Before long the dawn of another year came. The celebrations in Rohan at this time were usually a grand affair by normal standard, but as its people now lived in the days of peace, they rejoiced all the more and gave thanks for good health and prosperity with each New Year. After the brawl at the Yuletide feast, Eomer was reluctant to open the halls to everyone again, he was soon reminded though by his council, there were few occasions for the common folk to enter the Golden Hall and the Yuletide and New Year feasts were therefore sacred. His wife was not as concerned but made sure she kept as far away from those that were drinking to excess.
Lothiriel sat laughing with Freawyn, Hilda and Aolyn, a silk smith's wife on the great Dias. The old woman was stern of temperament but hid a talented wit, when unleashed she had all those that surrounded her in pieces. The Queen threw her head back in mirth at one of her jokes and it was then from the corner of her eye she noticed her husband from across the hall. He had been greeting his guests and making conversation with them all evening. They had barely spoken two words together that night. However Lothiriel was now beginning to understand and accept, although Eomer was her husband, he was Rohan's King first. Therefore his time and attention was required by many, even when he was meant to be off duty. She watched him with thought whilst he was listening to a landowner from Snowbourn. The man was speaking enthusiastically about something and though she could tell Eomer was only listening out of politeness, he did his best impression of feigning interest. As the nobleman finished his speech, Eomer placed his hand on the man's arm, nodded and mouthed what appeared to be an agreement. Satisfied the man walked away from the King and he was left alone. The Queen kept her eye on him and noted he seemed happier now than she had ever known him. It wasn't displayed on his face but in the way he held himself and how he moved.
Eomer had decided it was most certainly time for a drink. He had been talking at length for most of the evening with every possible dignitary that managed to catch him unattended. By now his mouth was dry and his throat hoarse. He had unsuccessfully managed to catch the eye of a passing server an hour ago, who had been carrying a medium sized casket of ale. He meant to ask him for the first pint, but the boy walked by whilst he was listening to an unhappy horsemen, so thought it rude to interrupt him. As he meandered back up the hall he spotted a trestle table that earlier had been buckling under the weight of several barrels. He went to the nearest one and tested the tap. The slightest trickle of beer fell out and tinkled into the bottom of the metal cup he was holding. He looked inside the vessel and placed it back on the surface deflated.
Eomer turned away from the table and looked up towards the Great Dias and noticed Lothiriel smiling back at him. He flashed her a dashing smile of his own and inclined his head courteously. It was then that it dawned on him, since the opening toast he had not sat with or enjoyed the company of his wife. Deciding to remedy it quickly he walked determinedly towards her. This would have been easy if there weren't so many people in his way. He weaved in and out of men chatting raucously whilst engaged in games and groups of woman giggling and talking excitedly, all the while trying not to get ensnared in another conversation. The eager man kept his eyes fixed on Lothiriel as he progressed towards her.
The Queen's heart began to quicken as Eomer came nearer, she could not explain it, but she could feel her chest rise and fall heavily as he grew closer. Freawyn caught her attention and asked her something about the spring planting. To be honest Lothiriel wasn't paying much attention to her. Though she looked in her ladies direction she tried to keep an eye on her husband. Hilda sensed she was not fully with them and made her thoughts known to her friends in a sarcastic tone. This did grab the Queen's attention and she apologised begging Freawyn to start again. At that moment a shadow was cast about the four women. They looked up to see Eomer standing over them, he stood with one foot on the step leaning toward their little group a confident smile on his lips.
"Forgive me ladies, may I borrow my wife?"
All three women silently agreed and stood from their seats and each curtseyed before leaving Lothiriel and Eomer alone.
"How are you enjoying the feast?" He began.
"Very well, thank you. Are you,"
Lothiriel had barely uttered her response when a voice interrupted the couple.
"My Lord Eomer, tis time for the first dance?"
Eomer turned to face the speaker and recoiled. He had forgotten this little tradition. Each year the leader of the feast – usually the king- would see in the New Year by leading a dance with a lady of his choice. In his youth, when his Uncle had been on the throne, this honour had usually gone to his mother, as Theoden's own wife died in child birth. In his later years Theoden King had not kept the tradition going, therefore when Eomer ascended the throne he thought he would be able to dodge the ritual, as it had not been kept for a long time. Indeed he had succeeded for the first two years of his reign. The ex-soldier was not much of a dancer and had certainly never had any need to perform the courtly dances of his country. However, when he had taken his own wife it had been mentioned that he would be expected to resume the custom. With everything else that had been going on lately in his country, he had forgotten.
"Forgive me, I thought we could have been spared this." Eomer said to his wife.
"I don't mind. As long as I can pick the dance?"
The King looked at the steward who had beckoned him to the floor for approval.
"Of course my Lady, what would you like?"
"The farandole." She answered quickly sounding eager.
Eomer looked at her with mirth but then nodded his accord sincerely.
The young couple walked to the dance floor hand in hand. Eomer turned his wife to face him then let go of her hand. They bowed and curtseyed respectfully and the first chords of the music were struck. Lothiriel took the steps with ease, her hours of practicing with Hilda paying off, whilst Eomer looked and felt uncomfortable. The music was quite slow and intimate, meaning only a small amount of space to move around was needed. Secondly it was a suitable dance for other couples to join in with the Royal couple as the music progressed. After three repetitions of the same steps, other couples did join the King and Queen, which made Eomer feel more comfortable as he was lost in the crowd.
The basic shape and make-up of the dance steps meant the couples had to polonaise and dos-a-dos in time to the beat, but just before the repetition the man would turn his partner around by lifting them in the air and the steps would continue in another direction. The first time Eomer had to do this he was nervous, nervous he would drop Lothiriel or place her down too heavily. Much to his surprise he grasped his wife's waist with both hands and lifted her off the floor with ease. Lothiriel kept her arms in place over his own and smiled down at him as he turned her around. Eomer returned her affection and reluctantly placed her back on the floor as the steps demanded. Though he enjoyed the last few turns to the music with his wife, he was reluctant to end them and despite himself wanted to start the dance all over again, to give him the excuse to spend more time with Lothiriel.
As the final bars of the music played out the crowds that had gathered around the floor clapped and cheered in equal measure. Remembering where she was Lothiriel blushed innocently but broke into a small laugh when she heard Eomer exhale triumphantly, relieved they had got through the dance unscathed.
