Finally!
Eomer enjoyed the time he had with the royal family from Dol Amroth. The Prince was kind and genial to his guests—nothing short of the gracious host they always knew him to be. Eomer sighed as he counted the days he had left in Dol Amroth. Only two more.
It was agreed upon before the party from Ithilien left that Eowyn, being a couple months away from ushering in a new Steward of Gondor (or so she adamantly claimed), must return home before the last one-and-a-half months of her pregnancy. Thus, Faramir insisted that the party must leave exactly on that date—not one day more, but possibly one or two days less, if the King of Rohan could spare it, and spare it he would, for the sake of hospitality and loyalty to his sister.
He looked out from his balcony and saw the garden of the spacious palace that the royal family called home. Further out, beyond the white marble walls and gates, were carefully paved steps that led down the cliffs and to the sea.
Again, his thoughts turned back to the ring that journeyed with him from Ithilien. He thought carefully. Would she truly be willing to give up her carefree and comfortable life in this spacious palace, surrounded by those who love her best, to shoulder responsibility and, at most, life in the prison of rules that Methuseld commanded of its mistress? Eomer decided no, but what was the worst that could happen? My heart would break in two, and I would cease to be. Hmmm. Considering that just a year before, he was facing death and then a sudden kingship with thousands of lives depending on his decisions, he decided that the worst wasn't too bad. Then again, maybe it was. Eomer sighed, picked up the box that held the ring, and headed to Lord Imrahil's study to have a word with the estimable prince.
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"So let me get this straight. You wish to tear from my arms my only daughter? The one who, since her mother's death, has kept me content with life? The one who has been my light in the world? I do not even begin to speak of what her brothers think of her. I know how much you love your sister. Multiply that times three, and also factor in the fact that since age six, Lothiriel has never left their sides. We must also consider Faramir, for although he is also married, he takes comfort in the fact that she is so near to him. He practically raised her, you know. They are closer to each other than any of her brothers are to her. Ask my permission? To steal the light of Dol Amroth?" Imrahil raved on, each word making Eomer regret his decision to inform the Prince of his intentions. Imrahil continued his pacing, but snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye to see how the young monarch was handling his teasing. What he saw almost made him cry tears of mirth. There was Eomer, sitting in a chair, hands over his face, and truly humbled. Imrahil sighed.
"My boy, I cannot deny you love. I love Lothiriel with all my heart, and though I wish I could leave and follow her hither to Rohan, or to the ends of the earth, I cannot. For nigh twenty years I have looked forward to and dreaded this day. And now that it is come, I am glad it is you that is asking. For you are the only man I deem worthy enough for my princess jewel. I give you my blessing, and only ask that you might allow a henpecked old man to visit the daughter whose littlest finger he has been wrapped around since the day she was laid in his arms."
"My lord, I truly thank you!" Eomer smiled, his face completely lit up. "I am indebted to you forever, and for that, you may have whatever you wish, just short of the Riddermark, and I shall grant it to you. If you should wish to visit Lothiriel weekly, I should grant it. If you wish to take residence in Rohan, I would give my leave and send word to have quarters fit for the finest Lord of Gondor prepared at once!" he talked animatedly.
"Son, for truly son you shall be, go and speak with my daughter. That is all I ask at this moment," Imrahil smiled. Eomer held out his hand to shake it, signifying the sealing of a deal. Imrahil looked at the hand, then embraced Eomer instead. "Go!" He laughed as Eomer scampered out of the room.
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Lothiriel was walking in the gardens, reading a book (her newest gift from Faramir), when a great pair of arms embraced her. Knowing instantly that it was Eomer, but in the mood for some light teasing, she screamed, then said rather saucily, "Darling. Ssssh! It is not nice to sneak up on me! I am sure the King of Rohan will not like you taking such liberties," she giggled.
"Oh, but he is not watching, and he will not care. Quick, he turns his back, give me a kiss!"
"What cheek!" Lothiriel giggled, but she kissed him anyway. "What brings you to the garden, to disrupt my reading?"
Eomer looked at the book and frowned. "History of Middle Earth, Volume...What?" he asked, absolutely astounded at the fact that the novel was not some mushy book of poetry as he thought, but a book of history.
"It's the volume that I needed to complete my collection. The one about Rohan," she smiled. "Your people's history really is quite interesting."
"I thank you for the compliment, my darling princess. Now that you are reading that book, should you ever want to come and visit Rohan?"
"Are you inviting me? Shall I come as guest? Or perhaps I could convince Elessar to make me the new ambassador to Rohan," she cocked her eyebrow.
"Lothiriel," he turned serious, and she put her hand over his lips. She led him to a nearby bench, sat them both down, then looked at him with a worried look.
"What is the matter, my lord?"
Eomer took her hands to steady his own from shaking, then began. "Ever since I saw your ride furiously up the city circles in Minas Tirith, I could not help but fall in love with you. You are beautiful, intelligent, full of spirit, courageous, and most importantly (he winked) a good horsewoman."
Lothiriel giggled and rolled her eyes. "Yes, heaven forbid that we neglect to mention that particular skill."
"I fear I cannot leave Dol Amroth in two days time without knowing...what I mean to say is...will you give me the honor of returning with me to Rohan—not as my guest, or as an ambassador of Gondor, but as my bride?" he looked at her with hopeful eyes.
Lothiriel sat pensive for a moment, she looked at their hands connected, then snuck at look at his face, as his hopeful look turned to one of fear and rejection.
"I shall," she said simply, and that was all she needed to say. Eomer looked at her incredulously, as if he did not believe he heard a word of her acceptance. She firmly placed two hands on his head, leaned in, and kissed him.
When they separated, he smiled. He looked at her, then opened the box he carried. "This ring was passed down to me from my beloved late uncle. It belonged to my aunt, the last Queen of Rohan. Since the beginning of the history of the Riddermark, the Queens of Rohan have worn this on their finger. Traditionally, it is to be given at the start of the betrothal. Will you, Lothiriel, honor me by wearing it as a symbol of our love?" he asked, as he held the ring.
She held out her hand, and he slipped it on. A perfect fit. She marveled at the craftsmanship of such an item. "'Tis beautiful!" she murmured. He smiled. He had finally found his queen. Together, they headed back into the house to share their good news.
Eomer enjoyed the time he had with the royal family from Dol Amroth. The Prince was kind and genial to his guests—nothing short of the gracious host they always knew him to be. Eomer sighed as he counted the days he had left in Dol Amroth. Only two more.
It was agreed upon before the party from Ithilien left that Eowyn, being a couple months away from ushering in a new Steward of Gondor (or so she adamantly claimed), must return home before the last one-and-a-half months of her pregnancy. Thus, Faramir insisted that the party must leave exactly on that date—not one day more, but possibly one or two days less, if the King of Rohan could spare it, and spare it he would, for the sake of hospitality and loyalty to his sister.
He looked out from his balcony and saw the garden of the spacious palace that the royal family called home. Further out, beyond the white marble walls and gates, were carefully paved steps that led down the cliffs and to the sea.
Again, his thoughts turned back to the ring that journeyed with him from Ithilien. He thought carefully. Would she truly be willing to give up her carefree and comfortable life in this spacious palace, surrounded by those who love her best, to shoulder responsibility and, at most, life in the prison of rules that Methuseld commanded of its mistress? Eomer decided no, but what was the worst that could happen? My heart would break in two, and I would cease to be. Hmmm. Considering that just a year before, he was facing death and then a sudden kingship with thousands of lives depending on his decisions, he decided that the worst wasn't too bad. Then again, maybe it was. Eomer sighed, picked up the box that held the ring, and headed to Lord Imrahil's study to have a word with the estimable prince.
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"So let me get this straight. You wish to tear from my arms my only daughter? The one who, since her mother's death, has kept me content with life? The one who has been my light in the world? I do not even begin to speak of what her brothers think of her. I know how much you love your sister. Multiply that times three, and also factor in the fact that since age six, Lothiriel has never left their sides. We must also consider Faramir, for although he is also married, he takes comfort in the fact that she is so near to him. He practically raised her, you know. They are closer to each other than any of her brothers are to her. Ask my permission? To steal the light of Dol Amroth?" Imrahil raved on, each word making Eomer regret his decision to inform the Prince of his intentions. Imrahil continued his pacing, but snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye to see how the young monarch was handling his teasing. What he saw almost made him cry tears of mirth. There was Eomer, sitting in a chair, hands over his face, and truly humbled. Imrahil sighed.
"My boy, I cannot deny you love. I love Lothiriel with all my heart, and though I wish I could leave and follow her hither to Rohan, or to the ends of the earth, I cannot. For nigh twenty years I have looked forward to and dreaded this day. And now that it is come, I am glad it is you that is asking. For you are the only man I deem worthy enough for my princess jewel. I give you my blessing, and only ask that you might allow a henpecked old man to visit the daughter whose littlest finger he has been wrapped around since the day she was laid in his arms."
"My lord, I truly thank you!" Eomer smiled, his face completely lit up. "I am indebted to you forever, and for that, you may have whatever you wish, just short of the Riddermark, and I shall grant it to you. If you should wish to visit Lothiriel weekly, I should grant it. If you wish to take residence in Rohan, I would give my leave and send word to have quarters fit for the finest Lord of Gondor prepared at once!" he talked animatedly.
"Son, for truly son you shall be, go and speak with my daughter. That is all I ask at this moment," Imrahil smiled. Eomer held out his hand to shake it, signifying the sealing of a deal. Imrahil looked at the hand, then embraced Eomer instead. "Go!" He laughed as Eomer scampered out of the room.
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Lothiriel was walking in the gardens, reading a book (her newest gift from Faramir), when a great pair of arms embraced her. Knowing instantly that it was Eomer, but in the mood for some light teasing, she screamed, then said rather saucily, "Darling. Ssssh! It is not nice to sneak up on me! I am sure the King of Rohan will not like you taking such liberties," she giggled.
"Oh, but he is not watching, and he will not care. Quick, he turns his back, give me a kiss!"
"What cheek!" Lothiriel giggled, but she kissed him anyway. "What brings you to the garden, to disrupt my reading?"
Eomer looked at the book and frowned. "History of Middle Earth, Volume...What?" he asked, absolutely astounded at the fact that the novel was not some mushy book of poetry as he thought, but a book of history.
"It's the volume that I needed to complete my collection. The one about Rohan," she smiled. "Your people's history really is quite interesting."
"I thank you for the compliment, my darling princess. Now that you are reading that book, should you ever want to come and visit Rohan?"
"Are you inviting me? Shall I come as guest? Or perhaps I could convince Elessar to make me the new ambassador to Rohan," she cocked her eyebrow.
"Lothiriel," he turned serious, and she put her hand over his lips. She led him to a nearby bench, sat them both down, then looked at him with a worried look.
"What is the matter, my lord?"
Eomer took her hands to steady his own from shaking, then began. "Ever since I saw your ride furiously up the city circles in Minas Tirith, I could not help but fall in love with you. You are beautiful, intelligent, full of spirit, courageous, and most importantly (he winked) a good horsewoman."
Lothiriel giggled and rolled her eyes. "Yes, heaven forbid that we neglect to mention that particular skill."
"I fear I cannot leave Dol Amroth in two days time without knowing...what I mean to say is...will you give me the honor of returning with me to Rohan—not as my guest, or as an ambassador of Gondor, but as my bride?" he looked at her with hopeful eyes.
Lothiriel sat pensive for a moment, she looked at their hands connected, then snuck at look at his face, as his hopeful look turned to one of fear and rejection.
"I shall," she said simply, and that was all she needed to say. Eomer looked at her incredulously, as if he did not believe he heard a word of her acceptance. She firmly placed two hands on his head, leaned in, and kissed him.
When they separated, he smiled. He looked at her, then opened the box he carried. "This ring was passed down to me from my beloved late uncle. It belonged to my aunt, the last Queen of Rohan. Since the beginning of the history of the Riddermark, the Queens of Rohan have worn this on their finger. Traditionally, it is to be given at the start of the betrothal. Will you, Lothiriel, honor me by wearing it as a symbol of our love?" he asked, as he held the ring.
She held out her hand, and he slipped it on. A perfect fit. She marveled at the craftsmanship of such an item. "'Tis beautiful!" she murmured. He smiled. He had finally found his queen. Together, they headed back into the house to share their good news.