Chapter Fourteen: The Seven Deadly Sins
The dining hall of Meduseld bustled vigorously with activity at the noon meal in preparation for the celebration tomorrow. Columns and candelabras were dusted, windows were opened and cleaned, overflowing bouquets of wild flowers were arranged, and Lothíriel watched happily from her place at the high table as fresh game was brought in on long platters or in thick bundles. The talk from the servants was happy and eager and Lothíriel was pleased of this; in this time of war it was good to have a bright spot to focus on, if only for a little while.
"We have the most skilled seamstress in all of Rohan here in Edoras; Ollä will have a gown for me to purchase for you. Though I hope we get there before the other ladies of Edoras have, otherwise we will have nothing to choose from!" Éowyn was saying.
"Really Éowyn, I don't expect you to purchase a gown for me. Proving you wrong is enough for me." Lothíriel said, smiling around a mouthful of ham.
"No! Twas our stake and I agreed." Éowyn countered. "Have you thought of a color yet?"
Lothíriel was momentarily distracted by Éomer striding into the Golden Hall, doused with sweat and laughing with Éothain. He looked to be in much better spirits as he clapped his second on the shoulder and then strode for the high table, springing up the dais without losing his grin. As he rounded the table on the opposite end to find his seat, he briefly looked up to catch her staring and Lothíriel hastily diverted her eyes to her plate.
"Lothíriel? I asked what color you desired for your gown." Éowyn prodded, effectively returning Lothíriel's attention to her.
"Blue maybe?" Lothíriel said quickly to avoid the inquisitive arc to Éowyn's brows. The lady was not that easily deterred however; she looked about to find her brother taking his seat, and smirked smugly.
"My brother is very fond of blue." Éowyn remarked, turning her attention to her plate with an innocent lift of her brows.
"What about you?" Lothíriel struggled to change the tide of the conversation. "I think a darker color, to bring out the blue of your eyes. Perhaps violet?"
"I do not know if I have a violet gown," Éowyn remarked, and Lothíriel was glad for her own quick thinking of diversion. I would've been the color of a tomato, and in turn the focus of my brother's taunting in no time. "Perhaps we can take a look later. There is a trunk in my room where I think I may have trinkets for your hair and garb as well."
The thought of dressing up delighted Lothíriel. Her father had always lavished her with fine gifts and jewelry left by her mother, and Lothíriel had always taken the baubles for granted. Now, after not only not bathing on a daily basis but wearing the same outfit for a number of days in a row, how she yearned to dress and act like a woman! She also missed flirting shamelessly; the young guards at Dol Amroth were ever her prey and she liked being able to capture their interested gazes without much effort.
Now, if I can just capture but one…
"I would like that very much; I am excited for the celebration! We have not had one at Dol Amroth since last year, when I reached the age of twenty."
"You are only twenty? Pah! I feel as if I am an old maid compared to you! What month is your birthday?" Éowyn asked.
"October; I enjoy the fall months very much and the celebration for my birthday was decorated as such. How old are you? You cannot be much older than I!"
"Twenty and four, a spinster by standard." Éowyn remarked, causing Lothíriel to laugh.
"A spinster? Rubbish! Lesser men are merely intimidated by such a fine and independent woman; you have not met one strong enough to match your wills yet!"
"Exactly," Éowyn said, her mood turning dismal. "That, and I have a duty to Rohan and one of the most overbearing brothers I have ever met. I will not be so lucky to find love and marry for such; I know I will have to wed out of obligation. Tis why I have turned my secret attentions to being a shieldmaiden. At least in that respect I will be revered and wanted for some thing."
"Éowyn you are young yet! And more beautiful than any lady I have ever known. Do not dismay, your time will come!" Lothíriel reached forward to grasp her friend's hand, offering her an encouraging smile. "Besides, Théoden would not think much of your plan to be a shieldmaiden I am sure."
"I know I am past my time; women my age already have two or three children by now. I, on the other hand, look forward to serving my realm." Her smile did not reach her eyes as she spoke, and Lothíriel's heart wilted for her friend.
"I have faith that you are destined for greatness, both on and off the battlefield. You merely have to be patient." Lothíriel squeezed her hand a second time and then turned back to her meal, though she suddenly felt very sad for her friend. I know it is easier to say those words than to live by them. Indeed, patience was not one of her own virtues and much like Éowyn she dreaded the day when her own obligation to Dol Amroth would raise its ugly head.
The two fell into a conversation that was light and trivial and consisted mostly of party business shortly thereafter.
It was near the end of the meal that Lothíriel was trying to make some headway on that gods-awful ale they served in Rohan when she heard a throat clearing behind her. She looked up and over her shoulder and found a bowing Éomer behind her, and nearly choked on her beverage. She ignored Éowyn's telling gaze as she coughed her way through the ailment and struggled to address the lord.
"Lord Éomer, a pleasant surprise." An understatement, really.
"I came to offer my assistance; you have not been properly shown the city and I long to make up for my behavior this morning. Please, allow me to give you an excursion around the glory that is Edoras." He came out of his bow and his smile was blinding, rendering Lothíriel momentarily speechless.
Thankfully it was Éowyn who spoke up to fill the awkward lull. "How perfect! We were to go to Ollä's to obtain a dress for the princess for the celebration tomorrow."
"Then allow me to accompany you." Éomer took hold of Lothíriel's chair and she rose from her seat, her eyes traveling to her brother who was engrossed in conversation with Legolas.
For his ill will against elves he seems to have taken to the Mirkwood prince quite well, Lothíriel thought as Éomer explained, taking note of her lingering glance on Amrothos.
"They are debating swords." He offered his arm, which she took. She tried desperately to ignore her unsettled lunch now churning in her stomach and swallowed roughly. "I asked his leave earlier to take you about and he was too engrossed to care overmuch."
"Amrothos is only concerned with three things: women, wine, and warfare. I daresay he will be occupied for hours." Lothíriel responded as Éowyn took her brother's other arm and the three made off the dais, the servants beginning to clear their finished luncheons.
"Do you have no business to attend to with King Théoden?" Lothíriel asked as they strode from the hall back into the streaming sunlight of the early afternoon.
"He is busy with party preparations." Éomer discarded her thought as they made their way down the stairs. "It gives him something else to focus on besides this damnable war."
"Aye, I think so too. It will be good for all of us." Lothíriel replied, earning a smile from Éomer.
"Then let us not focus on war this day; something tells me we have plenty of that to come." Éowyn interjected, her smile radiant. "What color dress do you think Lothíriel should wear, Éomer?"
Lothíriel's cheeks scalded red hot at Éowyn's absurd question. "I do not think Lord Éomer cares for such trivial matters." She shot Éowyn a withering glare, one her friend paid absolutely not attention to. "Leave those matters to you and I. Why, Lord Éomer probably does not even deign to notice the color of ladies' gowns! He has more important things to ponder such as—"
"Blue." Éomer stopped her babbling quite effectively with that deep baritone of his. "I think a striking, deep blue would bring out the color of your eyes."
Lothíriel stared. Her feet almost faltered. She could barely keep her jaw from dropping, but instead worked it like a fish out of water. She was sure her face was the color of the fires of Mordor and her hands had begun to sweat most unbecomingly.
Blue? The color of my eyes? Lothíriel averted her gaze as her heart pounded its way from her chest to her throat, beating so fiercely she almost felt lightheaded. He has noticed the color of my eyes?
"I think a blue gown would be positively ravishing on her." Éowyn remarked coyly as they began their walk through the village of Edoras.
Lothíriel resolved then and there to throttle Éowyn when they were alone. We'll see how good of a shieldmaiden she is when she is face to arrow with my bow!
Their journey continued, peppered with light conversation shared amongst themselves or with the townsfolk. They stopped here and there to exchange a greeting or a compliment, and Lothíriel found herself introduced to so many people she was sure she would never remember all of their names. Every one of the folk seemed intrigued by her presence and greeted her warmly, all smiles and jovial tones.
"We have heard many things about you, princess."
"You snuck into your brother's entourage, no?"
"You know your way about a bow, do you?"
"I will never forget how you cared for my dearest son at Helm's Deep."
Lothíriel found herself pleasantly overwhelmed, for none of the Rohirrim approached her with disdain or wrongdoing. They were open and joyous, accepting her and her strange Gondorian colloquialisms, fascinated by her black-as-night hair and beguiling grey eyes.
"Will you be at the celebration tomorrow princess?" One woman asked her, a basket on one hip and a child on the other, two other twining about her feet. Lothíriel had pulled Éomer and Éowyn to a halt so she could play with one of the woman's children who had pointed to Lothíriel's hair and giggled from afar. Lothíriel knelt before the child and pulled her braid over her shoulder, offering the locks to the small girl.
"I look forward to it." Lothíriel replied as the little girl buried her hands in Lothíriel's hair and tugged at it. Lothíriel laughed, tickling the child for her unruly behavior as her mother barked at her.
"Eloise! Enough!"
"I do not mind; she is endearing." Lothíriel wrapped her braid about the child's hands and pulled her into her arms to tickle her some more.
"I will be eager to see a Gondorian lady dance to our Rohirric tunes." The mother said with a laugh, shaking her head at her daughter.
"I fear I am a very awful dancer no matter the tune." Lothíriel stood after delicately extracting her hair and pulling the ribbon from the end to re-plait her locks.
"Your skill at archery does not lend to your dancing?" Éowyn remarked as they all bowed or curtsied to the mother and her children, Lothíriel offering the small girl a playful wave as they continued their journey throughout the village.
"I would wish for even a modicum of aptitude I possess at the bow to lend to my two left feet." Lothíriel replied with a hearty sigh. "I spend most celebrations watching others dance."
"Well that will not do here in Edoras." Éomer grunted, taking her hand to place over his arm once more. The gesture caused Lothíriel to swell with happiness, which blossomed to life on her lips in the form of a smile. "Especially not at a celebration to honor our fallen heroes."
"I meant no disrespect!" Lothíriel quickly amended. "But truly, I am a calamity on the dance floor. Why, on my fifteenth birthday I twirled into a towering candelabra and my gown caught fire! My brother Erchirion had to put me out with a pitcher of water from the sweets table."
Éomer roared with laughter while Éowyn tried to be lighter in showing her mirth, choosing to cover her mouth to hide her snort.
"I wish it were untrue; ask Amrothos. He loves to tell the tale of how I seared the hair from above my eyes and looked like a troll for two weeks."
Éowyn and Éomer both broke into a fit of laughter loud enough to startle a cage of hens nearby. Lothíriel took their humor in good stride, for looking back on the memory always brought her gales of laughter as well.
A few more steps and Éowyn suddenly pulled her brother to a stop in front of a comely looking shack boasting of a thatched roof and freshly washed pine for the frame. The door was propped open with a rock and inside Lothíriel could make out throngs of females chattering away happily over a multitude of gowns laid out on various tables. The entire floor of the home was bare except for its wares, the open windows gracing the patrons with a refreshing wind and streaks of sunlight.
"You will have to thank Ollä for saving you from further embarrassment," Éomer let go of her hand and Lothíriel felt her body leech of warmth at the loss of his touch. "I will wait here while you purchase a gown."
Éowyn took her hand and Lothíriel felt herself swept inside before she could respond. There was a lull in the conversation as all eyes turned to them on their entrance, but it quickly picked up pace once more; though Lothíriel noticed that more than one set of eyes lingered on her strange presence.
"What's this!" A woman the size of her father barreled out from the back of the wide shack, wearing a brown linen gown adorned with a white apron. "A princess, here at Ollä's!"
Beside her Éowyn grinned as Ollä stopped before them, towering over Lothíriel at an alarming height. She had the blonde hair of the Rohirrim and arms thicker than Amrothos with a chest that could compare to Éomer's. Her voice was deep but cheery, and the smile she offered was meant to be light even if it appeared a little intimidating.
"I am Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth." Lothíriel offered her a pleasing smile and a polite curtsy.
"Ollä at your service, my lady." Ollä dipped her head slightly, turning her gaze to Éowyn. "It has been a while since I've seen you."
"We've had no occasion for a new gown as of late. However now I owe the princess one; she proved me very wrong in her archery this morning." Éowyn said as Ollä laughed.
"Oh aye, I've heard the gossips; you are the talk of the town!" Ollä said, winking an eye at Lothíriel. "Well have a look around; if you need any help just call."
The two noblewomen curtsied and Ollä trumped off, pausing to talk with a small group of girls. Lothíriel did not miss how they all turned to look at her and paused in their conversation, but Éowyn suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her to a row of beautifully laid out gowns.
"There must be a blue one here somewhere…"
Lothíriel trailed on behind her, running her hand along the fabrics. There was every color, every length, every size, every fabric, every thread, and every pattern she could think of! "These are beautiful!"
"Ollä makes all of them by hand." Éowyn said, picking at a gown the color of a robin's egg and turning to look at Lothíriel. She dismissed it and moved on. "She gets her fabrics from as far as the Northlands and Harad."
"The bodices are beautiful!" Lothíriel breathed, completely in awe at the woman's handiwork. "Are those pearls?"
"Most likely from your proud coast." Éowyn replied, pausing to touch the small beads. "Ollä travels all over Middle Earth to look for new or unique wares."
The stitching is absolutely impeccable! "And she sews these all on her own?"
"I told you she was the best seamstress in Rohan!"
As Éowyn moved down the long table boasting the different fabrics and colors, Lothíriel lingered to admire Ollä's skill at stitching. How proud father would be if I could sew as such! She thought with a sad smile, her eyes skimming the design. He would much rather I take up a needle than a bow.
"Is that Lord Éomer?"
Lothíriel paused at the excited whisper from behind her and glanced over her shoulder. There was a group of five girls about her age who had looked up from perusing the wares to gaze out the open doorway at Éomer who had stopped to talk to a pair of the guards meandering about the city.
"He is so tall!"
"Tall? He is handsome; the most handsome of all the guards, I think!"
Lothíriel bristled and moved along, though her ear was trained on their conversation and she could not bring herself to move too far. A very unsolicited wave of jealousy rolled through her and she tried to squelch the rampant sentiment, telling herself there was no reason to be such. Éomer did not belong to her!
"Aye, look at the way his arms flex under his tunic."
"His chest is so broad; how I wish I could see him shirtless like Mariel has boasted of! What I wouldn't give to serve in Meduseld…"
Lothíriel almost turned around. She clenched her jaw shut and scowled down at the dress she had meaninglessly picked up, cursing whoever Mariel was for being shown such a sight. A sight she had wished she could see herself many times before!
"Could you imagine lying next to him at night, having that big, strong body press against yours?" There was a forlorn sigh and Lothíriel's cheeks burned bright; indeed, she had wondered such, but to hear it voiced was another thing altogether!
"Do not speak like that! We are in public!"
There was a prolonged pause and Lothíriel felt the uncanny sensation of being watched. She hastily jolted into movement, pretending to inspect a gown further down the row. She stopped and picked up the fabric, no more looking at the gown than she was being chased by a nazgûl.
"I hope to catch a turn with him at the celebration." Another one of the girl's spoke and Lothíriel clenched the fabric tightly in her fists.
"Aye, and I hope for more than just a turn."
There was a tittering of gasps and giggles as the latter voice continued.
"You have heard of his prowess; he is no stranger to the woman of Edoras!"
Lothíriel discarded the gown roughly to the table and stalked over to Éowyn, her mind a tumult of angrily whirring thoughts.
No stranger!
Shirtless?
More than just a turn? What could that possibly mean?
Come now, her conscience said flatly. You do not have to be a slattern to ascertain that meaning.
Lothíriel worked her jaw so furiously that her teeth ground, and Éowyn looked up in alarm when she all but ran into her from behind.
"What is the matter? You look positively livid."
Nares flaring, her heartbeat a strong staccato rhythm, Lothíriel palmed the nearest dress without meeting Éowyn's eyes. "It is nothing."
Éowyn did not push the subject but instead turned, holding a gown in her hands. "Well this will turn your mood; look what I've found!"
Lothíriel lifted her eyes and took in the silken fabric she knew to be from Harad which had been sewn into a gown of luxury and personified beauty. It was the color of the evening sky, a deep shining indigo, boasting of wide sleeves that nearly touched the floor and a slight train in the back. The neck- and waistline were stitched with bands of silver swirls, the forefront of the skirt patterned in the same stitching to match. The lining of the sleeves were of the deepest sable, and to the touch were devastatingly soft.
"It is beautiful." Lothíriel breathed, her ire forgotten.
Éowyn held it up to her frame and stepped back, her head tipped to one side. "I think it may fit; you may have to eat heartily at the meals to come to fill it out to perfection."
"Is this to be it then, my most loyal nursemaid?" Lothíriel teased.
"Aye, I do believe!"
Éowyn paid a pretty penny for the gown and Lothíriel begged her to take her own coin, but the Lady of Rohan would hear none of it. A bag of burlap was procured and the gown stowed away from prying eyes after a pair of leather slippers to match the dress were purchased. They thanked Ollä and left to meet up with Éomer once more.
He and Éowyn commenced their tour of the bustling city, pointing out different people and places, explaining significances or humorous things that had happened here or there. As always Lothíriel found herself laughing more than not, the brash comments spoken by the women at Ollä's about the Marshal forgotten.
They spent the afternoon walking the perimeter of the fortress, Éomer explaining the strong points and why it was laid the way it was, and Lothíriel committed every home with their thatched roofs, every dirt path, and every kind face to memory. Who knows? Father may arrive tomorrow and I could be on my way home with the next sunrise. All of this will be taken from me.
"Where is it that you breed your horses? I know the Rohirrim are known for their clever and powerful steeds. It is said that they are smarter than the average horse." Lothíriel remarked as they climbed back up the long hill to Meduseld.
"Edoras is one of the few cities in Rohan; most of our people are spread out across the plains in small villages. It is there you will find our breeders. Our horses like to be wild and free, and there are certain folk who have a special hand at training them to be proudly called Rohirric." Éomer explained.
"Are the horses as wily as their masters then?" Lothíriel teased with a lighthearted smile. So far throughout the afternoon she had kept her wits about her, but her heart had yet to calm in the presence of Éomer.
"On the contrary; we Rohirrim are known for being proud and willful, but most of all true-hearted. We do not lie and therefore are not easily deceived."
"Generous in thought and deed are we, bold but not cruel." Éowyn cut in. She had dropped her brother's arm but Lothíriel still held on and Éomer had not commented against it; a fact Lothíriel was not lost on. Does he enjoy my touch as much as I yearn for his?
"Most would say we are unlearned because we do not write our histories, language, or culture in books, but I think we are a wise people. So what if we like to sing and dance instead of school our children into boredom?"
Lothíriel laughed. "I would not disagree; I find your people to be the most open and cheerful I have ever met. I am quite enjoying my stay in Rohan."
"Our horses are like us except they do not take easily to outsiders. Which is why I'm astonished as to how you've come to tame a Rohirric warhorse." Éomer said, raising an eyebrow down at Lothíriel with a smile.
She blushed prettily and dropped her face to the ground to hide it. "You truly believe him to be one of yours, then?"
"I would not be surprised to learn if he was from the same mare as my own Firefoot." Éomer said with a chuckle. "I just can't believe he has taken to you in so little time."
Lothíriel shook her head. "Nor can I! Our journey together was the first I had ever even seen him."
"He must've thought you very beautiful, then." Éowyn grinned over her brother at Lothíriel, causing the younger woman to roll her eyes.
"Aye, dressed and speaking like a man?" Lothíriel quipped.
"He is a smart beast; he knows a good heart when he sees one." Éomer said softly, and Lothíriel turned her dove-grey eyes to meet his warm, brown gaze. They held for but a moment before she broke the reverie, fearing she would lose her footing from the way his eyes made her knees weak.
"Tell me more of your horses."
Éowyn and Éomer took turns boasting of their steeds, telling of stories and mishaps from the time they were foals. By the time they reached the Golden Hall, more than half of the afternoon was well spent. The weather had warmed considerably and Lothíriel longed for a nearby stream to dip in, or at least place her feet in; it was one of the things she loved most about the summer months and living by the sea. She found water so refreshing, so tranquil, and oftentimes lingered by the ocean to quell her thoughts and explore her fantasies. How many times had she dreamed of riding into war to save the day? How many times had she sat and watched the sun dip below the waves creating some great romance in her head? Sometimes she could convince Celís to steal away to the beach to play in the waves; the older woman would always beg off and say that she would come just to watch, and yet they both would return to the castle soaked through and through.
"I think we've spent enough time talking of horses; let us saddle up for a ride. We could ride to an outlying village and see the foals newly born." Éomer suggested and Lothíriel's eyes lit up with pure delight.
"Truly? It would not be that far?"
"I daresay a half hour, at most." Éowyn agreed. "I fancy a ride as well."
Though she had spent more time in the saddle in these past few days than she ever had in her entire life, Lothíriel missed the carefree nature of a ride for pleasure rather than for the safety of her life. "I would love nothing more!" she said breathlessly, turning her eyes to Éomer's.
Éomer motioned for a nearby guard and bid him fetch a maid to collect Lothíriel's wares before taking his leave to alert the stables of their impending departure. Lothíriel and Éowyn were chattering excitedly waiting for a maid to return for her purchase when suddenly Lothíriel heard a voice that put a damper on her fine mood.
"Lothíriel! I've been looking for you!"
Lothíriel turned to see Amrothos descending the stairs of the Golden Hall with a maid in his wake, come to collect Lothíriel's gown.
"Please, take this to my room and see it lay out." Lothíriel bid her before turning to her brother. "I've been with Éowyn and Éomer, touring Edoras."
"Where has Éomer gone to?"
"We are going for a ride out in the Mark." Éowyn cut in. "He went to ready the horses."
Amrothos frowned. "You think that wise in times like these?"
"It is not far, and I believe we are all perfectly capable of handling ourselves." Lothíriel stated firmly. Oh no; you will not keep me from this, brother!
Amrothos looked skeptical at the very least. "I remember well what has happened in the past, Little Loth, and the past was not that long ago."
"Amrothos, come now; I will be with Éowyn and Éomer and I'm sure a number of guards. It is a short ride for pleasure, nothing more." Lothíriel was growing angry. I do not want my time with Lord Éomer to end!
"I will be going too, then. One more sword couldn't hurt." He nodded in resolution, laying a hand to his weapon on his hip.
Lothíriel's heart fell. The last thing she wanted was her brother tagging along to tease her unmercifully and make her feel a fool in front of Éomer.
"An excellent idea!" Éowyn quipped and Lothíriel cast her a harsh look. Éowyn shook her head almost imperceptibly and Lothíriel's look went from cruel to quizzical, though unfortunately Amrothos didn't fail to notice.
"What's this now?" He looked from one female to the next. "What are you two about?"
"Let's see to the horses; it is quite a feat to ready them in such a short amount of time." Without further word Éowyn took Lothíriel's arm and hurried away from Amrothos, leaving him to scowl and pick up step in their wake.
"What are you doing? I do not want my brother to come along!" Lothíriel hissed at her, but Éowyn pinched her into silence. "Ow!"
"I will keep your brother occupied so you may spend time with Éomer." Éowyn whispered back, glancing over her shoulder. "It would not bode well to have him remain here. Already there is suspicion in his eyes."
"That is not what I meant!" Lothíriel blushed deeply, giving herself away in a heartbeat. Spend time with Éomer? I do not believe there is enough time in all the world to grow acquainted with the Marshal.
"Hush, or he will hear us." Éowyn urged as they happened upon the stables.
Firefoot was already saddled and waiting and Éomer was now struggling with Firebreather. Windfola was being saddled by an eager stablehand and Éowyn went to her own mare as Amrothos called for his steed to be brought out. Lothíriel hurried to Firebreather who took one look at her and jerked his reins from Éomer's grip to trot over to her. Lothíriel laughed and caught his big head in her hands, stroking his fine horseflesh with adoration in her eyes.
"You are a beast." she told him, stroking his neck.
"Aye; he barely let me lead him from the stall." Éomer came to stand behind her, his brown eyes narrowed on Firebreather. Firebreather snorted and nudged Lothíriel's shoulder, causing her to stumble and laugh good-naturedly.
"Are you all right to ride?" Éomer asked, motioning down at her foot. "We've been walking much today and you haven't changed your bandage."
"It hasn't bothered me at all, if I were to tell the truth. I'm sure riding will not cause me to suffer overmuch." Lothíriel patted Firebreather and held him still while a stable hand quickly attached his saddle. "I miss the wind in my hair, riding simply for pleasure without enemies lurking in the distance."
"You are an excellent rider." Éomer said, standing so very close to Lothíriel. His voice made her bones quiver and stole her breath, and she gazed up at him with unbridled tenderness, one she could not help. His words of praise fueled her, his smile was becoming her reason for being, and the sight of him positively drove her mad. His strong body and powerful persona consumed her thoughts in wake and in sleep and she found herself all the time wondering when she would see him again, or hear the deep baritone of his voice that lay calm to her soul.
"I didn't think you noticed." she said softly, her hands stilling against Firebreather. How she longed to lay them against Éomer's chest, to gaze up at him and have his big hands encircle her waist to hold her against him in wanton abandon.
"Aye, I've noticed." Éomer took a step closer to her and Lothíriel held her breath, her fingers itching to trace the open hem of his shirt.
"Lothíriel!" Amrothos rode up on Battlehorn, his eyes hard as he brought his mount to a halt beside her. Éomer immediately took a step back and Lothíriel glared up at her brother for his so very rude intrusion. "We are about to disembark. Are you ready?"
Lothíriel held in the furious spat of words she wanted to bite out and instead moved to Firebreather to mount. She put her foot in one of the stirrups and grabbed the horn, and suddenly felt a gentle pair of hands on her waist. She lifted herself up with ease at the help and threw her other leg over the side before she turned to meet Éomer's eyes.
"Thank you." she said breathlessly, a radiant smile eclipsing her features.
He bowed shortly and then walked off to Firefoot, leaving Amrothos to sidle up right next to Lothíriel; her brother did not even allow for a hairsbreadth between them. His brow was drawn at the stare that she could not shake from the Marshal, watching as he swiftly mounted his own steed. Éowyn rode up on Windfola to flank Lothíriel's other side as the other Rohirric guards mounted as well, bringing their company total to a slight ten riders.
"Are you ready, my lady?" Éowyn broke her trance and Lothíriel turned to find her friend's eyes dancing with mirth as they flickered to Amrothos and back. Lothíriel could see the scheme there and she smiled, offering a short bow of her head.
"More than ever." she replied as Éomer made the call to ride out, heading the lot of them.
"You are to ride like that?" Amrothos asked in shock, seeing how Lothíriel had each leg draped over either side of Firebreather to expose quite a good length of her calf.
"Really, Amrothos, the gowns I have been wearing have been too small to begin with. Who will even notice?" Lothíriel chided, though it was just another notch she would make in her brother's steel reserve. He thought to corral her? She would prove to him otherwise.
She kicked Firebreather into a strong canter as they took to the road leading down the hill of Edoras. Her braid bounced against her back as she rode, a grin slowly spreading onto her lips. She felt free on Firebreather and reveled in the wind tangling the stray locks of her hair and the sun teasing her eyes. I could even forget about Amrothos in this moment. Éowyn rode on her right and Amrothos finally caught up to ride on her left, and together they moved with the rest of the company until breaching the tall, double doors leading them from the city of Edoras.
"We ride east!" Éomer called, turning in his saddle to address them as they cantered along. "If we follow the Great West Road we will happen upon one of the villages of Rohan."
Lothíriel closed her eyes for but a moment and allowed Firebreather to take the lead, sighing wistfully at the beautiful weather that accompanied them. As the riders around her took up a cry she grinned and opened her eyes, and as a pack they fell into a strong, steady canter.
Éowyn kept Amrothos occupied when the riding was light, which gave Lothíriel ample time to stare at Éomer and daydream of a future she was likely to never share with him. She imagined what it would be like to share a saddle with him on a short day ride, laughing and conversing without the prying eyes of others. What it would be like to walk the bustling town of Edoras hand-in-hand with him, sharing conversation and learning his likes and dislikes. She dreamed of what it would be like to sit beside him before their own hearth, listening to him talk with his men about the day's events that would not be burdened by war. And deep in her mind she fantasized what it would be like to have him take her hand and lead her to bed, what it would feel like to undress for his eyes only and lie next to him in their bed. Lothíriel was glad he kept his distance from her, occupied by his fellows up front, riding tall and stern at the head of the company. Her wicked thoughts and raging heart would not make good company.
He is a fine man indeed.
Lothíriel was eager to dismount and meet the people that inhabited the small rustic village they had come upon after a short half hour of riding. Éomer introduced her and Amrothos to the folk who had gathered outside at the thunderous warning of hooves and dust, and Lothíriel found that this town boasted of the same friendly people as in Edoras. She and her brother were welcomed with fanfare and excited smiles, though Amrothos stood back from the crowd and glowered, his arms crossed and his countenance standoffish.
Good, I hope he is miserable. Lothíriel thought childishly before delighting a small gaggle of curious children with a story of the sea. She could not help her gaze from straying to Éomer, ever hoping that he was near, and she was never disappointed; for every time she looked for him his eyes were steady on her, his face soft with a smile that spoke little for what he may be thinking.
After the villagers had been greeted and Lothíriel had conversed until her voice grew hoarse, Éomer took her to a small paddock boasting of a mare and a foal. Éowyn lingered behind the pair with Amrothos at her mercy, for she was suddenly longwinded and very excited for the celebration on the morrow. Lothíriel could barely suppress her hilarity at the conversation she heard excerpts from; Éowyn talked of what gown she may or may not wear, what trinkets she would don to match, what she thought Théoden would wear, what kind of music they would play, and so on and so forth. Lothíriel relished in the notion that if he were not regretting his decision to tag along now, hearing the menu for the celebration rattled off in extreme detail would surely drive Amrothos to madness and misery.
Lothíriel did not hear much else than that though; her attention became fixed on Éomer. He was very intelligent when it came to the explanation of the breeding process of the horses; how the studs were chosen, what mares would suit them best, and what happened after the foals were of age. The conversation was a diversion to her truer, more wicked thoughts and Lothíriel found herself lost to Éomer as she ever was, smiling and laughing, completely surrendered to his charms.
The villagers were sad to see them go but the hour was growing late with the sun making its descent across the sky; it would soon disappear beyond the White Mountains and supper would soon be served at Edoras. Lothíriel was seeing to Firebreather, blissfully unaware of her surroundings as she stroked his warm flesh.
Does this day have to end? She mused, a smile still turning her lips. She sighed then, a wistful sound, wishing that it did not have to be.
"Did you enjoy your day, my lady?" Éomer asked from her right, and Lothíriel turned startled eyes to meet his own.
She smiled, a coy gesture, and nodded. "Very much so. The townsfolk are absolutely endearing, and as always your knowledge intrigues me."
Éomer grinned broadly, stepping nearer and gesturing toward her mount. "May I?"
Her body jumped at his offer and she suddenly had to work very difficultly to swallow her heart from her throat. To have your hands on me again I am suddenly thinking I would give anything.
But Amrothos appeared then and took Lothíriel about the waist before Éomer could, his stern look not failing to fall from Éomer's notice. The Marshal stepped back and moved to Firefoot and Lothíriel could not curb her own look of scalding that she sent her brother.
He is always in the way! She thought hotly as she settled into the saddle, draping her gown over her legs. Why is he being so defensive of me? He is not like this at home!
She took Firebreather's reins and dared a look at Éomer and was stilled to find that he gazed at her with unabashed longing. His brow was hard but his brown eyes sparked with something unmentionable, causing Lothíriel to part her lips on a silent, breathless gasp. Her hands fumbled with the reins and she had to quickly grasp at them, turning her attention to her clumsy fingers lest Firebreather become too unruly.
"Move out!" Éomer called, breaking his eyes from her form and leading the lot back from whence they came.
Amrothos moved in tightly to Lothíriel's left. Completely and utterly spent of her brother's cloistering ways, Lothíriel dug her heels into Firebreather's side and urged him into a swift gallop that no other horse save Shadowfax could match. Firebreather shrieked and lunged forward, taking to the front of the pack in only three long strides. Lothíriel laughed as she laid low on his neck, her braid whipping out behind her as she left her brother shouting in her wake.
"Faster, Firebreather!" she told him, giving him extra slack on the reins as he took to the open road. She could hear the thunder of hooves behind her and she laughed again, though she did not dare to look over her shoulder.
That will teach him!
When they arrived back at Edoras Lothíriel swung down from Firebreather without any help, pleased to see that Amrothos and his mount were the last to arrive at the stables. Breathless and windburnt, Lothíriel laughed as Éowyn dismounted next to her, a wide grin on her face.
"Well played my lady!" Her friend called happily as she passed the reins of Windfola to a stablehand.
"I needed the respite from Amrothos's incessantly boorish behavior." Lothíriel huffed, tossing her ruined braid over her shoulder. "However short-lived it may be."
Amrothos was there then, his look black and his grip strong as he took her elbow. "You forget you are my charge." He bit out at her, causing Lothíriel to roll her eyes at her brother.
"And you forget you are my brother and not my nursemaid." She ripped her arm from his grip and took Éowyn's, beginning to walk to the Hall.
"Then stop acting like a child in need of one!"
Lothíriel dismissed Amrothos with a negligent wave, allowing for her and Éowyn to take the way back to Meduseld in peace. She snickered in her triumph, her heart light and her eyes sparkling with mirth.
Although if Lord Éomer were to be my nursemaid I daresay I should mind much at all.
Éomer only stopped watching after Lothíriel when he could no longer see her, having been lost to the Hall. His heart only then ceased to beat like the hooves of Firefoot in full gallop, though he still found it difficult to move from the spot from where he had been watching her.
How she captures me, I will never know. He thought, finally turning to lead Firefoot to his stable box. I know I should not be so open in my desires, but with her I cannot help it. And after a mere five days of knowing her! She must have bewitched me in some way.
He led Firefoot to his stall and unsaddled the mount, picking up the brush to comb his horseflesh. Éomer was lost in thoughts of grey eyes and ebony hair, laughter bred of innocence and a smile worth a thousand words. How he wished he could steal those smiles solely for himself; the memories of her rose-pink lips did not do justice to the real thing. And even though her skin was whipped from the wind and tinged from the sun it was still radiant, clear and shining like starlight. What he would not give to freely touch it, whenever he pleased, to run his fingers through the silken strands of her hair…
I should stay away, but I cannot. He pondered, his thoughts lost with his motions. I find myself thinking of when I will see her again, hear her voice again. This is maddening! Has she claimed my affections like Éothain has accused?
He could not deny it, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Éomer." He looked up suddenly and straightened, pausing in brushing Firefoot to meet the hard stare of Amrothos.
"Amrothos." He greeted, though judging by the stony look the youngest son of Imrahil was giving him this was not to be a pleasant exchange of words.
"You know my sister is one of the heirs to the Dol Amroth throne." Amrothos said without preamble. His eyes, usually laughing and carefree, were cold.
Éomer's nostrils flared and he tipped his chin up, refusing to let Amrothos cow him. "I am well aware." he replied.
"You know my father has many suitors for her worth her station." The austerity in his tone was not lost on Éomer.
Éomer could barely hide the deepening of his scowl. She has not mentioned any suitors. "I am sure the Lady Lothíriel is aware of this as well." Éomer replied just as bitterly. The barb stung, but Éomer was not immune to the truth of it; he was very much conscious of the fact that Lothíriel was a princess and he a mere lieutenant.
"She will be betrothed on her next birthday." Amrothos said. "You will do well to remember that."
He moved away then and Éomer found himself more annoyed than completely deterred. If anything, knowing that Lothíriel had many suitors calling for her suddenly made him more committed than ever to compete for her hand. He knew from experience that Amrothos spoke out of well-being for his sister; how many times had Éomer frightened off men who had lingered over his sister? Amrothos only meant to protect Lothíriel's virtue as a lady, but Éomer thought it nothing more than a small obstacle to overcome.
Something tells me the princess would not readily accept a man not up to her own standards no matter what her brothers and father desire of her. And if she were to find a man she highly revered, her strong will would not be deterred by them either. Éomer thought, taking up the brushing of Firefoot with renewed vigor.
And if I am not mistaken, Éomer thought with a brazen grin. The princess thinks very highly of me.
Okay so this one was super long, I know. And not a lot happened, I doubly know. But! I know you enjoyed it anyway, because I know I did! =] Haha have a great weekend everyone! See ya next week (it'll be my birthday)!