A/N Thank you everyone who reviewed, and you'll be glad to know your votes
won. Thank you all for the *constructive* criticism and I'll try to make
the story a bit better this time. BTW All you Americans (who probably don't
listen to British Music) should go to www.busted.com because it's amazing,
and I listened to their song all through writing this.
~~~~ SADDLESORE ~~~~
I hurt. My feet hurt from dancing, my head hurts from Gondorian wine, and my heart hurts from him. He, who danced with me once and left to waltz with a pretty blonde young heiress from Minas Tirith. He, who got tired and insisted we leave for Rohan at dawn.
He is not unkind to me. No, he catered for my every whim, allowing me to bring Lyllyth, my dog; my whole wardrobe, even my bed, which I refused to leave, hoping he would think me too much trouble and the whole thing not worth it. But he ordered his men to get the huge cedar wood frame and bedding onto a huge cart.
I really do hate horses. The motion of them trotting just feels strange beneath me, and I'll not even begin to get at how I walk when I've just got out of the saddle! But here I am sitting on a small bay horse, and following him and his men. Part of the reason I hate horses is that I can't ride properly, I'm awkward in the saddle, and I hate the sensation that I'm not really in control. Father gave me riding lessons when Mother was alive, but I was so afraid I never sat on a horse again. Until today. Eomer asked if I wanted a carriage, but I would want that less. I would rather face a thousand orcs than be trapped in a stuffy carriage all day with Aleneve, my maid, who would whine and complain that she'd never see Sergeant Evinden again. Little does she know I would gladly pay him money if he would marry her and get rid of her forever. Unfortunately I think Aleneve will leech all goodwill from me until I die. Oh well. To Rohan.
~~~~Normal POV~~~~
Lothiriel's black hair streamed out behind her, as she tried to force her bay mare to a faster pace. Her Father had told her how to do it, with a gentle tug to the reins, but the mare was just so unresponsive to everything. She'd never been comfortable around horses, and she privately thought this one was particularly stubborn. She watched Eomer, who was laughing with their escort. It was often she'd been ignored when her father talked with other men, but this time, it seemed unfitting that her new husband would leave her to ride alone. Or worse than alone: with Aleneve.
"Aleneve! Come here! This horse is so stubborn, it won't do anything!" complained Lothiriel.
"Madame, I know nothing of horses. Perhaps you should ask the King Eomer, my lady," said Aleneve, sniffing. "Yntyr Evinden rides as if he was born in the saddle. He would've helped."
"Did he learn to ride before or after he single handedly slew the dragon?" asked Lothiriel bad temperedly. Aleneve sniffed again, and fell back again. . Just then Eomer looked behind, and noted Lothiriel's distress. He fell back from his men. "Are you having problems, my lady?" he asked.
She looked at him, unsure of whether he was mocking her or genuinely concerned. Even if he was truly concerned, she decided that the horrid little horse was not worth shaming herself for.
"I'm fine, sir, but thank you for your concern," she said, and bowed her head slightly in respect. Eomer looked at her for a few moments.
"I was thinking, perhaps, you could ride pillion*, behind me," he said, at least trying to be friendly. She considered this carefully. It wouldn't hurt, after all, and this horse was just so stubborn. She nodded. "Stop there then, and I'll have some one take the horse away." He smiled at her, and with difficulty, she slid from the saddle. Eomer dismounted, and hauled her up behind him.
He looked at her as she almost reluctantly let him help her up. Her black hair might be unfashionable, but it was like black silk, and her dark eyes were like dark pools at midnight. Tangwystl, however, was a different story. Even as he mounted, he began to think of his copper-haired lover, waiting for him back in Rohan. Her green eyes smiling at him, and her soft laughter as he told her the happenings of the day. Tangwystl, the woman with green eyes and blood hotter than the flame of Uldoon. With these thoughts, he relaxed in the saddle, and Lothiriel shifted uncomfortably as he leant back a little.
.She was unsure of the rest of the ride. Eomer talked to her, but even as she began to reply, him eyes misted over, just a little, and he became slightly distant. On the last day, when she noticed only she had this effect on him, she withdrew from all conversations, and spoke only to Aleneve, which, if tiresome, would at least not give her the impression she was not being paid attention to.
"Aleneve, have you ever come to Edoras with me?" she asked.
"No, madame, Yntyr took me to his home in the outskirts while you were away,"
"I do think Meduseld will be prettier than Yntyr's house,"
"Oh, my lady, but you simply *couldn't* be as happy as I was there!" said Aleneve.
Lothiriel searched her maid's face for any malicious content, and finding none, replied,
"No. I don't believe I shall be."
Finally, around sunset, they arrived in Edoras. Lothiriel, who had visited all parts of Rohan, never ceased to be amazed at the beauty of Meduseld. A little voice inside her head, though, ruined the golden splendour, reminding her 'Good thing you like it. You'll be spending the rest of your life here with him'.
~~~~ A/N I know that ending did kind of suck, but I couldn't think of how to change it. Thanks a billion to Rabid Cow, my beta, however much she shreds and shreds my work.
* pillion is riding side saddle behind some one, often done by servants when Lords refused to buy them horses.
~~~~ SADDLESORE ~~~~
I hurt. My feet hurt from dancing, my head hurts from Gondorian wine, and my heart hurts from him. He, who danced with me once and left to waltz with a pretty blonde young heiress from Minas Tirith. He, who got tired and insisted we leave for Rohan at dawn.
He is not unkind to me. No, he catered for my every whim, allowing me to bring Lyllyth, my dog; my whole wardrobe, even my bed, which I refused to leave, hoping he would think me too much trouble and the whole thing not worth it. But he ordered his men to get the huge cedar wood frame and bedding onto a huge cart.
I really do hate horses. The motion of them trotting just feels strange beneath me, and I'll not even begin to get at how I walk when I've just got out of the saddle! But here I am sitting on a small bay horse, and following him and his men. Part of the reason I hate horses is that I can't ride properly, I'm awkward in the saddle, and I hate the sensation that I'm not really in control. Father gave me riding lessons when Mother was alive, but I was so afraid I never sat on a horse again. Until today. Eomer asked if I wanted a carriage, but I would want that less. I would rather face a thousand orcs than be trapped in a stuffy carriage all day with Aleneve, my maid, who would whine and complain that she'd never see Sergeant Evinden again. Little does she know I would gladly pay him money if he would marry her and get rid of her forever. Unfortunately I think Aleneve will leech all goodwill from me until I die. Oh well. To Rohan.
~~~~Normal POV~~~~
Lothiriel's black hair streamed out behind her, as she tried to force her bay mare to a faster pace. Her Father had told her how to do it, with a gentle tug to the reins, but the mare was just so unresponsive to everything. She'd never been comfortable around horses, and she privately thought this one was particularly stubborn. She watched Eomer, who was laughing with their escort. It was often she'd been ignored when her father talked with other men, but this time, it seemed unfitting that her new husband would leave her to ride alone. Or worse than alone: with Aleneve.
"Aleneve! Come here! This horse is so stubborn, it won't do anything!" complained Lothiriel.
"Madame, I know nothing of horses. Perhaps you should ask the King Eomer, my lady," said Aleneve, sniffing. "Yntyr Evinden rides as if he was born in the saddle. He would've helped."
"Did he learn to ride before or after he single handedly slew the dragon?" asked Lothiriel bad temperedly. Aleneve sniffed again, and fell back again. . Just then Eomer looked behind, and noted Lothiriel's distress. He fell back from his men. "Are you having problems, my lady?" he asked.
She looked at him, unsure of whether he was mocking her or genuinely concerned. Even if he was truly concerned, she decided that the horrid little horse was not worth shaming herself for.
"I'm fine, sir, but thank you for your concern," she said, and bowed her head slightly in respect. Eomer looked at her for a few moments.
"I was thinking, perhaps, you could ride pillion*, behind me," he said, at least trying to be friendly. She considered this carefully. It wouldn't hurt, after all, and this horse was just so stubborn. She nodded. "Stop there then, and I'll have some one take the horse away." He smiled at her, and with difficulty, she slid from the saddle. Eomer dismounted, and hauled her up behind him.
He looked at her as she almost reluctantly let him help her up. Her black hair might be unfashionable, but it was like black silk, and her dark eyes were like dark pools at midnight. Tangwystl, however, was a different story. Even as he mounted, he began to think of his copper-haired lover, waiting for him back in Rohan. Her green eyes smiling at him, and her soft laughter as he told her the happenings of the day. Tangwystl, the woman with green eyes and blood hotter than the flame of Uldoon. With these thoughts, he relaxed in the saddle, and Lothiriel shifted uncomfortably as he leant back a little.
.She was unsure of the rest of the ride. Eomer talked to her, but even as she began to reply, him eyes misted over, just a little, and he became slightly distant. On the last day, when she noticed only she had this effect on him, she withdrew from all conversations, and spoke only to Aleneve, which, if tiresome, would at least not give her the impression she was not being paid attention to.
"Aleneve, have you ever come to Edoras with me?" she asked.
"No, madame, Yntyr took me to his home in the outskirts while you were away,"
"I do think Meduseld will be prettier than Yntyr's house,"
"Oh, my lady, but you simply *couldn't* be as happy as I was there!" said Aleneve.
Lothiriel searched her maid's face for any malicious content, and finding none, replied,
"No. I don't believe I shall be."
Finally, around sunset, they arrived in Edoras. Lothiriel, who had visited all parts of Rohan, never ceased to be amazed at the beauty of Meduseld. A little voice inside her head, though, ruined the golden splendour, reminding her 'Good thing you like it. You'll be spending the rest of your life here with him'.
~~~~ A/N I know that ending did kind of suck, but I couldn't think of how to change it. Thanks a billion to Rabid Cow, my beta, however much she shreds and shreds my work.
* pillion is riding side saddle behind some one, often done by servants when Lords refused to buy them horses.