VI. Grim Reality

It took them some time, but at length they extracted themselves from each other's embrace – aided by the biting wind they were unprotected from, standing as they were to better hold each other – and made their way back to the castle. Because they both knew Amrothos would wait anxiously for them at the gates, they made up their explanation for Ésuthain's behaviour on the way back.

Lothíriel had not exaggerated when she had stated that she could be composed under all circumstances. When they arrived at Dol Amroth, she waved happily to her brother watching them from the top of the battlements.

"It's all right now, Am!" she exclaimed. While Amrothos got down to the courtyard, she dismounted and a groom took hold of her horse's reins. Ésuthain followed suit more slowly. Taking hold of his arm just like she had done since she was eleven years-old, she led him towards her garden, followed by a beaming Amrothos.

Lothíriel and her brother sat on a small marble bench near a fountain, while Ésuthain stood not far from them, watching out the garden out of habit. The fountain's water had been stilled by the cold of winter and the usually luxuriant flowering trees that adorned its side only displayed naked brown twigs.

"I think Ésuthain's still a little mad at you," Lothíriel began happily, smiling wryly at the captain, "but he agrees that it was better that we talked, so I think he'll forgive you, eventually."

"I do beg your forgiveness, Ésuthain," Amrothos apologized contritely. "It just seemed wrong to change your duties without telling Loth."

Ésuthain forced a smile despite his slight anger and his petrifying nervousness. "It is just like Her Highness said. You were right to think it was better that we talked, so I do not hold it against you to have broken my confidence. I dare hope that you will treat my next request for discretion more seriously, however."

Amrothos grinned. "Sure, Ésuthain. So, what was the fuss about?"

"Well, it was my fault, really," Lothíriel admitted with remarkably well-feigned and well-dosed regret. "Last week, I went for a walk alone by the orchards' path."

"Alone?" Amrothos repeated, glancing at Ésuthain.

"Her Highness did not inform me of her plans," the captain explained tartly.

"No, I did not… I very much wanted to be alone for a moment, and I thought a walk could not hurt."

Her brother watched her with gut-wrenching worry. "Nothing happened, did it, dear?"

She shook her head. "No. But two beggars accosted me on the road. They threatened me and asked for my money. Ésuthain happened to take the same road by chance and he stopped them before they could even rob me."

Amrothos played right into her hands. He glared at her, incensed. "But what were you thinking!" he exclaimed loudly. "Much worse could have happened!"

She smiled. "Ésuthain's reaction exactly, although if I may say so, he was much more wordy in his remonstrance."

"The blunt truth is that I completely lost my temper and dared yell at Her Highness," Ésuthain confessed.

"So neither he nor I were very proud of what happened that day. Since nothing bad had happened, we decided not to… publicize the incident."

Amrothos smiled crookedly to Ésuthain. "Is that it? The next request for discretion you wish taken more seriously?"

Ésuthain grinned back, a little more naturally than at the beginning. "Yes, that would be it."

"So I thought the incident behind us," Lothíriel carried on. "But I had not thought about the trouble I could cause for Ésuthain if anything happened to me. With his betrothed, he can't afford…"

"A betrothed? Ésuthain!" Amrothos jumped to his feet to slap the other man on the back joyfully. "Congratulations! Why didn't you tell us anything?"

The captain shrugged uncomfortably. "It did not seem relevant to tell a prince – or a princess – that I had fallen in love."

Knowing better than stretching Ésuthain's poor talents for acting, Lothíriel immediately brought her brother's attention back on herself. "So, as I was saying, with his betrothed, Ésuthain cannot afford to risk his position of captain on my account. He felt my caprices were becoming dangerous for me as well as for him, so he tried to find a safer post somewhere else. Now that I've promised to be a good girl, he agreed to stay in my service."

"Yes, Your Highness." He knew he should say something else, tease Lothíriel or something, but all he could do was blush and stay silent.

Amrothos, however, did not seem to notice anything amiss and smiled at the two of them. "Well, I'm glad you've worked it out. You were so glum around each other for the past few days, we all thought something bad had happened. So tell me, Ésuthain, who is she?"

The Captain, less at ease than Lothíriel when it came to acting, shrugged and recited the story he had made up with Lothíriel on the way. "She is a maid in Minas Tirith; I met her last summer in Linhir. Her mistress is the wife of a spice merchant we had been escorting. I did not see her since last summer, but if I can provide for her, she might move here next fall, after the busy spice season."

"Good news!" Amrothos exclaimed.

Neither Amrothos nor anyone else ever questioned again what had happened. Ésuthain kept the complete trust of Lothíriel's father and brothers regarding his honourable defence of the princess.

ooooo

Ésuthain had judged Lothíriel's perfect composure correctly, but had greatly underestimated the difficulty of being in her presence and forced to act naturally. She tended to center people's attention on herself, so he had little acting or hiding to do, but still, it was difficult.

Prudently, Lothíriel waited a week before she went out alone with him again. This time, she chose a long sheltered ride in the woods to the southeast of the castle. A little impatiently, Ésuthain decided not to wear his armour for that ride.

In the following weeks, they set up a precise schedule. Lothíriel judged a well-known and easily predictable table of activities would raise less suspicion. She attended to the castle affairs in afternoons and nights. Every other morning, she took lessons with Sathil and her dance trainer. The other mornings, she trained her horse alone and, once a week, she went for a ride with Ésuthain. Occasionally, she read in the garden, and sometimes he followed her there too, and they could hide between the high secretive hedges. However, the two of them did not like the garden much; they judged it a risky meeting place, with all the people walking around and possibly overhearing them.

Winter slowly gave way to spring, and no one seemed to notice anything. One warm day of early summer, Lothíriel suggested a ride on the beach below the castle. So, two hours south of the castle, Lothíriel and Ésuthain found themselves lying on the sand together, between two outcropping of rocks that hid them from prying eyes. They let Sathil and Dulinéhar graze on the sea lime-grass not far from them.

Lothíriel and Ésuthain had grown familiar with each other over the months, even if they were alone together only once a week on their private ride. Lothíriel was not shy at all about lying down next to him anymore. On the contrary, she pressed into him eagerly, running her hand possessively up and down his chest. The sun shone high in the sky above them, and the outcroppings of rock on each side cut off the wind. Ésuthain lay on his side, Lothíriel in his arms. Kissing her passionately, he ran his hand down her long, silken, loose hair. It was only the second time that she unbound her hair for him. He wanted it to be the only blanket they shared, and to see it fall on her naked back, over her buttocks and her breasts, when she would move above him.

He kept one leg bent so Lothíriel could not snuggle close enough into him to feel the physical evidence of the direction of his thoughts, but she quickly ruined his efforts. Running her hand down his stomach daringly, she aimed straight for it.

Ésuthain pulled his lips away from hers to take a hasty breath, snaring her hand and moving back from her slightly, in a mixture of panic and maddening desire.

"You must not tempt me too much," he teased, "it is cruel of you."

She gently freed her hand and put it back on his chest before she slid it slowly downwards. "I am not tempting you," she whispered in a sultry voice, "I am making an offer I hope you can't refuse."

Her hand slid under his tunic to caress his heated skin, though she did remain in less compromising parts. He took hold of her hand again and this time sat up.

Reality had caught up with them at long last.

"Lothíriel, as much as we might want it, we can't," he stated flatly. Sensing his sudden seriousness, she sat up next to him and pulled her hair behind her ears. To try and sweeten the denial, he tenderly combed her hair with his fingers.

"You know there are books in my father's library about pretty much anything," she said lightly, "amongst which I found one explaining all the details of conception, and I've done my calculations for the past three months. Today is as safe as it gets."

He lowered his head and pressed his forehead against his fist forcefully. Damn, he had not expected her to be so serious and intent on it. It did not help his resolve but, unfortunately, the grim reality rendered his determination, or the lack thereof, absolutely irrelevant.

"Lothíriel, may we speak frankly?"

She smiled slyly at him. "I think that's what I just did, and much more frankly than a gently-bred Lady such as I should have."

He smiled at her and kissed her hand. He loved her so.

"I was not worried about getting you pregnant. My concerns regard something much simpler than that."

She looked at him expectantly and waited for him to continue. He took a breath.

"Lothíriel, if… if we make love, you will not be a virgin anymore. Being a princess," she started protesting but he did not let her stop him, "one day you will be promised in marriage to a very important man, and he might take exception to discover on your wedding night that you have shared a bed with another man."

She looked away, silenced.

"Even if we somehow managed to keep a liaison secret, Lothíriel, there would be undeniable evidence marked in your body to prove it. If we succeeded at maintaining the secret, I would be in no danger. The only one who would run a risk – of being executed for infidelity, of being denied and disowned by your father and brothers – would be you. And, that, Lothíriel, is the only thing you can never convince me to do. I will never act in a way that would put you in danger."

A long silence followed.

"And if I was to tell my father that I love you," she hypothesized rebelliously, "and that I want and will marry you and only you on the face of this Earth?"

He shook his head sadly. "You will discover that there are things you cannot do, no matter how you try. You are a princess. You cannot marry a guard captain. Your father may love you and wish you happy, but he will not let you, because you are born to be a leader and a servant to Dol Amroth. One day you will be expected to give heirs to a nation and to rule it when your husband is away. My love is irrelevant in comparison."

She looked away, tears slowly falling down her eyes. "It comes back to duty, then, does it?"

The dry, grim reality. He squeezed her hand helplessly. "Yes, it does."

She took her hand away reluctantly after a long silence. "What now?"

Those two simple, cruel, heart-shredding words. "I… I will do as you wish," he answered quietly.

She dried her tears with the heels of her hands and attempted a weak smile. "You just said that it was the only thing you would not do." She took a steadying breath. "But you are right, I know. I think… it would be too difficult to go on as we have, now. I could get no satisfaction… no fulfilment… from holding back from what I want… what we want. Ésuthain, I think… I think it best if we… if we leave it at that? I'll try… to find a diplomatic mission or something to keep me busy for a few months. After that, it should be easier to act naturally around each other. Is it… is it alright with you?"

He nodded solemnly. "I will honour your wish, Lothíriel. I can try to bring a full escort on your rides more often if you find my private company to be difficult to bear."

"That… would make things easier, yes." She smiled crookedly at him. "And if you could wear your armour, too."

Despite the sadness of the situation, he smiled back in amusement. "I'll do that."

She took a breath and looked away, trying to find the courage and composure to go back to the castle now.

"Lothíriel… my love… if I may make one request?"

She turned back to him, more tears in her eyes at the name he had just dared give her. "Yes?"

"If I cannot be the one to… to make you a woman, I would still like to cherish a last memory of us. Would you trust me… let me show you… what it could be like? I want to see you, in that way, with me, even if only once. I swear I will leave no mark on you; no one but us will ever know."

She watched him, considering, a long time. "Is it wise?" she inquired, scrutinizing him.

He smiled slyly. "Probably not, but I am resolved; I will not put you in danger. You can trust me."

She smiled. "I know I can trust you, Ésuthain. I always have."

After checking the tide and making sure they were completely alone, Ésuthain focused his attention solely on Lothíriel once more. He took his time caressing her hair and kissing her slowly until the sad mood of separation had lifted and passion ran high in their blood again.

He kissed her, tenderly and then passionately, trailed kisses up to her ear and slowly down her neck. He slowly ran his hands over her clothes, even where he had not dared touch before. Lothíriel's breath became irregular and she writhed against him, caressing his shoulders and chest. Slowly he undid the buttons holding the lace at her throat and down over her chest. Her breath turned to light and precipitated with anticipation. Agonizingly slowly he parted the fabric. He undid more buttons, nuzzling and kissing the skin that he uncovered, until her breasts were free.

He turned her on her side to undo the laces at the back of her skirt-pants. He held her against him with his left arm while his right hand worked the knots. Both arms around his neck, she looked up to him in a daze the whole time. Her green eyes misty with passion, her lovely red lips parted, her hair undone and wild, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was the embodiment of passion and he wanted to burnish each detail of her image in his memory.

When the laces gave way, he adoringly slid the cloth over her hips. The curve of her thin waist and generous hips and buttocks was almost too alluring to resist.

Laying her back to rest on the warm sand, he slowly kissed his way up her thigh, feeling her shiver each time his lips touched her warm, soft skin. Her smell and taste assaulted his senses. Her back arched and she let out a lovely whimper. She moaned and writhed, taking fistfuls of sand on each side of her. A sheen of sweat covered each square inch of her skin. Feeling her shivers of pleasure coming quicker and stronger, he kissed his way up her body until he had found her lips again. She kissed him back with frantic passion. Abandoning all control, she bunched his tunic in her fists and closed her eyes. Her face transformed with mounting passion.

When her release came, she arched her back, throwing her hips against him, and a powerful shudder ran through her. He kissed her throat lightly and lovingly. She smiled languidly and languorously at him, and then lowered her head onto his chest.

His breathing laboured and heavy, he watched her while she caught her breath. Her entirely naked body, lying against him who remained entirely dressed. He did not dare so much as take his boots off. The curve of her delicate back and round buttocks gleamed in the sunlight. The golden light played on her exposed legs, the shadows showing her muscles. Not a single part of her body was flabby; all was toned, pliant muscle under velvety skin. Her breasts, small but round, pressed against his chest, and her slowing breath blew along his skin, entering at the collar of his rumpled tunic.

Knowing she would appreciate gentle tenderness now, even if his mood still leaned towards steamy passion, he slowly caressed her hair. It was long minutes before Lothíriel lifted her head and looked at him.

She looked overwhelmed, and he decided with a smile it was a good thing.

"Ésuthain, I…"

He hushed her by planting a soft kiss on her lips.

"No words, my love. Just this memory."

Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled him into a fierce hug.

"I just want you to know I love you. I always will."

Pulling away, he dried her tears gently with his thumbs. Then he turned away to wipe his own eyes.

And then came the uncontested most unromantic moment they ever shared: Ésuthain awkwardly turned his back on her while she got dressed. The captain thought sullenly that it would break the mood and prepare them for the return to the castle.

About half-way through the very silent journey back to Dol Amroth, Dulinéhar lost a shoe. Ésuthain had been understandably distracted and he fell off his steed's back when the mount tripped. They had been walking in the surf, so Ésuthain took a bath of cold saltwater.

Despite the imminent arrival at the castle and the forceful finality it guaranteed to the end of their relationship, Lothíriel could not help but laugh when Ésuthain emerged from the icy water, swearing and hitting the surface with angry fists.

He looked up at her. "Oh, you find it funny, Your Highness?" he shouted in mock anger. Lothíriel laughed harder. "Do you want a bath too, then?"

She had almost doubled over in laughter and hardly kept to the saddle. It would have been extremely easy to pull her down to join him. Laughing too hard to speak, she wordlessly pointed out something to him.

Looking down at himself in the direction of her finger, he spotted it. A small beach crab, its crescent-shaped carapace overgrown with barnacles, had snapped its right claw on his tunic and dangled from his chest, algae in his other claw. Ésuthain chuckled in spite of himself. He turned the crab on its back and the creature, unsettled by the change of orientation, let go. Ésuthain carefully picked it by the sides of its carapace and deposited it back onto the seafloor.

He fished Dulinéhar's shoe out of the water, and walked the horse all the way back to the castle. When he arrived, his steed limped slightly. Everyone laughed good-naturedly at his explanation of how he had ended up drenched like that.

If either he or Lothíriel had a strange look on their faces, nobody seemed to blame it on anything but Ésuthain's dunk in seawater. The diversion of an icy drench even gave the captain an excuse to quickly get away from Lothíriel and to isolate himself in his room. Not one to indulge in luxuries, he nevertheless took a good long soak in a hot bath that day. Even after his very cold bath in the sea, there were some… dissatisfactions… that he needed to take care of. Moreover, he would never have another private moment to deal with his feelings regarding Lothíriel. So he secretly savoured the image he had of her. Once, even if only once, they had shared a moment of passion. He had seen the exquisite relaxation in her features of an ecstasy he had brought on. He had held her head over his heart while she caught her breath afterwards. He had tasted the sweat of passion on her skin.

And he would never do so again. And he would never even kiss her again. The bluntness and harshness of it cut inside like a thousand knives burrowed in his heart. It was a good long time before he pulled himself out of the bath.