. He would give himself to the Riddermark for all of his days, but he would not give himself so readily to any woman.

Annoyingly, his thoughts turned again to Lothiriel. That blasted prophecy! Without it, likely he would never even have considered Lothiriel and marriage in the same thought. Why did outsiders always seem so determined to meddle in affairs of the heart of others?

A horn sounded, and as they looked the boat came into view around a bend, slowly edging toward the docks. Having been here numerous times, Faramir led them to a goodly spot to watch the landing, answering their questions while they waited.

"What do they do with their horses when they travel by boat?" Eowyn asked.

"There is a hold with small stalls built in. The horses travel by boat also, and a bit more in style than on a ferry. When they dock, I will take you onboard and show you," Faramir explained.

As it came nearer, Eomer could see someone standing on the deck and waving vigorously. Clearly it was a woman and, after a few moments, he realized it was Lothiriel. Presumably her greeting was for Faramir, who raised his hand to wave back, as did Eowyn. He was the last to do so, making only a cursory motion before letting his hand fall back to his side.

Uncharacteristically, he felt nervousness tightening his stomach, but he avoided dwelling on it or its cause. Her brothers had joined Lothiriel on deck, and they also waved briefly, before Erchirion said something to the others and they all moved away from the rail.

Lothiriel had not expected to be so anxious. She had been fine for the bulk of the journey, but now that they were here, her stomach was in knots and her heart seemed to be racing madly in her chest. Deciding she was just worried about how Eomer might approach her after their correspondence, she steeled herself to behave cordially. If he began to display too much attention, once they reached the city she could resume her evasive tactics. That had worked before, it would work now.

It took quite a while to work the large boat up to the dock and get it moored. By the time it was secured, Imrahil's family was gathered for debarking, and they cautiously made their way down the ramp. For some reason, Eomer's eyes wanted to stray to Lothiriel, but with a firm act of will he made sure to only glance at her briefly before focusing on the others and greeting them. After these many months, it would undo all his efforts if he took much note of her, and possibly it would set her at ease with him if he didn't, maybe even cause a twinge of disappointment at this lack of attention.

His disinterest put her off her guard; she had at least expected a more cordial greeting. Not that he had been rude or anything, but it was almost as if they were strangers, and she had thought they were beyond that now. Her brow wrinkled slightly with bewilderment, but she then forced an impassive look on her countenance. It was of little matter. She did not want his attentions so this was all to the good. She could now stop worrying that he might have developed an interest in her through their letters, as that was clearly not the case. Somehow, though, that knowledge was not so satisfying as she had expected. She could not help wondering what he may have found wanting in her…

After hearty welcomes, as promised Faramir took Eowyn aboard to see the stalls in the hold, and Eomer decided to join them. Meanwhile, Imrahil saw to getting their baggage packed onto wagons and all arranged for their departure to the city. The family was ready to go once the three returned from a tour of the boat, and they set off.

Sirrin could not help noticing a tenseness in her daughter's posture as they rode along in the carriage. Many times she had been tempted to pursue discussion of Lothiriel's thoughts and feelings, but her daughter had seemed to concertedly shut herself off from them, doing all she could to avoid confiding in anyone. She knew Lothiriel was concerned about Mithrandir's prophecy, and its meaning, but she wasn't at all sure her daughter wasn't making this more difficult than it needed to be. Perhaps it would help her to know that her family wanted what was best for her, whether or not it was part of a wizard's prophecy.

"Dearest, are you all right?" Sirrin began. "You seem strained."

"I am fine," Lothiriel replied, looking out the window to avoid her mother's gaze. Not entirely truthfully, she added, "I was just thinking of the wedding."

Her stiffness and reluctance to talk almost silenced Sirrin, but she decided to press ahead a little further anyway. "Much as I rejoice in seeing dear Faramir so happily wed, it will please me even more when it is your wedding day. You shall be a beautiful bride, my love!"

Lothiriel did not find those words comforting; indeed, she stiffened even more. With a soft sigh, Sirrin moved over to sit beside her daughter and wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Dearest, your father and I would never press you into a marriage not of your choosing. We just want your happiness – the sort of happiness we have with each other. Trust your heart, and eventually you will find the right man."

"Considering the prophecy, my choices are somewhat limited, would you not agree?" Lothiriel's voice held a bitter note.

"We cannot know what precisely the prophecy means, or does not mean, but do not let that color your thinking. Like or dislike a man for who he is and let destiny fall into its own place. But know that we love you no matter what."

Lothiriel gave a small nod, but did not look at her mother. Sirrin wasn't sure she had provided the comfort she had hoped to impart, but perhaps Lothiriel was going to have to find her own peace with this. She gave Lothiriel's shoulders a squeeze and pressed a kiss to her hair, before returning to her own seat across the carriage.

Lothiriel had to keep a tight rein on her emotions to hold back the tears that wanted to slip out at her mother's words. She knew Sirrin meant well, but somehow it did not console her in this matter. Glancing up, trying to distract herself, her eyes fell on King Eomer, riding next to her father alongside the carriage. It would be so easy to just give in and accept him. Surely that was what everyone wanted, and she did at least like the man, but she could not truly say that she felt about him as her parents felt about each other. He was pleasant and charming and many things desirable, but love? If her mother truly meant she should seek love, then she did not believe she was there yet. Not with King Eomer or anyone else. She closed her eyes, both to shut out the sight of him and, for a few moments, the world itself.

Most of the rest of the day, Lothiriel helped her mother get the household in order while her father and brothers were off somewhere with business or friends. Not until the next day was there a gathering to celebrate the upcoming wedding. With improved conditions, through the winter Lothiriel had gained new gowns to replace many of the ones she had given up during the War, so at least she did not feel dowdy in appearance. She still did not see true beauty when she gazed in her mirror, but she supposed the gowns did look well on her, and possibly hid some of her flaws.

The family gathered in the entry hall before they all set off to the Merethrond. Walking between Erchirion and Amrothos, it seemed the two could not form a sentence that didn't make some mention of the Rohirrim and their king. She kept silent through it all, unwilling to voice an opinion on that particular subject.

The hall was looking very festive. Lothiriel thought she could get used to this cheerier atmosphere. With War looming and Denethor's ever more dour mood, the Halls of Gondor had been gloomy, dark places. Whenever possible she had avoided visiting them. Now, with victory and a queen in residence, much was changed – all for the better, to Lothiriel's thinking.

Lothiriel had spent the entire day mentally preparing herself for this. She was determined to be pleasant but distant to King Eomer, just as she had been in her letters. There was no reason to think he was looking to pursue her, so she would not presume that was the case. He knew her and was not interested, so all was well. The prophecy must be referring to someone else.

Her plan worked fairly well, particularly since she had little contact with Eomer for the entire night. As Eowyn's brother, he was kept occupied near her and greeting well-wishers, leaving Lothiriel free to float around the room well away from him. She had danced a few dances, with her brothers as well as some soldiers, but now paused to sip some wine and cool down from her exertion. She stood in the shadow of a great pillar, leaning against its smooth coolness, and idly watching the dancers floating by.

Feminine voices broke into her thoughts, and she realized others stood nearby though she could not see them around the pillar. "Did you see how he looks at her? Now there will be an excellent match! And that will surely strengthen the bond between Gondor and Rohan, even more than his sister's marriage to Lord Faramir."

"I know their families are great friends, so I am sure Prince Imrahil would not oppose the match. And was there not some sort of prediction made long ago that Lothiriel would wed a king? Oh, it is so exciting to contemplate! Our Princess of Dol Amroth wed to King Eomer!"

The two women moved away, still gossiping, but Lothiriel stood staring blindly at the dance floor. How he looked at her? Her eyes flicked to Eomer, but he was laughing at something Eowyn had said. She had never noticed him looking at her with any particular regard – had she missed something? Clearly it was so, if others had noticed such. She had thought herself safe; his letters had seemed nothing but friendly correspondence. His letters… Only now did it occur to her how free had been their discourse in those letters. While they had not spoken of love and romance and courtship, they had subtly told her of him and his life. She had believed she came to know him through those letters, but now she wondered if that was truly so. Had he been courting her all the while and she was too naïve to realize it?

The wine tasted bitter in her mouth and she set down the goblet with annoyance. What a fool she was! She had never been the master of her own fate. Everyone else seemed determined to guide it for her, as though they knew better than she what was best. She turned sharply on her heel, crashing into Amrothos who had silently approached her from behind. "Oh, there you are Lothiriel. Steady! Are you ready for another dance?" he asked.

"No," she answered curtly. "I have a headache. Will you see me home?"

Her brother eyed her in surprise. She had been in excellent spirits earlier; it was hard to believe a headache had developed so suddenly. Still, she clearly was upset about something, so probably best to get her away from this crowd. Possibly she would confide in him. "Of course, dearest. Let me fetch your cloak. The evening has turned cool."

While he was gone, she paced in a small circle awaiting his return. Unnoticed, Eomer had spotted her from his place on the dais, and his eyes narrowed at her clear agitation. Why was she distressed? He could not have caused it, not having been able to get near her most of the evening. Whatever it was, Amrothos appeared and wrapped her cloak around her. Evidently she was leaving. He would likely get no answers tonight, but it niggled at the back of his mind the remainder of the evening.

Amrothos' efforts to draw her out and inspire her to speak of her distress did not work, and in the end he left her at her door with a kiss to the forehead, before returning to the festivities. Their parents were surprised when they learned she had left, and Sirrin cast worried looks toward the exit. Imrahil sighed and rubbed his neck. "I wish I knew what to do for her, to put her at ease. But Mithrandir's words will always overshadow her, no matter what we do or say." He glanced toward Eomer, then added, "I had thought perhaps their letters were a step in the right direction, but it would seem I was mistaken. Perhaps if she spoke to Mithrandir and found out more…"

Erchirion snorted. "Plain speaking from that wizard? That will never happen, Father. I do not think Mithrandir knows how to speak in anything but riddles, and I am not sure he would explain even if he could."

"Maybe if you spoke to Eomer," Sirrin ventured.

Erchirion shook his head. "I have told Eomer of all this. He wondered back in May why he had not met her, when she was so determinedly avoiding him and Elessar, so I explained. He thinks she is being silly, but he did promise not to torment her over it. He has seemed to keep his word, and I did not get the impression that Lothiriel was bothered by his letters, though I do not entirely understand his purpose in writing to her."

"Possibly he just wanted her to get to know him so she would stop avoiding him," Amrothos astutely offered.

"Well, if that is so, it did not help," Imrahil observed.

"I think I should go and check on her," Sirrin said, and her husband nodded.

"I will come also. There will be plenty of other festivities to enjoy." He moved away to collect their cloaks, while his sons were deciding to remain longer.

A short while later, they were talking with Faramir and his betrothed, with Eomer lingering nearby. "Your family left early," Eowyn commented. "Is all well?"

The two were reluctant to discuss Lothiriel outside of the family, so Erchirion simply responded, "A little tired from the boat ride, perhaps. And Lothiriel withdrew with a headache, so I am sure Mother wanted to check on her."

Eomer made no comment, taking another swallow of wine. Though there was nothing that should have connected these events to him, he could not help thinking they were, and he was convinced that both Erchirion and Amrothos were sneaking glances his way.

By the next day, Eomer could partially guess what was going on, for Lothiriel was back to her evasive actions regarding him. It didn't help matters when the King of Dale arrived for the wedding. The man was clearly married, his wife on his arm, and with them were two children. The eldest and heir was a boy of a mere eleven years, and the girl a few years less than that. It was certain that Mithrandir's prophecy could not have meant an alliance with Dale. Eomer was sure that would persuade Lothiriel that he was her only option. He hissed in annoyance. That meddling Istar! How was he ever going to get past her defenses now?

For the next few days, Eomer had to endure Lothiriel keeping a safe distance between him. It bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Some part of him had been looking forward to seeing her here, and spending time in her company now that his letters had softened her opposition to knowing him. All that had been changed in an instant and it…hurt. But with all the press of preparing for the wedding, Eomer could not allow himself to dwell on the situation too freely, and he forced his attention to the matters at hand.

xxxxx

The wedding was all that one might expect for the Steward of Gondor, but especially significant because Faramir was so beloved of the people. Aragorn made it a point to spare no effort in making this the grandest event ever. His coronation and wedding the previous year had been grand, but now he stepped back from the limelight and made sure Faramir was in the forefront of everything. He regarded his Steward just as highly as did their people, and he wanted this event to be memorable. Though, he fully realized, Faramir was apt to remember little else than the lovely Eowyn pledging herself to him! Aragorn knew his own wedding had passed in a haze; only the sight of Arwen accepting him as her husband stood out clearly in his memories of that day.

As both of them were family to the wedding couple, Lothiriel could not entirely avoid Eomer, though she was relieved that he made no particular effort to approach her. In some ways, that saddened her. She wondered if he realized how much of himself he had revealed in his letters, with his comments about his childhood and life, as well as the concerns he had expressed about the future of him and his people. He was a fine man, and she had truly wanted to call him a friend, as did the rest of her family.

Now he stood not far from her, looking impossibly handsome. When they had met last year, and on the trip to Rohan, he had barely made the transition from soldier to king. Now he wore that role more easily, and to her eyes he had a more kingly bearing. She suspected Eowyn had a hand in altering his wardrobe to better suit a monarch, and the rich colors and materials accentuated his strength and power, his regal countenance. She had not missed the many longing glances thrown his way by the ladies of Gondor. They would gladly have elbowed her aside to be near him, and while she might be avoiding conversation and time in his company, they would not be so reticent.

Her eyes darkened with irritation. How could they be so shallow as to only concern themselves with his good looks and office of king? Did they have any idea the struggles he had known in his life, that he still had? Did they care? They were eager to be named his queen, but did they understand what that would entail? A Rohirric queen would not sit lazily about in rich clothing and dining on sweet meats and pastries. She had seen Eowyn working hard to keep Meduseld in order, and knew that likely it was even harder than it appeared to her eyes. Rohan was not a place for faint-hearted maidens!

She took a swallow of wine, almost choking at the too large gulp. Why was she even thinking about this? If she wished to elude Eomer, then the answer was clear – he must marry someone else. And why did that realization give her a pang rather than hope? She forced her thoughts aside, unwilling to examine them more closely, and pressed her attention back to the gathering. But her good humor had fled, and she had to pretend liveliness and laughter after that.

TBC