Footnote

Summary: Lothiriel and Eomer reconsider their marriage.

Disclaimer: Eomer, Lothiriel, Faramir, Eowyn and all other character's belong to J.R.R Tolkien and Tolkien Enterprises.

Distribution: Fanfiction.net

Author's Note: All mistakes in this story are my own doing and I take full responsibility. As I was writing this, the story took on a different turn that I had originally intended however I really like it.

**

I'd make beautiful sounds

I'd lay you down like a lover would

My pride, still standing tall

But looking back, I wasn't brave at all

I wasn't brave at all, was I?

Sarah Slean- St. Francis

**

In the king's chamber in Mesthusled, there was an overly large, overly stuffed chair in which the new king of Rohan would often occupy. Often the servant had pleaded with the king to get rid of the eyesore from the royal chamber, but each time the king had declined. One of his earliest memories was of his father sitting in that very chair converse with King Theoden over many manners. Since his fathers passing Eomer cherished that chair, it being one of the few links he had of his parents. The wood grain was splitting, and the fabric had begun to tear but still Eomer treated the chair with the same care he would Firefoot.

The chair was now hastily brushed aside as the King refused to keep still.

Eomer paced his room incessantly, his long strides covering the length of the room in a few steps. Upon reaching one end of the room, he would sigh heavily and focus into space searching for an answer then quickly spin around and cover the same area again.

This had been going on for an hour.

"Peace brother." Eowyn laughed slightly. " At this rate the floors will be weakened, and who knows what may happen on your wedding night."

Eomer paled for a moment, his face turning a sickly colour. He quickly seated himself next to his sister and drummed his fingers repeatedly a near by desk, several times he turned to his sister attempting to speak but would only change his mind last second and turn away.

" Is this the manner of a king?" Eowyn questioned impertently. " I would hate to regard you disposition in a war council."

Eomer ceased his drumming and turned to his sister, " war is not so agitating."

" I don't see why you're so nervous." Eowyn said matter of factly, " it's not like it'll be your first time bedding a woman."

Eomer coughed, choking on his sister's words. His face turned red and he fumbled in an attempt to answer her.

Eowyn laughed at her brother's obvious discomfort. Growing up in a man's hall had given Eowyn a certain bluntness and humor which was never seen among the court ladies, especially those of Gondor. "Oh please, it isn't like I haven't heard the stories. I grew up around you and your Eored. I have heard many things that would curl the hair of most women."

" That was most improper." Eomer said finally, rising from his seated position. " I thought Ithilien would have cultured you a bit, strengthened your propriety."

" In his home, Faramir cares little for propriety." Eowyn shrugged, a fair smile gracing her features as she thought of her husband. " Besides, a change in scenery will not change my manner and neither will he."

Eomer paced silently for a moment, unnerved by his sister. "This is…" Eomer concluded. " This is different. It's not a meaningless romp with a barmaid."

" I'm sure Imrahil would thank you for that compliment to his daughter." Eowyn teased.

Eomer gave her a pained look then a sudden look of shock crossed his face. " Imrahil." He sighed sitting once again.

Eomer was never a silent man. Being forced into positions of power at a young age had taught him to think and act quickly. The Rohirric in him would not allow him to be still.  He sat silently for a time, reminding Eowyn heavily of her husband when mention of Boromir. Eomer thankfully spoke again before she was forced to act. " Imrahil raised her well. She grew up with balls and courtiers and culture. She speaks three languages; she knows the ancient customs of every country. What can I offer her? A kingdom where the major festival is one devoted to horses. A land where few can read?" Eomer shook his head and pulled out a flask from under his shirt, he gulped it as a man dying of thirst would. Upon draining the flask he threw it own beside him. " She deserves a man that can offer her something more. This should not go on."

Seeing her brother head for the door, Eowyn leaped out of her chair and grabbed his arm. " Damn your head Eomer, of all the days to listen to it you chose today." Seeing her brother turn away once again Eowyn called out, "she loves you."

Her brother stopped short, and turned. " How do you know? You have only recently known the season of your heart, what do you know of others?"

Eowyn guided her brother back to his chair and admonished him like a child. " If you can not even see it Eomer then you are a blind fool. She lights up when you are near her, and if that wasn't reason enough I have sent Faramir on many inquires to be sure that she is suited to you."

Eowyn laughed and knelt beside her brother. " She has seen you at your absolute worst. I noticed her manner towards you even when you were to drunk to see it. Not many women will marry the man who threw up on them while they were attending to their needs."

" She told you about that?"

"Faramir did. Needless to say, you are a match. I know few women that can stand your impulsiveness."

" I know of few many that can stand you insolence." Eomer retorted he was silent for a moment. " I love her, Eowyn. More than I thought possible."

" Then why do you persist this melancholy state?" Eowyn asked

Eomer looked at her, " It has passed. I am simply nervous. Please leave me."

Seeing her brother would pay her no more heed, Eowyn left the room.

No sooner than she had departed an obnoxious knocking rapped on the door. Eomer ignored it for a moment, content to be alone but the knowing would not desist. Eomer threw open the door, expecting to see his sister but instead was greeted by the sight of his bride.

" Lothiriel." He stammered allowing her into the room. He wished to question her more but upon seeing her state he stopped. Lothiriel was wringing her hands in front of him, her stormy eyes that he delighted in gazing into were widen and alarmed.

" My lord." She greeted finally, sitting.

Eomer forgot his concerns and sat beside her taking hold of her small hands. He kissed them softly and asked her why she had come.

Unable to withhold her doubts any longer, Lothiriel immediately spoke of all that had concerned her. And after her fears were all told and she sat quietly unsure of how to act, Eomer began to laugh.

***

1320 was renowned for the marriages of that year. Many of the most famous couples in middle earth were married in that spring. The romantic tale of King Aragorn and Queen Arwen was one that was told for many years in Gondor, waxing poetic on their grace and courage. Faramir and Eowyn's story of escaping darkness was one that was uttered by many young lovers pledges their vows. Even the love stories of the hobbits of the shire had their tales told across middle earth.

Eomer and Lothiriel were never one of the tales told in the ballads sung at courts. Their love was one of the forgotten. Becoming a mere footnote in romance history. Indeed there were many whispers among the nobles of the marriage being an act of trade. Lothiriel was often dubbed a witch of Rohan by a few simple-minded people, and would always be a stranger in their land.

The new King and Queen of Rohan however, never heard of these rumors and gossip.  Far too involved in each other and their future. They ruled Rohan with a steady hand, the pact of Eorl was always heeded and Rohan prospered one more.  Eomer was given the Elvish surname 'Eadig', blessed for his fortune in life.

A fortune, which he always contributed to be Lothiriel's doing.

At their wedding Queen Arwen wisely gave them advice, which took her many lifetimes to learn. She had looked upon the couple with a grave and loving smile, holding the arm of her love, and said that love was more than sonnets and seduction. It depended solely on emotion and the fullness of one's heart. The ability to let the one you love run free into the west with a full and forgiving nature.

Author's Final note: I've read  (and written!) many story where Lothiriel takes on the character of either a healer at the Houses of Healing in Gondor, or that she was a practicing wicca. I really wished to allude to both those character choices in this fiction.