Disclaimer: I don't own Prince Imrahil, Eomer, Legolas, Aragorn, Guthlaf, or any other character from Lord of the Rings that may come into this story. I don't even own Lothiriel. See The Return of the King, Appendix A, The Kings of the Mark, Third Line, Eomer Eadig for information on her. Everything belongs to JRR Tolkien or whomever he sold it to. Too bad, isn't it?
A/N: So sorry I haven't posted this earlier… . FF.net is *JUST* now letting me log in. *growls*
***
Chapter 7- The Departure
Eomer and Guthlaf were already packed, so while they waited for Lothiriel they spent their time talking about her. Eomer wanted to know everything about the princess- her favorite color, food, the way she liked her tea, and so on. If Guthlaf was wondering why his friend was so intent to know about her, he didn't ask, but the marshal detected faint amusement in his eyes all during their conversation. That is, until the talk turned to another subject- Loth's attitude.
"Was it just me? Or does she glare at everyone like that?" Eomer wanted to know.
Guthlaf let out a breath and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Eomer, you have to understand something about her. She thinks she has to keep everyone at arm's length, I'm not sure why. I think she's just afraid of being hurt. See, there have been only a few people that she's ever gotten close to. One is dead, another she hates, another she left behind four years ago and hasn't seen since..."
"She doesn't exactly seem to hold you at arm's length," grumbled Eomer.
"She did at first." Guth laughed a little. "It was months and months before we got to know each other at all."
"So there is hope for me?" Eomer silently cursed his tongue. How could he have forgotten? She was with Guthlaf. There was no hope for him. "I'm sorry, Guth, I forgot…"
"Forgot what?" asked the messenger, puzzled.
"Forgot that you… and her… you're…" Eomer stopped as Guthlaf shook his head and roared with laughter. "You're not?"
"Of course not! Me and Loth?" Guth said incredulously. "I love her, Eomer, but I love her like a sister. I feel the same way about Lothiriel as you do about Eowyn."
Eomer grinned in secret relief. He hadn't wanted to admit how much he disliked the thought of Guthlaf being intimate with the beautiful, cold girl that he wanted to know better. He turned the subject back. "Then how did you two become friends?"
"I followed her once when she went out on her horse. At that time, I'll admit I was attracted to her- that's why I persisted in bothering her when she didn't want me around. There was a storm, we got lost… she was trying not to show fright and I was doing the same. To pass the time while we waited out the rain, I got her to talk to me. From there, we exchanged life stories, talked all night and found our way back home the next day. Prince Imrahil never trusted her with me again, but we've become fast friends. I'd never desert her, and she worries for me all the time. Not until lately, though, has there been good reason for her to. Eomer, what's your opinion on the War?"
"Sorry, what?" Distracted, Eomer was looking away. Guthlaf turned to see what occupied his friend's attention and grinned as Lothiriel entered the hall, looking as beautiful and aloof as always. Eomer leapt to his feet, Guth walked over to the princess.
"I know you don't want to go to Edoras, but I'm glad you're coming with us, lass." he told her in a low voice as she hugged him around the neck. "And I don't want to leave, but at least you'll be with me," she answered with a smile. Eomer sighed. If he didn't know better, he'd swear they acted like they were engaged. He coughed to get her attention.
"We're ready if you are, milady," he said with what he hoped was a winning smile. She only frowned at him and walked past. 'Ouch,' he thought.
He and Guth followed her into the courtyard, where her father was waiting with her horse. "I am ready," she informed him in a steely tone. Her father looked pained. Her father always looked pained in her presence, actually, thought Eomer. Then Imrahil glanced pointedly at him and Guth. "If you would wait before the gate, sirs, my daughter will be with you in a moment. I'd like a moment alone with her first, if you don't mind."
Nodding silently, Eomer and Guthlaf brought their horses around and rode out the gate. Looking back, the marshal saw her gazing at him with something like pensiveness, though she quickly turned back to her father.
***
Prince Imrahil sat on the seat of a fountain and waved a hand, indicating that Lothiriel should sit too. She made no movement, and he sighed. This was what he expected, but it hurt him nonetheless that she detested him so.
"Lothiriel, I am truly sorry. But you know this is for your own good, and the good of Dol Amroth."
She would have none of it. "I disagree, Father. This is for your good alone. I suppose I'm easily gotten rid of, and I shouldn't be surprised. You sent me away once before. Will it be fifteen years before you call for me this time?"
He winced. "No, no, of course not."
"Too bad. I enjoyed Lothlorien."
"Why do you make this so hard for me?"
"Because you killed my mother."
Imrahil completely deflated. He held his face in his hands for a moment, too weak to look her in the eye. He could never talk to his daughter for more than a few minutes. It was too painful, she was so harsh. 'Nothing like Miriel,' he thought. Or maybe the resemblance was buried too deeply, and he would never see it. In any case, he couldn't speak for a moment. Finally, he looked up. Lothiriel almost pitied him- he looked so tired.
"I'm sorry. Just take this and go. I'll send for you in a few months, or a year, I don't know. I can't talk to you now. Just go." He handed her a folded letter and walked quickly away, head bent.
Narrowing her eyes and hardening her heart, Lothiriel slipped the letter into the folds of her dress and led her horse out to the gate. All her baggage was loaded already. It was time to leave Dol Amroth.
***
They had gone for about six hours in silence, concentrating on their horses and the landscape rather than each other. Loth didn't know the way, but she refused to ride behind the men. The companions' horses trotted side by side, seeming in no particular hurry. An ignorant onlooker would have supposed them to be just three friends on a picnic or some idle venture.
The day was drawing to a close. Eomer gauged the distance from the sun to the horizon, estimating that there would be only another hour or so of light. "We'll stop here," he said, jolting the others out of their thoughts.
They surveyed the camping spot. It was a few meters off the path, with sheltering trees and a stream not far off. An ideal place to stay the night. Eomer dismounted and offered Lothiriel his hand, but shooting a withering glance at him she easily got down herself. Guthlaf just shook his head.
They unloaded and set up two tents. Lothiriel went for water, Guth for firewood, and Eomer to tend to the horses. After the fire had been built and a simple meal was being eaten, the men started a conversation in the hope of drawing the princess out. This proved hard, as she would only answer Eomer in short, clipped sentences, apparently determined not to let go of her grudge. They eventually gave up on her and turned in. When Lothiriel went to refill her water skin, Guth stopped Eomer and said in a low voice, "It's only the first day, friend. Give her time. She'll come around if you make her."
"Thanks," Eomer said wryly, "but at this rate we'll be at Edoras before she'll even say a full sentence to me."
"Yes, she does seem to have taken a particular disliking to you, doesn't she? Well… I'll take first watch and wake you in a couple of hours."
Not much comforted, Eomer was about to enter his tent when he saw a cluster of tall white flowers growing nearby. Acting on a sudden idea, he picked some and went after Lothiriel. He found her returning from the stream.
"Here," he said, suddenly feeling very foolish. "I saw these and… I know you like flowers so… ah… these are for you."
She stared at him. "How did you know that? …no, wait. Guthlaf, right?"
He nodded and she didn't seem surprised, but now looked inclined to laugh.
"Well, lord, that's kind of you, but I'd rather not take these flowers."
"Why not?"
She picked up a white blossom and studied it. "Monkshood. Poisonous." She replaced it and went to her tent, trying hard to hold her laughter.
Eomer, now alone, dropped the lot in surprise. "Oh… I get it." he muttered, seeing the thick rash on his arms.
***
Lothiriel found it hard to sleep that night. She tossed for a while, then her thoughts turned to the day's events. "It's hard to believe that so much happened in so few hours," she mused to herself, not even realizing she had spoken aloud. And Eomer! Bringing her poisonous flowers! She had to laugh then, but it had been a nice gesture. He didn't know.
Maybe this Eorling wasn't so bad.
(Kezya, is that better? lol thanks for the info and tipoffs ;) )
