A/N: my computer's been doing weird things, and i had to do my research paper (i turned it in today...03/23/04). but here it is, and i hope you enjoy! btw, some of the things that take place in this actually happened to me, no thanks to chasm, so i was forced to dedicate the chapter.
this is dedicated to chasm the ogre of the trollshaws for the idea to have the mock battle to restore lothiriel's honor after eomer says...well, you'll see what i'm talking about.
**disclaimer** if i owned any of the lotr franchise, i would be living happily in france with my two bishis (their names are orlando and eomer...). unfortunately, i own none of this, and so i make no profit from writing my theory on how eomer got married to lothiriel. *sigh* such is the way of the world.
Chapter XII
April, T.A. 3021
Lothiriel awoke with a drum pounding between her ears. Someone--she didn't know who--had undressed her and put her in a bedroom. She sat up and looked around. It wasn't her bedroom; it was much too ornate for the simple guestroom she had been given. Besides, it was more spacious and lived-in. She glanced around, noting the carved horse emblems all over the room. There were some clothes lying rather haphazardly in the floor by a large animal skin. It was a bearskin, which was rare for a place south of the Misty Mountains. Then it dawned on her. Lothiriel turned back to the clothes. There were two piles, one of which was hers, and the other? Well, suffice it to say that they were most definitely *not* hers. For one thing, they were much too big, and for another, they were men's clothing. Lothiriel looked more closely at the tunic and breeches. The shirt had a trim in a horse motif (not surprising). It could have been anyone's clothing, but given the large, ornate room and the bearskin, there was really only one man in the country that it *could* belong to. Eomer.
Lothiriel immediately cursed her stupidity. She should never have drunk that last mug of ale. She couldn't remember anything after the dance. Had she and Eomer...? It was best not to think about it, she decided. Her father would kill her if he found out! And what if she was with child? Her monthly bleeding was due to start in a week or so, so it was possible....She and Eomer would have to marry immediately, so no one would suspect. It was that, or find a way to lose the child, which Lothiriel knew she could never do.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a servant opening the door. "I brought you some tea, milady," the girl piped sweetly. "It's laced with kingsfoil. Lord Eomer said you'd have a nasty headache from the ale last night." She giggled. "Most of his guests do the first time."
"Oh?" Lothiriel sipped the tea and soon forgot all of her worries from a few minutes before. It was good, soothing. She leaned back against the headboard, immersed in a world of pleasant memories. It reminded her of the sea and her childhood--something she had not thought of since the night Eomer had kissed her by the stream.
"...wanted me to bring you to the training grounds after you dressed and had a bit to eat. I didn't find any breeches or tunics in your rooms, so I brought an outfit from Lady Eowyn's old things that she left here. She won't mind; after all, you'll be sisters soon." The servant girl smiled.
"Yes, that's right, isn't it?"
"Yes, milady." Lothiriel's question had been rhetorical, but the girl answered just the same. "Shall I help you dress?" she inquired.
"No, no. I can do it myself." Lothiriel waved her away. "I'll eat in the great hall--wait for me there." The girl nodded, curtseyed, and exited the room.
Lothiriel climbed out of the bed. The stone floor was cold, so she stepped over to the bearskin. The girl had left Eowyn's clothes in a neatly-folded pile on a chair. Lothiriel picked up the pants and put them on. It was a snug fit, and they were a little short, but they would do. The tunic fit much better, falling shapelessly over her small breasts. There was also a belt, which she wrapped loosely around her waist. She undid the leather thong in her hair and retied it. She laced up her boots, tucking the pants inside them. A basin of water sat on a table, so she washed her face and was at last ready for a meal.
************
A loaf of bread and two bowls of stew later, Lothiriel was following the talkative serving girl out to the training fields where the soldiers of Rohan were practicing with their weapons. They were a marvelous sight (the fields, not the men...ok, so the men were a marvelous sight, too). The two women were by the western archery grounds, the sword practice was in the center of the field, and on the other end were the stables and spear training. Lothiriel could barely make out Eomer working with the horses, so she dismissed the girl and began making her way across the grounds.
As she walked past, the men stopped their training to stare at her. They had not seen a woman dressed in such garb and walking amongst them since Lady Eowyn had left for Gondor. Wasn't she the king's lady? they whispered to each other. They watched her carefully, only going back to their work when she reached the fenced area where the king awaited her.
Eomer grinned and waved at Lothiriel. He handed the reins of the horse he was running to another man and jogged over to where she stood. "I see the sleeping beauty has finally awoken," he said.
"Ha! I'll wager you haven't been up much longer than I!" she exclaimed in return.
"On the contrary, I have been up since daybreak tending the horses," Eomer replied. "Meanwhile, might I remind you, you snored away in *my* bed." This remark was obviously the wrong thing to say because Lothiriel's eyes filled with tears, and her mind shot back to when she had first awoken. Concern swept across Eomer's face. "Have I said something to offend you, my lady?" He guided her over to a secluded bench by the stables.
"Eomer, I should not have drunk so much ale last night," she said. "Please forgive me." She paused. "I cannot remember anything past our dance. It should have been more special, and I am sorry that we will be unable to share that memory. Will you--can you--forgive me?" She looked at him with sorrow-filled eyes.
Eomer was now both concerned and confused. "Lothiriel, are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked, putting his hand to her forehead.
"Yes. No. I'm not sure! I don't know what happened--how far we went. I don't even remember going to your rooms, let alone what took place in there."
"You shouldn't."
"W-what?"
"You fell asleep soon after we danced. I put you in my rooms because I didn't know where yours were. Had I thought about it, I would have put you in Eowyn's rooms instead." Lothiriel breathed an audible sigh of relief, and Eomer looked at her. "What did you think had happened?"
"I-I was afraid th-that," she stuttered, "that you and I--that we had, you know...." She shrugged. "I was drunk, and I woke up in your bed half-dressed with both your clothes and mine in the floor. What was I supposed to think?"
Eomer laughed, rich and deep. "You were afraid that something had happened because I left my clothes in the floor?" Lothiriel nodded, unsure of where the humor was. "I changed clothes in the adjoining bath," he explained. "I must have dumped them in there without thinking. I'm sorry to have frightened you so."
"Where did you stay, then?" she asked.
"The stables."
"With the horses!?! You should have awakened me."
He grinned that same impish grin from the night before that had nearly melted Lothiriel. "I tried. You were out like a wet candle in the wind. You were also snoring loud enough to drown out a stampede."
"I resent that! I do *not* snore!"
"Ha! How would you know? You can't even remember anything that happened while you were conscious!" The two were so absorbed in their argument, that they didn't notice the Rohirrim who had begun to gather around them.
Lothiriel's jaw dropped. "I think I've been insulted!"
"And what are you going to do about it?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.
"I, good sir," Lothiriel said, drawing herself up regally, "am going to remove your reason for wearing a loincl--no. I could not leave the king of Rohan without a way to produce an heir." Stifled laughter arose from the men at the princess's audacity. She smiled, planning her next move. "Instead, I shall challenge you to a duel, Dol Amroth-style."
"A duel?" repeated Eomer. "Who will you ask to fight to defend your honor? Any of my men will be glad to lend you his prowess, though none can beat me in a battle." He gestured at the grinning soldiers.
"Did I say I would send a man to defend my honor? You must have misunderstood, my king. *I* am challenging you to a duel." She grinned at him. "As these fine soldiers are my witnesses, I will expect you to meet me in this very field tomorrow at noon for an Amrothian battle. Be prepared."
A/N (again): see? i told you there'd be a fight! although, i daresay this is nothing like what you thought it would be. i was going to have the duel in this chapter, but it's nearly three pages on the word processor with size 11 font, so i'll save it for the next one (plus i haven't written that part yet). next up: the duel and then they will finally head to dol amroth where you will meet HIM..........
this is dedicated to chasm the ogre of the trollshaws for the idea to have the mock battle to restore lothiriel's honor after eomer says...well, you'll see what i'm talking about.
**disclaimer** if i owned any of the lotr franchise, i would be living happily in france with my two bishis (their names are orlando and eomer...). unfortunately, i own none of this, and so i make no profit from writing my theory on how eomer got married to lothiriel. *sigh* such is the way of the world.
Chapter XII
April, T.A. 3021
Lothiriel awoke with a drum pounding between her ears. Someone--she didn't know who--had undressed her and put her in a bedroom. She sat up and looked around. It wasn't her bedroom; it was much too ornate for the simple guestroom she had been given. Besides, it was more spacious and lived-in. She glanced around, noting the carved horse emblems all over the room. There were some clothes lying rather haphazardly in the floor by a large animal skin. It was a bearskin, which was rare for a place south of the Misty Mountains. Then it dawned on her. Lothiriel turned back to the clothes. There were two piles, one of which was hers, and the other? Well, suffice it to say that they were most definitely *not* hers. For one thing, they were much too big, and for another, they were men's clothing. Lothiriel looked more closely at the tunic and breeches. The shirt had a trim in a horse motif (not surprising). It could have been anyone's clothing, but given the large, ornate room and the bearskin, there was really only one man in the country that it *could* belong to. Eomer.
Lothiriel immediately cursed her stupidity. She should never have drunk that last mug of ale. She couldn't remember anything after the dance. Had she and Eomer...? It was best not to think about it, she decided. Her father would kill her if he found out! And what if she was with child? Her monthly bleeding was due to start in a week or so, so it was possible....She and Eomer would have to marry immediately, so no one would suspect. It was that, or find a way to lose the child, which Lothiriel knew she could never do.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a servant opening the door. "I brought you some tea, milady," the girl piped sweetly. "It's laced with kingsfoil. Lord Eomer said you'd have a nasty headache from the ale last night." She giggled. "Most of his guests do the first time."
"Oh?" Lothiriel sipped the tea and soon forgot all of her worries from a few minutes before. It was good, soothing. She leaned back against the headboard, immersed in a world of pleasant memories. It reminded her of the sea and her childhood--something she had not thought of since the night Eomer had kissed her by the stream.
"...wanted me to bring you to the training grounds after you dressed and had a bit to eat. I didn't find any breeches or tunics in your rooms, so I brought an outfit from Lady Eowyn's old things that she left here. She won't mind; after all, you'll be sisters soon." The servant girl smiled.
"Yes, that's right, isn't it?"
"Yes, milady." Lothiriel's question had been rhetorical, but the girl answered just the same. "Shall I help you dress?" she inquired.
"No, no. I can do it myself." Lothiriel waved her away. "I'll eat in the great hall--wait for me there." The girl nodded, curtseyed, and exited the room.
Lothiriel climbed out of the bed. The stone floor was cold, so she stepped over to the bearskin. The girl had left Eowyn's clothes in a neatly-folded pile on a chair. Lothiriel picked up the pants and put them on. It was a snug fit, and they were a little short, but they would do. The tunic fit much better, falling shapelessly over her small breasts. There was also a belt, which she wrapped loosely around her waist. She undid the leather thong in her hair and retied it. She laced up her boots, tucking the pants inside them. A basin of water sat on a table, so she washed her face and was at last ready for a meal.
************
A loaf of bread and two bowls of stew later, Lothiriel was following the talkative serving girl out to the training fields where the soldiers of Rohan were practicing with their weapons. They were a marvelous sight (the fields, not the men...ok, so the men were a marvelous sight, too). The two women were by the western archery grounds, the sword practice was in the center of the field, and on the other end were the stables and spear training. Lothiriel could barely make out Eomer working with the horses, so she dismissed the girl and began making her way across the grounds.
As she walked past, the men stopped their training to stare at her. They had not seen a woman dressed in such garb and walking amongst them since Lady Eowyn had left for Gondor. Wasn't she the king's lady? they whispered to each other. They watched her carefully, only going back to their work when she reached the fenced area where the king awaited her.
Eomer grinned and waved at Lothiriel. He handed the reins of the horse he was running to another man and jogged over to where she stood. "I see the sleeping beauty has finally awoken," he said.
"Ha! I'll wager you haven't been up much longer than I!" she exclaimed in return.
"On the contrary, I have been up since daybreak tending the horses," Eomer replied. "Meanwhile, might I remind you, you snored away in *my* bed." This remark was obviously the wrong thing to say because Lothiriel's eyes filled with tears, and her mind shot back to when she had first awoken. Concern swept across Eomer's face. "Have I said something to offend you, my lady?" He guided her over to a secluded bench by the stables.
"Eomer, I should not have drunk so much ale last night," she said. "Please forgive me." She paused. "I cannot remember anything past our dance. It should have been more special, and I am sorry that we will be unable to share that memory. Will you--can you--forgive me?" She looked at him with sorrow-filled eyes.
Eomer was now both concerned and confused. "Lothiriel, are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked, putting his hand to her forehead.
"Yes. No. I'm not sure! I don't know what happened--how far we went. I don't even remember going to your rooms, let alone what took place in there."
"You shouldn't."
"W-what?"
"You fell asleep soon after we danced. I put you in my rooms because I didn't know where yours were. Had I thought about it, I would have put you in Eowyn's rooms instead." Lothiriel breathed an audible sigh of relief, and Eomer looked at her. "What did you think had happened?"
"I-I was afraid th-that," she stuttered, "that you and I--that we had, you know...." She shrugged. "I was drunk, and I woke up in your bed half-dressed with both your clothes and mine in the floor. What was I supposed to think?"
Eomer laughed, rich and deep. "You were afraid that something had happened because I left my clothes in the floor?" Lothiriel nodded, unsure of where the humor was. "I changed clothes in the adjoining bath," he explained. "I must have dumped them in there without thinking. I'm sorry to have frightened you so."
"Where did you stay, then?" she asked.
"The stables."
"With the horses!?! You should have awakened me."
He grinned that same impish grin from the night before that had nearly melted Lothiriel. "I tried. You were out like a wet candle in the wind. You were also snoring loud enough to drown out a stampede."
"I resent that! I do *not* snore!"
"Ha! How would you know? You can't even remember anything that happened while you were conscious!" The two were so absorbed in their argument, that they didn't notice the Rohirrim who had begun to gather around them.
Lothiriel's jaw dropped. "I think I've been insulted!"
"And what are you going to do about it?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.
"I, good sir," Lothiriel said, drawing herself up regally, "am going to remove your reason for wearing a loincl--no. I could not leave the king of Rohan without a way to produce an heir." Stifled laughter arose from the men at the princess's audacity. She smiled, planning her next move. "Instead, I shall challenge you to a duel, Dol Amroth-style."
"A duel?" repeated Eomer. "Who will you ask to fight to defend your honor? Any of my men will be glad to lend you his prowess, though none can beat me in a battle." He gestured at the grinning soldiers.
"Did I say I would send a man to defend my honor? You must have misunderstood, my king. *I* am challenging you to a duel." She grinned at him. "As these fine soldiers are my witnesses, I will expect you to meet me in this very field tomorrow at noon for an Amrothian battle. Be prepared."
A/N (again): see? i told you there'd be a fight! although, i daresay this is nothing like what you thought it would be. i was going to have the duel in this chapter, but it's nearly three pages on the word processor with size 11 font, so i'll save it for the next one (plus i haven't written that part yet). next up: the duel and then they will finally head to dol amroth where you will meet HIM..........