Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. All rights reserved to Tolkien enterprise.
Title: The Lady Doth Protest Too Much
Summary: Lírien did not wish to move to Rohan, and the Rohirrim certainly didn't wish to have her. But it seems now that the one man who embodies everything she hates may be the one to make her love it.
Genre: Romance, drama, some comedy
Rating: T for strong language, allusions to violence, and sexual situations.
Other Warnings: OC-centric, NOT a Mary Sue. OC/Minor canon character.
Notes: Thank you for the reviews! in other news, my beta and I are no longer working together. If anyone is interested in beta-ing this story, please message me!
The Lady Doth Protest Too Much
Chapter Ten
The Thoughts of Others
"I dreamed of Boromir last night."
Lothíriel was familiar enough with Lírien's face that, upon her friends request for a private council, she agreed eagerly and without second thought. There had been twice in her life when Lírien had exposed any sort of break in her porcelain façade to her friends; once at her mother's death when she was merely eight,, and once upon returning to their rooms in Minas Tirith after confirming with her own eyes Boromir's death. Things did not seem to distress Lírien; they reached her on some surface level and perhaps much more deeply, but the emotions she chose to express rarely coincided with those she felt. And so her slightly pale face and the shadows beneath her eyes encouraged Lothíriel to speak to her.
They were now tucked away in a small, cozy antechamber off the royal apartments. They had taken breakfast there; yogurt flavored with garlic, cheese and olives, and some warm, brown bread. It reminded Lírien of when they were girls and would steal away cakes and eat them in their closet, surrounded by dresses, to avoid the cooks fury; they had fancied themselves clever at escaping punishment, only to learn years later that the cook knew good and well where they had hidden themselves and simply did not wish to be the one to discipline the daughter of the Prince and her friend.
"Oh, Lírien, I am sorry." the Queen's face was frowning in sympathy, so genuine and caring it almost seemed like her own pain.
"It wasn't so bad."
"It seems to have shaken you."
"It has. But I am fine. Truly. I came to you because I wanted to ask you something."
Lothíriel's face became twisted in concern. It was no secret Lírien wanted to leave Rohan, and while she wanted her friends happiness, she dreaded her departure. She had been anxiously anticipating the girl's request to return home to marry.
"Anything at all."
Lírien paused, pressing her lips together, before going on.
"What could you tell me about Éothain?"
This gave Lothíriel pause. Back in Dol Amroth, Lírien had never needed to ask about anyone; she regularly knew more than perhaps even the subject being discussed did about their own state. She head of engagements before either party was notified, could accurately predict which ladies would wear the same color to some dance and become upset, and even, on one occasion, determined that a new law regarding traders at the port would be rejected due to Imrahil's refusal to accept a bribe that had not, at the time, been issued.
Of course, it was natural for her to be at something of a loss in Rohan. Not only was she entirely unfamiliar with these people, but she didn't seem to have the same web of associates to rely on for the latest snitches of gossip. But it was strange for her to feel so helpless. She appreciated knowing that she maintained order and control of a situation; she knew things about people and situations and secrets and that is what gave her the ability to work them in her favor. And while she had no designs to do anything of the like with Éothain, the thought had never even crossed her mind, she was distinctly uncomfortable entering into this situation blindly.
"Éothain?" Lothíriel repeated, "What do you want to know of him?"
"I am certain you saw us dancing and speaking last night. Even this morning I heard a few Ladies remark on it. It is only that I do not want my name to become to closely attached to another person without more knowledge of their character."
"Of course. Well- I am not overly familiar with him, to be frank. I know he and Éomer have been friends since their boyhood, when they began to train as riders. My husband holds him in very high esteem."
"Is that all?"
"Oh, I know little more of him. He is the son of a common woman, but once he finally made good pay he arranged for her to never need to work another day in his life."
"What do you know of his father?"
"Only that he does not speak of him."
Lírien nodded and took this information in, rolling it around her mind until she felt she understood it.
"And what is the general opinion of him in court."
"Everyone knows- or at least, I should hope they do- what a brave warrior he was, and of course being such friends with the King has garnered respect for him. There are those who tun their noses up at him as he is not of noble birth, but they are very much the minority."
Lírien leaned her head back into the seat behind her and mulled this over. From her own observations, she knew he was well-liked enough; at least enough so that his paying her attention was seen as a surprise.
"I honestly cannot think, though, of any reason to be weary of becoming any closer to him," Lothíriel added. There was an eager excitement in her voice that Lírien did not share. She, after all, disagreed. The feeling that he gave her, like raindrops falling on the pit of her stomach, was something that she felt was imperative to be weary of.