Author's Note:
You may have missed five updates before this.
Éomer
The silence in the bedchamber was heavy and stifling. Éomer wished he could escape it, but doing so was a coward's act. And he had not yet fallen so far.
Lothíriel sat by the blazing fireplace, covered with heavy furs to ward off the chill coming from the open window. She stared at the flames, her tears now dried for nearly an hour. Her eyes were red and swollen and Éomer hated himself for it.
At last, the silence grew so much that Éomer could not take it anymore. He needed something to happen.
"Lothíriel?" He asked hesitantly, softly. He leaned forward, still seated in a large chair across the room. His wife did not move. He hated how she sat in front of him; a beautiful and unapproachable queen.
"Lothíriel, please say something." He was unable to keep the plea from his voice.
Lothíriel stirred at last. She glanced out the window, blinking in mild surprise when she saw darkness.
"The sun has set," Lothíriel said. Éomer's heart ached for her; she sounded like a corpse.
"Yes, my dear."
Lothíriel looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time.
"You're still here," she said.
"Of course. I couldn't leave you here to fend for yourself."
Her eyes suddenly cooled, like ice during a winter's night. He recoiled.
"Your concern is late in coming, my lord." Lothíriel said. She shook off the blanket Éomer had placed on her, letting it slide to the floor.
"Lothíriel-"
"We will not discuss what has happened tonight ever again," Lothíriel picked up the wooden figurine from the table between them. She had it specially made, showing Éomer and Lothíriel with Elfwine between their combined embrace. She studied it briefly, then tossed it carelessly into the fire. Éomer winced.
"I bore you an heir," Lothíriel said, her voice devoid of emotion. "I will appreciate it if you will not touch me again. You may keep your... entertainment if you wish."
"She is not an entertainment," he said sharply and regretted it immediately when Lothíriel's lips trembled. His wife definitely did not need another reminder that he didn't return her affections.
"Be discreet." Lothíriel said as she rose gracefully from the couch. She went to the basin and washed her face and hands there with cold water. "That is all I ask."
"Of course," Éomer agreed. He watched as Lothíriel patted her face dry and grimace at her swollen eyes in the reflection of polished silver.
"Now leave me in peace... husband. I am tired. I must rest."
Her tone brooked no argument. Éomer went slowly to the door. He half-hoped Lothíriel would call him. But she did no such thing. He stopped at the door and turned back. She stood in the middle of their bedchamber, cold and distant. She will never look upon him with warmth again.
Éomer told himself that he had no need of it.
Author's Note:
-I hope I haven't put off too many of you.
-I am simply exploring different aspects of people and the circumstances that they may have gone through like I have done previously during these mini-series.
-This erupted from a discussion where I mainly wondered what would have happened if the marriage in Tolkien's universe mirrored historical royal marriage.
-That's all for now, but I will be coming quite soon with more!
