5. Honor

As Éomer had predicted, Lothíriel's mind ultimately gave over to her body's fatigue and she did sleep, a long and dreamless sleep that she could not easily shake. When she woke, the warm light that flooded her room told her it was nearly midday, a far cry from her customary early mornings. She rubbed the haze of sleep from her eyes, wondering why no one had come to wake her. Perhaps they had tried, but could not rouse her.

She dressed carefully, thoughts of strong hands and gentle words flooding her mind, and ventured to her travails.

She was met with kind greetings, and she apologized sheepishly for her tardiness, but was brushed off. She wondered with some chagrin if she was being met with leniency due to her station, but did not know how to ask. Still, she applied herself with extra fervor to her work, trying to atone for the morning's absence, and it was not until the eventide that she stopped to take stock of herself.

She had hoped to take a quick supper with her cousin, who still convalesced from his wounds in the healing houses, and went to do so, but it was then that she remembered her promise to bring books to Muinor, the boy whose amputated leg she had debrided the day before. She had tended to his leg that afternoon, but he had been asleep, and she had made a note to herself then to make an errand of procuring books for him. So she spun on her heels and ran quickly in search of the little library she knew was contained in one of the corners of the healing houses. It did not have an extensive selection of books but it was a start. Most were quite dry - for what reason she could not decide - who in their convalescence would find pleasure in reading a historical account of medical instruments or a history of the stewards of Gondor, but she did find an account of famous knights of the past age that was written with some style.

"It is a poor present," she said, presenting the book to Muinor, who pushed himself up to seated when he saw her. "But perhaps it will offer you some escape until I can find you better books."

"Thank you," the lad said dutifully, taking the book from her half-heartedly.

"Are you in much pain?" she asked, and he shrugged his shoulders and thumbed through the pages of the offering. She busied herself with checking the bandages on his stump, eyeing Muinor as she did so. He looked resolutely away, a muscle in his jaw working. Poor boy.

"Do you have family, Muinor?" she asked brightly, to distract him.

"My mother, and five brothers and sisters," he said.

"Have they been to see you?"

"Once," Muinor said, "But my brothers and sisters are all younger than ten and she is…. she is busy. Our home was spared, but most of our neighbors' were not."

"Well," Lothíriel said, replacing the bandages and pulling the covers back over him. "I dare to say that you will be able to go home soon. It is early days yet, but everything is healing nicely."

"Sometimes I wish…" he trailed of. She looked up at him with curious eyes. He had caught himself and it seemed too important a thought to let go.

"What?" she pried, wanting him to finish.

"I wish I had died," he said, looking straight at her with those piercing blue eyes, "Straight away in the battle or of infection."

She felt her heart clench at his admission and paused with her hands on the bed, steadying herself. "Muinor."

"I do."

"You will see things differently," she said cautiously, "After a time."

"How do you know?" he asked.

She shook her head, at a loss. "I - I don't. But I know that you are alive, when so many are not. And that has to count for something. Please do not give up hope."

His eyes, which had been so devoid of emotion before, brimmed with tears. "I do not see why I should live, and yet have to live this way."

"It is unfair," she murmured, swallowing, "You have been dealt a heavy burden and if I could change it for you, I would. But I cannot. I can only hope to help you through it."

"To what end?" he exclaimed, "I have no future."

"I will not let you talk this way," she said fiercely, covering his hand with her own, "I shall not allow it."

"Why do you care?"

"It is my duty to care," she said, then shook her head, "Nay, it is my calling to care."

He did not look at her then, and she sighed, squeezing his hand before releasing it. What more could she say or do for him? Her own despair called out to her, and she remembered the moments in the endless chaos, and in the quiet waiting as the armies of the west rode to the Black Gate, when she had wished for death to claim her, for an end to it all, and shook her head gently to clear it and keep the memories at bay.

"You should rest, Muinor. We will talk more tomorrow," she said, and let him be, her heart heavy. She did not know how to help him, and that truth tore at her fiercely. She was learning to mend flesh and heal the body, but there was far too much she did not yet know, namely of how to heal the soul.

The evening went on, and Lothiriel, pulled into treatment of infections and fevers, did not have much time to reflect on Muinor or of much else. She worked late into the night, until at last, her mentor Aerandir took one look at her and noticed she had begun to sway upon her feet and dismissed her firmly. Seeking respite, and not bearing to go back to the confines of her little room, she stepped outside the healing houses onto a terrace lit softly by a few torches and that overlooked the vast plains of the Pelennor, which spanned out into darkness, illuminated only by stars and a pale sliver of moon.

Breathing deep the night air, she removed her head covering and her apron and looked out at the dark outline of the mountains, marveling again, as she always did, that the skies above the jagged peaks were clear and and that a blanket of stars shone brightly across them. For as long as she could remember from her visits to Minas Tirith in her youth, those skies to the east had been shrouded in heavy black cloud.

"Lass."

She nearly jumped out of her skin for she had thought she was alone. She looked towards the sound of the familiar voice. He was sitting on a stone bench and rose to greet her when her eyes found him.

"My lord - Éomer," she managed in surprise. "You startled me."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "It was not my intention."

"You always seem to find me when I least expect you," she said, smoothing her hair self-consciously. Other healers seemed to manage to maintain cool calm brows and pristine garments, when not dealing in blood and gore, but at the end of her shifts she was sweaty and bedraggled.

"Nay, this time it was you who found me, I think," Éomer replied, a smile in his voice.

She nodded and folded her arms across her belly, wanting suddenly to flee - or to run into his arms. She searched the smooth marble tiles beneath her feet for an excuse to leave.

"Lothíriel." Éomer's voice seemed to catch as he said her name. "Are you well?"

"Yes," she said, raising her face to him reluctantly.

"You look quite worn out," he said, and she flushed. She looked him over in turn.

"So do you."

It was true. He was much more put together than she, handsome in a white shirt that billowed out beneath a dark, fine tunic, but his face, even in the shadows, betrayed fatigue and worry. Oh, she wanted to go to him and trail her fingers across the furrows that creased in his brow, to smooth them and caress them into peace. But it would not do. She knew not what he expected of her, or how she should behave. The familiarity they had shared not two days prior was gone, and yet, not gone at the same time.

He chucked then, a quick smile flashing bright in the darkness. "I suppose I must."

"Are you alright?" she asked, "What brought you out here to sit in solitude, so late in the night?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Lothíriel smiled in reluctant agreement, her heart leaping uncomfortably from the way in which he looked at her.

"I am well," Éomer said then, after a time, answering her first query. "Although there is much to be done — my uncle —," he sighed and broke off, as if the mention of the fallen Théoden King was too painful.

She felt the urge to go to him, but resisted it. It would not do to throw herself at him. She understood instinctively that his grief was private and that it was not easy for him to even let her catch a glimpse of it.

"I am gravely sorry for your uncle's passing," she said truthfully, and he raised his eyes to meet hers and looked at her with grateful warmth.

"He was the only thing I had to a father, after my own father returned home on his shield and my mother went mad with grief. From the Aldburg Théoden summoned me and Éowyn to Edoras and raised us as his own alongside Théodred, his son. Now they are reunited, my uncle, my cousin, my mother. But of our house, only myself and my sister remain."

"You have known much loss, Éomer," Lothíriel whispered, "I grieve for you."

"You have an open heart." Éomer took a cautious step closer to her then. "Ah, lass, my body cries out for you, and I would hold you in my arms and never let go, if it were to your liking."

She caught her breath, and indeed, he took her in his arms, but he did not claim her mouth as he might have, only pressing a tender kiss on her brow, before pulling her closer so that her cheek met his shoulder. It was a possessive gesture, the way his hands splayed across her back and drew her close to him so that the lengths of their bodies were flush with one another.

Although she could have stayed there for hours, she resolutely drew away to look at him, as difficult as it was to extricate herself from his comforting and overpowering embrace. "Éomer, you — you speak with much passion, and I would be easily overcome — we must talk, for there is much to say."

"You are right," he said, and he released her slowly, as if it grieved him to let her go. "Forgive me, I should not overstep. Indeed, I should not be carried away and proceed to make love to you. I meant to ask your forgiveness, when next I saw you. And here you are."

"My forgiveness?" she asked, confused.

"I have not treated you as one should a lady of your station," he said carefully, "Had I known who you were, I would never have taken you to bed. I have dishonored you, and I must make amends —"

She laughed then, befuddled. "Why do you think I did not tell you? My station was of little consequence in the thick of battle and in its aftermath, and when there came a chance to experience - passion, to know something of womanhood - you offered, and I took it with both hands. I have no intention of taking you to task for a gift freely given."

He frowned. "But when I came back, and burst into your room - again, I crossed every line and took advantage of you. I did not yet know who you were, no, but I was aware that you were of some noble bloodline, for you had all but told me as much before. And yet still I acted - I treated you like a common —"

"Hold, Éomer," she snapped, annoyed, "You treated me like a woman, and I thank you for it."

He shut his mouth, looking taken aback. "Lothíriel, I wish for you to understand —"

"Nay, I need for you to understand," she interrupted, holding up her hand, "For the first time in my life I have not been treated like some untouchable precious thing. And when you came to me, hot blooded from the battle, you ignited something in me, something wild and tender, and what we gave each other in that moment, and that first night, I at least was glad to give, and I did so with no regrets."

Lothíriel took a breath and studied him, wondering what he thought of her unchecked torrent of words. He was listening raptly, so she continued, watching his face all the while. "And when you did not ask my name, when we lay together the second time, I did not offer to give it, because I knew that the minute I revealed who I was, you would cease to look at me the same way. When you finally did ask me my name, I could not give it, for — for so many reasons, but my first instinct was right. Now that you know my name and title, you still look at me with desire and tenderness, but there is a carefulness to it, Éomer. You will never see me as the girl in the healing houses with whom you found solace, but as a princess, to be treated a certain way."

He lowered his eyes, but did not deny it. "I am sorry," he said then, "I did not see how keenly you felt the constraints of your station. I did not think."

"And this you surely know - I knew that once I gave my name, this dream we have been living, this wartime affair, would be irrevocably changed. There are consequences to our actions, Éomer, and we must face it. We are not entirely free to choose our destinies, now, you and I. As well you know, or you would not feel so strongly about my honor and yours."

He nodded. "Whether you think I have, or not, in the eyes of others I have dishonored you. I would make things right."

"In the eyes of others, who know nothing, nothing has passed between us," she said, wondering now what he meant by making things right, when she had made it quite clear that she had no expectations of him. "No one need ever know. There is nothing that can be made right, for in my eyes there has been nothing wronged. But you are right, we are no longer two strangers lost in the dark finding comfort in the last calm before the storm - we each have obligations - and whatever momentary happiness we have found pales in the light of duty."

"Happiness?" Éomer's gaze turned quizzical, then intentional. "I know little of what happiness in this new day and age will mean, but I think that I may have found something that makes me very happy, and I would cling to that happiness if I can."

She blushed at his intimation but fought to maintain reason, for although he was circling around the question, she felt she knew what he was about to say, and it frightened her. "Éomer. You are now King. It may be that you are not free to seek your own happiness when it comes to your future, when it comes to choosing a queen, siring heirs - you must do what your country asks of you. As must I - although I confess that I would rather remain here in the healing houses then return to my old life, a princess in a cage…" she trailed off, not noticing that his own gaze had turned rather stormy.

"I have not spoken of marriage to you," he responded, "Although I… was prepared to ask it, Lothíriel, for you are the daughter of a man whose friendship I value, and I have a duty to marry you, and were you to express that you wished me to marry you to make amends, I would have done it gladly and without question. It would be the right thing to do, and in truth I ought to do it." She raised her eyes to his, not exactly surprised, but astonished at his candor and his keen sense of honor. He sighed, lifting a hand as if to cup her cheek, but he appeared to think better of it, and dropped his hand.

"I am not so blind to you, however, and to the nature of your soul as as to have presumed… Still I knew I must ask it all the same, to be honorable," he admitted. He looked at her then with a deep intense fondness that was also quite sad. "You did not ever strike me as a woman who would demand such things from me - I see a quiet fire in you that, for all its quietness, seems to burn more brightly and strangely than anything I have ever seen in a woman. Your path may be different indeed, and it may be that what has passed between us is something that you wish to leave behind in the memory of the war. And I… I would understand that, Lothíriel, if that were the case."

These observations of her and her path surprised her and made her feel warm, but also caused a twinge of pain. He seemed to see her more clearly than she even saw herself and his words rang true in her heart. He spoke quite frankly that he would understand if she wanted to leave their liaison behind in the past, and she flushed. "I do not know," she said slowly, "I do not know what I wish, Éomer, standing here before you. But you are right that I do not see how you and I could move on as we are, that perhaps what has passed between us was a foolish — that it was a decision made in impossible circumstances, and that we should leave it behind."

"Foolish, Lothíriel?" His hand came now to raise her chin, quite firmly. He searched her face. "Was it really so foolish, the way it felt when we were together?"

She shook her head under his scrutinizing gaze. "Not foolish, but not wise, either."

He nodded as if satisfied and released her. "I would not propose marriage to you here and now and expect an answer. Nor could I do so without seeking counsel and the blessing of our father. Know that I would not presume to do so without such a blessing… but I would not seek that blessing unless I knew that it was also what you wanted. It is clear that you and I are strangers, still, in many ways. And yet, I think we have shared an intimacy that goes beyond that which our bodies have shared. Is that not so?"

She looked up at him, surprised, but not in disagreement.

"Is that not so, Lothíriel?" he asked again, searching her face intently. She swallowed and nodded. Yes. They had shared more than the intimacy of the flesh.

"You have all but told me you do not wish for me to save your proverbial honor, and I will," he laughed then at the play of his words, "Honor that request, at least if I can. But at least, let us speak of it! I do not do so lightly. Surely you are not unaware of the fact that you and I would be thought a well-suited match. You are a high princess of Gondor. Yours is a station fit to wed a King. The alliance between our countries would be strengthened by our union, and the wealth of Dol Amroth would do much good for Rohan - a country that I must find a way now to rebuild. Our union would be looked on with kind eyes, I do believe."

"You have thought a good deal about this," she said, surprised at his level-headed assessment, and strangely hurt, as if he now weighed her as a political move. But of course this hurt was irrational. He was a king. It was, as she herself had said, his duty to consider it.

"Can you blame me?" he asked her, his eyes growing once more tender and knowing, as if he somehow could tell exactly what she was thinking. He had this effect on her, making her feel as if he could read her mind just by looking at her, and it unnerved her. He stepped closer to her again, and this time his hand really did come up to caress her cheek, the other hand sliding around her waist and pulling her tightly to him once more. "Lothíriel, I have thought about you often since the battle was won, and increasingly more so as the hours and days have gone by. If there were not so many other demands upon my thoughts, I daresay I would think of you nearly every moment. Forgive me for it, for I know it has only been…moments….between us, but I would have you know the depth of my feeling for you - even if you seem to hold me at a careful distance and will not allow me to know what you truly feel for me, even now."

She bit her lip and let him bring her forehead to meet his, wanting to succumb and let him woo her into accepting the not-offer. Oh, to wed him. To have him, her warrior, beside her for life. To warm his bed each night, to bear him children, little golden haired lion cubs like their father - But to wed him was not only to have him, to be his wife alone. It was also to wed his crown and his country. She would be queen. It meant she would give up her newfound work in the healing houses, and the freedom and fulfillment she had begun to find there. It meant a return, in many ways, to everything she had only just now begun to discover was a life she did not want, a life she had now all but determined she would flee.

Éomer tipped her chin up and kissed her, then, deeply, and she yielded to the kiss, for her own body had ached for it. He lifted her up, then, so her feet barely brushed the ground. When he ended the kiss, they both were breathless. When he set her back on her feet, she had to cling to him tightly to regain her footing for her knees nearly gave out upon his release of her. He smiled at her then. "I will not press you any more for answers, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," he said, "For I see there is torment in your heart, and it grieves me, but I am content to know for now that when I kiss you, your knees grow weak."

She felt herself flush red at his teasing, and he leaned his forehead against hers for a moment, caressing her chin briefly with his thumb, then set her at a distance, holding her before him by her elbows. "I will not kiss you again, at least until you say that you want me too. I know that you have much to do, and you must do it, but when all is quiet and your work is done, think on it, Lothíriel. Reflect on your heart and what it is you want."

She nodded in acquiescence, and he released her. "You must take better care of yourself," he remarked then, "I feel the fatigue in your body. If I had to guess, you have scarcely eaten today. You must eat and stay in good strength, if you are to do the work you have undertaken. Surely you can see the wisdom in that."

She blushed under his knowing gaze. He was right. She had forgotten to eat, and it had caught up with her.

"Need I force-feed you?" he asked then, his smile deepening, "Or will you promise to go straight to the kitchens and find sustenance?"

That bought him a laugh, which surprised her as it fell from her mouth. The sound of her laughter was still rare and it made her feel odd. "I promise to do so."

"Then go, Lady Healer," he said, with a fond smile that made her blush again. "Go now, before I take you back in my arms and dishonor you all over again."

"If you say that you have dishonored me - one more time - " she began to retort and he laughed at her bristling demeanor, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Go!"

She followed the command and went away, her lips still buzzing from his kiss and heart feeling warm and terrible all at once. What could she do with this man - resolute and honorable one moment, forward and seductive the next, then teasing and knowing, then back to rational and measured - who had stood before her and all but proposed a life beside him, but who also had affirmed a conflicting desire in her heart that went against any hope of such a life? She knew then that finding a way forward would not be easy. She would have to make a decision, and soon.

If it were so easy as determining her feelings for him, her decision would be made. She knew for certain that her love for him, love that had already begun to root fiercely in her heart, had deepened tenfold.

If only that were enough.

[A/N: Apologies for such a long wait between chapters. It was not my intention but I was quite stuck as to how to proceed and so I'm glad to have made a small installment. I hope you have all stayed safe and well during the long months of the pandemic and have not suffered great losses, but if you have, my heart goes out to you.

Thank you all for your continued support. I hope this story continues to do itself justice. ~GB]