Hi all! I had a good time writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it! Can't wait to hear what you think!
Chapter Four (Third Age 3019)
Mareke blinked awake in the sunlight. At first she did not know where she was, but then she remembered. Minas Tirith. Far away from her father and son.
As she propped herself up in bed, she glanced over and saw another tray laden with food, much more than the day before, as well as more books.
With a sigh, she rose from the bed and made her way to the washroom. As she washed her face, she caught sight of her neck and shoulders in the burnished mirror and the night before came rushing back.
Her own body ached, but more than that her heart hurt when she thought of the raw pain that Eomer conveyed through his words and how he used her body the previous night.
Mareke returned to the bedroom and nibbled at a strange pastry.
ooooOoooo
Eomer did not appear in the bedroom that day or the next.
It was on the third morning that Mareke woke to hear him replacing the tray from the day before with a new one.
"Eomer-King," she whispered, blinking up at him as she sat up.
"I did not mean to wake you, forgive me," he said quickly, his neck flushing pink.
"I was hoping I might catch you," she said quietly.
"Did you need something else? Have things not been to your satisfaction?" he asked.
Mareke shook her head. "No, they are fine. It is just...I understand you must be terribly busy with all of the diplomacy and celebrating required of you right now, but I cannot help but feel that I have displeased you."
"You? Displease me?" Eomer sighed and swiped a huge hand over his face. "Of course you have not displeased me, Herenya."
"Then might we dine together tonight? Or share a glass of wine after the celebrations?" Mareke looked away from him. "I realize I have no right to ask anything of you, Your Majesty."
"Please," he said gently. "Call me Eomer. Just Eomer." He bit his bottom lip, chewing at it for a moment. "I will return earlier this evening," he promised.
ooooOoooo
To Mareke, the day seemed to drag on and on. She thought the sun would never set, but eventually she heard the door to the outside world open and close and Eomer loudly dismissed the servants from his chambers.
After a few moments, just to be safe, Mareke peeked out of the bedroom. Eomer was setting the large dining table and he gestured for her to join him.
"I hope you are not missing anything important," she said quietly, only sitting when did.
Eomer shook his head. "I am tired of celebrating. I cannot make it make sense when there was so much loss as well."
Mareke nodded.
Eomer remained silent after that and they were both thinking of his admissions from a few nights prior.
"I have been avoiding you, Herenya, because I am enormously ashamed of myself," he said, taking a long drink from his goblet of wine.
Mareke remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I showed you all of my weaknesses and then how I treated you was despicable."
She could sense that he was growing frustrated once more.
"And I am supposed to be a King." He shook his head. "I should be above such things. I am meant to carry all things stoically and silently. I am certainly not supposed to act on my emotions in such a way."
"Eomer, you must remember that I all but invited you to bed," she said quietly.
"And I do not even have the fortitude to turn you down. You are so far from home, grieving your own losses, scared and alone. I cannot fathom what kind of King I will be nor what kind of man I am. I am disgusted with myself."
Mareke reached across the table and took his hand. "If I may say so, you are far too hard on yourself, Eomer."
"Please do not feed me any nonsense about 'everyone making mistakes.'" Eomer looked at her and there was steel in his gaze. "There is no more room for mistakes in my life. I have made plenty."
"I did not see any of what has happened between us as a mistake," she replied. "You should be able to unburden yourself. If you do not, then I would worry what kind of King you will be. You cannot carry the weight of a Realm and your own burdens for the rest of your life. You will crumble under the pressure."
"I must be stronger." He glanced at what he could see of her throat. The bruises were fading and yellowing, but he could quite clearly see a few bite marks. "I hurt you," he said.
"I am fine," she replied.
Eomer remained silent once more.
"Please Eomer," Mareke said. "I am to be here for who knows how long. I do not wish to spend that time locked away in a bedroom." She tried to make eye contact with him. "Unless that is what you wish and then there is nothing I can do about that, but overall I have found being a hostage to not be as terrible as I might have thought."
Eomer gave a reluctant chuckle and finally looked at her. "Well I am glad to hear that. I have rather enjoyed your company as well." He filled her plate first and then his. "And as for how long you will be here, there is actually an end in sight."
Mareke looked at him in surprise, her spoon raised halfway to her mouth.
"I have told King Elessar that you are here. I explained everything to him. He was very angry that his men should have treated you so. He and I are working on a plan to get you home. Unfortunately, it will have to wait until after his coronation and the majority of people have left the city. He thinks that should be in roughly a week. I hope you can bear all of this until then."
Mareke nodded. "That is much quicker than I had hoped. I cannot thank you enough for working on my behalf, Eomer."
"I know that I yearn to be home and I have friends and family here," he said. "I imagine you want to be with your people right now."
"I do," she agreed. Immediately, her mind went to Adnan and her heart ached.
"I will get you out of here as soon as I can," Eomer promised, noticing that she had gone somewhere else in her mind.
Mareke nodded and gave him a small smile.
They passed the rest of the evening talking about what was going on in the city to prepare for the coronation festivities and what all Eomer had accomplished in his meetings with his fellow leaders.
"And your sister?" Mareke asked.
"I visited her today. She is chomping at the bit to be released from the Houses which should be in the next couple of days. The Healers have assured her that she can attend the festivities. The Steward's son was with her again," he said ruefully.
"He is a good man?"
"As far as I can tell," Eomer said. "That does not mean I like the notion of her marrying and living so far away. King Elessar has said that he will give Ithilien to Lord Faramir."
"That will be difficult," she agreed.
"Do you have siblings, Herenya?" Eomer asked politely, not wanting to linger too much on the impending changes within his own family.
"I did," she replied quietly. "He was killed here though. It was one of the last bits of information I had before all of this," she waved her hand, gesturing at the rooms she had been confined too.
Eomer closed his eyes and sighed. "I am so sorry for your loss," he said. "This War was entirely too cruel to entirely too many."
Mareke could only nod.
"Were you close to him?"
A pang shot through her at that. It would be impossible to explain their relationship to Eomer and it would bring her dangerously close to discussing Adnan if she did.
"Yes," she said simply.
"All the more reason to get you back to your people as soon as we can," Eomer said.
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Eomer drank more wine, while Mareke refrained.
The meal was finished in silence and they continued to sit there.
"It is getting late," Eomer finally said, rising and finishing his final goblet of wine. "I will bid you goodnight, Herenya."
Mareke stood as well. "Do you not think it a little silly for you to continue to sleep on the sofa? All things considered?"
Eomer looked down at her, trying to judge if she was serious or not. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
Mareke nodded. Something in her inherently trusted the giant of a man before her. "I am."
Tentatively, she held her hand out to him and he took it in his rough, calloused paw, following her into the bedroom.
"I do not expect anything of you," Eomer said quietly after he had closed the door behind him.
"This may seem rather forward," Mareke said. "But you and I have lost loved ones and have much to be anxious about upon our returns to our homelands shortly. Perhaps some distraction and comfort might be found here."
"I hurt you the last time," Eomer said shamefacedly even as he reached out to run his fingers over her exposed collarbone where he could see the marks he had left with his teeth.
"Who said that?" she asked. Slowly, Mareke drew his hand down to her breast.
His eyes leapt to meet hers.
"It is alright," she whispered.
There was something about him that made her heart ache. He was carrying so much and it was evident how much it weighed upon him.
"I want nothing from you," she said. "I do not wish to add to your burdens. You lightened mine. I would like to return the favor if you will allow it."
Eomer shook his head. "I do not wish to use you as I did before." His hand slid down to her hip. "I would wish for us to find mutual pleasure in these few days that we shall have together."
With one last look at her, he bent over her and kissed her soundly on the mouth, his other hand moving up to tangle in her unruly, black curls.
As they went along, Eomer showed more prowess than he had before. It was not brute power, but a knowledge of what a woman might want to experience at his hands. He slipped his tunic over her head and guided her backwards toward the bed, not once breaking the kiss.
When the mattress caught behind her knees, Mareke fell backwards. Eomer stood above her and kicked his boots off and removed his tunic.
Then he stared down at her, taking every inch of her body in hungrily.
"I wish I would have taken a little more time before, but I suppose now is better than never."
Mareke felt almost unnerved under his direct gaze. He seemed to be drinking her in, wanting to memorize every piece of her with his eyes and hands.
As his hands ran over her most sensitive areas she jumped beneath him. He bent over her and his mouth trailed kisses from her neck to the sun tattoo around her navel, stopping short as Mareke tried to breathe and retain some control over herself.
She had never experienced such pleasure or anticipation. Her nights with her husband had been brief and to serve the purpose of having a son. She had been nothing more than a womb to fill for him. When Adnan was born, her husband came even less frequently to her bed to try for another child.
She never knew for certain, but she imagined that he found his passion elsewhere. It was kept a secret from her.
Tension built in her body like she had never felt and she was uncertain of what would happen if it reached a peak.
Mareke did not have to wait long to find out.
Eomer freed himself from his breeches and pushed into her, much more gently than before. Mareke gasped to be so filled. The feeling had been masked by the pain during their first coupling.
His hands slipped under her back as it arched off the mattress and then he was gripping her hips tightly as he thrust into her.
Perhaps someone his size could never be completely gentle for his grip was vice like.
Mareke's legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer and deeper. The tension continued to build low in her stomach until she was sure she could not stand it for another second.
And then the wave broke over her and had her crying out as spasms of pleasure she had never known travelled all the way to her fingers and toes.
She was so lost in the sensation, that she did not realize anything as Eomer easily moved her to the middle of the bed so that he could get closer to her, pressing his chest to hers that was still heaving.
One huge hand went into her wild, dark curls and the other stayed on a hip as he ground himself against her.
He did not want to separate himself more than he had to.
"Herenya," he moaned against her neck, inhaling the scent of the bath salts she had used earlier that day.
When she came back to herself a little bit, Mareke slipped her arms around his; hips moving to meet him of their own volition.
Soon he was grunting, hands tightening in her hair, hips stuttering rather than moving smoothly as they had.
Everything went still.
"Bema above," he muttered, face still pressed against her neck.
Eomer pressed kisses all the way up to her earlobe.
Mareke could not breathe beneath the sheer bulk of him, but she did not care. The pressure was exquisite against her charged skin. She ran her fingers gently through his sweaty, tangled golden hair.
"Thank you," Eomer whispered as he pulled away from her, causing her to wince at the separation.
She could not speak to return the sentiment.
ooooOoooo
The day of the coronation came around two days later. Eomer had been in his rooms as much as he possibly could. There was not very much talking when he was with Mareke and she was fine with that.
In the morning, Mareke rose and found Eomer in the washroom before the burnished mirror trying and failing to pull his hair back.
"Can I help?" she asked quietly.
Eomer turned to look at her over her shoulder. "Please." He handed her the leather thong he had been attempting to use.
"You will have to crouch down, I am afraid," she said with a light laugh.
Eomer went all the down to his knees and Mareke stood behind him. He closed his eyes when she began to run her fingers through his hair.
"I wish you could accompany me," Eomer said while he was not looking at her. "Or that I might stay here instead."
"I am not sure a Haradrim captive is the best guest for this coronation," Mareke said as she tied his hair back and rested her hands on his shoulders. "And you must go. It is the dawning of a new Age with new kings. The people should see you as well. And this will be good practice for your own coronation upon your return to Edoras," she continued.
"You are very wise," Eomer said when he opened his eyes and met her gaze in the mirror. He reached for the heavy golden crown near the wash basin and handed it back to her.
Eomer noticed that she did not seem nervous at all to be handling something so meaningful and valuable.
Mareke carefully placed the crown to not muss his hair and to lie straight across his forehead.
Eomer rose back to his full height and turned to face her. "Well?"
"You look every inch the king," she said with a smile.
He did look regal and entirely suited to the role even if he still did not feel it was so.
Mareke followed him back out into the bedroom and watched as he fastened his sword belt around his waist and then pulled a heavy emerald cloak with gold embroidery around his shoulders. She helped him attach it to his spaulders and rested her hands on the heavy metal covering his torso.
"Try to enjoy it?"
Eomer gave a heavy sigh. "I suppose. I will try to snatch a flagon of good wine to bring back tonight."
"Do not rush back. It would be rude. You will want to appear confident and amiable and ready for all that is before you. If you disappear people will think that you are a brute and not prepared for the diplomacy required to be a king, even in a social setting."
Eomer arched an eyebrow. "You seem to know quite a lot about these things."
Mareke shrugged and shook her head. "Just my silly ideas and opinions."
He looked at her for a lingering moment. "I should be off. I must prepare my retinue and meet once more with Elessar."
Mareke nodded and stood until he was gone. Already she could hear the thundering of the people in the streets.
ooooOoooo
"Eomer!"
Mareke's head whipped up from where she was propped against the headboard of his bed, reading the book on herbs he had brought. When he had told her that she would be returning home sooner rather than later, she had been able to focus a bit more.
When she looked up, she was faced with a tall blonde woman.
"Bema's balls!" the woman exclaimed. "Who are you?"
Mareke's mouth opened and closed a few times before she could speak. "Herenya."
"Herenya," the woman repeated, a hand to her chest. "And what are you doing in my brother's bed and in his tunic, Herenya?"
So it was Eowyn.
"It is rather a long story," she began.
"I do not have time for that," Eowyn said. "So the shortened version will have to do."
"I am a captive. Your brother saved me and is keeping me here until I can return home."
"Always noble, Eomer." Eowyn continued to stare at her. "I am Eowyn," she offered.
Mareke was not sure if she was being kind or not, but she stood anyway and bowed her head in obeisance.
Eowyn quickly waved away the manners. "Where is he?"
"He left early to meet with the King and to prepare."
Eowyn sighed and nodded. "Very well." She gave one more glance to the woman before leaving.
Mareke stood in her wake, heart pounding.
However, it was less than an hour later when Eowyn returned dressed in her coronation finery. She wore a beautiful yellow gown that complemented her skin and golden hair and a coronet around her forehead.
"I thought you might be more comfortable in this," she said, handing Mareke what turned out to be a woman's nightgown.
"Thank you," she said quietly, surprised at the kindness.
ooooOoooo
Eowyn sidled up next to her brother, Faramir on her other side, at the coronation ceremony outdoors.
"I know what you keep in your bedroom," she whispered.
Eomer looked sharply down at her. "Then I would recommend keeping your mouth shut among so many people."
"What are you doing harboring a captive?"
Faramir peered around at the pair. "Harboring a captive?" he repeated in shock.
"Please. Now is not the time."
He knew his sister would not let it drop and he was correct. After the festivities had gotten started and the dancing and drinking was in full swing, she pulled her brother out into the garden until she found a secluded spot.
"Tell me what is going on," she commanded.
"It is good to see you looking healthy once more," he jested. "Glad to see you did not lose any of your nosiness."
"Nosiness?" Eowyn laughed incredulously. "My brother is harboring a Haradrim woman in his bedroom. I am not being nosy. I am concerned."
Eomer briefly filled his sister in on how Herenya had come to be in his possession.
"And what do you intend to do with her?"
"I have spoken to King Elessar. We will get her back to the border when the city has cleared out a bit. She will only be here for a few more days."
"Have you bedded her?" Eowyn asked bluntly.
"Eowyn!"
But she knew from the slight coloring of his neck and the way he instantly looked away from her that he had.
"Bema's balls," she muttered again.
"Do not be so crude," Eomer replied automatically.
"Crude!" she exclaimed. "You think I am being crude. I am not bedding a person I paid for! A person from enemy lands, no less!" She threw her hands in the air. "Have you lost your mind? In a few years, we shall have a half Haradrim bastard strutting into Meduseld! Think of what she could gain and how high she could climb from the lowly life of a desert Healer."
"We?" Eomer thundered before he remembered they were in a public space. He looked around him before he continued in a lower tone. "We will not have anything. You will be in Ithilien so I am not sure why you care who will be 'strutting into Meduseld.'"
"What a stunning and noble first act as King." Eowyn rolled her eyes.
"Enough of that," Eomer said shortly. "This is none of your concern."
Eowyn stood rooted to the spot as she stood and watched her brother return to the great hall.
ooooOoooo
When Eomer returned to his rooms it was long past midnight. He tried to be quiet as he freed himself from his heavy, ceremonial outfit, but was unsuccessful as he had had quite a lot of wine to drink.
Mareke blinked awake when she heard him on the other side of the bed. "How was it?" she asked.
She flinched as he accidentally dropped his crown onto the bedside table.
"Just as expected," he said quietly, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed.
Mareke rolled toward him and kneeled behind him, untying his hair and then running her fingers once more through the golden strands.
"I am exhausted," he murmured. Eowyn's admonitions were ringing in his head.
Mareke pulled the blankets back for him and covered him up as he laid down. "Then sleep," she whispered.
ooooOoooo
Three days later, after midnight, Mareke was dressed in a riding outfit and cloak that Eowyn had provided. She had not seen the woman again, but Eomer had come bearing the clothes earlier that day.
Gently, Eomer pulled the hood over her dark hair. "I am not sure what to say to you," he admitted.
"Then allow me," Mareke said. "Thank you. You saved my life, Eomer." She caught his hands in her darker ones. "I will think of you every day. You shall be the finest King your people have ever known, I am sure of it and so you should be sure of it too."
"Were that it was that easy," he replied with a sad smile.
There was a knock on the outer doors and the few soldiers of Eomer's that would be escorting Mareke to the border were there waiting.
"Be safe," he said. "I am grateful that we have had this strange time together."
He then opened the door. Mareke lowered her head and walked in the middle of the group of men all the way to the stables.
A horse was saddled and waiting as was Aragorn and a few of his men. It was to be a joint effort in the hopes that the men from the opposite Realms would hold each other accountable and take Mareke' safety seriously.
Eomer had threatened his within an inch of their lives.
"King Elessar," Mareke said with a deep curtsy when she saw the other king.
Eomer once more noted that she did not stumble at all.
"I am terribly sorry for the part my men played in your capture. It is not a representation of all of us."
Mareke nodded.
"You have plenty of provisions and should be to your border within the week. I bid you a safe journey and a peaceful return home," Aragorn said.
She bowed her head to both men once more and only glanced at Eomer before mounting the horse and riding out of the stables amongst the men in the red of Rohan and deep blue of Gondor.
There you have it! I hope you loved it as much as I did! Let me know what you think! I love getting ideas from readers, but am also open to constructive feedback. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long in the future!
Happy reading,
Avonmora