Acceptance.
Chapter Four.
Lothiriel woke in the early hours, and to her amusement found that she was still fully clad, as was her husband. She wriggled out of her husband's arms and disrobed, instantly feeling cooler in her light chemise. She sat at the side of the bed and looked fondly at Eomer. His hair shone even in the dark, the golden lights reflecting in the dimness, a sight of which always sent a surge of desire through her. Brought up in a land where dark hair was the norm she was enraptured by the golden hair of her husband.
A giggle was quickly stifled as Eomer reached out his left arm for the slight figure of his wife, a figure that was now missing. In haste she rolled back under the coverlet and felt his strong arm wrap round her, and she revelled in the feelings of love and protection she drew from his touch, even while he was asleep.
In his sleep Eomer mumbled some indistinct words when he reached out as one blind to seek his loss, and then, as he felt that soft body again within his grasp, a small smile played upon his lips and he slipped back into a deep slumber.
Lothiriel watched him awhile reaching out a hand to brush the blonde mane from his forehead. 'I am indeed the most blessed of women, to have this man as husband,' she mused ere sleep overtook her again.
Eomer woke before the dawn, his wife asleep in his arms. He remembered holding her close as they had whispered together the previous night, after he had released her from his insistent tickling. Lothiriel was clad in just her chemise, so had somehow taken her gown off during the night without disturbing him. He moved away from her, desiring to have closer bodily contact, and as gently as he could pulled his tunic over his head, peeled off his breeches and then rejoined Lothiriel under the coverlet, pulling her closer to him again. He could feel the curves of her body through the thin material as they spooned together. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he ran his fingers down her arm, and was surprised to feel her small hand reach up to clasp his own.
"And so I was trying not to waken you," he whispered softly, brushing his lips gently along the back of her neck, "And you were so all along."
"Think you could not awaken me easily?" she smiled, writhing with the sensation, "And how do you think I awaken when your son demands his feeds at all hours? Write a note to me he does not." With the same playfulness that tinted her amused words, she wriggled her bottom against him, and felt Eomer respond almost instantly.
The sensual movements of his wife in front of him caused Eomer to growl with pleasure. His blood raced but he fought the sensation as best he could. He wanted nothing more than take his wife in his arms, smother her with kisses and love her, but he reined himself back.
Lothiriel smiled to herself. Since his ardent lovemaking of the previous day, she was happy about this display of restraint and wriggled round to face him. And for a while they were content just to gaze at each other. "I love you," she whispered.
Eomer was on the point of replying in kind when she hushed him, holding her hand over his lips, and spoke again, "I know I have fears for this day...but I truly believe that...that with you by my side I could face anything."
Eomer melted at the honest love he saw in his wife's eyes. "My beloved...min cwen..." He leaned over her and their lips met in a light touch, a touch that quickly deepened as though a spark had fallen from the flames.
Lothiriel shivered with delight, instantly responding to the gentle touch. His hands roamed her body but she moaned with sudden frustration. Eomer frowned, a little puzzled as she pushed herself out of his grip, but soon a huge grin adorned his face as he watched his wife divest herself of her undergarment.
She lay back down on the bed with a coy smile and held out her open arms to him. Eomer marvelled at the simple action, which showed him all his wife's love and trust.
Tenderly his hands roamed her breasts and slowly made their way down her body. He was tantalisingly slow, which caused Lothiriel to arch her back and moan his name.
Eomer smiled to himself as he reached his goal, hearing his wife cry out and feeling her open for his touch.
Lothiriel writhed with the sensation of feeling his hands gently stroking her. She threw her arms back and clutched the pillow, giving herself up more and more to the whirlwind of sensations that were rising deep within her body.
There was not an inch of her that his lips did not touch or his hands caress.
She shook with pleasure as he finally entered her. He felt her body quiver and respond with every movement. Soon both were groaning with each gentle thrust, trembling with their intense pleasure as they moved together in unison.
"Eomer," she gasped, grasping his buttocks to draw him in deeper.
That was all the encouragement her husband needed as he drove into her with more intensity, groaning her name on each thrust until finally she soared into oblivion as he took her to a higher level of bliss, crying out his name at her release.
Eomer held her close, spent and trembling by his own orgasm, and whispered Rohirric love words into her ear. Min faegernis. Min eorcanstan. Min deore.
Time seemed to stand still as they lay intertwined, a light sheen of sweat covering their bodies. United once again, body and soul.
After a while, Eomer raised his head with some effort. "I fear we must move soon, we will be looked for," he said sorrowfully.
Lothiriel giggled and drew his head back down again, to kiss him with passion. "But not yet...'tis at least an hour ere breakfast is served," she replied, as Eomer chuckled, and found himself responding once again to her gentle touch.
"One hour? Is that all I am to have?" he whispered huskily.
"For this morn only, my lord," Lothiriel teased back, nuzzling his chest with intent, "But we will have all night..."
"All night?" Eomer asked with raised eyebrows as he again dipped his head to kiss the hollow of her neck, and Lothiriel whimpered anew.
Eomer and Lothiriel rose from their bed with some reluctance. Elfwine was making himself heard from the next room, howling lustily for his breakfast. Lothiriel brought him back to their bed and leaned back comfortably on the headboard to nurse him. Eomer watched in fascination. He never tired of the spectacle of seeing his son take his nourishment. Silently he thanked Bema for having Lothiriel to wife and mother to his child.
After Elfwine had taken his fill, Lothiriel passed him to his father while she rose to wash and dress. Eomer sat for a while, dandling the babe on his knee, smiling at the small grunts and snuffles coming from his son. The sight of one of his son's small feet in his huge hand caused more chuckling from the king. 'Was I ever this small?' he mused incredulously.
Elfwine tried to squirm away from his father's tickling fingers so Eomer laid him down on the huge bed. This caused the babe to kick his legs with vigour and Eomer continued with his teasing.
"Husband," Lothiriel scolded from the doorway. She had popped her head in as it was too quiet in the large room, and put her hands on her hips as she watched the play between father and son. "You will make our son ill with your foolery," she went on.
Eomer was unrepentant, and continued. He lifted the tiny tunic up a little and rubbed his tickly beard on his son's bare belly, and then started blowing raspberries thereupon, which caused Elfwine to giggle with mirth.
Lothiriel sat next to them on the bed and laughed at the antics of both the men in her life.
"So Mama thinks she is safe, does she, little one," Eomer whispered to his son. "Methinks she needs to be taught a lesson, interrupting our play, do you agree?" he asked the babe. Elfwine started to blow bubbles.
"I take that as a yes," Eomer went on, as Lothiriel frowned. Before she realised it Eomer had her on her back, trying to raise her skirts to do likewise. His wife shrieked with laughter, trying in vain to stop his determined hands, until eventually both fell into a tangled heap, totally out of breath.
As they lay both fondly watched their babe while he kicked his legs and tried to bite his toes. They wished heartily that they could remain so and never leave the protection of their room again. But duty called, and Lothiriel sighed reluctantly as she rose and picked her son up to change and dress him. "I suppose we must be to our day." She spoke with a small sadness in her voice.
"Aye, Lothiriel," replied Eomer, gently caressing her face, "But twill be a good day, one that will be long remembered."
The deep voice of her husband reassured her, that and the gleam of pride in his eyes as he mused upon his heritage. Any lingering doubt was swept away by the love and trust she bore him.
Eomer strode into the halls with his usual casual stride. He saw Ermenred looking at him with a paternal expression. The king realised that the huge smile he wore on his face had been noticed and commented on. At first he was a little embarrassed by this but then he thought, 'I may be a king...but I am just a man. A man who loves his wife and takes pleasure in showing her this.'
The king sat at one of the tables and was instantly served with a bowl of porridge. As he ate he noticed the bustle in the great hall. Many had come to see the ceremony. All the inns were full, and those who had not relatives living in the city were camped within its perimeter. He could sense that anticipation was high and that the people were intent on enjoying their holiday and the feasting to come. The event was a rare one. Theodred, the late son of their previous king being the last one to participate in such.
The kitchens of Meduseld had been busy throughout the night, preparing meals for all. Many of the Riddermark's nobility were staying at the Golden Hall, and expected to be fed well.
Slowly lords, captains and servants were coming to the table to break their fast. The conversation was mostly on the day to come, but as always there was talk about other topics, trade, the prices of oxen, and of course the horses of the mark. Breeding, training and blood- lines. All learned of such things as soon as they were weaned. It was their way of life.
The sun was high ere the king, queen and prince met again. Eomer had been caught up with last minute discussions and preparations. His queen had had a busy time with her ladies, all of whom were in a state of tension chatting and gossiping to each other, and vying over the floral decorations in the halls. They had a light lunch together, Elfwine sitting upon his father's knees giving his mother a chance to dine without the distraction of little hands being everywhere.
Eomer glanced up to see Arlo frantically giving orders and seeming to be full of himself with importance. As steward of Meduseld the responsibility fell on his shoulders and the king smiled inwardly as he watched the man.
Arlo was trying to attract the king's attention, but Eomer would not meet his eyes. Instead the king looked to his councillor and Ermenred nodded to his king's silent plea.
When Eomer had finished his meal both men descended upon him.
"Majesty, may I..." Arlo started.
"My king," interrupted Ermenred, eyebrows raised, "may I suggest that yourself with her majesty and youngling, take the air and enjoy the afternoon. 'Twill be a few hours yet and methinks a time away will see all of you better rested."
"But...."blustered Arlo.
"Aye my friend, we will do just that," smiled Eomer, giving the older man a squeeze of thanks upon his shoulder, "If my Queen also is in agreement with these arrangements?"
Lothiriel's face lit up and she nodded her head readily.
The royal couple departed the halls, child in arms, lest others tried to impede their progress.
Ermenred smiled as his king left to spend a couple of hours alone with his young family and turned to Arlo, almost laughing out loud at the indignant expression on the face of the steward.
"Well, it seems it is just we two," he smirked, "Come, what is to be done yet?"
Eomer carried his son as they left the halls. Many eyes turned in amusement at seeing their warrior king gently holding his child aloft, as his beautiful wife walked by his side. Without any realisation of where they were heading, Eomer found his feet taking him to the royal stables first. All within bowed with courtesy as they entered, but Eomer brushed off any such etiquette.
Firefoot whickered as he caught the scent of his master. He had been washed and groomed that morn, his tack polished, oiled and ready for use. Eomer walked up to him and gave his old friend a hand full of carrots, which were greedily gobbled up. Elfwine, still held in the protective grip of his father, watched with wide eyes as the huge head of the horse loomed over him. Firefoot exhaled noisily in the face of the young prince, causing his hair to flutter, and Eomer stroked the great neck and walked round to check his steed. He lifted his son onto the back of his horse, keeping both arms protectively round the babe as he sat. Elfwine giggled and reached out with his chubby arms to pull the grey mane. And there they were, father and son, king and future king, at one with their heritage.
Lothiriel had been watching with baited breath. Yes, her son had been to the stables before, but had not been this close. She was much relieved that he was not afeared and her thoughts rested easier. She was right to trust her husband and wished she had done this from the start.
Elfwine started to yawn and to get a little fractious so they left the stables to walk to a small garden area that was behind Meduseld. The gardens had been laid down by Thengel for his Gondorian queen to enjoy and had thence been well used by all of the house of Eorl. In the shade of a tree they sat and Lothiriel lay her son between them upon her shawl as she herself leaned back into the arms of her husband and they enjoyed a couple of hours of well deserved peace.
Lothriel dressed with shaky hands. She wore a new gown of green, embroidered with a silver swan hidden within its typical Rohirric style. She had all her dresses made this way, and so always felt she still retained a touch of her birth land near her. Proudly she wore the silver circlet that all the queens of Rohan had worn before her. Her dark hair was tamed into a plethora of plaits, hanging down her back almost reaching her waist.
Elfwine was dressed as befitting a prince of the mark, in a tunic and leggings, almost a near replica of his sire's, and was now wide- awake after a long afternoon nap. He gurgled merrily and tried to bite his tiny fists.
The queen walked out of her dressing chamber, babe in arms, and stopped at the sight of her husband. He always looked impressive to her eyes, but today, dressed in the colours of Rohan, green and white, emblazoned with the white horse, he could have been the glorious Eorl himself, leading his riders to the field of Celebrant. His hair was braided and on his forehead he wore the crown of Rohan, a circlet of gold adorned only with a single white diamond. Before her stood the king of the Riddermark, adored and admired by all.
Eomer turned round to see his wife standing before him and held his breath. "You look beautiful, all eyes will be on you this day, I deem." He leaned in and gently kissed her, and then dropped a soft kiss on the head of his son. "Both of you," he added.
A knock on their chamber door startled both. "Come, my Queen, 'tis time," he smiled at her with reassurance, and placed his hand over hers, as all three left to descend to the halls to begin the procession which would take them to the gates and the summoning of the Chieftain.
TBC.
Min cwen= my queen
Min faegernis=my beauty
Min deore=my beloved
Min eorcanstan=my jewel.
A.N. AGAIN, MANY THANKS TO HELENA FOR BETA READING THIS. I AM GRATEFUL FOR HER FEEDBACK AND PATIENCE WITH MY PUNCTUTION.
