Well, the plot bunnies clearly did not want to go to sleep just yet. It is like they have some sort of obsession with doing what I least of all expect at any given time. Like, for example, after dwelling on elves for the better part of a year suddenly throwing me a curveball by reappearing with an Eomer idea. Well, down the rabbit hole we go. Again. Besides, I like this one.
Aradora, named after Arador, father of Arathorn (the second) is Aragorn's eldest daughter. Her younger twin brother dies in the war of the ring. Arandura, mentioned in an earlier chapter, is the cousin of Arador and a longtime protector of the royal family. Her name means royal servant, or "servant of the king". The names are unfortunately similar, but I assure you they are two very different women.
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Eomer was trying to think of a polite way to excuse himself, or quite possibly just any scape tactic, polite or otherwise, when Aragorn appeared, a timely saviour as ever. There was something ironic, the young king reflected a moment later, about his brother king saving him from courtiers trying to set him up with their daughters, by sending him in the arms of his own daughter.
Then again, Eomer smiled as he joined her in leaning against a set of pillars at the edge of the dance floor, Aradora Aragornion - apparently lordesses were named as if they were sons, not daughters, and with little respect for rank, to add to that - were not in the least like the pampered and rather spoilt daughters of most Gondorian lords, or prince Imrahil, for that matter.
No, the Lordesse of Arnor, and captain general of Gondor, was more like himself than any princess he had ever heard of, which was quite something when one thought of his own sister, or for that matter, the sisters of Aradora herself.
He noticed, but ignored, the captain general's smirk over the edge of her wine-cup as his eyes at this turn of thought strayed to the king of Gondor's hostess, Aradora's youngest sister. She, was as much a princess as the other princesses he knew were lethal. Not, necessarily, that she wasn't as lethal. Her skill at mounted archery rivalled that of his own best men, though when Legolas himself confessed to having taught her, how could she not?
"Your eyes stray" the Lordesse noted amusedly, her tone not offended or even very protective. "Yes. I am not the only one" Eomer replied with similar amusement. She followed his eyes around the hall, her eyes twinkling with mirth at what they saw. "Certainly. It has always been that way... though I dare say being the daughter of the king of Gondor, she now has plenty of other suitors as well" displeasure coloured her voice.
"Are they better or worse?" Eomer asked her. She grimaced. "As bad, I'd say. I do not approve of either the ones seeking favour or being drawn merely to her beauty" she sent Eomer a significant look. "I see how your eyes are drawn to her, Eomer, but you know her. There is a difference. You admire her for her worth and her looks for her beauty. There is nothing wrong with that". "And they admire her for her beauty alone, and she deserves better" he agreed. "Not to mention they would get more than they bargained for". When his fellow warrior and protector gave him a look of surprise, he elaborated.
"These Gondorian lords. They hope to wed her, the most ambitious ones, no? But even though they seek to, they have very little concept of a woman like you sister - or mine, Faramir being the likely only exception, or so he has proven again and again. Did you not note the lord who was throughly scandalised that your sister was riding astride? I know her younger sister did".
"You both would" she snorted "Rohirs. But you are right. They see merely her pretty eyes and do not realise just how competent she is". She sighed, still watching her younger halfsister move about the hall, skillfully juggling the duty of a hostess with seemingly effortlessly minging with their guests. "She is not an adornment, she is used to handling difficult tasks, to rule, in one fashion, if not a country. Though should that ever be needed, she is quite the skillful diplomat". "They would realise" Eomer grimaced "and that might not be a good thing, either". "That's how unhappy marriages are made" she agreed grimly, turning to look at him. "Would you court her?"
Eomer looked at her over his own cup of meed, raising an eyebrow at her direct question, not that he minded, oh no, as a matter of fact he approved. He took another drink, thinking it over, watching the lady in question, before he answered without any doubt in the world. "In a heartbeat". "So why don't you?" her question was very serious. Eomer smiled softly, the princess suddenly meeting his eyes and smiling across the room in response. "Who says I'm not?"
