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Chapter 3 : A Talk In The Night
"Do you ride, Lothíriel?" Éowyn asked at breakfast.
Imrahil smiled proudly on his daughter. "Lothíriel is a fine rider," he said.
Lothíriel nodded, secretly praying that her father would just stop promoting her so shamelessly in front of Éomer, who was sitting at the head of the table, eating his breakfast in silence. She looked up from her bowl at Éowyn. "Yes, I love to ride."
"Then perhaps you would like to join us after breakfast? We're going riding," Faramir said. "Again, I might add."
Éowyn grinned at him. "Well, you are in the realm of the Rohirrim, and we are the masters of horses, my Lord Faramir."
"I understand, my Lady Éowyn, and I do enjoy going riding with you," Faramir replied, grinning right back at her.
Lothíriel tried not to giggle at the lovely couple. Instead, she said, "Yes, I would love to go riding with the both of you. It would be nice to spend more time with my cousin and his wife."
Pleased, Éowyn then turned to her brother. "How about you, Éomer? Are you going to join us?"
Please, please no, Lothíriel prayed. She definitely did not feel like spending that much time in Éomer's presence. If he went, she would probably be left to speak with him again.
Éomer looked up from his breakfast, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't today. I have matters to attend to, and I need to speak with Éothain after breakfast. He's just returned from the Westfold." He looked apologetically at Lothíriel. "I'm sorry, my lady, that I cannot join you…"
"That's perfectly all right," Lothíriel interrupted. "I understand."
"I've always loved riding," Éowyn said. "When I was a child, I would spend whole mornings riding. It helped me forget my troubles."
"I used to lose myself in books. Whenever I got a scolding from Father, I would disappear into the library and spend the whole day lost in my books. It only made things worse, of course, but at least for that time I would feel better," Faramir said. "How about you, cousin? What did you do to forget your troubles?"
Lothíriel closed her eyes, letting the wind brushed against her cheeks. "The Sea. I would stand at the top of the cliff, staring out into the sea for hours on end. I love everything about it; the steady roar of the waves, the beautiful blue of the water, the vastness of it all, stretching out into the horizon…" She opened her eyes. "Sometimes, when I felt frustrated by something, I would just stare out into the sea, and my anger would just melt away."
Éowyn smiled wistfully. "It sounds beautiful, the Sea. I have never seen it, but one day I would like to look upon it."
Lothíriel reached out and took Éowyn's hand. "You will always be welcome to Dol Amroth, and one day we will look out into the horizon together." And she meant every word; Lothíriel already loved her new cousin.
Éowyn held Lothíriel's hand tightly. "Thank you. I will not be forgetting the invitation."
"Neither will I."
Éomer leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He looked across the hall at the throne. He wasn't very used to sitting there yet. One day he would probably have to spend ages sitting there, listening to his men's reports and his people's troubles, but for now, he was very content with this chair.
Éothain had just left the hall after giving his report, and Éomer was rather pleased by what he had heard. The Westfold was doing well; the people were rebuilding their homes, starting their lives again. One day soon I will have to ride out there, Éomer told himself. When my guests return to Dol Amroth.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to let his mind wander. He thought back to the night before, and the Lady Lothíriel. He wondered if he had offended her somehow; she had spoken to him so coldly at the wedding feast. He let the events of the previous day run through his mind, but he could not find a single instance where he could have angered her. Perhaps she was just eccentric?
He opened his eyes when he heard a door open, but it was just a serving woman, done with her chores. He nodded to her when she looked over, on her way out of the hall. Then he closed his eyes once more. Whatever it is about Lothíriel, she's an interesting girl, he thought. She was different from other girls, and he could see exactly why the Prince of Imrahil was so proud of her. It would be pleasant if he could speak with her more.
Imrahil walked with Isindil through Edoras. "What do you think is wrong with Lothíriel? She seems… moody… lately," Imrahil remarked to his closest friend.
Isindil shrugged. "I don't know. She's never really behaved like that before, has she?"
Imrahil nodded in agreement. "Somehow I get the feeling that she is always displeased whenever I praise her in front of others, and I just cannot understand that. Can't a father be proud of his daughter?"
"There isn't anything wrong with that."
"Exactly. But she doesn't seem to like it now. Usually she would be so flattered and happy to hear people singing her praises."
"Maybe she thinks you're trying to get King Éomer to marry her," Isindil said with a grin.
Imrahil laughed. "You had better be joking, Isindil, because that's ridiculous. I would never do something like that to my daughter."
"I was joking."
"Good, or you're a bigger fool than I thought."
Lothíriel sat up with a start, cold sweat pouring down her forehead. What a horrid dream, she thought to herself. She had dreamt of herself as a little girl, sitting on the cliff with her mother, laughing and enjoying the view of the sea. Suddenly the rocks began to crumble, and before she knew it, her mother had disappeared, fallen into the eternity of the waters. And she was alone.
She lay her head back down again, telling herself that it was only a dream, that she was no longer a child, and that she was not alone. She had her father, and everything was safe. She closed her eyes, hoping to go back to sleep, but sleep would not come. All she got were the terrifying images of her dream swirling about in her mind.
She finally gave up trying to get some sleep. She got out of the bed, and wrapped her cloak around herself. Putting on her boots, she left her room. She crept down the hall, trying not to make any noise. She didn't want to wake anybody.
She sat on the steps of the Golden Hall, looking up at the stars. She wondered if her mother was looking down on her at that moment. It was comfort to imagine that she was. Lothíriel pulled her cloak tighter around her. Sometimes she felt so alone with her mother. In Dol Amroth, she could at least look over the sea, and remember those beautiful days when she and her mother would look over the blue waters together. Here in Rohan, however, she could only look up at the stars and ask questions that could never be answered.
She heard footsteps behind her, then a voice saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry… I could… I didn't mean to disturb… I'll…"
She turned to see Éomer, about to walk away. For a moment she considered just letting him walk away, but she changed her mind. This was his country, and she was his guest. "No, my Lord, it's all right. I was about to leave anyway," she said, standing up.
"No, no, stay," Éomer protested. "Come, let us do it this way. You stay where you are, and I'll sit over there. That way, we can both sit and think without being disturbing each other." He went to sit at the other end of the stairs before Lothíriel could reply, and so she had no choice but to sit back down again.
They both sat in silence, but Lothíriel couldn't help glancing over at Éomer. He seemed to be staring out into the distance, into nothing. She wondered what he was thinking of. Don't speak to him, you're trying to not like him, remember? Besides, he doesn't want to be disturbed. She turned back to her own thoughts, staring back up at the stars. Then she sighed and glanced at him again. He had not made a sound, nor moved, at all. Finally, curiosity got the better of her. "What are you thinking about?"
"My uncle," Éomer replied. "I never knew how much he had done for us until I had to take his place. Suddenly I wish I had had the chance to thank him properly."
"It must be hard to have to become a king so suddenly, to have everything change at once," Lothíriel said. "Aren't you ever afraid?"
Éomer shook his head. "No, I can't say that I'm afraid. Worried, perhaps. Sometimes I'm worried that I will let everyone down, and bring down everything that my uncle did. I was never supposed to take the throne, Théodred was. But things happened and now I suppose I will just have to deal with it the best I can."
"You are brave to think about it this way. I would never be able to do the same," Lothíriel admitted.
"Well, that's enough about me. What were you thinking of, my Lady?"
Lothíriel sighed. "I was thinking about my mother. She died when I was eleven. I still miss her."
"I understand. But look at the stars; I believe that our loved ones look down on us."
"That was exactly what I was wondering about just now."
"Then I'm glad that I said the right thing." Éomer stood up. "Well, I suppose I will try to go back to sleep now. The night air must have done some good, and speaking with you has helped eased my worries. I thank you, my Lady." He came over and extended a hand. "Would you like me to accompany you back to your room?"
Lothíriel shook her head. "No, I think I'll stay out here a little longer. But thank you, my Lord."
I really need to admit something… I'm not sure if Lothíriel's lost her mother, I don't have my LotR books with me right now and I couldn't find anything on Imrahil's wife on the LotR sites on the Internet, so I just assumed that she had passed away! I hope I didn't get that wrong… many apologies if I did!