Title: Method of Love
Rating: T
Pairings: Éomer/Lothíriel
Genre: Romance/Drama
Summary: A dilemma: what to do when you meet an attractive stranger at the library and both of you are awkward idiots? Éothiriel modern AU.
Disclaimer: The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.
Author's Note: I hadn't thought I would try my hand at modern AUs again, but here we are. I can't really say where this one came from - the idea came to me almost full-grown. After drafting a few paragraphs, I decided to go for it, especially since I felt like I was in the need of something lighter for change. I doubt this will be a very long story, but we'll see.
As ever, all your comments are most welcome. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 1
This paper was going to kill her.
After three long nights of study, Lothíriel had still not managed to fill out more than half of the required word count of her essay on research methods. She had been staying at the library until closing hours and by his sour looks, she knew the janitor was getting tired of having to shoo her out after barely managing to return her piles of books, gathering her notes, and getting rid of whatever rubbish she had littered her surroundings with. She wasn't normally a slovenly person, but this particular essay seemed to be bringing out the worst in her.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked up from the open laptop before her. Marine biology had been her passion since childhood, but this past semester, she had really been struggling with her studies. She guessed it all went back to her cousin Boromir and Uncle Denethor. Their untimely deaths had left the whole extended family in a state of disorder for a while. Family business had not been going that well, either. At least lately, things seemed to be getting better. Faramir had emerged from his grieving with the help of his girlfriend and thanks to the alliance with the ever tireless Aragorn, the company was recovering.
Things were looking well, but her essay wasn't. And that was why she was spending her Saturday afternoon working, when her brothers were already on the open sea, sailing their family's boat. Knowing she could have been there with them made her skin crawl with frustration.
To distract herself from that depressing thought, she glanced about in the library. Few other people were around. A librarian, a young guy who had repeatedly tried to flirt with her, was pushing a cart filled with returned books. A pair of teenagers were entrenched in two big armchairs, whispering between themselves. A mother of two small children was hushing her offspring and an elderly man was engrossed in a newspaper, completely oblivious to the world. In fact, it was quite absurd that she would first take note of these people she so often saw in the library first, and only then notice him.
The man was fricking gorgeous. Even in fluorescent light, his long golden hair, arrayed in a ponytail, seemed to bask in its own shine. A darker shade full beard, neatly trimmed, covered his chin and cheeks. Normally she didn't pay much heed to bearded guys, but on him it just worked. His features were strong and even, his prow proud, and his mouth implied iron will, even stubbornness. Although he was slumped in his chair at a desk not that far from her and was staring at his laptop, she could tell he was of the athletic type, all long legs and strong shoulders. Of his profession nothing could be said by his clothing: a faded leather jacket, dark jeans, green shirt. Who was this man? She had never seen him around, and this wasn't that big a city. She would remember him if he were local.
And then, at the same moment she realised she was ogling at this strange man, he looked up. Dark, piercing eyes stared at her quizzically. Lothíriel blushed and quickly lowered her own eyes to her open Word document, but the words she had written were a blur. She intensely wished she could just sink through the floor and never be seen again.
She felt the eyes on her for some time, and so she pretended to be working, checking something in her notebook and then reading her email. But all the while, she was more aware of him than anything in her immediate proximity. Eventually, she dared to peek up once more. The man had returned to his own business and was typing something. She let out a breath she had not noticed holding.
Lothíriel tried to work. She checked her notes again and went through what she had written so far. Occasionally she flipped through one of her books, but every time, she found her gaze drawn to him sooner or later, and most of what she had read so far vanished from her mind. Was it just her imagination or did he look as frustrated as she felt? Who was he, and what had brought him to this library? Did he have family in the region?
Another fifteen minutes had gone by, and she had spent it obsessing over some stranger and not working. The thought made her feel ashamed and frustrated. She took pride in her work ethic, and until now, no guy had been able to distract her thusly.
Lothíriel sighed and decided to find out whether some coffee might spike her focus. However, her aquamarine travel mug was nowhere to be seen, and a quick search of her messenger bag revealed it was not there, either. Then she recalled she had left it standing on the counter of her tiny kitchen.
She groaned out loud. No inspiration, no coffee, and an outrageously handsome man ruining what little was left of her focus! Well, at least there was a small café on the first floor. Better go and get a cup there.
So she closed her laptop and put it in her bag, but she left rest of her things on the table, knowing she'd be here a while yet. Quickly she headed downstairs and strode with purpose for the café. The cashier smiled at her; she was one of the regulars here, and was friendly with most of the personnel. But today, she was too distracted to stop by for a chat. She paid for her coffee, picked up the cup and turned a little too quickly.
And ran straight into him.
The cup went flying with a shocked little "oh!" from her. She might have spilled it all on him, but thanks to the plastic lid, only a few drops landed on his shirt. The rest streamed on the floor, as much as the drinking hole in the lid allowed.
Her cheeks burning, Lothíriel knelt down to pick up the cup and prevent further damage. But at the same moment she reached for it, he did too. The cup rolled away, spreading more hot coffee on the polished floor.
"Fuck!" he growled under his breath, while she squeaked "Sorry!"
Witnessing them as a pair of incompetent fools, the cashier arrived with a rag to clean up the mess.
"It's alright", she said, catching the cup and using the rag to manage the spill. "I've got it."
"I'm so sorry!" Lothíriel said as she stood up, once again hoping the floor might open and swallow her whole. He must think her such a weirdo! This was just her luck, first get caught staring at him like some moron and then go on spilling her coffee on him! No wonder she didn't get a lot of invitations to dates!
He stood up as well, and she noted he was one tall guy, even taller than her brothers. She had to tilt her face upwards to meet his eyes. And he wasn't just tall, but broad, too. Up close, his presence was really quite imposing; in a strange impulse she wondered if he had some kind of military background.
"It's okay. I shouldn't have been standing so close to you", he said and cracked such a charming, heartbreaking smile that she felt like her knees turned into jelly right there. Elbereth! Today she had managed the folly of highest degree: making herself a complete fool before the most attractive guy she had ever met.
"No, it's not your fault. I was just distracted", she mumbled. Her cheeks still felt hot enough to boil an egg.
"Let me replace that. I was getting coffee, anyway", he offered, still smiling. Why did he have to smile like that?!
"No, I can't possibly -" Lothíriel began to stammer, but he wouldn't let her finish.
"I insist", the man said, effectively silencing her.
And that's how she found herself, not ten minutes later, seated outside the library on a bench. It was a very pretty day – another reason to regret not being able to join her brothers – and so he had suggested they take their drinks outside. Lothíriel felt so dazed, she would probably climb on the roof if he had wanted to take their coffees there.
"So, what brings you to the library today?" he asked when they had taken seat on the bench. The park next to the library was pretty nice, and she sometimes came to read there. Upon arriving today she had decided working outside would only remind her of what she was missing out, though.
"I should be writing this paper for my course. It hasn't been going so well", she replied, grimacing at the thought.
"You are a student, then?" he asked and took a sip of his coffee. It was black, she had noted earlier in the café, while she liked to dash her own with a little bit of milk and sugar.
"Yeah. Third year, but this semester hasn't been that good", she replied grimly. Deciding to lead the conversation away from herself, she asked him, "What about you? I haven't seen you around before."
"That's because I only just returned from overseas. I don't have a place of my own yet and I'm staying with my sister. But she has got a boyfriend these days, and I don't want to impose on them. I figured I would come here to search for jobs... and for some silence", he explained slowly, staring ahead with a strange look on his face. There was so much in his words that she wanted to ask about, but that would just be weird.
"What kind of jobs? And what do you mean by silence?" she asked him.
He let out a low, humourless laugh.
"I'm not sure how to answer that. I guess it all ties in. You see, I trained in the police academy before I left the country. I finished, too. But I was young and idealistic then. Wanted to make my mark and bring out the world peace. So I joined the Blue Berets and served five years with them", he explained.
Her coffee entirely forgotten, she stared at him with wide eyes. So her assumptions had not been wrong!
"How come you're back now? Did... did something happen?" she asked, and instantly regretted her curiosity. Maybe he had suffered some kind of a traumatic injury while on duty, or witnessed horrors that she could only imagine in her darkest nightmares. And whatever it might be, it was none of her business.
All the same, he didn't get angry or tell her how rude she was being.
"Yeah, I guess so. I was just disillusioned. It didn't feel like me being there added up to anything. And I saw how my brothers in arms abused their power... how they made the locals' lives even worse. I realised there's no change in this world as long as the rich and the powerful are allowed to prey on the vulnerable. So I decided to come back home, maybe do what I was trained for in the beginning. I think I have more power to put end to wrongs as a cop", he said, slow and grave, and her heart ached. Of course, she had read scandalous news stories about peacekeeping forces, and been horrified by them. But something about the way he spoke, the disgust and resentment in his voice, made it all the darker. He had been there and he had seen it happen. And yet he still had this drive to make the world a tiny bit better.
"That's... I don't know what to say. I'm just really sorry it turned out that way. It must be horrible", she said at last and felt immediately angry with herself. She should have come up with better words. But what could she tell this war-hardened cop-to-be? Her own life had been sheltered, and her passion was for marine life, not for peacekeeping. Fish did not know malice.
"It's okay. I've made my mistakes and learnt from them. Maybe I shouldn't say these things. I see it distresses you", he said, softer and kinder than she had expected him to be.
They were silent for a minute. But before it had a chance to grow too uncomfortable, she ventured to speak again.
"So, you are staying in the city?" Lothíriel asked him. Her coffee was now almost lukewarm, but she hardly recalled it.
"If I can get a job. My sister lives here, so I'd like to stay. But we'll see", he said quietly.
"I hope you do. It sounds like you've been through a lot", she said and cast him a smile. "It's a nice city, if a bit quiet."
"Quiet is great. After the past few years, it seems perfect", he said, and she recalled what he had said earlier about coming to the library for silence.
He looked straight at her then, clear and sharp.
"We've been talking enough about me and my baggage. But you haven't even told me yet what your major is", he noted, studying her intently.
"It's marine biology. How weird is that? But my family lives by the sea, and we always went out sailing when I was a child. And I spent so many hours on the beach... I have loved the sea since before I could walk. I always knew it was something I wanted to study when I grew up", she explained in fond tones as she recalled the carefree days of her childhood.
"That sounds great. Has your family always lived here?" he wanted to know, smiling slightly. The dull darkness had vanished from his eyes now that they were no longer talking about his past.
"Yes, we have – for generations. I think we all have a little bit of salt water in our veins. So it always made sense that I'd end up working with it, somehow. Even if today I wasn't having that good a time in my studies. I have this one essay that is just killing me..." Lothíriel complained, and it felt so good to just vent her frustration to him, no matter how silly it sounded after hearing about his troubles, and no doubt she would have kept on going hadn't his cellphone rang just then. He cast an apologetic glance at her way before answering.
Lothíriel tried not to listen too much, but she caught the general idea anyway: someone was wanting to meet him as soon as possible.
He put down his phone and coughed.
"Sorry. It was my sister. She wants to meet me..." he started to speak, but Lothíriel was already getting up.
"It's okay. I should be getting back to work anyway", she replied and stood up. Her coffee didn't feel that warm anymore, but it was caffeine, and it had been bought to her by him. She'd drink it, damn it. This could very well be the last coffee she ever had with a man, after all.
Lothíriel took a few steps away. When she glanced at him, she thought he looked like he wanted to ask her something. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. No sound came out.
Seeing his trouble, she hurried to aid him, "It was nice talking to you. Maybe I'll see you here again."
He looked at her strangely.
"Yeah. Maybe."
It was only back in the library that Lothíriel realised she hadn't even asked his name. Needless to say, she was quite wroth with herself.
Afterwards, Lothíriel had to admit she should have put together two and two. She was sure she had heard Faramir and Éowyn speaking of the brother overseas, and even making a comment on his profession. She was also sure one of them had at one point mentioned he had graduated a cop. Éowyn loved her brother dearly, not only because he was her only surviving family, and she did not spare her praise of him.
In her defence, she had been terribly preoccupied for this past year. Her studies, the art club where she was training at, the part time job at a sea-food restaurant... and there was the matter of Boromir and Uncle Denethor's deaths. She had been distracted.
All he same, until the very last minute, she had not a clue. Sure, she had known there would be a surprise party for Éowyn's newly arrived brother tonight. She had even set an alarm on her phone so that she would remember to leave the library in time to get ready and make her way a couple blocks down to Éowyn's apartment, where the celebration was held. But even then she still suspected nothing.
The two-bedroom apartment was quite crowded. Faramir and Éowyn were there, obviously, but so were her brothers, and Aragorn with his wife Arwen, and a bunch of friends from Éowyn and her brother's acquaintance. Lothíriel was a little bit surprised that Aragorn knew Éowyn's brother, but did not comment on it. The world these days was so small, it seemed everybody was somehow connected.
Even in that party she might have had a plenty of chances of figuring it out, but she arrived a bit late, and was only just greeting her brothers and asking about the sailing trip, when Éowyn suddenly clapped her hands to break the excited chatter in the apartment. Lothíriel narrowed her eyes. Why did her cousin's girlfriend suddenly remind her of somebody?
"Listen, everybody! Éomer is going to be here any minute now! Let's make sure he has one hell of a homecoming, yeah?" Éowyn spoke, earning a moderate cheer – he could be out in the hallway right now.
It was as if the man himself had been summoned by his sister's words. For it was not five minutes later than keys could be heard rattling in keyhole, and then the door opened. Lothíriel had the fortune – or misfortune – of standing by the kitchen counter and thus not five feet from the apartment's doorway. And so she saw the new arrival the moment he stepped in.
There was the tall, golden-haired man she had met only today. She almost reached to rub her eyes to make sure what she was seeing was really true – that Éowyn's brother was actually him.
And then memory hit and her abysmally slow brain finally began to catch up. Every conversation with Faramir and Éowyn, every mention of her absent brother... Lothíriel compared it with what he had told her today, and found no contraction. And so she had no choice but to arrive to the conclusion.
The man she had met today in the library, the one she had ogled at and learnt some pretty personal stuff about, was nobody else than Éowyn's long absent brother.
Naturally, it was that moment that his eyes met hers.
He met a girl that day.
Éomer guessed it was something Éowyn would have advised him to do very soon. Find someone to fill that void, brother. He could almost hear her voice in his head, lecturing him in the way he imagined their mother would, were she alive. He would have liked to contradict that nagging voice, but the truth was, the idea did not sound completely awful.
After all the ugliness, he desired a little bit of beauty.
Even so, he didn't think it was going to happen any time soon. He had barely just arrived in the city, he had not found his bearings yet, and it probably wasn't a good idea to start dating right away. He didn't even have a place of his own yet.
But of course it didn't work out like that. For the better part of his adult life, Éomer had felt like things didn't so much happen to him, they fell on him when he least expected it. And so went to the library like any unguessing fool, took his seat at a desk, and began to work on his project of searching for local job announcements. Béma knew there was no hope of doing that while he stayed at Éowyn's apartment. Not that he rued Éowyn for her happiness with Faramir, but he felt like an intruder in their little nest. It was easier to get things done when he was alone.
Or, at least he tried to work. It wasn't long that he felt the distinct sensation of being stared at. He supposed it had something to do with his soldier's training, this extra sense of being always alert. And so as he looked up, he saw a pair of clear grey eyes staring straight at him.
She was the loveliest thing he had seen in a long time. Her eyes shone with the kindness and purity that had been gone from his life for so long. Her long, dark hair was a messy cloud about her fair face and her lips were slightly parted as though in wonder. It was her eyes that struck him right there, filling him with... he didn't even know what it was. He was transfixed.
Her cheeks grew red and she looked down, pretending to focus on her work. But Éomer knew better. She had noticed him, too.
And that was why he grabbed his things the moment he saw her moving. Was it a weird move? Maybe she was just going home and he was acting like a stalker. But she left her books and notes on the table, and he guessed she was simply getting something, maybe another book to add to her already towering piles, or a drink from the café downstairs. He cheered mentally when he saw her heading to the counter and digging her bag for some money, as he assumed.
He followed her straight there, and got hot coffee spilled on his shirt. He didn't mind.
It was not long after they were seated in the park next to the library. And somehow, she got him talking about things that were tender and close to his heart, and until now he had thought he would never reveal it to anybody but his closest family. But there was something about this girl... there was a warmth and understanding in her eyes, even if she knew nothing of war, and he found himself powerless. And so he was telling her how pitifully his crusade to save the world had ended.
One would expect her to look at him with empty eyes, not quite understanding what it was he had seen there on the foreign fields. But hers were full, and even if she didn't personally comprehend it, neither did she make him feel naked and exposed or foolish for talking so sincerely. If anything, he felt like she heard.
This was a singular girl, indeed.
And that was why he meant to learn her name. He fully intended it until Éowyn's untimely phone call. With that single interruption it seemed their connection was severed and the girl was leaving.
He stood up and opened his mouth to ask who she was, and perhaps inquire for her phone number. But maybe something had been severed during his time in the Blue Berets, and so no sound came out. He did not receive the information he wanted.
She turned away, leaving him feeling like a complete idiot.
Later that evening, Éomer arrived at Éowyn's home. She had suggested they have a dinner together and then watch some film. It sounded like a perfectly good idea, as it would allow them to catch up after their separation. So he called her and asked what kind of food were they eating so that he could buy wine accordingly. But when he arrived at her apartment, it was not a quiet dinner and a film that waited him.
The room was filled with people, all yelling "Surprise!" at the same time. Most he knew from previous acquaintance, thankfully. But almost at once, his eyes were fixed on her. There at the kitchen counter stood a grey-eyed, dark-haired girl he had wondered about only hours ago... and the way she stared at him, it was clear she was shocked to see him.
Éomer's heart fell. She had expected someone else.
But this was his night, or so he guessed Éowyn had meant it. He would make a best of it, or he'd be damned.
Lothíriel recovered from her first shock soon enough. She put together two and two and last, and felt how silly she had been not realising the connection until now. Of course. Of course the man from the library was Éowyn's brother, because that was just how things worked.
A part of her was relieved. She had left so stupidly, not even asking his name, nor his phone number. Now she had a chance to redeem it. And yet partly she felt stupid and ashamed, realising she should have made the connection the moment he started to speak about the Blue Berets. And her shame made her want to never show her face before him again. She was Faramir's cousin; he would think her a moron when he learnt that.
As such, the first hour after Éomer's arrival she did her best to avoid him. It wasn't inconceivably difficult when the apartment was so full of people. She found herself a nice corner with Arwen, who was more of an introvert like herself, even if she was probably the most radiant person in the entire block. Lothíriel thought to herself it would be too simple to call Arwen just beautiful.
All the same, she was quite friendly, and helpful in aiding her to keep away from Éowyn's brother. Yet of course, Lothíriel should have known it was a fool's errand to try and hide from a soldier and a cop.
"Hi there", his low, pleasant voice spoke from her side. She almost jumped. There was this stupid instinct to hide from him at once, but Lothíriel forced herself to turn and face the man. Discreetly, Arwen made her exit, leaving Lothíriel all alone with this unnervingly attractive man.
Elbereth, he wasfine. His green t-shirt complimented the gold of his hair and the glowing tan of his strong arms. Had she ever seen anybody who looked so solid? But he also seemed a little bit wary and awkward, like he didn't know how to address her.
"Hi", she managed to answer and smiled; only seconds later she decided such a wide grin probably looked insane to him. So she toned it down and thought to try humour instead. "I've got to admit, you are the last person I thought to see walking through that door."
He let out a small laugh.
"Yeah. Pretty weird", he agreed and took a sip of beer somebody had given him.
"I do feel stupid, though. Éowyn must have spoken of you so many times, but I didn't connect the dots until I saw you walk in", she said, and then realised she still hadn't introduced herself. Cheeks hotter than ever, she offered him her hand, "I'm Lothíriel, Faramir's cousin."
He took her hand and gave it a good, firm squeeze. Father said you could tell a lot about people by their handshake; she didn't know if there was any truth to that, but at least this man gave an impression of steadfast character.
"Éomer, but that you already knew", he said and gave her a smile that was slightly more relaxed. "And don't worry about it. We all got own issues to worry about and if I know Éowyn at all, she probably gave me plenty of credit that don't hold up to the real deal."
"Well, that begs the question whether or not we deserve the love and praise of our loved ones – which I don't think needs answering", Lothíriel noted, growing a little braver in her words. It was probably the drinks she had already had. She added, "And I have yet to find a reason to disagree with anything she said."
That was bold. Maybe Éomer thought so too, because he raised an eyebrow and looked at her curiously.
She cleared her throat. He had not escaped yet, so there was still a chance to save this conversation, damn it.
"So, how is the job hunt going? Were you able to find anything?" she asked him and sipped her drink.
"I'm not sure. I made a call to this old friend of my late uncle's. He works with the police and he promised to ask around, but I have no idea if that will pan out or not", he replied. He shrugged, perhaps to seem nonchalant, but she had a feeling it meant more to him than he wanted to implicate.
"Have you always wanted to be a cop?" Lothíriel asked then. To be honest, she could easily see him in any job that had to do with helping and protecting people.
"Yeah. Both my uncle and my cousin were cops, and growing up, they were my idols. I guess it's in the blood. I gave up on it for a while, though, when my cousin was shot on the line of duty", Éomer said quietly. A shadow had fallen on his features and he looked down. Her heart ached for him when she realised just how much he had been through.
"I'm sorry to hear it", Lothíriel said and reached to touch his arm. But her fingers had barely settled on the warm skin when he lifted his eyes again. Their look was resolute.
"Sorry. I don't mean to be a constant downer in our conversations. I've just been thinking of this stuff a lot lately. Being back brings a lot of memories, you know. But I really want to move on", he said in earnest. She wondered which one he wanted to convince more, himself or her.
She wanted him to have a good time. This was his night, after all, and it sounded like he could really use a fun evening with friends – old and new. So she raised her glass and toasted it with his bottle of beer.
"To moving on, then", Lothíriel declared and smiled brightly.
"To moving on", he agreed and smiled as well.
It turned out a pretty nice night, after all. The company was easy and natural and it didn't make him feel like standing in spotlight, even if it was his welcoming party.
Éomer could not lie to himself: it was partly because of Lothíriel. There was something about this girl that drew him in. She was pretty, yes, but that had never been his angle; he fancied himself more gentlemanly than that. It had to be in the way her eyes glittered, or her invariable good spirits even when she was embarrassed, or just this... this ease of being with her. After he had left the Blue Berets, Éomer had constantly felt torn between wanting company and despising it when it was found. That was the reason he had not made any real friends during his wandering, or even thought of keeping in touch with the occasional party he had joined. Éowyn had been the only exception until now.
So he found himself lingering around her, and they were talking about music and books and films they had seen. It felt good to have such a normal conversation and notice that she wasn't shy of him anymore, she didn't even seem to recall the glimpses of dark he had unwittingly revealed. He had to admit it: he liked this girl. And somehow he got the sense that she liked him, too. Some male instinct was telling him to go for it. But he suppressed that thought quickly. It was way too soon for them both, and he knew just how faulty he was. She shouldn't have to deal with his issues.
He would gladly have spent the night there, but at some point, Amrothos got it in his head they ought to go to a local night club. His brothers supported this idea and soon enough they were talking everybody else into it. As the majority of the party seemed pretty excited with this plan, Éomer decided not to be the buzz kill, although he doubted a noisy club would allow his pleasant talk with Lothíriel to continue.
There was a general bustle as coats were sought and put on and purses were checked. Then the company began to spill out to the street. Lively little conversations were happening all around him. Éomer followed a few steps behind Lothíriel, who walked arms linked with Faramir. She was laughing at something her cousin had said, tilting back her head a little bit and leaning against his shoulder. She had left her hair open and it spilled down her back like dark, glossy waves. Realising he was staring, Éomer quickly lowered his eyes.
The night club was only a few blocks walk away. It did not seem to be a busy night, as the whole party got inside without any trouble. Or maybe Amrothos was bribing the bouncer. Who knew? Sometimes, Éomer thought he was prepared to believe just about anything when it came to the antics of that young man.
After leaving their coats in the cloakroom, he reached carefully for Lothíriel's elbow. She had been digging something from her purse, but looked up when she felt his hand.
"I'm going to get a drink. Do you want something?" he asked her and was already doubting if this was too straightforward. But she smiled and he thought of how stunning it made her look.
"Thanks! I'd like some white wine", she said and closed her purse. Before he could make his way to the counter, she touched his hand. "I'll get the next round, then."
He bought the drinks – wine for her, beer for himself – Éomer searched the club with his eyes, until he saw her waving at him from one sizeable, round table. Most of the company was already there and he moved to join them. Lothíriel quickly, almost nonchalantly made space for him next to herself. Her smile was bright when he set the glass of wine before her.
The whole affair was much as he had imagined: the music was too loud for conversation, and he couldn't say he very much enjoyed the flashing, pulsing lights or the music. Lothíriel was trying to tell him something about a local art gallery, but the only thing he gathered from it was that she liked art. It wasn't a worthless piece of information, but he would have wanted to learn more. Maybe even ask if she'd like to go there with him.
But after visiting the men's room and getting back to the table again, he saw Amrothos had taken his seat next to her. Éomer said nothing and instead found a new spot at the table, though it was sadly far away from her. But now he found himself next to Éowyn, and that was not a bad thing at all.
It was over an hour later that he ran into Lothíriel again. He and Elphir had been doing shots at the counter, and he was meaning to return to the table, when he saw her on the dance floor. Éomer halted and stared. She had discarded her blouse, revealing a form-fitting tank top that might be blue if not for the irritating lights, and she was was dancing all alone. Not that he was any judge, but she was pretty good... and all that dark hair really did look amazing.
He wasn't sure what made him move. But so he did, and less than a minute later, he was standing before her. It didn't look like she thought this odd. With a wide grin, she threw her arms about his neck and continued dancing.
And what could he do? She was obviously rather drunk, and a gentleman doesn't leave a lady to peril in that situation, and – and she wanted to dance with him. Although he didn't think much of his own talent in that regard, it didn't seem like she minded.
Oh, Béma. As he found himself moving in time with her, Éomer knew he was in very big trouble.
To be continued.
A/N: Just as a clarification, I do believe Blue Berets (and the United Nations) are one of the great peace projects in the history of mankind and on principle I support what they do, but it is well recorded there have been abuses and malpractice in their operations. I decided not to delve into it further than to state it as the reason of Éomer's disillusionment, mostly because I don't think it would be tasteful.