A/N—Thanks everyone for the reviews. I guess you guys really want to hear
from Gimli and Legolas. I agree...I mean, come on...what's a party without the
elf and the dwarf. I had a lot of fun with this chapter. Hope you all
enjoy!
Soccer—First of all, what a great ID you have. And secondly, thank you for your kind words!
LSOA—I liked Faramir's groan too. I think he is written too sensitively most of the time. I don't buy it. Eowyn wouldn't fall for a guy who wasn't at least a little tough. I think I am going to write him as a smartarse. Hee he he!
Haldir—We need a Legolas & Gimli World Tour, don't you think?
Jynessea—I'm glad you liked the kiss too...that was my favorite part as well. I just watched TT the other day, and Eomer is so hot it physically hurts me. Sigh.
Klaw—What a nice compliment! I'm glad you really got into the story.
Magsluvsaragorn—I agree that Eomer is woefully underused. I'm glad you like the story so far.
Eokat—Thanks so much. I'm really trying to make it interesting and fun. As for Eomer throwing her over his shoulder, well that just seemed like something he'd do...or that I'd wish he'd do. (
Tracey—Thanks for the vote of confidence!
Laureate—I almost wrote, "This colon is dedicated to Laureate..." Just kidding! I hope your computer is fixed...let me know any other technical comments you might have, and thank you for all your help. It really means a lot to me. ________________________________
During the feast, Lothiriel sat between Eomer and her father. The table held so much food that she could hardly decide what to place upon her plate. Eomer, she noticed, didn't have the same difficulties, for he eagerly took a large heap of everything offered.
"I'm pleased to see you are enjoying the feast, Eomer," Arwen said delicately from her seat beside the blond king.
"You have no idea, my Lady," Eomer said between mouthfuls.
"Princess," Elessar said as he directed his attention to Lothiriel, "it appears you will not have to fulfill your pledge to marry Faramir after all." The high king had a mischievous grin and roguish twinkle in his eyes.
Lothiriel laughed openly and looked past Eomer and Arwen, who both looked a little confused at Elessar's comment, and she said, "I had forgotten about that! Obviously, more than politics serves as discussion in your council meetings with my cousin, Elessar."
"What's this all about?" Eomer asked, wanting in on the humor.
Imrahil chuckled and answered him, "It was the ill effect of my sons, I'm afraid. When Lothiriel was little more than eight years of age, her brothers teased her that she would be married off to an orc to mend relations with Mordor. Older brothers can be horrible beasts at times. Anyway—right in the middle of a meeting with my advisors, and before her mother could stop her, my sweet daughter burst into the council room and declared, for all to hear, that she would never marry an orc; and that if I ever tried to make her do so, she would run away and marry Faramir."
"I was so infatuated with you, Faramir, when I was young," Lothiriel said and directed a merry grin down the table to where her cousin sat.
"That is the most adorable story I've ever heard," said Eowyn though a gale of laughter.
"Which part?" asked Lothiriel with a giggle. "My brothers saying I had to marry an orc, or me saying I was going to marry Faramir?"
"Both!" Eowyn said with delight. "Did you know that Eomer once told me our parents weren't actually my parents, but that they had traded some firewood for me from a local farmer?"
Eomer choked on the wine he was drinking and exclaimed, "I never said that!"
"You most certainly did! I was around six years old," Eowyn said, "and I remember it as if it was yesterday."
Before Eomer could respond, Lothiriel excitedly said, "My brothers tried that one too, except they said I floated in from sea on some driftwood, and our parents took pity on me and took me in as their daughter."
"Ah, yes." Imrahil said. "Hence, Lothiriel's nickname from her brothers for many years was, in fact, Driftwood."
"Eomer used to put manure in my shoes before I woke up in the morning," Eowyn said with a look of disgust.
"Amrothos used to tie nooses around the necks of my dolls and hang them from the ceiling of my chambers, in Dol Amroth; they were always just high enough that I couldn't get them down myself," said Lothiriel, referring to the youngest of her three brothers, and with an equally disgusted look.
Eomer chuckled and said, "That's a good one; too bad I never thought of that. Eowyn and her dolls used to drive me crazy. She'd always want to play in my room, and she'd leave them lying around everywhere."
"Growing up in Rivendell, with the Eldar, had its benefits, apparently," said Elessar. "What say you, my love?"
Arwen set down the goblet of wine she held and demurely said, "I have two older brothers, and though they are Elf-kind, they are still older brothers. I seem to recall having my hair pulled a time or two, but I'm sure, if Elladan and Elrohir were here, they would say it was purely by accident."
"There you have it," Eomer said smugly. "If the great sons of Lord Elrond can't resist a tease or two toward their little sister, how can you ever fault us mortal older brothers for enjoying the same?"
Everyone at the table erupted with laughter at Eomer's words, including Queen Arwen, whose mirth was light and airy, like the sound of chimes on a breezy day. Lothiriel's laughter, however, was full-hearted and throaty; it made her eyes wide with tears, and her cheeks flush prettily. Eomer thought the princess was her most beautiful when she was laughing. And, luckily for him, he thought to himself, she was laughing most of the time.
~
After an hour or so, the guests still lingered at their tables picking at the remaining food on their plates and drinking from a selection of the palace's best wines and ales. Lothiriel chuckled to herself as she looked around the room; she watched as everyone leaned back in their chairs and assumed an overstuffed posture. The servants scurried around the hall and started to clear plates and utensils; off to the side of the marble dance floor, several musicians prepared their instruments.
Lothiriel's stomach ached at the thought of dancing after such a large meal. She decided a small walk was in order, before the rest of the festivities continued. As she slowly rose from her seat, all the men at her table rose with her, out of courtesy. "Please, my Lords," Lothiriel said and bid the men to sit again, "I wouldn't want anyone to hurt themselves after such a tremendous meal."
Elessar and Faramir both took their seats again and grinned at the princess's truthful words. Eomer stayed standing and said, "Going for a walk, Princess?" Lothiriel nodded wordlessly to him, and he placed her hand on his arm. "Allow me to be your escort then, for I fear your father is in no condition to do so presently," he said and glanced down at Imrahil. The prince, who hadn't bothered to rise when Lothiriel had stood, looked fairly miserable; he had pushed his seat back from the table, his hands were resting on his overfull stomach, and he wore a slightly dazed expression.
"Go with my blessing," Imrahil said and waved dismissively at the pair.
As Lothiriel walked past her father, she laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "I almost feel sorry for you, Father. Except—you could have stopped eating at any time." Imrahil made an indelicate sound and waved the couple off again. Eomer flashed a teasing grin at the prince, and then led Lothiriel out of the hall and into the great courtyard of Minas Tirith.
They walked past the King's Tree, which was just starting to turn golden for the coming fall season, and to the edge of the courtyard. Lit torches were spread around the perimeter of the quad, but they provided minimal light; the bright stars above their heads were only slightly more effective. Eomer aimed the princess toward a dimly lit area, and once they were partially concealed by the darkness of the night, he swept her up into a passionate kiss.
When they separated, Lothiriel had to struggle to catch her breath. She could only see part of his features in the low light, but she knew he was smiling the devilish smile of his that always caused her knees to buckle.
"You're drunk," she said with an accusing tone.
"Not really," Eomer said.
"Well, I am a little, so you shouldn't take advantage," the princess said. "That cad, Faramir, kept ordering my wine goblet filled."
Eomer caught her in another hard kiss, but this time the princess was ready; she pushed herself into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist. Eomer grunted in surprise as Lothiriel, using the leverage of her arms around his middle-section, pulled her hips up and into his. She twisted her head to the side, forcing Eomer's mouth open wider so she could probe deeper with her tongue. Her hands closed into tight fists, and she pulled at the back of his soft, green tunic.
As a small moan escaped his lips, Eomer placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently to break their heated connection. "Wait a minute," he said in an awed voice, "I thought you were the good one."
Lothiriel looked at him with dreamy eyes and said, "When did we decide that?"
"Well, we never really decided it...it's just that...well, I'm always the bad one," Eomer said slightly confused.
She stared at him for a moment, and then she burst into loud peals of laughter. A small, unladylike snort escaped at the tail of her laughing jag, and the princess quickly covered her mouth with one of her hands and looked wide-eyed at Eomer. "Excuse me," she said; her words were mumbled from the hand covering her mouth and a suppressed giggle.
Eomer laughed deeply and pulled her into a tight embrace. A broad smile spread across Lothiriel's face, and she flung her arms over his shoulders; he hugged her so fiercely that he lifted her off the ground. From over Eomer's shoulder, Lothiriel caught sight of two figures that entered the palace through the courtyard. One was lean and tall, like a sapling tree; the other was half the first's size and appeared twice as wide. She recognized them instantly and gasped in Eomer's ear.
Lothiriel struggled out of Eomer's hold and turned him so he faced the palace entrance. "Look," she exclaimed.
Eomer saw the odd pair as they entered the palace and flashed a quick grin at Lothiriel; he grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the palace. She wordlessly followed him, having to lift the front of her gown to keep from tripping.
Eomer and Lothiriel entered the palace just before those they followed turned a corner leading to the banquet hall. In a deep, booming voice Eomer said, "What business does an elf and a dwarf have entering the palace of Minas Tirith, at this time of night?"
The pair froze in their steps at Eomer's words; they spun around to face the king with wide smiles on their faces. "Well, if it isn't the King of Rohan, looking tall as usual," said the dwarf in a gruff voice.
"Master Gimli," Eomer said in greeting as he looped Lothiriel's arm around his again and approached the dwarf. "You're looking well. I was hoping you two would show up sometime this week." He nodded at the elf standing nobly next to Gimli.
"Lord Eomer, Lady Lothiriel," the elf said in a musical voice. "We could hardly pass the chance to see most of our friends together. Besides, the harvest celebration is renowned for its feasts, something Gimli would never miss."
"I'm surprised you remember me, Prince Legolas," Lothiriel said to the elf, "for the first and last time we met was at Eomer's coronation, over a year ago." She smiled charmingly at the fair elf.
"My Lady, I could never forget someone of your great beauty," Legolas said and bowed low before the princess.
"Eomer's coronation," said Gimli in an excited voice, "now that was a celebration! I think it took me two days to recover."
"Four days, my friend," said Legolas.
Ignoring the elf's comment, Gimli continued, "But, if I remember correctly, this lovely creature was a princess from Dol Amroth then. And now, here she stands in the green of Rohan. Eomer, tell me you haven't run off, made a queen of the lass, and didn't invite us to the celebration!"
Lothiriel giggled at the dwarf's words and said, "Nay, Master Dwarf. That is yet to come in Edoras, early this November."
"And we hope you will both travel to Rohan with us for the wedding," Eomer said.
"Magnificent news!" Gimli said with a roar. The dwarf jumped forward and clasped arms with Eomer. "Another party in Edoras...I'll pack my ax." He cast a mischievous wink at Lothiriel.
Legolas slapped a hand on Eomer's back in congratulations and said, "We would be most honored to join in your celebration."
"Ha!" shouted Gimli, "Speaking of celebrations...I'm starving." The dwarf turned in the direction of the banquet hall and quickly left the group in search of food and, most definitely, ale. Shaking his head in resignation, Legolas glanced at the king and princess, and then he turned to follow his friend. Eomer and Lothiriel followed close behind; both smiled brightly at the thought of enjoying their unusual friends' company the rest of the evening.
~
The celebration carried on late into the evening, and Lothiriel enjoyed many a dance with the nobles of both Gondor and Rohan. She preferred the traditional songs of Rohan to the more courtly ballads of Gondor. When the Rohirrim danced, it was far more robust and intimate. Lothiriel loved the closeness she and Eomer were allowed when they shared a dance to a song that originated from his land.
During one such dance, Eomer whispered in her ear, "I am the luckiest man in the room, to have such a perfect woman promise to be mine." He squeezed his hand that lay on her back and drew her in closer to him.
Lothiriel felt a heat stirring in her core, and she moved her head to look at his face. He stared back at her, and his eyes were penetrating; his mouth was curled in a roguish smile. She felt her face turn flush, and she fought the urge to stop dancing and kiss him fervently. "Why can't it be November tomorrow?" she asked with a ragged breath.
Eomer's smile broadened and he said, "Because, it is a cruel world, at times, Princess. But I will promise you this—the longer we are forced to wait, the more we will cherish what awaits us. And that is a good thing, my love."
~
Just after midnight, Lothiriel had danced her feet sore, and she found herself deeply enthralled in one of Gimli's stories, along with Arwen and Eowyn.
"Did he really say that?" asked Lothiriel with a look of disbelief.
"Oh yes, my Lady," Gimli replied. "Elves seldom hold their tongues. It is my opinion that they've lived far too long to mince words." The dwarf suddenly remembered Queen Arwen was in his company, and he quickly sputtered, "No offense, dear Queen!"
Arwen laughed lightly and said, "None taken, Master Dwarf. I agree with your assessment of Elfish nature, wholeheartedly! Particularly, in regards to the Prince of Mirkwood." She winked playfully at Gimli and smiled a sweet smile.
"Well, I may speak gruffly about the lad from time to time," Gimli said with his head bowed slightly, "but I must admit that he has turned out to be an excellent travel companion." Gimli's eyes lit up as a new tale came to mind. "Have you sweet ladies ever heard about the journey the princeling and I made, deep into the Glittering Caves?"
Arwen, Eowyn and Lothiriel shook their heads in response and grinned happily. "No?" asked Gimli. "Well, listen closely, for it is a grand tale, indeed!"
~
"Look at them," said Faramir, slightly exasperated. He directed the attention of the men standing around him to across the room, where Gimli was actively entertaining Arwen, Eowyn and Lothiriel. The ladies were blushing and laughing quite vigorously. "They always go for the dwarf. Why is that?"
"Maybe, it is the sparkling conversation," said Elessar, and a sly smile graced his face.
"It's the beard," Eomer said as he rubbed the neatly trimmed hair on his own chin. "Women love beards."
"Not that I would care to disagree with men of such stature as yourselves, but you're all mistaken in this instance," said Legolas. He bore a playful look on his fair face. "Don't let Gimli's rough exterior fool you. He has the mind of a warrior, indeed, but also the heart of a poet. And that, my Lords, is what your ladies find so compelling."
Another loud wave of laughter came from the women surrounding Gimli, and the noise turned the men's attention from Legolas, to across the hall again. The dwarf was standing on his chair, one of his stubby arms raised high in the air, and the other lay across his chest on his heart; he appeared to be telling a tale of one of his more recent adventures, and he was doing it rather theatrically.
"I believe more truthful words were never spoken, my elf friend," said Elessar as he, and all around him, laughed at the king's sincere revelation.
_____________________________________
A/N—Do you think it is a little out of character to have Lothiriel a little, shall we say "frisky", at the end of the party? Maybe, just a little? (
Soccer—First of all, what a great ID you have. And secondly, thank you for your kind words!
LSOA—I liked Faramir's groan too. I think he is written too sensitively most of the time. I don't buy it. Eowyn wouldn't fall for a guy who wasn't at least a little tough. I think I am going to write him as a smartarse. Hee he he!
Haldir—We need a Legolas & Gimli World Tour, don't you think?
Jynessea—I'm glad you liked the kiss too...that was my favorite part as well. I just watched TT the other day, and Eomer is so hot it physically hurts me. Sigh.
Klaw—What a nice compliment! I'm glad you really got into the story.
Magsluvsaragorn—I agree that Eomer is woefully underused. I'm glad you like the story so far.
Eokat—Thanks so much. I'm really trying to make it interesting and fun. As for Eomer throwing her over his shoulder, well that just seemed like something he'd do...or that I'd wish he'd do. (
Tracey—Thanks for the vote of confidence!
Laureate—I almost wrote, "This colon is dedicated to Laureate..." Just kidding! I hope your computer is fixed...let me know any other technical comments you might have, and thank you for all your help. It really means a lot to me. ________________________________
During the feast, Lothiriel sat between Eomer and her father. The table held so much food that she could hardly decide what to place upon her plate. Eomer, she noticed, didn't have the same difficulties, for he eagerly took a large heap of everything offered.
"I'm pleased to see you are enjoying the feast, Eomer," Arwen said delicately from her seat beside the blond king.
"You have no idea, my Lady," Eomer said between mouthfuls.
"Princess," Elessar said as he directed his attention to Lothiriel, "it appears you will not have to fulfill your pledge to marry Faramir after all." The high king had a mischievous grin and roguish twinkle in his eyes.
Lothiriel laughed openly and looked past Eomer and Arwen, who both looked a little confused at Elessar's comment, and she said, "I had forgotten about that! Obviously, more than politics serves as discussion in your council meetings with my cousin, Elessar."
"What's this all about?" Eomer asked, wanting in on the humor.
Imrahil chuckled and answered him, "It was the ill effect of my sons, I'm afraid. When Lothiriel was little more than eight years of age, her brothers teased her that she would be married off to an orc to mend relations with Mordor. Older brothers can be horrible beasts at times. Anyway—right in the middle of a meeting with my advisors, and before her mother could stop her, my sweet daughter burst into the council room and declared, for all to hear, that she would never marry an orc; and that if I ever tried to make her do so, she would run away and marry Faramir."
"I was so infatuated with you, Faramir, when I was young," Lothiriel said and directed a merry grin down the table to where her cousin sat.
"That is the most adorable story I've ever heard," said Eowyn though a gale of laughter.
"Which part?" asked Lothiriel with a giggle. "My brothers saying I had to marry an orc, or me saying I was going to marry Faramir?"
"Both!" Eowyn said with delight. "Did you know that Eomer once told me our parents weren't actually my parents, but that they had traded some firewood for me from a local farmer?"
Eomer choked on the wine he was drinking and exclaimed, "I never said that!"
"You most certainly did! I was around six years old," Eowyn said, "and I remember it as if it was yesterday."
Before Eomer could respond, Lothiriel excitedly said, "My brothers tried that one too, except they said I floated in from sea on some driftwood, and our parents took pity on me and took me in as their daughter."
"Ah, yes." Imrahil said. "Hence, Lothiriel's nickname from her brothers for many years was, in fact, Driftwood."
"Eomer used to put manure in my shoes before I woke up in the morning," Eowyn said with a look of disgust.
"Amrothos used to tie nooses around the necks of my dolls and hang them from the ceiling of my chambers, in Dol Amroth; they were always just high enough that I couldn't get them down myself," said Lothiriel, referring to the youngest of her three brothers, and with an equally disgusted look.
Eomer chuckled and said, "That's a good one; too bad I never thought of that. Eowyn and her dolls used to drive me crazy. She'd always want to play in my room, and she'd leave them lying around everywhere."
"Growing up in Rivendell, with the Eldar, had its benefits, apparently," said Elessar. "What say you, my love?"
Arwen set down the goblet of wine she held and demurely said, "I have two older brothers, and though they are Elf-kind, they are still older brothers. I seem to recall having my hair pulled a time or two, but I'm sure, if Elladan and Elrohir were here, they would say it was purely by accident."
"There you have it," Eomer said smugly. "If the great sons of Lord Elrond can't resist a tease or two toward their little sister, how can you ever fault us mortal older brothers for enjoying the same?"
Everyone at the table erupted with laughter at Eomer's words, including Queen Arwen, whose mirth was light and airy, like the sound of chimes on a breezy day. Lothiriel's laughter, however, was full-hearted and throaty; it made her eyes wide with tears, and her cheeks flush prettily. Eomer thought the princess was her most beautiful when she was laughing. And, luckily for him, he thought to himself, she was laughing most of the time.
~
After an hour or so, the guests still lingered at their tables picking at the remaining food on their plates and drinking from a selection of the palace's best wines and ales. Lothiriel chuckled to herself as she looked around the room; she watched as everyone leaned back in their chairs and assumed an overstuffed posture. The servants scurried around the hall and started to clear plates and utensils; off to the side of the marble dance floor, several musicians prepared their instruments.
Lothiriel's stomach ached at the thought of dancing after such a large meal. She decided a small walk was in order, before the rest of the festivities continued. As she slowly rose from her seat, all the men at her table rose with her, out of courtesy. "Please, my Lords," Lothiriel said and bid the men to sit again, "I wouldn't want anyone to hurt themselves after such a tremendous meal."
Elessar and Faramir both took their seats again and grinned at the princess's truthful words. Eomer stayed standing and said, "Going for a walk, Princess?" Lothiriel nodded wordlessly to him, and he placed her hand on his arm. "Allow me to be your escort then, for I fear your father is in no condition to do so presently," he said and glanced down at Imrahil. The prince, who hadn't bothered to rise when Lothiriel had stood, looked fairly miserable; he had pushed his seat back from the table, his hands were resting on his overfull stomach, and he wore a slightly dazed expression.
"Go with my blessing," Imrahil said and waved dismissively at the pair.
As Lothiriel walked past her father, she laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "I almost feel sorry for you, Father. Except—you could have stopped eating at any time." Imrahil made an indelicate sound and waved the couple off again. Eomer flashed a teasing grin at the prince, and then led Lothiriel out of the hall and into the great courtyard of Minas Tirith.
They walked past the King's Tree, which was just starting to turn golden for the coming fall season, and to the edge of the courtyard. Lit torches were spread around the perimeter of the quad, but they provided minimal light; the bright stars above their heads were only slightly more effective. Eomer aimed the princess toward a dimly lit area, and once they were partially concealed by the darkness of the night, he swept her up into a passionate kiss.
When they separated, Lothiriel had to struggle to catch her breath. She could only see part of his features in the low light, but she knew he was smiling the devilish smile of his that always caused her knees to buckle.
"You're drunk," she said with an accusing tone.
"Not really," Eomer said.
"Well, I am a little, so you shouldn't take advantage," the princess said. "That cad, Faramir, kept ordering my wine goblet filled."
Eomer caught her in another hard kiss, but this time the princess was ready; she pushed herself into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist. Eomer grunted in surprise as Lothiriel, using the leverage of her arms around his middle-section, pulled her hips up and into his. She twisted her head to the side, forcing Eomer's mouth open wider so she could probe deeper with her tongue. Her hands closed into tight fists, and she pulled at the back of his soft, green tunic.
As a small moan escaped his lips, Eomer placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently to break their heated connection. "Wait a minute," he said in an awed voice, "I thought you were the good one."
Lothiriel looked at him with dreamy eyes and said, "When did we decide that?"
"Well, we never really decided it...it's just that...well, I'm always the bad one," Eomer said slightly confused.
She stared at him for a moment, and then she burst into loud peals of laughter. A small, unladylike snort escaped at the tail of her laughing jag, and the princess quickly covered her mouth with one of her hands and looked wide-eyed at Eomer. "Excuse me," she said; her words were mumbled from the hand covering her mouth and a suppressed giggle.
Eomer laughed deeply and pulled her into a tight embrace. A broad smile spread across Lothiriel's face, and she flung her arms over his shoulders; he hugged her so fiercely that he lifted her off the ground. From over Eomer's shoulder, Lothiriel caught sight of two figures that entered the palace through the courtyard. One was lean and tall, like a sapling tree; the other was half the first's size and appeared twice as wide. She recognized them instantly and gasped in Eomer's ear.
Lothiriel struggled out of Eomer's hold and turned him so he faced the palace entrance. "Look," she exclaimed.
Eomer saw the odd pair as they entered the palace and flashed a quick grin at Lothiriel; he grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the palace. She wordlessly followed him, having to lift the front of her gown to keep from tripping.
Eomer and Lothiriel entered the palace just before those they followed turned a corner leading to the banquet hall. In a deep, booming voice Eomer said, "What business does an elf and a dwarf have entering the palace of Minas Tirith, at this time of night?"
The pair froze in their steps at Eomer's words; they spun around to face the king with wide smiles on their faces. "Well, if it isn't the King of Rohan, looking tall as usual," said the dwarf in a gruff voice.
"Master Gimli," Eomer said in greeting as he looped Lothiriel's arm around his again and approached the dwarf. "You're looking well. I was hoping you two would show up sometime this week." He nodded at the elf standing nobly next to Gimli.
"Lord Eomer, Lady Lothiriel," the elf said in a musical voice. "We could hardly pass the chance to see most of our friends together. Besides, the harvest celebration is renowned for its feasts, something Gimli would never miss."
"I'm surprised you remember me, Prince Legolas," Lothiriel said to the elf, "for the first and last time we met was at Eomer's coronation, over a year ago." She smiled charmingly at the fair elf.
"My Lady, I could never forget someone of your great beauty," Legolas said and bowed low before the princess.
"Eomer's coronation," said Gimli in an excited voice, "now that was a celebration! I think it took me two days to recover."
"Four days, my friend," said Legolas.
Ignoring the elf's comment, Gimli continued, "But, if I remember correctly, this lovely creature was a princess from Dol Amroth then. And now, here she stands in the green of Rohan. Eomer, tell me you haven't run off, made a queen of the lass, and didn't invite us to the celebration!"
Lothiriel giggled at the dwarf's words and said, "Nay, Master Dwarf. That is yet to come in Edoras, early this November."
"And we hope you will both travel to Rohan with us for the wedding," Eomer said.
"Magnificent news!" Gimli said with a roar. The dwarf jumped forward and clasped arms with Eomer. "Another party in Edoras...I'll pack my ax." He cast a mischievous wink at Lothiriel.
Legolas slapped a hand on Eomer's back in congratulations and said, "We would be most honored to join in your celebration."
"Ha!" shouted Gimli, "Speaking of celebrations...I'm starving." The dwarf turned in the direction of the banquet hall and quickly left the group in search of food and, most definitely, ale. Shaking his head in resignation, Legolas glanced at the king and princess, and then he turned to follow his friend. Eomer and Lothiriel followed close behind; both smiled brightly at the thought of enjoying their unusual friends' company the rest of the evening.
~
The celebration carried on late into the evening, and Lothiriel enjoyed many a dance with the nobles of both Gondor and Rohan. She preferred the traditional songs of Rohan to the more courtly ballads of Gondor. When the Rohirrim danced, it was far more robust and intimate. Lothiriel loved the closeness she and Eomer were allowed when they shared a dance to a song that originated from his land.
During one such dance, Eomer whispered in her ear, "I am the luckiest man in the room, to have such a perfect woman promise to be mine." He squeezed his hand that lay on her back and drew her in closer to him.
Lothiriel felt a heat stirring in her core, and she moved her head to look at his face. He stared back at her, and his eyes were penetrating; his mouth was curled in a roguish smile. She felt her face turn flush, and she fought the urge to stop dancing and kiss him fervently. "Why can't it be November tomorrow?" she asked with a ragged breath.
Eomer's smile broadened and he said, "Because, it is a cruel world, at times, Princess. But I will promise you this—the longer we are forced to wait, the more we will cherish what awaits us. And that is a good thing, my love."
~
Just after midnight, Lothiriel had danced her feet sore, and she found herself deeply enthralled in one of Gimli's stories, along with Arwen and Eowyn.
"Did he really say that?" asked Lothiriel with a look of disbelief.
"Oh yes, my Lady," Gimli replied. "Elves seldom hold their tongues. It is my opinion that they've lived far too long to mince words." The dwarf suddenly remembered Queen Arwen was in his company, and he quickly sputtered, "No offense, dear Queen!"
Arwen laughed lightly and said, "None taken, Master Dwarf. I agree with your assessment of Elfish nature, wholeheartedly! Particularly, in regards to the Prince of Mirkwood." She winked playfully at Gimli and smiled a sweet smile.
"Well, I may speak gruffly about the lad from time to time," Gimli said with his head bowed slightly, "but I must admit that he has turned out to be an excellent travel companion." Gimli's eyes lit up as a new tale came to mind. "Have you sweet ladies ever heard about the journey the princeling and I made, deep into the Glittering Caves?"
Arwen, Eowyn and Lothiriel shook their heads in response and grinned happily. "No?" asked Gimli. "Well, listen closely, for it is a grand tale, indeed!"
~
"Look at them," said Faramir, slightly exasperated. He directed the attention of the men standing around him to across the room, where Gimli was actively entertaining Arwen, Eowyn and Lothiriel. The ladies were blushing and laughing quite vigorously. "They always go for the dwarf. Why is that?"
"Maybe, it is the sparkling conversation," said Elessar, and a sly smile graced his face.
"It's the beard," Eomer said as he rubbed the neatly trimmed hair on his own chin. "Women love beards."
"Not that I would care to disagree with men of such stature as yourselves, but you're all mistaken in this instance," said Legolas. He bore a playful look on his fair face. "Don't let Gimli's rough exterior fool you. He has the mind of a warrior, indeed, but also the heart of a poet. And that, my Lords, is what your ladies find so compelling."
Another loud wave of laughter came from the women surrounding Gimli, and the noise turned the men's attention from Legolas, to across the hall again. The dwarf was standing on his chair, one of his stubby arms raised high in the air, and the other lay across his chest on his heart; he appeared to be telling a tale of one of his more recent adventures, and he was doing it rather theatrically.
"I believe more truthful words were never spoken, my elf friend," said Elessar as he, and all around him, laughed at the king's sincere revelation.
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A/N—Do you think it is a little out of character to have Lothiriel a little, shall we say "frisky", at the end of the party? Maybe, just a little? (
