Edoras in winter
Eomer's first six months as king went better than he had expected. His advisors; men who were at least old enough to be his father; schooled him in the necessary actions of a king. Though they did not tell him what to do, they guided him as much as possible. Eomer was a noble man already, who knew right from wrong. Now, his task was to apply his sensibilities to governing the kingdom of Rohan.
But upon Eomer's arrival in Edoras, there was a significant change in the behavior of the citizens. Maids and wenches who would smile and wave at the gallant warrior before, only blushed and greeted him with a flirtatious "Good day, your majesty." Eomer's friends and fellow riders of Rohan were not at ease around him. Though he was now king, he had not expected to be treated so formally by his own people. This shift in behavior made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but he tried not to let it bother him.
Seasons changed in Rohan. The walls of Edoras were rebuilt, and so were the lives of its people. People began to be more social and cheerful; after all, they had nothing to fear now that the world was safe from evil once again. Winter was approaching and the first snow was hitting the ground when Eomer received a letter from Aragorn.
Eomer King, I am informing you that an entourage will set forth from Gondor in exactly three days. This group will include myself, as well as my wife, your sister and her husband, Imrahil and his sons, and of course, Lothiriel. You may
expect us at noon on the day of Midwinter. I suggest that you begin
preparations for a party, dear friend.
Elessar
Eomer's stomach began doing backflips. He had nearly forgotten about his promise to Aragorn six months ago. His palms began to sweat as Eomer tried to picture what this girl might look like. "If the nobles are so intent on marrying her off, perhaps she is more akin to a troll than the elvish blood she is said to possess." Eomer thought, shuddering. He pictured a stout woman with thick slimy arms throwing herself against him. "No, of course not. Imrahil is a man who would surely have married well. She will no doubt be a lady of gentleness and courtly grace. She is a princess, for Eorl's sake! Will she be able to think for herself? Does she even know what a horse looks like?" Eomer thought again, picturing this time a timid, frail princess, beautiful to a fault with naught but nonsense in her head and a high-pitched laugh. He shuddered yet again.
Eomer was no blushing virgin, he had known women in his lifetime. But they had always been rather promiscuous farmer's daughters, or bar wenches. Eomer never had to court a single woman in his life, and the prospect of marrying into a royal family was causing him to become nervous. He knew he could please a woman, but could he charm one?
There was only so much time for insecurity when being a king is involved. Eomer set to preparing Meduseheld for a grand celebration. His advisors educated him as best they could in the ways of being a gentleman. They taught him how to sit properly, and sip wine like a king instead of downing ale like a barbarian. They even taught him to dance as a king should.
It was in fact during one of his dancing lessons that Eowyn, having left early from Ithilien, discovered her brother in the arms of his herald, Berenthor, waltzing around the throne room being guided by his advisor Stronghelm. The princess of Ithilien shrieked with laughter, causing Eomer to break his concentration and stare at her in the doorway.
"What in Eorl's name are you doing?" She gasped, clutching at her side.
Eomer turned as red as a beet and removed his arms from Berenthor's waist. "They are teaching me to dance." He replied, staring down at his boots.
"I am aware of that now. But why Berenthor?" Eowyn asked, still trying to catch her breath. Stronghelm regained his wits and spoke up. "My lady, we did not think it wise to expose Eomer to women just yet, as he is still learning. Berenthor here is a slender fellow, with strong feet in case his majesty steps on his toes. Besides, he does have a rather womanly body." The old advisor chuckled to himself. Casting a glance toward the herald, Eowyn saw that Berenthor was fuming, incredulous at the advisor's explanation. He exited the room in a huff.
Stronghelm bowed to Eomer and Eowyn before leaving the room.
"You're a week early, sister. Are you so eager to return home, or did you have a spat with Faramir?" Eomer asked teasingly, stepping forward to hug his sister ferociously.
Eowyn returned his embrace before smacking him upside his head. "Neither, dear brother. I have come to help you prepare for the arrival of your prospective bride-to-be. And if your dancing is any indication, I have my work cut out for me."
"Eowyn, I'm nervous enough. Cease your insults and try to help me. I can fight and I can ride. I was sure that I couldn't be a king, but with help, even that is becoming less of a trial for me. But being charming, and entertaining a princess? I don't know if I have the stomach for it." Eomer slumped down onto his throne with his head in his hands. Eowyn knelt before him and took his hands in hers.
"It isn't as hard as you think. There won't be an overwhelming amount of people here, just a few chosen people who you are acquainted with. You know Imrahil well enough, and his sons are warriors as well. As for Lothiriel, I happen to think that you would like her. I've met her several times, as she is Faramir's cousin. She helped me prepare for my wedding and I would like to think we are friends."
Eomer looked up to meet Eowyn's comforting gaze with a smirk. "If she is your friend, I feel I am going to have to send her away."
Eowyn smacked him again and pulled Eomer up from his seat. "Come, I am famished from my ride and I want something to eat. And after I'm done, I will tell you more of the fair princess of Dol Amroth."
It was with great anticipation that Eomer stood upon the steps of Meduseheld awaiting his guests. The Gondorian Entourage had just passed through the city gates and within minutes would be dismounting their horses. In the distance, Eomer could make out the black and silver banners of Gondor, following Aragorn and Arwen. There were the black and red banners of Ithilien, following Faramir. And at the rear was the blue and white banner of Dol Amroth and its famous Swan Knights.
At Eomer's side was an ecstatic Eowyn, eager to return to the arms of her husband Faramir. Much of the city's people had turned out as well. It was not everyday that the king of men and his elven bride rode into Edoras.
The caravan stopped at the steps and Eomer walked down them confidently to meet his king.
"King Elessar, Queen Arwen. Welcome to Edoras."
Aragorn smiled and dismounted his faithful Brego, before turning to Eomer and clasping forearms. Eomer turned to offer his welcome to Faramir.
"Lord Faramir, it is good to see you. You're looking quite well." Faramir dismounted his horse and clasped forearms with Eomer. "Is it any wonder that would be so well, when I have your sister waiting for me?" Faramir gushed. Eomer rolled his eyes and watched as Faramir ran to Eowyn. The couple embraced and went inside. No doubt Eowyn was telling her husband all about Eomer's attempts at being lordly this week.
Eomer felt a feeling of nervousness wash over him as he approached the group from Dol Amroth. Imrahil had already dismounted and embraced Eomer.
"It has been far too long my friend." Imrahil smiled at Eomer and a younger man behind the prince stepped forward. He was tall, with ebony hair and skin that had seen much work in the sun. His eyes were a stormy gray, and he resembled Imrahil almost exactly.
"Eomer, this is my heir, Elphir." Elphir bowed and Eomer followed suit. Next came the introductions of Erchirion and Amrothos. Eomer observed that each of the sons of Imrahil bore a different expression. Elphir's was stern and fearsome, Erchirion was casual and relaxed, while Amrothos was quiet and reserved. Eomer knew what was coming next. A small cloaked figure was being helped off her horse by Amrothos and led towards Eomer. The young king looked around, suddenly feeling very self conscious, and his suspicious side entered his thoughts once again. "Is she so hideous that she must even be cloaked from the sun?" He wondered.
The figure removed its hood and Eomer was dumbfounded. Princess Lothiriel was tall, evidence of the elven blood that flowed in her veins. Her long black hair was pulled back, revealing her slender face and ocean-blue eyes. Her lips were full and tinged red, no doubt from the chill in the air. She was not thin and frail, but built solidly. Eomer secretly thanked Aragorn for suggesting the meeting. She was absolutely beautiful. And then he heard her speak.
"King Eomer, I presume. I have heard much about you, which has made me more anxious to meet you. It is quite an honor." She dropped gracefully into a curtsy and smiled up at him.
Eomer could not trust himself to speak to this creature, and instead dropped to one knee and gently kissed her hand. When he had finally regained his nerve, and felt it to be inappropriate to spend the entire time attached to her hand, he stood and smiled at her.
"The honor is entirely mine, princess. Pay no mind to Eowyn's stories, you will only be disappointed. I am a king, but during your time here, I am your humble servant. Welcome to Edoras. May I escort you?" Eomer blushed, knowing that he must have overspoken. Suddenly he became more interested in his shoes and his eyes were glued to the ground. When he looked back up, Lothiriel was smiling and waiting for him to offer his arm.
Eomer waited until the princess was comfortably settled on his arm before turning and leading her past the rest of the entourage and into Meduseheld.
Eomer's first six months as king went better than he had expected. His advisors; men who were at least old enough to be his father; schooled him in the necessary actions of a king. Though they did not tell him what to do, they guided him as much as possible. Eomer was a noble man already, who knew right from wrong. Now, his task was to apply his sensibilities to governing the kingdom of Rohan.
But upon Eomer's arrival in Edoras, there was a significant change in the behavior of the citizens. Maids and wenches who would smile and wave at the gallant warrior before, only blushed and greeted him with a flirtatious "Good day, your majesty." Eomer's friends and fellow riders of Rohan were not at ease around him. Though he was now king, he had not expected to be treated so formally by his own people. This shift in behavior made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but he tried not to let it bother him.
Seasons changed in Rohan. The walls of Edoras were rebuilt, and so were the lives of its people. People began to be more social and cheerful; after all, they had nothing to fear now that the world was safe from evil once again. Winter was approaching and the first snow was hitting the ground when Eomer received a letter from Aragorn.
Eomer King, I am informing you that an entourage will set forth from Gondor in exactly three days. This group will include myself, as well as my wife, your sister and her husband, Imrahil and his sons, and of course, Lothiriel. You may
expect us at noon on the day of Midwinter. I suggest that you begin
preparations for a party, dear friend.
Elessar
Eomer's stomach began doing backflips. He had nearly forgotten about his promise to Aragorn six months ago. His palms began to sweat as Eomer tried to picture what this girl might look like. "If the nobles are so intent on marrying her off, perhaps she is more akin to a troll than the elvish blood she is said to possess." Eomer thought, shuddering. He pictured a stout woman with thick slimy arms throwing herself against him. "No, of course not. Imrahil is a man who would surely have married well. She will no doubt be a lady of gentleness and courtly grace. She is a princess, for Eorl's sake! Will she be able to think for herself? Does she even know what a horse looks like?" Eomer thought again, picturing this time a timid, frail princess, beautiful to a fault with naught but nonsense in her head and a high-pitched laugh. He shuddered yet again.
Eomer was no blushing virgin, he had known women in his lifetime. But they had always been rather promiscuous farmer's daughters, or bar wenches. Eomer never had to court a single woman in his life, and the prospect of marrying into a royal family was causing him to become nervous. He knew he could please a woman, but could he charm one?
There was only so much time for insecurity when being a king is involved. Eomer set to preparing Meduseheld for a grand celebration. His advisors educated him as best they could in the ways of being a gentleman. They taught him how to sit properly, and sip wine like a king instead of downing ale like a barbarian. They even taught him to dance as a king should.
It was in fact during one of his dancing lessons that Eowyn, having left early from Ithilien, discovered her brother in the arms of his herald, Berenthor, waltzing around the throne room being guided by his advisor Stronghelm. The princess of Ithilien shrieked with laughter, causing Eomer to break his concentration and stare at her in the doorway.
"What in Eorl's name are you doing?" She gasped, clutching at her side.
Eomer turned as red as a beet and removed his arms from Berenthor's waist. "They are teaching me to dance." He replied, staring down at his boots.
"I am aware of that now. But why Berenthor?" Eowyn asked, still trying to catch her breath. Stronghelm regained his wits and spoke up. "My lady, we did not think it wise to expose Eomer to women just yet, as he is still learning. Berenthor here is a slender fellow, with strong feet in case his majesty steps on his toes. Besides, he does have a rather womanly body." The old advisor chuckled to himself. Casting a glance toward the herald, Eowyn saw that Berenthor was fuming, incredulous at the advisor's explanation. He exited the room in a huff.
Stronghelm bowed to Eomer and Eowyn before leaving the room.
"You're a week early, sister. Are you so eager to return home, or did you have a spat with Faramir?" Eomer asked teasingly, stepping forward to hug his sister ferociously.
Eowyn returned his embrace before smacking him upside his head. "Neither, dear brother. I have come to help you prepare for the arrival of your prospective bride-to-be. And if your dancing is any indication, I have my work cut out for me."
"Eowyn, I'm nervous enough. Cease your insults and try to help me. I can fight and I can ride. I was sure that I couldn't be a king, but with help, even that is becoming less of a trial for me. But being charming, and entertaining a princess? I don't know if I have the stomach for it." Eomer slumped down onto his throne with his head in his hands. Eowyn knelt before him and took his hands in hers.
"It isn't as hard as you think. There won't be an overwhelming amount of people here, just a few chosen people who you are acquainted with. You know Imrahil well enough, and his sons are warriors as well. As for Lothiriel, I happen to think that you would like her. I've met her several times, as she is Faramir's cousin. She helped me prepare for my wedding and I would like to think we are friends."
Eomer looked up to meet Eowyn's comforting gaze with a smirk. "If she is your friend, I feel I am going to have to send her away."
Eowyn smacked him again and pulled Eomer up from his seat. "Come, I am famished from my ride and I want something to eat. And after I'm done, I will tell you more of the fair princess of Dol Amroth."
It was with great anticipation that Eomer stood upon the steps of Meduseheld awaiting his guests. The Gondorian Entourage had just passed through the city gates and within minutes would be dismounting their horses. In the distance, Eomer could make out the black and silver banners of Gondor, following Aragorn and Arwen. There were the black and red banners of Ithilien, following Faramir. And at the rear was the blue and white banner of Dol Amroth and its famous Swan Knights.
At Eomer's side was an ecstatic Eowyn, eager to return to the arms of her husband Faramir. Much of the city's people had turned out as well. It was not everyday that the king of men and his elven bride rode into Edoras.
The caravan stopped at the steps and Eomer walked down them confidently to meet his king.
"King Elessar, Queen Arwen. Welcome to Edoras."
Aragorn smiled and dismounted his faithful Brego, before turning to Eomer and clasping forearms. Eomer turned to offer his welcome to Faramir.
"Lord Faramir, it is good to see you. You're looking quite well." Faramir dismounted his horse and clasped forearms with Eomer. "Is it any wonder that would be so well, when I have your sister waiting for me?" Faramir gushed. Eomer rolled his eyes and watched as Faramir ran to Eowyn. The couple embraced and went inside. No doubt Eowyn was telling her husband all about Eomer's attempts at being lordly this week.
Eomer felt a feeling of nervousness wash over him as he approached the group from Dol Amroth. Imrahil had already dismounted and embraced Eomer.
"It has been far too long my friend." Imrahil smiled at Eomer and a younger man behind the prince stepped forward. He was tall, with ebony hair and skin that had seen much work in the sun. His eyes were a stormy gray, and he resembled Imrahil almost exactly.
"Eomer, this is my heir, Elphir." Elphir bowed and Eomer followed suit. Next came the introductions of Erchirion and Amrothos. Eomer observed that each of the sons of Imrahil bore a different expression. Elphir's was stern and fearsome, Erchirion was casual and relaxed, while Amrothos was quiet and reserved. Eomer knew what was coming next. A small cloaked figure was being helped off her horse by Amrothos and led towards Eomer. The young king looked around, suddenly feeling very self conscious, and his suspicious side entered his thoughts once again. "Is she so hideous that she must even be cloaked from the sun?" He wondered.
The figure removed its hood and Eomer was dumbfounded. Princess Lothiriel was tall, evidence of the elven blood that flowed in her veins. Her long black hair was pulled back, revealing her slender face and ocean-blue eyes. Her lips were full and tinged red, no doubt from the chill in the air. She was not thin and frail, but built solidly. Eomer secretly thanked Aragorn for suggesting the meeting. She was absolutely beautiful. And then he heard her speak.
"King Eomer, I presume. I have heard much about you, which has made me more anxious to meet you. It is quite an honor." She dropped gracefully into a curtsy and smiled up at him.
Eomer could not trust himself to speak to this creature, and instead dropped to one knee and gently kissed her hand. When he had finally regained his nerve, and felt it to be inappropriate to spend the entire time attached to her hand, he stood and smiled at her.
"The honor is entirely mine, princess. Pay no mind to Eowyn's stories, you will only be disappointed. I am a king, but during your time here, I am your humble servant. Welcome to Edoras. May I escort you?" Eomer blushed, knowing that he must have overspoken. Suddenly he became more interested in his shoes and his eyes were glued to the ground. When he looked back up, Lothiriel was smiling and waiting for him to offer his arm.
Eomer waited until the princess was comfortably settled on his arm before turning and leading her past the rest of the entourage and into Meduseheld.