Approaching Queen's Solar, the first thing Éomer heard was loud laughter. It was followed by a flow of lively chatter and a few exclamations. He smiled to himself: such sounds had not carried from this particular chamber during his lifetime. The young king was not sure how such things were arranged in Gondor, and if lords and ladies there shared rooms with one another, but he was glad Lothíriel would have at least one place in Meduseld she could call her own.
As he got near to the door, the words of the animated conversation became clearer, and he couldn't help but grin when he understood the topic at hand. The company consisted entirely of ladies, and they were giving his bride some marriage advice. The present lesson, as he perceived, sounded like it had to do with distracting a difficult husband. He listened with interest for a moment – he couldn't claim he wasn't highly fascinated by the ways Lothíriel might seek to distract him – even though he knew eavesdropping was not polite. Not to mention, it was clear this was a lesson he wasn't supposed to know about.
It occurred to him he too could use some advice. Though Lothíriel had so far responded to him very well, and he had not yet succeeded in putting her off, she was of Gondor. It was only reasonable to assume she would expect things of him that he had never considered.
But who could he ask for advice? His Rohirric friends were out of question for obvious reasons. Faramir – surely not, for a man doesn't ask that sort of thing from kin, and Lothíriel was his cousin. This also ruled out her brothers, who would probably be disturbed if he asked intimate questions pertaining to their sister. Aragorn would not be helpful either, because what could the husband of Half-elven lady say about mortal women of Gondor?
He sighed to himself. Maybe he should get Amrothos drunk first and then make his questions. On the other hand, as much as he liked his friend, Imrahil's carefree son might not be the most sensitive or tactful adviser when it came to sweet young princesses.
Éomer shook his head and reminded he had not come here to stand around and brood in silence. So he lifted his hand and knocked on the door, and then a chorus of female voices invited him inside.
It was rather crowded in Queen's Solar. There were several ladies of the household, a pair of seamstresses he had hired to supply his bride with new gowns, and Lothíriel herself with a few of her friends. She was standing on a low stool and fitting on a dress made of white wool while the pair of dressmakers flitted around her. Gazing at her, he felt like he couldn't breathe, for she was smiling brightly at him and the contrast of her dark hair against the creamy white cloth was something remarkable. Had she ever seemed so beautiful before coming to Rohan? Suddenly it occurred to him he was going to marry a woman who was like a rare flower blossoming in spring, and that he was probably going to spend the rest of his days fighting off men who were hopelessly smitten with her.
Béma, what a lucky fool I am.
"... Éomer?"
She was speaking his name, while he stood there like a daydreaming idiot. Her eyes glittered with gentle amusement and the ladies around them hid their smiles and sniggers behind their hands. He shook himself and gave his bride a sheepish little grin.
"I meant to ask if you had time for a walk, my lady", he said, and then added, "but first I had to stop and appreciate how very beautiful you are today."
A soft blush adorned her cheeks and she smiled, while the women around them rather looked like they were watching a particularly delightful mummer's show.
"Of course! I'll just change, and then we can go", said Lothíriel, stepping down from the stool, and he was ushered out of the room to allow the lady to switch gowns in privacy.
When she joined him again, she looked glad and excited, and she took his arm with a bright smile on her face. Himiel followed them close by, keeping her young mistress under her hawk-like watch.
"You shouldn't just burst like that into a lady's chamber and tell her she's beautiful. I nearly lost all composure!" Lothíriel scolded him gently.
"It's my Hall, so I can burst whenever and wherever I want", Éomer said and offered her a charming grin.
He was tempted to continue teasing her, but he had not forgotten about his earlier musings. Now they grew in his thoughts again and quietly he wondered: would it be so bad to ask Lothíriel herself what she anticipated?
He wanted to make this work. He wanted this thing between them to grow with years to come, not wither and die because they didn't understand each others' wants and needs. And though he knew now he was in love with her, he was also aware that to build something lasting, something that endured storms and challenges and just the common every day life, would take time and effort.
She had noticed how quiet he had gone. So, when they stepped outside the Hall and came into the garden, she looked up at him with a curious expression on her face.
"Is something amiss?" she asked him softly, to keep them moderate privacy from Himiel's ears.
"Everything is well, sweet one", he said at length and looked down at her. How to put his words? Maybe he should just be frank and ask.
Éomer cleared his throat and spoke: "Lothíriel... what do you expect of me?"
His bride did not seem to understand. She met his gaze with a small frown.
"What do you mean?" she asked back.
He did not respond right away – he tried to think of how to explain his thoughts to her. Not that he didn't think she'd understand, if he just found the right words. She might be young, but he knew already she had wisdom and insight.
"I am a man of Rohan, sweet one. I may not be or have what you look for in a husband", he said slowly, paying more attention to her than the way they were going. "You see, I don't want to disappoint you. And it would be easier for me to meet your expectations if I knew what they are."
She blinked and didn't say anything at first. This topic seemed to have taken her entirely by surprise.
"I... to be honest, I had not thought about it like that", she confessed at length. "I have been more worried if I can meet your expectations. And not only yours, but also your people's."
"Forget about the people. I am asking you as a man asks the woman he means to spend his life with... the woman whose mind and heart he hopes to understand like his own", he said to her solemnly and fixed his eyes on her. She looked down and looked young and a little insecure.
"I expect... no, it wouldn't be right to speak of expectations. Rather, I hope that you trust me, and have faith with me. That you always come back to me, even if... if something I've done has made you angry. And that you treat me as a woman, not a child you need to protect. I ask that you are patient with me while I learn to be your queen and a wife", she answered, speaking the words slowly and in a soft voice, though it sounded to him like she gained confidence once more the longer she went on. Then she looked up at him once more, "Back in Emyn Arnen, I spoke with Faramir of what it's like to be married to Éowyn. He told me some very wise things, and... what he said could help me, too. I think as long as long as we are open and honest with one another, we can overcome whatever crosses our path."
Now Éomer halted and smiled at the fair maiden by his side. Their worlds and lives up until now may be different, but it sounded like their hopes and desires were in fact quite similar.
"Then I will tell you what I hope, Lothíriel: I also ask for your trust and faith, and that you let me come back to you, no matter the inconsiderate and sharp things I might say. I can be proud and stubborn, and patience will be your greatest asset when I'm difficult. I hope that you can respect me, but also understand that I will never ask of you what I'm not willing to give back myself", he told her gently, resting his hand on her shoulder. But then his mind sobered, when one more thing rose to his tongue. It did not come out as surely as he'd have liked, for, it was hard for him to say this thing out loud: "And... I hope that you don't... that you don't leave."
When he did speak this fear, he saw them all too clearly in his mind's eye: faces of loved ones who were dead. It was a struggle to speak this request, plead her not to become one of those lost ones, but he had just asked for her confidence – and followed it with a promise that he'd not expect anything from her he was not willing to give back.
Her expression grew soft and tender and she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. Suddenly, by the mere look of her warm, loving eyes, he was relieved, although he felt like he had just revealed something very private and even vulnerable. And he knew Aelfrun might have considered this a weakness in him, but to Lothíriel... the way she looked at him was not changed. She saw him and accepted what was laid bare before her eyes. When he saw the way she gazed at him, through him, he felt like he understood at last what it meant to love – to really love someone. And he knew then all that he was, all that he could become, would be safe with her.
"I will not leave", she whispered softly. "Never."
And with that, despite Himiel's protests, she jumped against him and kissed him, almost desperate in her eagerness. He returned it, feeling a strange mixture of relief and wonder and giddiness in his chest. Who could have thought that things would, in the end, turn out so right for him?
Lothíriel pulled back soon enough – perhaps to make sure Himiel did not try to tear them apart – but she remained close and looked at him with bright, sparkling eyes.
"I think", she said, still speaking quietly, "I think we'll be all right."
Their conversation in the gardens gave Lothíriel much food for thought. She had not expected Éomer to bring up such a topic, or to ask so frankly what she expected of him. No lord of Gondor would ever have made such a question, and few of the noble men she knew would even concern themselves with the expectations and wants of a woman. But she was glad he had considered this and felt it so important that he would indeed ask her. Now she felt like they understood one another a little better – and, perhaps, were closer, too.
She stayed behind in the garden when her betrothed had gone, wandering the narrow paths and thinking about the things they had spoken. It was something she was not yet used to, how bold and frank he could be even when talking about something so intimate and private. No one had ever trusted her with thoughts and feelings that came from such deep places of the heart.
Lothíriel smiled a little to herself and halted to look at a neat row of young apple trees. One day these would bear fruit, and her ladies in the kitchens would be busy making jams and juices and ciders and pies, and she would walk under the shade of leaves with Éomer by her side and few little children around them... they would sit under these trees in summer and enjoy golden afternoons together. It was such a hopeful picture, she wanted to laugh.
The princess continued to walk and thought again of the present rather than the days to come. She saw now that she and her king were better matched than she had at first realised – that she had things to give to him, that he had needs she could meet and fulfill. She was not so hopelessly inferior, without anything worthwhile to offer, as she had first believed. And she could do this thing in ways he had, perhaps, not realised anyone would be ready or capable. If he had the power to lift her from the shadows she had always felt circling about her, so could she bring light and happiness into his life.
Her mind grew more sombre when she recalled the look on his face and the sound of his voice when he had asked her not to leave. Just thinking of it made her heart ache; though he rarely let it show, war had taken much from him and his grief was not forgotten. And when it surfaced, it was raw even in its smallest shapes. It only made sense, though in a sad, painful way, that every new person to enter his life and gain his affection would make him wonder if this one too he would have to bury.
Truly, those wounds went deep. Quietly, Lothíriel wondered if Éomer's friends knew of it – or if he had ever revealed this to anybody else. Had he even meant to show her? But whether or not it was so, it was known to her now, and she found that she loved him better for it.
She took seat on a low wooden bench and gazed across the garden. A thought occurred to her: would life be difficult with a man scarred by war? This was something she hadn't even asked Aredhel, and Lothíriel doubted if her sister-in-law could answer. For Elphir her brother had not lost as much as Éomer, or been as hard pressed with such burden of duty. Now she thought of their picnic and how bluntly he had spoken of things that ailed him. She didn't believe for one minute that Éomer would ever intentionally hurt her, but who knew how those demons might combine with the deeply felt fear of losing yet another loved one?
On the other hand, had that ever stopped her from loving him? From the very first moment they had met, she had perceived a sadness in him, and known that this man had phantoms. How dearly she had wanted to see him smile... it appeared that she was not so bad at doing just that, if these days spent in Edoras implied anything. And Éomer was clearly aware of what troubled him, unlike some haunted men who went to their graves as full of pain as the day their wounds had been inflicted. Perhaps, once they had a chance to build their life together, he would come to trust hope rather than to expect worst – even heal and become a happier man.
Lothíriel let out a small sigh. Now she saw there was still much they should talk about, and both of them might have issues that they didn't perhaps perceive clearly themselves. But then, they had all the years of their lives together to figure it out – to explore the wilderness in one another, map it and maybe tame some of it.
Content with these thoughts, she rose again and headed for the Hall. Himiel rejoined her once more, having spent the time her mistress was lost in her thoughts exploring the garden. But before Lothíriel could reach Meduseld, she saw a familiar face approaching: Amrothos came, stepping so lightly it almost looked like he was bouncing. His grin was cheerful and excited, and she wondered what had caused this mood.
"Sister! Guess where we're going in a couple days of time!" he exclaimed merrily, coming to her side and claiming her arm in his own.
"To the moon?" she inquired, lifting her eyebrows.
"Of course not, you silly thing! We're going hunting with Éomer and his company!" he announced, beaming as though he had just revealed her that he had gained some great victory. "I've been harping at him of it for days now, and finally he relents!"
Lothíriel was a little surprised to hear of this at first, but when she considered the matter, she decided perhaps she shouldn't be. She had rather lived in her own happy little bubble with Éomer and her ongoing expedition to the culture and people of Rohan, so it was no wonder that few other things took her notice.
"What a lovely guest you are", she noted wryly, "pestering our host with your demands."
"We're not just guest, sister dear. He's to be our kinsman – he already is, by Faramir's marriage to Éowyn – and Éomer takes pestering very well", Amrothos said unaffectedly. "Besides, it is not fair that only you get to have a good time here."
"Strange. One might almost think you believed you're on a holiday", she quipped back. Banter with Amrothos was, as always, rather amusing.
"I wish!" he said, casting a look of one long suffering to the heavens. "After this, I will never agree to chaperone anyone again."
"And I should imagine any young lady would be glad to know they won't have to bear you following them around and moan and groan while you're at it!" Lothiriel said to her brother. Before he could invent a comeback, she asked him, "Now, what is this business with hunting?"
The mention of his current favourite topic lit up his eyes once more.
"We are set to leave as soon as preparations are done and the weather allows. It shouldn't take more than a couple of days. I have come to hear there are some very good hunting grounds near to the feet of White Mountains, and Éomer even agreed any game we might be able to bring down would be well served at your betrothal feast. He even spoke of camping out there for a night!" Amrothos talked away happily. Of her brothers, he had always been the most eager huntsman, so she decided this had only been inevitable. Lothíriel did not mind the idea of the hunt: it would give them a chance to spend some time together while Éomer's advisers were away, to train with Moonmaid, and she could see more of Rohan.
It was going to be a good thing, she was sure of it.
Much to Amrothos' dismay, the next day came with heavy rain and Edoras and the plains around the capital were veiled within grey curtain; such weather meant the hunt had to be postponed for at least a day or two. The air smelt moist and earthy and there was chill in it, but inside the Hall, fires and torches burned and the red shawl made of finest Rohirric wool, given to her by Éomer, kept Lothíriel quite warm against the weather. She also began to think perhaps it wasn't just because of eager bridegroom's generosity that he had ordered local dressmakers to provide her with new gowns.
Previously, he had spoken of trying to make some time for her that evening, but when afternoon grew late, he came to her and apologetically said he still had some reports to read.
Her mind worked fast, trying to find a solution. She had looked forward to this all day and would not let it just pass.
"Do you think it would much bother you if I and Himiel sat with you a while? I had hoped to get a closer look on the royal book collection", she said carefully.
"Of course you are welcome, but I'm afraid I won't be much of a companion", Éomer said, though something about his expression seemed to imply he wasn't at all displeased. Scýne had said he was an open book for those who knew how to read him, and Lothíriel felt she was starting to understand what the captain's wife had meant.
So, as the rain continued outside, she and her maid joined the King of Rohan in his study. It was wonderful room, as most rooms were in Meduseld. It seemed rather inviting too, more so than her own father's study back in Dol Amroth. A merry fire spread warmth and light, furniture had been expertly carved, there was a small pan next to fireplace in case he worked late and wished to boil some tea for himself, and hangings on the walls made the place pleasing to the eye.
Her king was already engrossed in his work, which he only interrupted to gesture them to take seats. So the two women did: Himiel produced a piece of embroidery and Lothíriel spent a moment in choosing herself a book. Then quiet fell in the royal study as all three focused in their occupations. Well, at least two of them did, for Lothíriel found herself looking at her betrothed more often than not, while the book lay in her lap and was ignored more often than not. He was reading his reports, occasionally scribbling down something, and then at times he stared in the distance with a frown on his face. In his hand, he turned over a finely made quill, which had perhaps originally come from the feathers of some great bird of prey. She noted the warm shades of red that appeared in it when he toyed with the object. Lothíriel wondered: how could something so ordinary hold her transfixed like this?
Eventually, he seemed to realise he was being watched. Éomer looked up from the scroll he had been reading and gave her a look that was probably supposed to be stern, but she could see the warm glint lurking in his eyes.
"You are distracting me, lady", he told her solemnly.
"I am? I was just sitting here quietly", Lothíriel answered innocently.
"Yes! I was already having trouble with these sums and you're not helping", he complained and threw his quill on the desk. He rubbed his face in frustration.
"Why don't you let me take a look at them? I admit I don't have a head for it like Erchirion does, but I'm not entirely hopeless, either", she offered, putting aside her book.
"Get here then and save me from these odious numbers", Éomer said, moving his chair so that she could come and bring hers to his side.
"When Rohan is in need, Gondor will march to war", she announced, making him laugh softly under his breath as he pulled the sheet so that they could both examine it.
It took their shared effort, but eventually numbers started to make sense once more. She could see Éomer's eyes lighting up as he scribbled fast.
"Ah, now I see. Of course", he muttered and made the final calculations on the sheet. Then he looked at her and smiled, "Thank you for your help."
Perhaps he sought for her hand, to squeeze it gently in gratitude, but he did not find it in the expected place, and his fingers slipped. And then before she knew it, his hand was on her thigh.
Something curled and flexed in her stomach and she breathed in, but air did not seem to sustain her just then properly. It wasn't like he hadn't touched her boldly before, but never in that particular place and now there was something more to it, and perhaps it impacted her so because of the way he looked at her the moment he realised where he had put his hand. His eyes had grown dark, possessive, hungry; he regarded her as though she was already his own.
It was a look that could ignite and consume, and who knew what would have happened if they had been alone just then? But Himiel was not so lost in her embroidery that she hadn't noticed how the very air had charged in the room.
"My lady", she spoke up in a high, displeased voice. Thankfully, the desk was between them and the woman did not see where exactly Éomer had put his hand. At the sound of her voice, he quickly withdrew it, but the fire in his eyes was not gone.
"We were just doing the sums", Lothíriel stammered at last, pulling her chair away from the desk. She didn't dare to look at Éomer again; in her chest, her heart was still racing. Himiel pursed her lips and looked like she would sooner have believed her mistress if she had said she was in the possession of all three Silmarils.
"I think we should retire, my lady. It is getting late", Himiel said in a firm voice that did not suffer arguments. Lothíriel heard the warning in it and knew that if she acted difficult now, then her maid would not hesitate to report her transgressions to Father. Then she would be in for the scolding of a lifetime – perhaps even face the possibility of him reconsidering the betrothal.
Deciding it was best just to comply right now, she rose and smoothed down her skirts. Both for her own sake and that of Himiel, she only rested her hand on Éomer's shoulder very briefly and kissed his cheek. Never had she understood before now how dangerous a single touch could be!
"Good night, then. Don't let the numbers keep you up too late", she spoke softly, and towards the end of the sentence, she was not sure anymore if she was even talking about numbers.
"Good night", he answered, and once more his eyes pierced her, though the hunger had become more of a longing. And with it, that thing returned: loneliness sat on his shoulders as though a mantle when he resigned himself to another long night alone. Her heart yearned, but Himiel had already taken her by arm and was leading her out.
The maid did not let her arm go until they had reached the Hall, which was quiet at this hour, though not empty. In Sindarin, the older woman spoke to her, "You act too boldly with your bridegroom, my lady. This would not be acceptable if we were in Gondor."
"But we aren't, Himiel. Rohan is different", Lothíriel said quickly, glancing at her guardian with some exasperation. It had been only a matter of time the maid would bring this up.
"Rohan may be whatever it is, but this does not release you of your obligations, my lady. If you get burned here, then your lord father shall be most displeased", Himiel said sternly.
"What of my obligations to this land? I'm not marrying just any noble lord of the Mark. Éomer is king and I would do ill trying to diminish his authority by imposing our Gondorian notions on him and his people", Lothíriel argued. They had reached the doors now, and guards opened them for the pair. As ever, three of them followed suit to escort the King's bride. Outside, it was dark, but at least the rain had ceased a little. Without the light of the moon or the fires that usually burned through the night, it was almost pitch black.
"I'm not telling you to impose anything on him. I'm asking you to be patient, my lady", Himiel said, sounding as calm as ever.
Lothíriel sighed and said nothing. How could she tell her maid how anxious she felt – how each hour seemed long as a lifetime before spring would come. It seemed to her that all her life she had remained half in shadow, often forgotten and left behind by others, and not really living before Éomer had turned his face towards her and brought sudden daylight. Now she wanted nothing as much as to abide fully in that light and let go of the doubts of her childhood.
They reached Éothain and Scýne's home just in time before rain grew harder again. Himiel aided her to prepare for bed, but they spoke very little, and soon the maid was gone. Then Lothíriel curled up in her bed and listened to the rain, and it was not long before she was dreaming of spring and of golden hair spilling on her breast.
To be continued.
A/N: Here is a new chapter! I hope you like it. :)
I hadn't really planned the conversation Éomer and Lothíriel have in this chapter - it rather grew on itself when I started to think of the idea of him and who he could actually ask for marriage advice. I admit I'm rather fond of that exchange, and I think it's important for them, too. They are from different cultures, after all. It's especially meaningful for Lothíriel, because I think this conversation finally makes her understand how well matched they actually are.
Some of you, my dear readers, expressed your annoyance with Aelfrun. I admit it surprised me a little, because I hadn't expected people to react so strongly to her! I guess it means I have succeeded in establishing her as a rival and an antagonist? :D
I hope you have a pleasant weekend, and if you got time, let me know what you think of this chapter!
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Nerdanel - Oh my, I hadn't realised I had written her as so hate-inducing! :D Does that mean I've succeeded, though? I'm glad you liked the chapter, anyway!
EStrunk - I hope to explore her character a little more, though! But I must confess I am feeling more and more pleased that people feel so strongly about her.
Also I'm glad you liked that part! It's rather precious to me as well. :)
Tibblets - That she certainly seems to be!
I hope you enjoy your time there. :) I've always wanted to visit Florence.
Anon - I'm thinking I may have succeeded with her better than I realised! Anyway, what you say is right indeed. It would be a very bad thing for Éomer to just retreat from the betrothal, and I think that deep down, Aelfrun knows it would be a political catastrophe both for him and Rohan if he just revoked the betrothal. However, I'd say she's too angry and stubborn to give in now, even though she knows what she's against.
Jo - Glad to hear you liked it! :) We'll see how it goes with Aelfrun. ;)
Wondereye - Well, as long as Aelfrun is not actively going against her, I don't know how Lothíriel could wisen up. As for Amrothos, I don't think he even knows Aelfrun exists.