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Lothíriel

He was intimidating man. Or rather, he was a large man. Lothíriel was tall herself, but she lacked the muscles and the personality to own the room as soon as she walked into one. Her husband commanded everyone's attention simply by being present.

He was a just ruler. He admitted his shortcomings freely and also took care not to repeat his mistakes. He listened carefully to the advisors who knew more about trade and farms. He was firm on his decisions, so it meant that he neither gullible nor a fool. Many praised him.

Yet very few noticed the lines of exhaustion on his face. He had dark circles underneath his eyes from lack of sleep and his lips had a characteristic dip from concern. Éowyn told her he barely had any time to mourn for the fallen, including his uncle and cousin. It made her heart ache for this stranger of a husband. He was not a love match and barely gave her much time, but he was gentle with her.

She decided to comfort him in little ways. The tapestries depicting great battles and war disappeared from his bedchamber, replaced by soothing sceneries instead. There was a pan of warm water always ready for him in the fireplace. There were refreshments always ready for consumption in between meeting for him. He never said a word and she never prodded him for praise. It was something she impulsively did. Her father once told her that a man felt well-loved from little things his wife did for him. Lothíriel strove for it.

And one day while she set aside a pitcher of water by his desk, Éomer surprised her by grabbing onto her hand and pressing a kiss on her palm.

"Thank you." He murmured. Gone were circles underneath his eyes. He looked much better than before, gaining some colour and flesh on his cheeks. Lothíriel smiled in answer.