Hello Lovelies!
You'll forgive my delay on getting more writing to you! I am eager to continue work on this story, so hopefully more chapters in the near future! And, as always, I love the reviews. They are my encouragement, so I thank you.
Chapter Nine: Ere the Sun Rises
The stars still sparkled in a blanket of ebony when Eomer awoke the following day, and he dressed with the assistance of candlelight. His black breeches, undershirt, and red vest had been hung near a window to air out, and they were chilly from the early morning air. His green cape added warmth to the attire, and he pulled it on before pulling most of his hair back into a braid and then reaching for his boots. There was much to be done and very little time to do it before the Rohan armies rode out, riding finally for home, and as future king, it was his responsibility to tend to all preparations.
The corridor was dimly lit when Eomer left his room, grabbing his sword and scabbard on the way out, and he was surprised to find Aragorn waiting for him, dressed in his finest and wearing his crown.
"The duties of a king call, ay?" Aragorn asked, pushing himself away from the wall.
"I have an army to prepare," Eomer nodded, making his way through the hallway.
"There is a matter to be tended to first," Aragorn countered. "Your men are in good hands, Eomer. Now it's time that you also were."
"There is an hour yet before sunrise."
"Imrahil is prepared to present his princess to you. Rohan must leave with their queen, my friend."
"Is the princess prepared to leave?"
"She is. Come," Aragorn said, leading Eomer down an adjoining corridor. "To matters of your kingdom."
Eomer soon found himself standing in the open corridor where he had seen Lothiriel only a short time before, surrounded by fields and mountain. A gentle breeze rippled through the hall, stirring Eomer's hair and nipping gently at his face. He wished he could focus on the matter at hand, on the matter of marrying a princess, but his thoughts were filled with travel preparations, with horses and wagons, with swords and protective formations. There was no time for frivolity, no time to waste on himself, and he found himself wishing that he was in the stable, preparing his mount for departure, preparing to return home.
All thoughts of preparations and all wishing for home vanished as soon as the Princess of Dol Amroth appeared at the other end of the corridor.
She wore a gown of green, the material curving and bending to show her lovely form, wrapping around her like silk. Few strands of her rich brown hair were pulled back, leaving most of her brunette waves to frame her face and ripple down her back. The band of silver leaves sparkled against her forehead and disappeared into her hair, making her emerald eyes sparkle like diamonds. She was dressed simply, save for a silver chain about her neck and a sheer cloak of white and vine embroidery that draped from her shoulders, but there could not be a more exquisite woman in all the realms.
"Good morning, my lords," she spoke softly, candlelight shining in her eyes as her father and brothers led her to Eomer and Aragorn.
Eomer was never aware of Eowyn coming to his side, to his closest warriors arriving to bear witness, to Gandolf himself moving to view the occasion. His senses were overwhelmed by Lothiriel. He hardly heard Imrahil speaking vows over him and the princess, he had ears only for the short, nervous breaths that emanated from Lothiriel's body. He didn't see the first rays of sunlight beginning to peek over the horizon as Lothiriel's eyes looked nervously into his. He was numb to everything but this woman, scarcely aware of when he spoke his own vows, hardly hearing Imrahil pronounce him married.
And then Lothiriel was kneeling before him, her head bowed, her hands open and raised to him in reverence, in a silent gesture to announce that she was his, that she was at his bidding and his command. Such a simple gesture of submission, such a humble motion to prove that she was his to guide, his to protect, and yet he had never felt more protective in his life. This woman was his now, to protect more fiercely than he had ever protected anything, and it filled Eomer with a pride that flooded his entire being.
Lothiriel wasn't as afraid as she had thought she would be. She was nervous, but not because she was afraid of the man she knelt before. She was anxious to be leaving her own beloved lands behind, anxious that the people of Rohan would find her unfit for their queen As she knelt, she was concerned that Eomer wouldn't understand her gesture, that he would see her as weak rather than as an offering. In kneeling, she was giving him her very self, her entire being, and she closed her eyes, waiting to see if he would accept her gift.
She felt the warrior take her hands and squeeze them gently before a palm found her chin, asking her to rise, and she did so, her eyes looking to Eomer's.
No further words were exchanged between the two as Aragorn called for the group to disperse, and Lothiriel shivered noticeably when her father stepped up to her, kissed her cheek, and whispered in her ear.
"To your duties as queen, my lovely daughter."
"Your armies will be prepared to depart in two hours," Aragorn spoke to Eomer. "Until then, your men have certain expectations."
Eomer nodded, and kissed Lothiriel's palm before catching her hand and leading her away from his men, down stone halls, away from the rest of the world's noises and happenings.
Lothiriel felt her body over heating as Eomer brought her into his chambers and then closed and latched the door behind them. She saw that a riding dress had been draped over a chair, and she swallowed. She knew what was expected of her. If she hadn't known, it would be have been obvious, what with her riding outfit awaiting her without any maids to assist her out of her dress.
She sucked in a deep breath, unclasping her cape and resting it across a sofa, afraid to look at Eomer. She felt more at ease going to battle than she did in this current situation, and she licked her lips nervously before turning to look at the Rohan lord.
"I...I haven't ever done...what's expected of me," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. She looked down, cheeks flaming red, and bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, when Eomer raised her face so her eyes met his. The warrior studied her face carefully, his own hazel eyes softening at the terror he saw in Lothiriel's green orbs.
"I noticed," he chuckled kindly, running his fingertips down her cheek. "I hardly think your father is pleased whenever you run to battle."
"My lord," she breathed, taking his hand in both of hers and holding it gently against her face. "I would rather go to war. I don't mean that in offense. Forgive me if it sounds that way. I've just..." she gulped back tears. "I've only ever kissed a man twice, and the duties I am required to fulfill...with you...I have never experienced."
"Only two kisses," Eomer stated, an eyebrow arched.
"With you," she said, looking down at her feet, afraid to meet his eyes. "I'm hardly qualified to please you in the way that is demanded."
"My own treasure," Eomer breathed, and her eyes shot to his, studying the awe in his face. "Pure and whole, just for me. We don't have to do what is expected. I would hardly think it of you to follow protocol." He chuckled again. "Let me help you into your riding clothes. No one is going to be in this area for the next hour or so, and you can't travel in such a gown."
Lothiriel nodded, turning her back to him. She pulled her hair aside, giving him a tantalizing view of the back of her neck, and Eomer's fingers trembled slightly as he moved to the laces at her back. He shook his head, silently chiding himself as he began to untie, marveling at how much Lothiriel transformed him back into a young, inexperienced boy. He had been given his share of women, most flinging themselves at him, all only interested in his status among the Rohirrim. But this woman was gentle and meek, scared to death of him even kissing her.
His heart beat faster as the laces came undone, making the top half of the gown slide down to drape around Lothiriel's slim waist. She had a chemise of sorts, tightened around her chest, hips, and legs, and Eomer knew, if he but turned her around, the fabric was thin. Lothiriel had already crossed her arms over her chest, and Eomer could see the woman trembling, from anticipation or fear, he didn't know.
He let the dress lie at her waist for a moment, admiring her slender shoulders and graceful arms. Her upper back was smooth and soft to look at, and Eomer traced a finger across her back, sucking in a deep breath at how silken her skin felt. She had cocked her head to the side, and the horse master stepped forward, bringing his chest flush with her back, his hands moving to her forearms.
"Eomer," Lothiriel began, her voice almost a whisper.
"You'll forgive me this, my queen," Eomer breathed before pressing his mouth to the side of her neck.
Lothiriel gasped lightly, goosebumps immediately breaking out on her skin as her husband traced kisses down her neck and across her shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against his chest, silently giving permission for him to continue. Eomer smiled against her skin, unable to stop himself from grinning as his beard and mustache tickled her. He could see her squirm, and he nibbled on her neck, purposefully making his facial hair tickle her further.
She spun around, unable to hide a smile, her eyes sparkling as she kept her arms across her chest.
"Playful, my lord?" she questioned, cocking her head to the side. "I never would have thought you could be such a thing."
"I haven't had the time for levity, not until the fall of Sauron," Eomer chuckled, glancing over her cleavage and admiring her scarlet lips. "You are so very beautiful, Lothiriel."
She blushed with pleasure and then suddenly stood up on her tiptoes and planted a swift kiss on his lips. He caught her before she could land on her feet again, his hands threading through her hair, and he returned her kiss, tenderly, letting her savor the new sensation and become familiar with his touch. She reminded him of a young filly, full of play, wanting to learn, but also skittish and afraid. He could feel that the muscles of her neck were tense, tight with concern, and he hummed against her mouth, moving his hands to her lower back and pulling her in close.
He took his kiss a step further, slanting his mouth against hers, and her fingers tightened their hold on his shoulders. He felt a shiver go through her, and his heart rate accelerated.
She was a fast learner, responding passionately to his advances, letting their kisses delve deeper and deeper until Eomer became aware of how warm his body was. He desired her with a desire unlike any he had ever felt for a woman, but he knew that she would regret intimacy with him when she realized she hardly knew him. He wanted to earn her trust and her love, and he gently pulled back, resting his forehead against hers as they both breathed heavily.
"I displease you," Lothiriel panted, her breath rushing against his lips.
"No," he shook his head. "You and I have much to learn about each other before I make you fully mine. I want you to be comfortable with me and to desire me as I desire you. I don't want you complying simply because I am your king. Let us stop for the moment. Let me help you dress, and we can sit together and talk for a bit."
She nodded, hurriedly getting out of her gown and pulling on her riding outfit. Her cheeks were aflame as Eomer helped her lace the back of her heavy leather riding vest, and she tried to push away her embarrassment as she plaited her hair and then turned to see Eomer sitting on the edge of the bed, a platter of food next to him.
"You should eat," he suggested, patting the bed. "The riding will be long and tiresome. I have arranged a wagon for you, since you haven't ridden before and you are still healing."
"I feel well enough," Lothiriel said, sitting on the bed. "The Halls of Healing did wonders. I am astonished at their handiwork. Is it tradition for the women of Rohan to wear breeches beneath their overcoats?" She gestured to the trousers that were mostly concealed by her vest and the long overcoat she had pulled on.
"I had hoped to teach you a few riding lessons during our journey today, and I didn't want to burden you with the art of riding in skirts just yet."
"It isn't proper for you to ride with me," Lothiriel blushed. "I know you are to ride with your men, my king."
"The queen is to ride at my right side," Eomer chuckled. "You don't know this because my lands haven't had a queen in some time. You are to be with me at all times, especially seeing as how we were married but this morning."
"Then let me ride with you, without a carriage," Lothiriel said firmly. "Your people must know that I can hold my own, or they won't accept me."
"You won't be able to walk, come the end of the day."
"I have to earn the trust and respect of your people, my lord. If that means sitting in a saddle all day, then so be it. If the other women and the children can do it, then I will be but a mockery if I can't."
"Spoken like a true queen," Eomer spoke with admiration. "I will teach you as we ride. We won't be able to make many stops. All my people are most excited to return to Rohan and to rebuilding. I will not be able to be gentle with you."
"I expect no favors," Lothiriel smiled. "I am eager to learn."
Eomer placed his hand on her cheek, tracing his fingertips tenderly down her soft skin, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"I will learn to make you smile again, Lord Eomer, my king," Lothiriel smiled, tapping his lips and then getting to her feet. "Now is the time for joy and celebration. And when your people ride again into their lands..." Her face glowed, and she turned and took both his hands in hers. "Imagine, riding through the fields of Rohan without fear of eviction, of banishment. Imagine a night under the sparkling stars, your horse's mane whipping at your face, not a care in the world, just you and your magnificent steed flying through the darkness. What joy! And the children." She sighed wistfully. "Able to play, not having to worry any longer about devastation or their fathers disappearing to war, never to return. I cannot wait to see a free Rohan."
"I am eager to show it to you," Eomer nodded. "Now, shall we make to the horses? I don't believe my people would object to leaving earlier than planned."
"Let us go," Lothiriel beamed, putting her hand in his and squeezing as they walked to the door.