Chapter 7
Lothíriel still felt dazed and happy when she got to bed that night. Over and over, she thought of the moment in the garden, the way he had looked at her, and the King's lips on her hand. Her flesh still tingled with his touch. With a few, dancing steps she made way to her bed, where she threw herself with a wild little laugh. What a night! And what promises now awaited upon her road!
Her excitable mood kept sleep off for a couple of hours, but when she did fall asleep at last, it was with hopeful expectation for the day to come.
She felt just as happy in the morning as she had last night, even to the point of singing to herself while she prepared for the day. When she checked her appearance in the looking glass, she saw the brightness of her eyes and the smile which was difficult to suppress. She felt like anyone who cared to pay attention, would immediately guess her thoughts.
But no matter how happy she felt, there was one wrinkle in her joy, and that was Aegdir and knowing she was going to have to refuse him. He would be disappointed, perhaps even angry with her. On the other hand, she had not promised him more than a chance, and that bargain she had kept. Of course it was unfortunate for the young man and she felt sorry for him. The irony was not lost to her: she would probably have felt differently about him, had King Éomer not outshined the young lord. How had Father not foreseen it? Then again, he had been terribly busy this past year and like Amrothos had said, Forlong's memory was dear and painful. Father had hoped to unite their houses somehow for many years. And maybe King Éomer himself had played a part in it, too – everyone knew he hadn't courted Gondorian ladies during his visits.
Not before her. The thought caused her a pleasant shiver and ignited something like a glow deep inside.
Lothíriel made her way downstairs, feeling as though she walked on clouds. Full of good cheer and excitement for the day, she entered the dining hall, where Faramir and Éowyn were already seated. He was there, too, and she immediately tried to catch his eyes with her own. However, the King of Rohan had turned away to talk to his sister. He didn't even glance at Lothíriel as she walked in and sat down at the table.
Puzzled, she stared at him. Why wouldn't he meet her eyes, or even acknowledge her presence? It was the last thing she'd expect after last night... after all that talk about having an understanding. But though she sat there, imploring silently for him to look at her, he did not turn, though he must have felt her gaze. He had to know she was there.
"My lord King", she spoke at last, her voice trembling only slightly, "It's a lovely day, don't you think?"
He glanced at her briefly, but she had time to see his face, see that grave mask that she had watched him showing to others. Never to her – never until now. His dark eyes were veiled.
"Is it?" he just said and turned away immediately.
For a moment, her sight grew misty. A weight dropped into her stomach and her throat felt like it was closing. The sense of betrayal was so crushing that she felt light-headed. She couldn't understand it. Why would he treat her in this way after leading her to believe that he was going to ask to wed her? Was it possible she had got it all wrong, after all?
"My lord, may I speak to you after breakfast?" she tried again, somehow speaking past the dread that seemed to have lodged in her throat.
Again he barely met her eyes.
"I beg your pardon, my lady, but one of our horses was injured in battle and I must go and see him when I've finished", he answered, his voice holding none of the warmth she had grown accustomed to expect. It was the tone and the response he would give to a distant acquaintance.
Lothíriel fell silent. She couldn't muster her courage to speak to him again; to attempt it would be only to invite more heartbreak. The message was clear enough and she should spare them both by not prodding him further. Somehow, even if she didn't know how or why, he had changed his mind about her. Before her mind's eye, the future she had already allowed herself to imagine wilted and died. And only because years and years of training to hide her true emotions, so that she could always maintain her grace and calm in the court, she was able not to weep openly. But even so, all she wanted to do was run back into her room and not come out before it was time to go home.
Staying put in that chair and getting through those first moments of crushing disappointment was one of the hardest things she had done in her young life.
She was still staring down at her empty plate, fighting to control her wildly racing thoughts and the surprisingly biting sting of his dismissal, when Amrothos carelessly and noisily sat down next to her. Thank Elbereth he didn't notice anything odd about her; he prattled in his usual cheerful manner, apparently not even expecting an answer from her. She was immensely grateful because it allowed her the time she needed to collect herself and hide her feelings. This would have been much more difficult had it been Aegdir to arrive and sit next to her; she might just have run out in tears.
By the time he did arrive, she was in control of herself once more, although a slow, deep ache had now settled in. A lady never showed such emotions in company, though, even if her very heart should be breaking in her chest.
However, she needed to know what she had done wrong. How had she insulted the King? He came from a different culture, so there could be many things that she didn't even realise were an offence in his eyes. It was said he was a proud man – perhaps he was prickly as well, even though that was not the feeling she had got from him. But what did she know? The King himself probably would not answer, but his sister might be more willing. After all, Éowyn now lived among Gondorians and would have insight to both cultures. Still, it made no sense. King Éomer himself had told her that she could never lose his good opinion.
Aegdir was quick to ask her to join him for a walk as they were finishing breakfast, and she agreed to do so, but asked him to wait for her a minute. When the company was rising, she saw King Éomer leaving the party and the hall as if he couldn't get out quickly enough. The ache in her breast mounted, but she was able to stay in control of herself.
Éowyn was speaking to her housekeeper when Lothíriel approached. The blonde woman smiled as she turned to meet her friend.
"May I have a word?" asked Lothíriel very quietly.
"Of course", Éowyn replied and dismissed the housekeeper. The two women moved closer to a window for some semblance of privacy. Lothíriel was sharply aware of Aegdir waiting by the twin doors of the dining hall and watching her, but she ignored him for the time being.
"How can I help you?" asked Éowyn in a lowered voice.
"I was just wondering... it may be silly, but I must know. You see, I spoke to your lord brother only last night, and he was quite amiable with me", Lothíriel started, although describing him as being "amiable" was understatement in the light of their interactions yesterday evening. She continued, "But this morning, he did not greet me or speak, although I tried to start a conversation. I thought perhaps I have insulted him somehow without knowing? Has he said anything to you?"
Éowyn regarded her in silence for a moment. The tall woman's face did not betray what she thought of these words, but in her eyes there was a curious glint.
"He hasn't said anything of the sort and I find it hard to believe, because my brother is not particularly sensitive in that regard. And even if he were somehow insulted, he would be much more... vocal about it. To be perfectly honest, I can't see you offending him – I'd rather expect the opposite", Éowyn said, her voice becoming more wry towards the end of her response. She shook her head and added, "I will talk to him."
"Thank you", Lothíriel said, though she wasn't sure what Éowyn could do.
The White Lady of Rohan smiled and nodded, and Lothíriel turned away, slowly walking back to Aegdir, who offered her his arm. She refrained from sighing and pushed King Éomer away from her thoughts for the time being, knowing Aegdir would soon notice if she was distracted. Together they walked out and into the bright new morning.
Éomer hated himself just a little bit. Well, that wasn't true really: he hated himself a graet deal for how he treated Lady Lothíriel over breakfast. All morning, he dreaded the moment he'd see her again, knowing he must hold her at an arm's length if he meant to keep his word to Imrahil. But no amount of preparation could really make him ready for that heart-crushing moment when she stepped into the dining hall, walking so lightly as if she was gliding on clouds, and smiling brightly at him. She looked so hopeful and glad, and his heart fell in his chest for what he must do.
And even though he met her eyes only momentarily, he still had time to see her confused look. Then she lowered her gaze, and though she kept her head down until she got herself under control again, he could imagine the wounded expression on her features all too well. What he had not expected was how very painful it felt to him. He had let her down and he would never forgive himself for it.
He left the dining hall as soon as he politely could.
Thoughts raced through his head so fast it made him a little dizzy. He knew he could have forced Imrahil by using his own royal status; he was certain there were those at least in Rohan and some even in Gondor who would agree that the Prince should give his daughter as weregild for the Riders who fell fighting for Mundburg. But there were other debts, personal ones and the kind that could not counted except in lives saved, and there was honour and respect between friends. He'd never put Imrahil – and Aragorn by extension – in such a position, nor compromise their friendship. He could not and would not ask Imrahil to break his word any more than he'd break his own word. As for his own council, if they thought he had started a conflict between himself, the King of Gondor, and one of the leading nobles of the South, over what they would certainly perceive as an infatuation for an unavailable woman... well, it would not be pretty, and he wouldn't get out of it with dry feet.
And difficult as it was to admit, he felt a degree of sympathy for Aegdir. Though the young man was pompous and inexperienced, he had lost both his father and his brother, the designated heir. In a short time, the lad was forced to take responsibility in a way he had not expected to and rise to stand as the head of his House. How ironically familiar. Éomer knew he and this young lord could not be more different, and yet he felt like he was looking into some kind of a mirror and seeing his own distorted visage.
But Aegdir was even less equipped for dealing with how his fate had changed than Éomer himself had been. As far as he could see, Imrahil was the only one Aegdir could count on to help and to guide him. It would crush him if his single friend and mentor let him down, and Imrahil had rightly understood it; that was what he had meant when he said that the lad did not have Éomer's strength or confidence.
Some time later, Éowyn found him at the stables. One of the horses had taken an orc arrow to the flank and Éomer had wanted to check on the injured steed before going to join Aragorn and Faramir to talk about the hunt more in detail and to discuss whether it warranted some actions from the military forces of Gondor. Thankfully, the wound did not seem to be bothering the horse too much and it showed no signs of infection. He still spoke lengthily with Éothain and the stablehands, telling them to look closely after the injured animal and to come to him if they noticed anything worrisome.
He had just finished and had turned when he saw Éowyn standing there by Firefoot's stall, caressing the stallion's neck and talking quietly to the great beast. She was one of the few people Firefoot tolerated like this. Despite his often cantankerous nature, Éomer knew his principal mount was a wise horse, somehow recognising his master's kin without any difficulty.
"What are you doing here? Are you meaning to go out for a ride?" he asked her.
"I can visit my own stables, can't I?" Éowyn replied nonchalantly, but he knew his sister and the look on her face: she definitely had come here for some purpose.
"You can, surely. But I don't think you wandered here by accident when you have guests to tend to", he pointed out and pressed his hand against Firefoot's strong, proud neck. There was always something comforting about the horse's presence and those wise eyes. As if sensing his master's heartache, the stallion nudged him gently.
"No. I wanted to talk to you", Éowyn said quietly. She frowned slightly as she looked up at him, "Lady Lothíriel came to me after breakfast. She asked me if she had done something to insult you. It worried her that you acted distantly and wouldn't speak to her. I think it was very sweet, though unnecessary, that she thought she had done something wrong."
Éomer gritted his teeth and fought against the bitter sensation caused by his sister's words. How hateful it was to think that he had caused her pain and confusion! Lady Lothíriel did not deserve it.
He gestured to his sister to walk with him and she linked their arms as they strolled out and into the wide courtyard.
"She hasn't done anything wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact", he said at last, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He sighed and quickly told her about his conversation with Imrahil, and why he must keep his distance to the lady.
He could feel Éowyn's stare.
"I knew it. I had my suspicions already, and Faramir told me he saw you with her only last night, but I didn't realise things were getting that serious...tell me, brother – are you serious with this young woman?" she asked him keenly. He knew they had spent some time together, his sister and Imrahil's daughter. There seemed to be a budding friendship between the two, and he had no doubt Éowyn would give him an earful if she thought he was toying with the lady's feelings.
"I never meant not to be serious with her, Éowyn. As if I'd dare with all three of her brothers lurking in the premises! I didn't come here looking for a bride, but... something happened. Something I've not felt before", he admitted quietly, lowering his gaze.
"What does your heart say about her?" she asked him in soft tones.
There were a hundred things he wanted to say, but his throat felt tight, and words got tangled. What came out was essentially very simple, but no less true.
"That she is one of a kind. That I could love her for the rest of my life."
Éowyn was silent for a minute, but the way she pressed his arm was enough.
"Then you must fight for her, brother. You can't just give up like this."
"There is no way to fight, not unless I go against Imrahil. How could I do that? After Saruman burned down half our crops, it was the grain of Dol Amroth that kept Rohan from starving during winter. Imrahil was the one who saved you from battlefield. I owe him a debt, Éowyn, and though he is too honourable to remind me of it, I must do as he wishes", Éomer pointed out. Never once had the thought of what he owed to Imrahil felt so heavy.
"And are you really so sure that she will do as her father has intended?" Éowyn asked him, sounding doubtful.
"I don't see why she wouldn't. Her sense of duty is strong. She may use it to look for comfort now that I've mistreated and dismissed her. There are things... Éowyn, there was an understanding between us, and had she been the one to betray it, I at least would feel the injury very deeply. I have no reason to doubt her feelings are severely offended", he said grimly. He thought of how Lady Lothíriel had come to explain to him how she must spend some time with Aegdir, but that it didn't mean anything – already feeling the pull between them. Perhaps she would wait and hope for something similar from him now, some explanation for why he had to keep away.
That he didn't was a sign she would know how to read.
"But you told me that Imrahil said you could court her if she does refuse that boy. I could go and tell her how it is... that she does have options", Éowyn offered.
"How is that different from my talking to her? Imrahil would still see you as my messenger", he pointed out wearily.
Her eyes flashed dangerously.
"I can speak for myself."
"Sister, I'm well aware. But while Imrahil is usually a reasonable man, this is not just a matter of reason for him, it's also emotional. It's deeply personal. I don't want either of us to provoke him, because it's well within his rights to command his daughter to marry that boy. As long as he lets her choose freely, then... then there's at least a slim chance that she will refuse", he said, even though he didn't truly believe that she was going to turn Aegdir down.
"Surely there must be something that can be done", Éowyn tried anxiously. He was not surprised that she felt so strongly about this: him settling down happily was her dear wish, and this was the first instance where he had shown any real interest in doing so. His sister knew him. She was well aware that it would be difficult for him to recover from this setback, because usually, it was not easy for him to open his heart – at least not to the feeling which this one lady had so deftly and naturally brought out. As if his heartstrings were tuned just for her to play.
"If there is, then I would gladly hear it", he said, although he was certain he had no choice but to sit back and let Lady Lothíriel go.
Éowyn pressed against his arm and they stopped, now standing outside the gates of the manor house. Around them, the wood was green and fair, and sunlight filtered gently through leaves. His sister looked up at him with a sad smile.
"My darling brother. You just had to choose the one woman who is not available."
He guffawed.
"When have things ever gone easily and smoothly for me?" he asked her dryly.
She met his gaze, and he saw the dampness in her eyes. Then Éowyn let out an unhappy little sound, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a bone-crushing hug.
With the sheer effort of her will, Lothíriel was able to keep her feelings hidden and spend a moderately pleasant time with Aegdir as they walked by the river. It helped her not to think too much of him, or worry over what she had done to offend the man. Whether because Aegdir somehow sensed her underlying sadness and was attempting to cheer her up, or because he was just working his charms on her, he was being very pleasant, even amusing.
She let him even make her laugh a couple of times, and wondered if this was going to be her life. Maybe it could be tolerable. There would be companionship, and she would have a great household to tend to. They would be able to visit Faramir and Éowyn fairly often, and Minas Tirith would be close, too. The Lord and Lady of Lossarnarch would be summoned there often. After some time, once they had settled down, they might take young children of nobility to foster in their home, like her father did in Dol Amroth. Such a life would keep her busy, even content.
And yet... she knew that she would wonder. She would think about the green lands and bright horses running free on the fields. It would be long before dreams of golden hair and keen dark eyes would leave her. King Éomer was sure to visit the White City frequently as well – she would have to meet him occasionally. At some point, she expected he would bring his wife as well. Already she thought of that woman and what she would be like, if she'd be able to meet her without resenting her.
Indeed, what are other lights when the Sun is gone?
Lothíriel thought this was as good a time as any, and she could give Aegdir her answer right now. She knew it would make him very pleased. But somehow the time didn't feel right, and at any rate, he had been courting her only a few days, and maybe Éowyn still could tell her something about what had twisted everything so wrong. It wouldn't hurt to wait a little more, and perhaps at the ball, the very first one Éowyn and Faramir were going to host as Lady and Lord of Emyn Arnen, would be a good occasion for accepting the young man's proposal.
When they were walking back, the atmosphere had electrified at the manor house. New guests had begun to arrive, most of them from Minas Tirith. Still more would arrive the next day to attend the first ball this side of Anduin had seen in a very long time. The new arrivals once more turned the house upside down and filled it with noise. Father insisted on introducing her to several venerable lords along with their formidable ladies, and a few young rising nobles who had got positions in King Elessar's court either because their sires had fallen in the war, or because society had come back to life now that there was a peace in land and a new sovereign who had need for officials and courtiers. Several young ladies of the court had come as well; they way some of them craned their necks to look about the company and then frowned in disappointment when a certain king was not to be spotted was telling.
Clearly, Aegdir was not the only one in the courting mood.
This whirlwind went on until lunch. There were introductions, tours of the grounds, finding lodgings for guests, servants running up and down with travel chests and the new arrivals settling down. Somehow Éowyn kept all the threads securely in her hands, showing nothing but a sunny countenance to the company even when impossible requests were made or someone was not satisfied with their room. She invited the guests to garden for the meal, and instead of setting a single table there, many chairs had been brought out and the lunch consisted of cold meats, fresh salad, a variety of excellent cheeses and other delicacies.
King Éomer, King Elessar and Faramir were the last to join the party – they had been closeted for the morning, probably talking of the orc hunt. Their arrival created quite the stir among the company, especially the new guests. King Elessar was the picture of congeniality, but his Rohirric friend seemed uncomfortable, though what few words Lothíriel heard from his mouth were perfectly polite. But Aegdir chose seats away from the centre of attention, and Lothíriel was silently glad for it. She did not need to sit next to the young king, watch how he was besieged from every direction, and feel her own despair growing a little bit with each fawning smile thrust upon him.
Thankfully, Aegdir provided her with ample distraction, chatting away lightly. A couple of the younger lords, named Faundir and Crabanor, also came to join them and Aegdir was quick to introduce them to her. She was soon told how they had visited the young Lord of Lossarnarch only this spring and spent several delightful days hunting in his woods. Outwardly, they resembled him a good deal, though it was mostly in how they behaved and dressed. Crabanor was of an old Númenórean line, which his looks also betrayed, but Faundir was more closely descended of the old people that lived on these shores before the fall of Elenna. She smiled at the appropriate parts as she listened to them, but a few times, her eyes were drawn away to where he sat, bright and golden. Her heart ached.
In the middle of the meal, one of the Rohirric Riders came to speak to King Éomer. The blond man whispered quietly into his lord's ear and the young king looked serious as he listened. She saw him frown, and then he spoke to the Rider under his breath. The man nodded and quickly made his way outside.
King Éomer stood from his seat and glanced around himself.
"I beg your pardon, but I must leave your eminent company for a while. One of my company's horses has taken an injury, and I must go tend to the animal. I trust you will excuse me for the time being", he announced, nodded his head to King Elessar, who looked serious, and then strode swiftly the same way as the Rider who had just spoken to him. His sudden departure caused some conversation in the party. It was mostly neutral things, although one of the older noble ladies seemed to think it was a hideous thing to announce in company.
"How impolite to leave the party just to look at some dumb animal. You would think it beneath the dignity of a lord so elevated", agreed Crabanor, Aegdir's friend whose home was in northern Lebennin.
Lothíriel cast him one of her icier looks.
"That horse took injury while his Rider was defending this very home and deserves all care and attention he is given. But kindness is not a gesture that must be earned.I should think that caring for injured creatures, even dumb animals, is not beneath anyone's dignity", she said and rose to her feet. She stepped forward, not sure at first of where she was going, until she decided to head for the table where the dishes were set. Without really looking she picked a few bits and pieces, some sugared almonds and a small chunk of cheese, on her plate. But when she turned, her eyes fell on Éowyn's face. The White Lady's expression was open and honest, much like her brother's when he didn't hide behind his king's face; Lothíriel thought Éowyn seemed appreciative, even admiring.
Lothíriel did not return to Aegdir and his friends' company, but took the chair which King Éomer had left empty. She did so barely seeing around herself, and almost startled when she found herself next to King Elessar. She was certain she had just breached protocol by deigning to sit so close to the sovereign without being invited to, but he was smiling at her.
"Well spoken, my lady. It is good to stand up for those who are not present to defend themselves. And you are right. A king is first and foremost a servant who gives thought to all goodly creatures, however small", he said in warm tones.
Warmth rose up her neck to her cheeks and she stared at her plate in embarrassment.
"I just thought King Éomer doesn't deserve such abuse", she said softly.
"You care for him, do you not?" asked King Elessar, much to her surprise. What interest did he have in the matter?
She shrugged and kept her face level. There was no way she was going to let him see her heartache – she couldn't possibly embarrass herself so in the eyes of her liege-lord.
"He is a friend of my family and a good man besides", she merely answered. King Elessar seemed to notice her reluctance to speak more of this, and so he didn't probe further. Instead, he asked her to tell him about Dol Amroth. She was glad for the distraction, although she quickly realised he had actually visited her home a long time ago. She recalled the tales of his many travels and wondered, was there a place on this Middle-earth that King Elessar had not seen? Even so, he still had many questions about the city by the sea, and with his pleasant conversation, she was able to forget about the dull, slow ache in her chest.
When the meal was finished and everyone were standing up in a buzz of conversations and laughter, Aegdir approached Lothíriel, herding his friend Crabanor with him. The young lord's usually smiling face was stern as he pushed the other man before him. Once they reached Lothíriel, Aegdir was first to speak.
"My lady, Lord Crabanor here has something to say to you", he announced and cast a severe look at his friend.
Lord Crabanor cleared his throat.
"I want to apologise for my unkind and thoughtless words. You were right to rebuke me, my lady. Please forgive me my lack of manners", he said and bowed to her.
Lothíriel doubted the young man from Lebennin would have thought himself to apologise to her, and she got the feeling that he did not truly feel sorry – or, maybe he was sorry he had insulted her, but did not actually believe his careless words were untrue. Either way, she decided not to pursue it further. Lord Crabanor was only a minor lord with more bravado than fight in him. King Éomer probably ate the likes of him for breakfast.
So she cast her smile at Aegdir, who had at least known that an apology was due. But she directed words at the offender.
"Your apology is accepted. Still, I would bid you to remember whose home you are visiting. Lady Éowyn is very fond of her brother and you would do well to apologise to her as well", Lothíriel said. She couldn't deny she felt a tiny bit of satisfaction to see how he blanched. Clearly he was not certain that the Slayer of the Witch-king's smiting days were yet truly over.
Aegdir looked a little bit unnerved as well, but he recovered quickly and smiled at her once more.
"My lady, we were talking about going out for a ride. It's such a fine weather for it, no?" he offered. Indeed, the sun was rising high and it was warm without being too hot. Now that the house was so full of guests, the idea of some fresh air was tempting.
"That would be lovely", she agreed, "though I don't have a horse of my own here."
"Perhaps your lord cousin could lend one from his stables?"
"I'll ask him", she replied.
Faramir gladly conceded to her request and immediately sent a word to the stables to prepare a mount for her. Lothíriel and Aegdir with his friends agreed to meet outside in half an hour's time, as they all needed to change into riding attire before heading out. So she made her way upstairs to change dresses. Thankfully, she had packed one of her riding gowns for the journey and also her riding boots. Wryly she suspected Aegdir and his companions would not appreciate her appearing in tunic and breeches or riding astride, like she usually did back in Dol Amroth. It would surely cause a scandal, especially among some of the older and more conservative guests. Knowing this, she had also trained to be comfortable with a side-saddle and riding skirts. Still, she couldn't imagine King Éomer taking offence if she rode astride. Only this morning, the idea would have entertained her, but now it only brought the familiar sting with it.
Having changed clothes and her hair neatly braided, Lothíriel hurried back downstairs. Half an hour had almost gone by already and the others were probably waiting for her. In the entrance hall, she saw her father talking quietly with Erchirion. Her brother cast her a smile, but he left their father's side when she approached.
Father turned to look at her. His face was calm, but his eyes held a curious look.
"Dear daughter, do you have a moment?" he asked her.
"I have half a moment, Father. Lord Aegdir and his friends are waiting for me outside. He asked me to go riding with them, and Faramir promised to lend me one of the horses", she answered.
"Be sure to take a couple of Swan Knights with you", he said, though it was mostly out of habit; he knew well she wasn't foolish enough to go riding with an unrelated group of men without guards.
She flashed him a half-smile.
"Of course I will, Father", she answered and glanced at the doorway. He was regarding her with a look in his eyes she couldn't easily name. She asked, "What is it you had in mind?"
"Never you mind, daughter. Go ahead and enjoy yourself. It's a beautiful day", he told her and gently patted her shoulder. She quickly tiptoed to kiss his cheek and then hurried outside.
Lord Aegdir and his friends were already there, dressed in riding outfits that were no less fine than what they had worn at lunch. She felt suddenly very self-conscious; while her blue and grey riding gown was by no means a rag, it was still very plain compared to the beautifully embroidered coats of her companions, glittering with gold and silver thread. If Aegdir thought her attire too common for her rank, he was tactful enough to hide it, but she didn't miss the critical looks she received from his two friends. Her heart fell to think these were his friends, and wondered if they visited him often. She wasn't sure she would tolerate it very much, if she were to marry the Lord of Lossarnarch.
But it wasn't Aegdir's fault if his friends were pompous little pricks – she felt both shocked and pleased to have dared to call them so, if only in her thoughts – for he had been "just" the second son of the Lord of Lossarnarch. He wouldn't have been friends with the heirs of the leading families, and only the other day, he had made it clear he hadn't travelled much in Gondor. She couldn't blame him for being stuck with pampered fools.
She decided to act as if she had not noticed the looks given to her riding gown. In the saddle, it didn't matter what you were wearing; even if you had the Nauglamír draped around your neck, it wouldn't make you a better rider.
"Shall we get going, then?" she asked, directing her words mostly to Aegdir.
"Absolutely", he replied, wearing an excited smile on his features. Perhaps this was the more genuine part of him underneath the finery. At least, she hoped so.
Faramir had provided her with a beautiful white mare that looked at first demure and shy, but would soon prove to be a feisty little thing that was a delight to handle. Her cousin had chosen well. Once she was in saddle and they were moving, Lothíriel could tell the mare would gladly have complied to a faster pace, which Faramir had perhaps considered as well. But she also had to be careful around the other riders.
Aegdir was indeed a fine horseman: he handled his steed well and looked comfortable in the saddle. The horse responded quickly to his commands and directions. Clearly, his reputation as an accomplished sportsman was rightly earned.
Same could not be said of his friends. They had more enthusiasm than skill, and no particular concern for their own or their companions' safety. Their horses were fine and tall, at least on Gondorian standards, but also a little nervous and she quickly saw they were never completely under the control of their masters, although Crabanor generously used what she recognised to her horror as a whip. For his sake, she hoped that none of the Rohirrim would see him using it. Either way, much of the ride Lothíriel had to concentrate on keeping some distance between herself and the ill-behaving steeds of her riding companions – although she supposed the riders were the ones behaving badly, not the poor, nervous animals. Her mare tossed her head and whinnied, as if to announce her own disapproval. Lothíriel patted her neck and leant down to whisper in Sindarin, "I know, my friend. I know."
As a result, their ride was not as enjoyable to her as she had expected. They made some way down by the side of the river, where a narrow path travelled southwards. The hooves of Éowyn and Faramir's horses had already worn it down and it would have been a pleasant way to ride, if all Lothíriel's companions had been as competent as Aegdir and herself. She shuddered to think what King Éomer would make of this display, and hoped that they didn't come across him during their ride. She did not believe he would judge any of them favourably. And that whip – Elbereth, she could actually picture him breaking it in little pieces and shoving the bits down Crabanor's throat.
Aegdir seemed to notice how uncomfortable she was and as the other two men thrashed ahead – their riding could not be described with any other word – he shot her an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry about this, but they insisted. Next time, maybe one of your brothers might want to join us?" he offered so that his friends wouldn't hear.
"Hopefully", she answered, managing to give him a pained smile.
She was relieved when Aegdir suggested they should turn back, and Lothíriel purposefully put some distance between herself and Aegdir's two young lord did so as well. After that, it wasn't half bad, although they had to ride slowly for the most part.
Crabanor and Faundir hurried ahead soon enough, seemingly caught in some kind of a race; she hoped they wouldn't ride their horses into the river and be swept away by Anduin. Biting her lip, she wondered what she should do. She badly wanted to tell somebody that these two were not kind to their animals – they should not be allowed to own horses and even less touch one. But there seemed to be little she could do. They would certainly not listen to her complaints. Both men hailed from Lebennin, where neither her father or Faramir had authority, and as lords, Crabanor and Faundir could own a hundred horses if their coin purses allowed it. Would King Elessar lend his ear to her? At least based on their conversation at lunch, she believed that he agreed with her.
Because she and Aegdir had followed behind at a slower pace, she did not see what caused the confrontation. By the time they reached the others, the scene had already started, and Crabanor was arguing with King Éomer. Apparently, the Lord of Rohan and his sister had also gone out riding, and were just about to return to the manor house, when they had come across the two young men. Either Crabanor had tried to provoke the King, or his use of the whip had caught the horse-lord's attention – or both. All the same, the atmosphere was already very tense and it was getting worse still. The two men, both mounted, were shooting glares at one another, and Éowyn was frowning at them both.
Had she not felt the tension in the air, she might almost have felt amused at how different the three men looked. Two of them were dressed in fine, glittering riding attires and using new and intricately adorned saddles and reins, as if they were Elven lords passing through a deep forest. One was arrayed in simple buckskin trousers and linen shirt, sleeves rolled up, and while his saddle and reins were beautiful make, they were also well-worn (and thus probably much more comfortable). Yet though the King of Rohan was arrayed simply and plainly, his form was proud and strong, his horse was completely in his control, and there was confidence and easiness in his every movement that the two lords in all their finery could only envy. Not to mention, their docile geldings, fine though they were in Gondorian standards, did not compare to the King's great warhorse, bred and trained on the vast free plains of the North and a veteran of many battles. In all their glitter and elegance, the two young lords looked like children lost in the woods who had by chance encountered Oromë the Huntsman himself
"My lords, what is going on?" she asked as she brought her mare to a stop. The road that lead to the house was too narrow for so many horses: the King's steed and Crabanor's mount were both tall animals and were standing nearly face to face, effectively blocking the passage. Éowyn and her horse were further ahead, but she had turned back, and Faundir was flanking his friend on his right side. Crabanor's left side was closest to her and Aegdir, who was right next to her.
"My lady, I am sorry you have to see this. I was merely telling Lord Crabanor what I think of his horsemanship and the abuse of his steed", said King Éomer stiffly, glancing at her briefly.
"Your opinion is not needed, my lord!" Crabanor snapped angrily, glaring daggers at the young king. His hostility towards this man bewildered her greatly. Did he not understand how much Gondor owed to King Éomer and his people? And even disregarding the fact that Gondor was still standing because of the actions and sacrifices of this man and his family, he was a foreign monarch, allied to King Elessar, and to disrespect him could have serious consequences for the young man.
Something about it, perhaps his loud voice and anxious shifting in the saddle, unnerved the already restless gelding. This whole ride, Crabanor had been handling the animal poorly, making him more and more nervous. King Éomer must have noticed it immediately. On top of it, the horse must be sensing the atmosphere, which made him even more agitated. So he sidestepped, moving closer to the Rohirric king and his stallion and bumping dangerously near. The tall grey tossed his great head and stomped his large hooves – a warning sign if she ever saw one. Lothíriel's mare also moved anxiously underneath her, as if there was something in the air that was infecting all the steeds.
"Keep your distance, boy! Firefoot is not a docile draught animal, but a trained warhorse. He will not stand your blundering about him!", King Éomer warned, raising his voice.
"Lord Crabanor!" Lothíriel exclaimed in concern, already seeing the mistake coming before she even knew what it would be.
"You keep your distance, lord!" Crabanor snapped, and in a single, tragically misjudged flick of his wrist, he lashed his whip against Firefoot's flank.
In a few seconds, several things happened. The great warhorse screamed, there was no other way to describe the sound he made, and then the animal snapped at Crabanor's gelding and pushed forward in an abrupt movement. That poor animal, already beside himself with anxiety from bad handling by his rider, jumped and reared, almost crashing at Lothíriel and Aegdir. Had she been any closer, she wouldn't have been able to avoid the collision.
She exclaimed as her mare nearly flew into panic. The poor thing also reared and danced underneath her, and she could feel the animal was seconds away from breaking into crazed gallop. She needed all her skill and balance to stay atop the horse and to calm her down. Rapid Sindarin flew from her lips, words of calm and comfort, as she pressed tightly against the mare's back, and squeezing the pommel of her saddle with her knee as hard as she could. It was a miracle that this scene didn't turn into a full stampede.
And even as the mare frisked underneath her and the air around her was full of sounds of frightened horses, one voice rose above all others: "Lothíriel!"
She couldn't risk a glance at him as her mare still was not settling down, but by the time the steed finally halted by the side of the road, panting and sweating, she saw King Éomer coming through the mayhem: his warhorse was tall and had greater bulk than the rest of the horses, and had not lost his nerve even as the other steeds reared and jumped around him.
The King's face was white as bone and his eyes were wide as he quickly approached her.
"Are you all right, my lady?" he asked her. His voice was tight and low and he stared at her with such a look in his eyes that it made her shiver. Never had a man who was not her family gazed at her with emotion so open and bold... except for him, of course, but even none of their earlier interactions compared to this.
"I am fine, Sire", she replied, gently caressing her mare's neck to ease off the last tremors of fright and nervousness. His stallion, which had only moments before shown how truly his name was given, was now gently nuzzling and prodding the mare with his nose – a picture of tame gentleness. How well the master and the horse suited one another! She nearly laughed nervously at her observation.
He stared at her for a moment. Slowly, colour returned to his face, although his knuckles were still white from how hard he was holding his reins.
"I didn't know you were a horsewoman", he bluntly stated.
Lothíriel gave him an embarrassed little smile.
"It's nothing to boast of before the King of Rohan", she said as if it were nothing, but he didn't seem convinced.
"I would disagree. It's certainly something to be able to stay on your horse like you just did and calm her down", he pointed out. "Are you certain you are well? Should I send for your father or your brothers?"
"Truly, I am quite all right", she reassured him. At last, she glanced about herself and was able to see the rest of the scene. Aegdir had managed to stay in saddle and Faundir as well, although in his case it seemed mostly a coincidence, but Crabanor had fallen off. Fortunately for him, tall grass by the side of the road had somewhat softened his fall and he didn't seem injured. At least he was quietly moaning.
Either way, she delicately noted, "In fact, I think others are maybe not as well off as I am."
A fierce look returned to the King's face. He dismounted in a swift, sleek motion and with two steps, he was before Crabanor, who lay sprawled on the grass, groaning softly. Quickly he grasped the young man by shoulders and in one mighty heave, he lifted him on his feet. She wondered if it were his anger that gave him such strength, or if King Éomer naturally was as tremendously strong as it appeared.
"Are you out of your mind, boy? You could have got someone killed! How dare you act in this way in the presence of the Lady of Dol Amroth?" he growled. The sound was gravelly but loud; she didn't think she had ever heard anything more threatening. The look on his face made her shudder. He had been angry before, but it had nothing against this. He looked ready to tear the dazed young man into tiny little pieces right there in the middle of the road.
Crabanor just groaned in answer, and the King took a tighter hold of the front of his now rumpled coat. For a moment, Lothíriel was certain he was going to throw the lad into a bush, or worse. Aegdir and Faundir dared not to make a sound, perhaps because they knew Crabanor well deserved any punishment he got, or because they did not want the King to notice and direct his wrath at them. However, it was now that Éowyn finally intervened. She spoke in Rohirric straight to her brother and her voice was strong, but not ungentle. His eyes shot in her direction and the siblings exchanged a few words between themselves. Despite the tense situation, Lothíriel couldn't help but admire the sound of their native tongue, and how it rolled almost like a song in some parts.
The furious look on King Éomer's face subsided and made way to frustrated anger. Once again he directed his glare at the young man.
"I would do well if I took that whip and let you have a taste of it. Unfortunately, it's not under my judgement. King Elessar will deal with you – and my lady sister shall decide whether she will tolerate such a thankless, brutish guest", he growled, shoving the still dazed young lord back. Crabanor almost fell to the ground again, but his friend Faundir had now dismounted and caught him before he collapsed.
The King shot a glare at Faundir and snapped, "You, take this cretin to the healer. If I ever hear of you two abusing horses again, I shall not be this lenient."
His tone tolerated no argument, even if Faundir looked like disobedience was the furthest thing from his mind.
"Yes, Sire", he piped. Both he and Crabanor, previously so full of confidence and bravado, seemed somehow deflated.
King Éomer leapt in his saddle once more and his stallion snorted, as if to make it clear how deeply he shared his rider's contempt of these events. But the horse-lord nodded quietly at Lothíriel before he trotted to his sister's side, and the two siblings rode back towards the manor house. Embarrassed silence fell among the four who remained. Lothíriel stared at the King's retreating back and thought of how worried she had been that they would come across him, and that he would judge them for the fools they were. She felt shamed by association, even if he had called her a horsewoman – clearly a compliment when coming from him.
Lothíriel swallowed hard and glanced at Aegdir, whose mouth was a thin, straight line. Red spots glowed on his cheeks and he didn't seem to want to meet her eyes.
"Why does your friend keep antagonising King Éomer in this way? Why did he act so foolishly? He must realise King Elessar will not be pleased when he hears about this. He could be in serious trouble", she asked him quietly. Faundir was helping his friend to mount again. Whether the young man was in need of help because he had taken an injury, or was simply too rattled to even remember how to get on a horse, she wasn't sure.
"Crabanor likes to appear as a better horseman than he actually is, and I suppose he can't stand King Éomer because he can't hide his... lack of skill from him. But that's not all. He holds a grudge against the Lord of Rohan. You see, he loved his father very dearly, but the old man died defending Minas Tirith. Crabanor blames King Éomer for tardiness; had Rohirrim arrived sooner, his father might still be living", Aegdir explained, speaking under his breath, although she suspected it was unnecessary, considering the frame of mind Crabanor was in currently.
"That is hardly reasonable or fair", she pointed out.
"Grief rarely is, my lady. I suppose it's easier for him to cling to anger than to face the truth."
That was surprisingly mature and thoughtful of him, Lothíriel considered. Either way, she thought Crabanor had acted very stupidly and she would be surprised if he wasn't sent home before nightfall.
Faundir had finally helped his friend on the horse and the company began their silent way back to the home of Éowyn and Faramir. She did not speak even with Aegdir. Rather, she thought of King Éomer. This morning, he had been so cold and distant with her. And yet... the moment that chaos broke out and she was nearly thrown off by her horse, his first thought was of her. The way he had called her name, the distress and terror in his voice, still made her shiver. He had forced his way through a mayhem of startled horses just to get to her. And how he had stared at her, as if struggling to convince himself that she was unharmed...
He did care. So why wouldn't he let her close to him, except in that unguarded moment of relief?
To be continued.
A/N: Here is an update! I hope you all enjoy it. :)
This was a very easy chapter to write and I finished it fairly quickly. I will admit I wasn't originally thinking more guests would be joining the party, or that there would be a ball, but that's the way this chapter started to lean and I decided to go with it - especially because of one particular scene that I had rattling around in my head, and which I will now be able to write. ;) Also, letting Lothíriel meet some of Aegdir's friends seemed like another opportunity for showing how poorly she and him would match each other. Furthermore, I thought it a nice addition that Éomer got to see Lothíriel handling her horse extremely well in a demanding situation - that should be very interesting from his point of view!
In the reviews of the earlier chapter, there were a few comments about Imrahil's refusal to let Éomer court Lothíriel, and that he should just let it happen. Someone even claimed that he was being irrational. I understand these thoughts to an extent, because we all root for Lothíriel and Éomer and want to see them happy, but I still think some may have ignored the fact that Imrahil's hands are tied because of the promise he made to Aegdir. He gave his word that Aegdir could court her before anybody else (and he had no way of knowing that Éomer would suddenly show his interest in her), and if he went back on it, he would risk the chance of antagonising Aegdir and turning him into an enemy. Aegdir would be well within his rights to call Imrahil a liar an oath-breaker, which in turn would undermine his position and authority among the Gondorian nobility, put his trustworthinessto question and possibly cause serious political unrest. There's also the question of how it would look to his peers if Imrahil immediately went back on his word when he got sights of a better deal for himself and his daughter. Éomer could maybe pull rank if he wanted to, but honestly, I can't see him treating a friend like that.
Imrahil also operates on insufficient information. He doesn't know Aegdir lied to further his own interests, or that Lothíriel isn't actually that interested the young man. He has not witnessed her with Éomer or seen that they are in fact a much better match. At the point in which Éomer comes to him with the request to court her, Imrahil has every reason to think it's one-sided and as far as he knows, she's getting on perfectly well with Aegdir. Éomer himself is partly at fault: he is too impatient when he goes to speak to Imrahil. He should have truly talked things through with Lothíriel and maybe even asked her to come along to talk to her father.
Not to mention, considering the noble society of Gondor as medieval based, Imrahil is being very liberal with Lothíriel: Aegdir asked for her hand and he could have just decided to tell her to marry the guy, but instead, all he promised was that Aegdir would get a chance with her before anyone else. He's leaving the ultimate decision to Lothíriel, letting her choose after her own heart. Granted, at this point he might feel some degree of disappointment over it if she refuses, but that's again because he doesn't know all the facts. In this chapter, he does have suspicions after she defends Éomer (hence his coming to talk to her when she's heading out for the ride), but he interprets her haste to go as eagerness to be with Aegdir – which is why he backs down and doesn't get to ask her questions about why she felt strongly enough to sstand up for him.
Also I think you don't just get to choose when you keep your promises and when not; to be loyal, trustworthy and faithful sometimes means you have to live up to your word even when it's inconvenient and hard or when it means letting down somebody else. We know Éomer is the better man out of the two, and Imrahil probably thinks so too, but that doesn't mean Aegdir should have his trust abused. That would make Imrahil quite an unprincipled man, which he truly is not. And anyway, people just don't always act in the way we want them to - they have their own goals and perspectives and reasonings, which sometimes just don't align with our own.
Not to mention, at least to me the story as a whole is more satisfying if there's at least some struggling on the way to the happy ending!
I hope you and yours stay safe out there.
Thank you for reading and reviewing! Let me know what you think.
EStrunk - While his lie was spontaneous - and he probably wasn't thinking much about the consequences at the time - I think he's smart enough to realise it's going to be a problem at some point. But most likely he believes he can somehow sort it out with her, and anyway, if they are at that point married, she can't stay mad at him for the rest of her life for one small lie, can she? That's about his reasoning.
Glad to hear there are readers who do see where Imrahil is coming from!
fanfictionstakesawaymylife - She's definitely getting more reasons to confront him, yes!
jadeddiva - It was a very unfortunate turn of events for them, indeed!
Hobbitpony1 - Glad to hear it! I love it when I'm able to make my readers a little bit anxious. ;)
Rho67 - I'd say Amrothos doesn't actively ship it (unlike Aragorn or Éowyn), but at least he knows which dude he would pick for his sister! Fanfics (mine included) do like to portray him as a carefree type, but I personally think there's much more to him than that. He can be thoughtful and sensitive, and he cares about his sister very much. But at the same time, him being the youngest brother (and not likely to inherit any power), I think it would make him less serious in general.
Yeah, Aegdir really wasn't being very nice when he did that! We'll see how it goes for him. ;)
Cathael - I'm not sure he's generally very controlling - rather, it's more that he can be overbearing, and probably feels threatened by the way she just runs off to meet another man.
ElflingoftheShire - Nope, I'm afraid I'm going to make them work for it! :D
silverswath - Yeah, these two guys are very different compared to one another! I think at this point Éomer is bent on honouring his friend's wishes, and can't see a way out of it. However, both he and Lothíriel may be realising it's not going to be that easy... but I must admit I enjoy the idea of him tossing her in his saddle and racing off very much!
Simplegurl4u - Imrahil probably does think that Éomer is the better man (which he implies when he notes that Aegdir doesn't have his strength), but that is not really a part of his reasoning. The way he sees it, Aegdir has potential and with Lothíriel's help, he could achieve it. He also believes that it would be a way for her to use her own talents in a way she would not be able to if she married some minor noble. Imrahil is certainly biased to think well of Aegdir, and to his knowledge, there is no reason to think Aegdir would demean her - rather, Imrahil expects Aegdir would shape up considerably, if he had a wife like her and was connected to the family of Prince of Dol Amroth.
Hristonostore Onnediel - Indeed they are, but I have to make it a little bit difficult, don't I? ;)
I would say that in the light of how medieval societies work, making alliances between families through marrying off daughters is nothing odd. Imrahil does adore his daughter, but he also has the well-being and interests of his family and people to think of, and from a simply political point of view, she is valuable asset. However, he is being uncommonly lenient with her for allowing her to make the ultimate decision of whether or not she will marry Aegdir - which is precisely because he cares about her and wants to leave her some personal freedom. And Lothíriel accepts this as a part of the duty that comes with her rank.
Jo - He would like to tell her, if he could see a way to do it without letting Imrahil down!
Guest - The course of true love never did run smooth, no? ;)
In this chapter, he does witness her defending Éomer and has some suspicions over it. But when he attempts to approach her, to find out if there maybe is something more to Éomer's request to court her, the unfortunate timing has him backing down again. Sadly, Imrahil takes the way she is hurrying to meet Aegdir and his friends outside as a sign that her defending of Éomer was just common decency, and that she's well on the way to getting comfortable with Aegdir.
I expect there will be more singing at some point or the other, but I haven't figured it out yet!
And fear not - Éomer is going nowhere! But there may still be some doubts and disappointment to get through.
Katia0203 - I don't see how Imrahil could do that without letting Aegdir down (and possibly antagonising him, which could have very unpleasant consequences). It's unfortunate from Éomer's point of view, of course, but he knows he can't ask his friend to break his word.
Lothíriel isn't disallowed from seeing Éomer, and Imrahil certainly didn't tell him to stay completely away from her; it's mostly Éomer's own conclusion, because he knows he can't hold himself back when he's with her. Thus, he judges that he would end up going against Imrahil's wishes whether he meant or not.
Wtiger5 - I guess there are now plenty of reasons to dislike Aegdir. I deliberated how much I would give him unpleasant tendencies. At first, I meant to keep him mostly a neutral character (except for pomposity), but then as I was writing, little negative traits popped up. I would say it's because I want to show that everyone in this story has some information, but not all of it: Imrahil and Lothíriel see one side of Aegdir, Éomer sees maybe another, and same applies to them and their relationships as well. None of them know the full picture like the readers do. It's also deliciously frustrating that we know Aegdir hasn't been playing fair, but nobody knows it so far. ;)
I don't think Imrahil's promise was stupid. It was made in good faith to a dear friend who has died, and then made again to that friend's son. Is it's fault that he didn't know Éomer was going to come along and be interested in Lothíriel? Certainly not. I know we root for Éomer and know he's the better man, but that shouldn't undermine Imrahil's integrity in being a man of his word.
Wondereye - Help is indeed needed, but where it will come from - we'll see!
LH Wordsmith - Éomer is indeed proud of how she handles herself with the horse! Maybe not what you were hoping for, but I hope you like that bit.
I don't know why, but it's always so amusing to imagine Amrothos as an advocate of love for Éomer and Lothíriel, whether it's intentionally or not! :D
0tree0 - Hope you are enjoying the story! Here is a new chapter. :)
mystarlight - Thank you!
JennyVDM - She may have harder time doing her duty after this chapter, but we'll see! ;)