Imrahil had not imagined that he could have been more impressed with the young King than he already was. Éomer was smart and had the right instincts, but he was also compassionate and deferential when he knew others had superior knowledge to his own. The way he had stepped out of the way to let Éowyn speak? Remarkable! He should never have doubted Faramir's judgment in including her. Imrahil wondered how often Éowyn's intelligence had been overlooked (a mistake he would not be making again), and smiled that her quality was not overlooked by the one she loved.
Éomer's action also made it clear that he treated the women in his life with profound respect. In that moment, Imrahil knew his most fervent wish was for Éomer and Lothíriel to fall in love.
For the rest of the afternoon, he awaited his children. He looked endlessly out the window, and watched the small dots from Osgiliath grow larger. They were coming. Imrahil paced his house. The rooms were ready, he had thrice checked the courtyard now and was happy with the arrangements therein. He sat for a light lunch and forced himself to eat.
He thought of the spoons of that morning, and the Hobbits. He smiled; there would be a rematch, if only to match the wills of Lothíriel and Éowyn. He suspected his excitement over watching this particular battle was unbecoming his station, but he cared little. It had been a long time that he had had such cause to laugh so freely.
Imrahil tried to distract himself with the notes and letters that Faramir had sent him. The young Steward was gaining his sea legs. It was remarkable how fast it had happened. His nephew, from second son to formidable Steward in but a month. A man capable of standing tall against any challenge placed before him. Imrahil had been heartened to see reverence for Faramir in Aragorn's eyes at council. He imagined the two, King and Steward acting together; for they would be an unstoppable force in the rebuilding of Middle Earth.
Imrahil chanced a glance out the window one more time, searching for his family. They were nearly to the city gates. He jumped from his seat and ran out the door. He thought he could stay still and wait for them to come to him, but now that the moment was nearly upon him, he knew he did not want to wait any longer. Imrahil trotted to the stables and asked the grooms to make up his steed. He would ride down through the city to meet them. The stablehands made short work of outfitting the horse, and Imrahil was upon him. Before he knew it he was waiting for them at the first gate of the city. He beamed as the carriages arrived. His family, and Dol Amroth goods to resupply Minas Tirith, were here. Imrahil jumped from his horse, and made his way out to them.
Lothíriel was out of the carriage, running at top speed toward him. She launched herself into his arms and he held his little girl, willing the tears back.
"Ada! I never thought I would see you again," Lothíriel was laughing rapturously and tears were streaming down her face. She could say no more, as the sobs had come.
Amrothos and Erchirion had followed their sister, beaming.
"She promised she wouldn't cry," Amrothos grinned, "Good to see you Ada."
Both brothers embraced their father and sister tightly, a family reunited
"Elphir wanted you to know that most of the merchant ships have come back into port," Erchirion said quietly, "All are celebrating. The orders have already been placed for coronation, and will be on their way in a week."
"That is wonderful news. Now, you three head up to the house and get yourselves baths. At least two of you need them," Imrahil winked, "I will take care of the business down here. This afternoon, we will have tea, and I believe both your cousin and the royal siblings of Rohan will call upon us."
Amrothos and Erchirion nodded while Lothíriel reddened. Good, thought Imrahil, she thinks on Éomer. His children turned and headed up to the house, and Imrahil went to take inventory of that goods that had arrived with them. He forwarded the ledger to the Steward's office, assuming that he and Faramir could talk business that afternoon if there was need. He hesitated, then quickly scribbled a note to Éomer and handed it to the messenger as well. He knew he should wait, he should give everyone time to settle, but he couldn't. He wanted to see, wanted to know, needed to know if his instinct about Lothíriel and Éomer had been correct.
Imrahil turned, took a deep breath, then followed his children up into the city, though he let his horse have its head. When at the stables, Imrahil thanked the stablehand, then jogged the rest of the way to his house. They were here, in their rooms washing the travel off of them. Soon they would be laughing and joking in the courtyard over Dol Amroth mead. He so wished that his wife had lived to see the new dawn, but thanked her for giving him such wonderful children, in whom she lived on.
Imrahil went out into the courtyard to wait. As expected, Amrothos and Erchirion were first out, and immediately began digging into the vittles the Prince had set for them. They're nearly Hobbits, the Prince mused.
"Ada, tell us everything. Start with the tale of the Shieldmaiden," Amrothos said through a mouth full of sweet roll.
"First let's wait for your sister, then we can start telling tales," Imrahil replied.
"I fear she may take longer than usual," Erchirion replied, "You of course know why."
Imrahil could not help his smile, "you should let her know that I've invited him for tea. I would not be surprised if he arrived soon."
"Why dear father, would you ask me to make such haste?" a musical voice came from the doorway.
Imrahil turned and saw his daughter. She had dressed in a blue green dress that looked like the ocean. She wore her hair down, and had done little else. She was beautiful.
Lothíriel looked so similar to Finduilas, jewels of the sea, both. Faramir had been too young to appreciate how much his cousin looked like his mother, but Imrahil noticed it every day. Perhaps that was why he was so protective of Lothíriel. He would never let his jewel marry a man such as his sister did. She faded away as much from Denethor's stern and insistent love as she did from the shadow cast over the stone city. Éomer was serious and yet light, he spoke so highly of his sister, and was unafraid of what stood in front of him. A man who would love Lothíriel but not press that love upon Lothíriel.
Please Valar, he thought, give me this son-in-law whom you've blessed me with friendship.
Imrahil had already decided that he would pass his crown to Elphir when he returned home. In fact, he'd nearly done it when he rode forth to the defense of Gondor, thinking it was his last ride. He'd decided, if Éomer would have him, that he would move to Rohan, serving as an advisor to the young King. He wondered if Aragorn would consent to his becoming an official ambassador to Gondor in Rohan, to stay by Éomer's side and make sure that the fate of Finduilas was not also the fate of his own jewel of the sea.
"Ada?" Lothíriel had crossed to him now, and had to wave a hand to break Imrahil's concentration.
"Sorry dear one. Your old man was just… thinking," Imrahil smiled.
"Well, now that I am here, please tell us of the battle and your adventures," Lothíriel sat demurely next to him, and placed her hand in his.
"What would you like me to tell first? So much has happened is such a short time," Imrahil replied
"The Shieldmaiden," Amrothos stressed.
"The story of the one who stole Faramir's heart?" Imrahil smiled at them.
"As long as she is the same one who smote the Nazgûl," replied Amrothos.
"That is a story better told by her brother-in-arms, Meriadoc Brandybuck, squire of the Riddermark, who slew the fell thing with her," Imrahil knew he was being cheeky, but Merry really was the better teller of the story.
"Please?" Lothíriel batted her eyelashes, "Before we meet her?"
Imrahil rolled his eyes at his daughter, but it worked. It always worked.
"Okay, but Merry will tell it tomorrow too," Imrahil sighed, and expounded upon she who laughed in the face of Fear. How she'd ridden disguised as a man to that battle, to protect her people. How she alone stood tall against the Wraith. How she dodged the Witch-King's mace. How she had thrust her sword through the foul thing's head, and how it had evaporated before them. Then how she had fallen, and had to be drawn back by the King. How she had captured Faramir's heart in the House of Healing.
Nearly the same moment he finished his tale, Imrahil heard a knock on the door. He launched himself from his seat, as he knew who would be there. It was time. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? When he opened the door, he could not have felt more joy to see Éomer looking back. He had dressed regally and plainly. It was a garment fit for the King of Rohan. Imrahil wondered if it had been Faramir or Éowyn who'd dressed the young King… He and Éomer spoke words, but he was so distracted by his nerves he hardly knew what was said.
"Come in, my family is in the courtyard," Imrahil could hear the young King following him through the house. When he came out into the courtyard, Amrothos, Erchirion, and Lothíriel were all standing, ready to greet Éomer.
Éomer had stopped dead. A strange expression was upon his face, and Imrahil saw that he had locked eyes with Lothíriel, who was trying desperately to contain her own delight. It appeared that Imrahil's gut had been right, and he was now looking upon his future son-in-law.
"Amrothos, Erchirion, Lothíriel, this is Éomer of the House of Eorl, King of Rohan and high friend and ally to Gondor," Imrahil spoke, but still Éomer and Lothíriel had not dropped each other's gaze, "Éomer, these are my children."
Amrothos was trying not to giggle at the heated looks passing between the pair, and Erchirion looked thoughtfully at his father. Éomer stepped forward, directly to Lothíriel, took her hand, and placed the gentlest kiss upon it.
"The pleasure is mine. I owe your father my life, the life of my sister, and the life of her betrothed. Should you have needs of Rohan, I will happily oblige," Éomer had still not looked at any except Lothíriel, who was now smiling as brightly as Imrahil had ever seen her.
To break up the moment, Imrahil clapped Éomer on the back, then noted he cringed. Odd. Then he remembered.
"How was your sparring lunch with my nephew?" Imrahil had managed to snap both Éomer and Lothíriel back to the present.
"Ah, yes. It was more spirited than the last time," Éomer replied, looking slightly sheepish.
"Have you ever dueled your sister?" Lothíriel had twinkling light in her eyes, looking upon the young King.
Éomer smiled, then reddened, "Yes, mostly when we were younger. I started being sent on campaigns while she was still a girl."
Lothíriel had tilted her head, she was reading Éomer.
"Do you have a desire to learn mir tel'ear?" Imrahil asked his daughter.
Lothíriel flushed and replied in Sindarin, "Ada please speak in a language we all understand."
"Oh! Sorry Éomer. 'Mir tel'ear' means 'jewel of the sea' in Sindarin. Perhaps we could trade you lessons in Sindarin for lessons in Rohirric?" Imrahil was beaming, even under the murderous gaze of his ever reddening daughter.
"A fitting nickname," Éomer had replied, looking shyly back at Lothíriel. This was going even better than Imrahil had imagined.
"Now, I have promised my children stories of our adventures and sorties. I am sure that you have insights I myself do not. Shall we sit and drink and tell our tales of how the shadow was defeated?" Imrahil sat down, seeing that the seat next to Lothíriel was unoccupied.
"We've heard the tale of your sister, but not of the Hobbits, or of the return of the King. Is it true that the battle for Helm's Deep was turned by Huorns?" Amrothos had broken in, "Father made us stay home to defend Dol Amroth, and there we did not see any battle. For Aragorn had already raided the Umbar Corsairs before they'd sailed to us."
Éomer smiled and took the seat next to Lothíriel. It did not go unnoticed. By anyone.
"Has your father told you how Sauron was ultimately defeated?" Éomer's eyes were alight, and though he looked at all his audience, his eyes ever lingered on Lothíriel, "Our fate was in the hands of two brave little Hobbits, who had to break into Mordor and destroy the enemy's greatest weapon, right under his nose."
Éomer told the story of the fellowship of the ring, and spoke of the bravery of Sam and Frodo. Imrahil looked at his children, watching them as they followed the story, asking questions. But mostly he looked at Lothíriel, smiling through her whole person as she looked at and listened to Éomer, and he knew. Two would be the ties between Rohan and Amroth.
Imrahil beamed, thank you Valar. I promise to take care of him - of them - until my dying day.