It took a lot to impress Éomer when it came to horses. After all, he was a man of the Mark and he had grown up surrounded by the herds of most magnificent horses you could find in all of Middle-earth. Sometimes he even forgot that not all people had access to such animals... and he'd be almost surprised to see the mounts some people would call horses – or just downright insulted.
He wasn't insulted, though, by the horse they said belonged to Princess Lothíriel. Rather, Éomer regarded the animal with indignant disbelief. He'd have thought her mount would be a bit like herself: spirited, beautiful, swift-footed... but instead, they brought forth a horse that in his opinion should have retired from riding purposes already. Well, at least the mare's white coat was very well looked-after, but the steed had a gentle look in her eyes from which he knew she had never been much of a sprinter. What had Imrahil been thinking when he had provided his daughter with this animal?
Momentarily, he thought about asking one of his men to lend her his horse, but then decided against it. After all, the mounts he and his men rode were warhorses, and he knew perfectly well how dangerous those could be in the hands of someone who did not have experience of handling them. In the end, he made a mental note of having to gift her with a proper horse as soon as he could. What kind of a husband candidate did it even make him if he did not insist to provide her with a new horse as soon as possible? He'd be laughed at all over the Riddermark.
The preparations for the ride were mostly done when she joined him. Lothíriel's looks of longing, cast at the Rohirric steeds, were not lost to the Lord of the Mark. Make that an entire herd, he thought to himself as he pondered what kind of horse would suit her best, and if he had a suitable individual in his own herd of horses. He already knew what he'd give to her as a morning gift... if she ever said yes, that was.
"My Princess", he greeted her, and she gave him a small smile. She was dressed in riding garb, with a split skirt that made it easier for one to ride, and under it leggings, much like those Rohirric women wore when they rode. To him that choice of clothing merely seemed practical, but Éomer did not miss some looks of disapproval from a couple of ladies who were apparently joining the entourage. Gondorians, he thought to himself and shook his head.
"Sire", she answered, still looking at the horses around her with unveiled longing. "I've tried not to visit the stables, knowing that I'd only get a strong urge to try and steal one of your horses... they truly are beautiful, like everyone always says."
"We don't take pride in our horses for nothing", he said and patted his own horse's neck. Firefoot nickered and tossed his head, just as eager for a brisk gallop as his master was. Éomer smiled weakly, "I would not recommend trying to steal a Rohirric warhorse, though. They do not react well to that sort of business."
"What a pity", she said. Then she gave him a devious smile. "Perhaps I need to steal a Rohir too, to control the horse for me."
"Really? Let me know how that plan goes. I might even be able to find you someone who is eager to be stolen by you", he told her. The princess snorted and he grinned to himself.
Not long after the company rode out. The day was sunn, and they were accompanied not only by his guards, but Erchirion as well, and several of noble ladies who had decided to come along. Some food had been packed too because apparently someone thought a picnic was in order, which of course meant servants would come as well. It was precisely that "flowers delivered through doors and an aunt with a knitting needle" kind of business Éomer had feared. Such a company also meant there was no proper riding involved but just ridiculously slow gait along the beach. Firefoot kept tossing his head and he could feel how tense the animal was; once, the horse even neighed loudly like he was asking if this truly was the extent of their outing.
"Don't worry, old man", Éomer whispered to his horse in quiet Rohirric when they stopped about one and a half leagues from the palace (he had never travelled such a short distance so slowly), "I am already thinking of a plan. Soon you'll get to show our princess what is the meaning of speed."
"Speaking with animals now, are you, Éomer?" asked Erchirion who had wandered nearby.
"Of course I am", said the young king nonchalantly and petted Firefoot's neck. "And he's answering, but you don't hear because you don't listen."
"He is? What does he say then?" asked the prince.
"That your teeth are lovely and he'd like me to introduce him to you", Éomer answered innocently. Erchirion looked taken aback and then he laughed.
"Oh, be quiet. That's not funny at all", he said, trying to sound stern but failing.
"It's a bit funny", said the younger man with a grin.
"You tell yourself that", Erchirion chortled and rolled his eyes. "I see why our sister likes you, though."
"You think she does?" Éomer asked, watching the prince from the corner of his eye.
"Oh, I bet she does. I don't think I've ever really heard her talking to a man like she talks to you", said his friend. Then Erchirion's face turned more serious. "Just don't hurt her, Éomer."
"I'd die first", the King promised solemnly.
Their conversation was disrupted then, however; the Princess in question approached them and it looked like she was not completely content with how this riding trip was turning out. Erchirion grinned at the young king and slipped away.
"If I have to hear one more observation on how 'majestic' you and your people look on a horse, I think I might just ride into the ocean", she said, her voice heavy with frustration.
"You don't think me majestic?" Éomer inquired, pretending shock. He offered his arm at her and they strolled along the beach while the servants were busy preparing the picnic and the ladies entertained themselves with various occupations, like searching for seashells.
"I think you many things but it gets kind of tedious when it's repeated for the thousandth time", Lothíriel said and sighed. "And for your information, this is not at all what I imagined when I thought about riding with you."
"Dearest princess, I couldn't agree more", he said heartily. Then he lowered his voice, "which is why I am planning something more private."
"Do tell me, Lion", she urged him, and he lifted his eyebrows.
"You're really going to use that name, darling?" he inquired.
"I call you what I will", Lothíriel said nonchalantly. "Now stop clinging on trifles and tell me about this plan of yours."
"Do you think you can sneak out of the palace some night soon? Tonight, for example?" Éomer asked. The princess looked up and him and her face was unimpressed.
"Do you think you can ride a horse?" she asked back.
"Now, there's no reason to mock me, sweetling", he told her, which made her smile most charmingly at him.
"Then stop asking questions like that and speak up", she urged; he decided he'd make her pay for that later on some more convenient occasion.
"If you want to see proper Rohirric riding, meet me tonight at the beach – near the place where we first met. I trust you haven't forgotten that yet?" he inquired, which made her snort.
"You seriously think one could forget that?" Lothíriel asked, but then she let out a small silvery laugh that made him feel strangely giddy. But he didn't tell her that. "Have no worries, dearest Lion. Just tell me when to be there, and I'll come."
"After midnight, perhaps?" he suggested.
"Mm. That sounds good. It should be full moon tonight, by the way", Lothíriel commented. She looked up at him and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I can't wait, my darling King."
"Neither do I", he said. Then he smiled, "Now, princess, I am finding it difficult not to pay attention to what sort of an animal you ride. As the King of Rohan I happen to have access to some very high quality horses and I'd like to know you what kind of steed you'd prefer."
Her eyes got really wide at hearing those words.
"Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?" she asked, suddenly very excited.
"At least I think I am offering you a horse, but I could be wrong", Éomer answered lightly. She let out a shriek that probably only dogs heard and she grabbed his arm in enthusiasm, which she then waved about with the intention of... well, he wasn't so sure. But it was his arm she was waving about, and he found that agreeable.
"Oh, Éomer, I think I could kiss you right now and I wouldn't even care what people thought!" Lothíriel gushed happily. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
And the look on her face and the light in her eyes were really the only reward he needed.
Leaving the castle in the middle of night was even easier than Éomer would have thought. Indeed, his nonsense story of how on this time of year, the King of the Mark had to go alone for a ride during full moon did not seem to raise any suspicion in the guards that let him out with Firefoot. They had probably heard about the flowers and just thought his people had some strange customs. And even if the story was recited to Imrahil, Éomer could just say that he had not been able to sleep and that Firefoot had been in a need of letting out some steam anyway. It wasn't like the Prince was his overly protective mother, after all.
Once he was down at the beach, Éomer dismounted and stopped to wait for the princess. It was truly a beautiful night and he could not have chosen a better time: the full moon painted the world with silver and the sea was calm, and what breath there was in the air was gentle and warm.
It was not long after that he spotted the dark figure hurrying towards him and his heart fluttered at the sight of her. He had waited for this more than he had realised.
She had dressed in dark blue – a wise choice of colour for someone sneaking about in the night. Her long hair fell as a neat braid on her shoulder and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. He thought about telling her she was beautiful, but then she was on the front of him and wearing a small mischievous smile on her face and his breath was momentarily caught in his throat.
"There you are. I was starting to think you wouldn't come", he said and smiled as soon as he had recovered his voice.
"Oh, don't be foolish. There's no way I would miss this", Lothíriel said and tiptoed to press a kiss on his bearded cheek, but he quickly turned his face so that her lips landed instead on his mouth. She let out a displeased sound but wrapped her arms about his neck anyway and let him kiss her. Having her there he thought he'd never grow tired of kissing her.
After greetings were done, he placed his hands so that she could use them as a step to mount Firefoot. Taking support from his shoulder, she practically leaped up into the saddle. As soon as she was mounted, he joined her on his faithful steed's back. He gathered reins in one hand and placed an arm about her midsection to keep her steady.
"I am capable of staying in the saddle, Sire", Lothíriel told him.
"Do forgive me, for I did not know you had much experience of Rohirric warhorses", he snorted. "No arguments, dearest Princess. If you fall from the saddle and crack your skull, Imrahil might declare war on Rohan."
"I'm sure it's just an excuse for you to grope me", Lothíriel grumbled in feigned disdain.
"You see right through me, my mermaid", said the King and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help a smile.
He urged Firefoot to move and at first the animal kept up steady gait. Then slowly he let the horse speed up, until it was full gallop and they were flying on the beach, like the west wind gushing through the valleys. In his embrace, Lothíriel was shivering and from her laughter he knew it was because of her excitement and wonder. He smiled to himself and let Firefoot carry them forwards. And the night was silver and blue, and they were fast and free and she was there with him, her soft little body pressed against his own... her laughter rang in his ears and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. It was that moment Éomer knew he loved her.
They rode on for some time, the sea by their left and the shore on right. The soft sand swallowed the sound of hooves, and as he had given the princess a demonstration of Firefoot's speed, he let the animal slow down a bit. Gradually she became more relaxed in his embrace and placed one hand on his.
After some time, he pulled the reins and gradually his horse slowed down and stopped. Éomer dismounted and then helped his companion down also. She looked a bit disappointed.
"Why did we stop? I would have liked to go on still", she said.
"You would have us ride all the way to Lindon? We can do that, but I'm afraid we must go and tell your father first, and perhaps take some food for the journey", he said lightly as he spread his cloak on the ground for her to sit on. She groaned at his observations as she sat down and he settled beside her.
"Well? How did you like it?" he asked. A blissful little smile came to her face.
"It was amazing. I loved it. Thank you", Lothíriel said and looked at him, her eyes full of light.
"You're welcome", he said softly, gazing at her in a way he knew did nothing to hide the adoration in his eyes.
"I really mean it. I... I should give you something in turn", she mused and worried her lip pensively.
"You don't have to. It made you laugh, and that is all the reward I could hope for", Éomer said plainly, which turned her face solemn.
"Are you even real?" she asked softly after staring at him silently for a moment.
"What?" he asked with some confusion.
"It's just... you just seem too good to be real. I don't know if I'm just dreaming", she said, regarding him with a soft look in her eyes he did not really understand. Suddenly, she seemed somehow younger, more vulnerable. A need to reach for her and pull her in his arms came to him but he remained where he sat.
"Oh, I believe I'm quite real, min sæides", he said softly.
"What's that word?" Lothíriel asked. "What does it mean?"
"It's... it means something like 'Seawoman'. You call me Lion, so you should have a nickname of your own", Éomer answered.
"Say it again. How do you pronounce it?" asked the Princess.
He had to say the word several times for her before she could pronounce it properly. When she had it right, she smiled.
"I've yet to thank you properly", she told him. "For taking me to ride and promising to give me a horse."
"Oh, it's nothing. I am the King of horselords, after all. It would be embarrassing if I could not provide you with a proper steed", he waved his hand nonchalantly, but she looked at him solemnly.
"It's not 'nothing' to me, Éomer", she said softly. He was about to speak again but she pressed a finger on his lips. So he fell silent and looked at her questioningly.
Lothíriel placed her hands gently on his shoulders, and then she pushed him down, so that he fell on his back. Then she settled on his lap, straddling his hips; a setting that was starting to become familiar. She leant down to kiss him, and he wrapped his arms about her to get as close to her as virtually was possible. Her hands were in his hair, her breast brushed against him, and her mouth on his was just as eager as he had dreamed. It quickly got very heated – so heated, as a matter of fact, that he almost thought they were going to lay together here on this beach, like husband and wife. He at least would have liked nothing better, but he knew he had to think of her; while it would hardly inconvenience him beyond earning the resentment of Imrahil and his family, he knew how damaging it would be for a young noble maiden here in Gondor. Even less than wanting to ruin his friendship with the Prince he wanted to cause trouble to her.
She pulled back at last, her breathing ragged, lips swollen from their kisses, and eyes dark and intense. Ah, min léoflic Sæides!
"I... seem to have gotten very excited. I am sorry", he apologised, his voice hoarse despite his attempt to sound calm and collected. She lifted her eyebrows just slightly.
"Do you really think we'd do this if I minded your excitement?" she inquired. Then she pressed another small kiss on his lower lip. "To be honest, Sire, I rather like it."
"You do?" he asked. It demanded no small amount of willpower not to thrust his hands under her skirts, trace the delicate skin of her legs...
"Yes... too much, actually. We should stop before I..." she breathed, closing her eyes momentarily as if to gather self-control.
"Before what?" he felt obliged to ask.
"Before I demand to have you right here", said the Princess and took a deep breath. "And we both know how that would end."
"Marry me", he blurted out. She did not answer that, not with words at least; Lothíriel gave him a small smile and one more kiss, which was very chaste when compared to what they had just done.
"I think we should head back. It is very late", she said quietly. Well, she was right, and so Éomer didn't protest when she rose up from his lap. He watched her for a moment and considered telling her that he'd do anything for her, but then decided that was a topic for another conversation.
They climbed up on their feet and he picked up his cloak, shaking it to get rid of sand. He looked at her, "Are you cold?"
"No, I'm fine", said the Princess. Then she gave him a mischievous smile, "I don't think it's physically possible to be cold after being kissed so thoroughly by you."
He grinned at that and fastened the cloak on his own shoulders. Then he called Firefoot; the animal had wandered off but came galloping at his master's call. Like before, he helped the princess into saddle, and then mounted the horse too. She leant back on him this time and Éomer held her close, and once more they were flying over the white and blue shores of Dor-en-Ernil, as if in a dream of spring.
A/N: Well, a riding trip was promised, wasn't it? :D
I must say, this beast of a story has completely beyond my control. At first, when I started to extend it, I planned for max 10 chapters, but as I explore this particular version of how Éomer met Lothíriel, more and more things come out and I just can't stop. In fact, last night I got such an inspiration that I wrote three hours straight and afterwards felt ridiculously pleased with what I had come up with. Forewarning: lutes are involved, and Éothain aids his king in battle again.
Thanks for the comments and reviews!
The Old English words should be about right, and I hope that the word combination "sæides" is not wrong either. However, if any of you readers have knowledge of Old English and see a mistake somewhere, I'd appreciate it if you could point it out for me!
sæ = sea
ides =woman, lady
léoflic = beautiful
Talia119 - That is something that will be explored in future... perhaps sooner than you think. But I'd say that Lothíriel vacillating between confidence and uncertainty also is partly because of Éomer himself. He confuses her more than she lets out and often her boldness towards him is a reaction to that. And you're definitely right: Éomer's straightforwardness plays a part in this too. Nothing wrong with analyzing it, though! :)