Trust to Hope - Chapter
Twenty-four
Author: Novedhelion
Type: FP Het
Fandom: Lord of
the Rings
Pairing: Éomer/Lothíriel aka
Anhuil
Rating: PG13
Warnings: As if you need more reason to
hate Fenwick...
Beta: Riyallyn
Disclaimer: In my world, two
people WILL fit in one Rohirrim saddle. I'm tired of the argument.
Can you say FICTION? I knew ya
could!
Chapter
Twenty-Four
I can show you the
world
Shining, shimmering, splendid
Tell me, princess, now when
did
You last let your heart decide?
A Whole New World,
Aladdin
Rohan
The Golden
Hall of Meduseld
24 Urui, 3019
T.A.
Prince Imrahil and
his family stayed on at Edoras after the others had departed, as did
Faramir. The princess missed the company of the Elves and Hobbits,
especially now that Éomer was often busy in meetings and
councils. She wondered at her father's decision to tarry here, and
spent much of her free time with Cam, Éowyn and Arwen, who had
also stayed when Aragorn had left to escort Celeborn and Galadriel.
The princess was at first intimidated by the Elven beauty, but
Arwen's soft manner and sense of humor quickly put her at ease.
Feasts were held nearly every evening, lively parties nothing
like the highly dignified dinners in the Citadel. Anhuil loved the
feeling of freedom the courts of the Golden Hall had. The soldiers of
the Mark were as welcome there as the Captain of the Royal Guard, and
the women sang and danced and drank with the men to no shame.
She
was surprised that her normally very reserved father seemed to be
enjoying the revelry as much as her brothers, laughing at the rather
colorful songs some of the Rohirrim sang. When they started one such
chorus, a strangely familiar tune about dragons and virgins, he had
looked her way with a raised eyebrow. She had only shrugged
innocently, taking off quickly with some excuse about needing to find
Cam and Arwen.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered, propping herself up on one elbow. She peered over at Cam, who appeared to be sleeping soundly.
"Waking you," he answered plainly.
"How did you-"He gave her a half-smile and indicated the wall behind her, beside the fireplace. The large framed tapestry of the riders on horseback was flung open, revealing an opening about two-thirds the size of a normal doorway. Of course, she thought. The passageways Éowyn had told her about.
"Will you come with me, please?"
She sat up in bed, drawing the covers up to her chest. "Éomer, it is the middle of the night!"
"No, it is nearly morning," he whispered matter-of-factly.
"Where?" she demanded.
"It is a surprise." He grinned mischievously.
"But it is still dark--" her voice trailing off, she sighed.
"Please? I fear this is not a chance we will have again." His pleading look got the better of her. Kicking the covers down with an exasperated sigh, Anhuil stood and walked to the window, peering out into the darkness before reaching for her clothes. She glanced at Éomer, now standing beside the bed, catching his appraising stare, and suddenly realized she was wearing a rather revealing nightdress, particularly with the moonlight shining through the window behind her. His momentary shock reined in, Éomer swallowed hard and raised his eyes to meet hers.
"You should probably dress a little warmer," he deadpanned. The princess looked down at the thin, filmy fabric of her gown, then back up at him, wondering if he could see the color in her cheeks in the dim light. He averted his gaze to the ceiling. "Anhuil, unless you wish me to do something highly untoward I suggest you dress quickly. I will wait over here." He stepped over to the opening behind the wall hanging.
Éomer," she whispered teasingly, cocking her head to one side, "what if I do wish you to do something untoward?"
The king looked back at her, every curve visible through the thin cotton of her gown, her hand on her shapely hip, tousled hair falling about her shoulders. Fisting his hands at his sides, he fought the overwhelming urge to throw her back down on the bed, clearing his throat.
"If you are going to do something untoward, please do it in your own chambers. I am sleeping here," Cam's voice piped up from the other bed, eliciting soft laughter from the princess and the king.
"Woman, get dressed," he whispered with a snicker, and moved back to the passageway.
With a giggle and an apology to Cam, she turned and grabbed a pair of leggings and a tunic from her bag, and slipped them on. Perching on the edge of the bed, she yanked on her boots and grabbed her cloak, in the process knocking a few books off the bed and into the floor. Biting her bottom lip, she peered through the dark at Cam, who had rolled over to face the wall. The blonde pulled her pillow over her head.
Anhuil chuckled and slipped into the passageway, pulling the tapestry back into place behind her. Éomer waited with a dimmed lantern. "You know, we could just use the door. Everyone else is asleep, and no one would--"As she closed the doorway, he set the lantern down and went to her, his hands on her waist, his body pinning hers to the wall.
"But this is so much more fun." He kissed her, softly but long, and deep, then pulled back to smile down at her.
The princess grinned up at him. "So where are we going?"
"You will see." Taking her hand and grabbing the lamp, he led her through the maze of tunnels. At one fork, he stopped and stared at the two openings. "Hmm..." he voiced his thoughts out loud. "Which way?"
"I thought you grew up using these passages," Anhuil smirked.
He turned to look at her. "It has been along time," he admitted.
"By sea and stars," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I am lost in the bowels of Meduseld in the middle of the night."
"It is not the middle of the night, and you are not lost," he reasoned, peering around the next corner. "Ah, here we go." Éomer chose a path, leading her by the hand down the dark passageway. A few twists and turns later and he stopped, listening intently, his finger to his lips. He blew out the lantern. In the pitch dark, she heard him flip the lock, and pale light streamed in as he opened another doorway.
The passage led to an entrance in the stables, behind the furthest stall. Leading her out, he pushed the hidden door back into place. Anhuil shook her head. This one was a part of the actual wall, and when it was closed there was absolutely no indication it was there.
"Amazing," she quipped as they darted toward the stable. You cannot even tell there is a door there!"
"That is the idea," he responded matter-of-factly. Firefoot waited, already saddled. He snorted impatiently.
"He is already saddled? You were that certain I would go with you? Confident in your ability to persuade me, are you not?" Anhuil teased him as she climbed into the saddle.
The king settled in behind her, his arms around her, holding the reins. "Not over confident, my dear," he responded softly, his beard tickling her ear. "I just believe in being prepared."
The darkness was just beginning to give way to the pale light before dawn as the rode out. She yawned, leaning back against his chest, his arms resting on her thighs. "Where are we going, Éomer?"
She felt the grin she could not see. "It is a surprise. I want to show you something," was all he would say.
Anhuil looked up at the wide expanse of sky above her. A few clouds scattered here and about, lazily drifting past the moon that dimly lit the plains, touching the tall waving grasses with edgings of silver. In the distance the faint light was just beginning to crest the mountains, the predawn breeze already warm. He guided the horse to a path at the base of a rocky trail up the mountains behind Edoras, reining in and dismounting. Helping her down, he led her by the hand to a path up through the rocks.
"For the love of the Valar, Éomer. If I had known you were waking me up just to go mountain climbing I would have stayed in my warm little bed," she fussed, trying to watch where her feet were in the pale light.
He reached the top of a rise, and turned to help her up. "You would have? And miss this?"
Lifting her up to where he stood, he turned her around, smiling to himself at the small gasp of surprise that escaped her lips. From their perch on the rock, the valley of Starkhorn opened up, the Snowbourne River in the distance pouring in a huge waterfall from the side of the mountain hundreds of feet up into the vale below. The last dregs of moonlight shimmered on the cold water, reflecting back on the snow-covered peaks behind. The river flowed from the vale out past Edoras and into the plains, where it became the Entwash, flowing southeast to the Anduin before heading to sea. The effect took her breath away. Turning toward Éomer, she glanced out over the fields below.
"You can see all of Rohan from here," she sighed.
"Not quite." Smiling at her obvious delight, he stepped behind her, his arms going around her waist.
"It is incredible, Éomer. I do not think I have ever been this high up before," she said, her fingers tightening on his arm around her.
"We are not that high up, Ani," he said, laughing.
"Éomer, I grew up by the sea." she remarked wryly.
"Then I suppose to you, this is high, although we are truly less than halfway to the top. Éowyn and I used to come up here as kids sometimes, to escape, to talk."
"Is that why we came up here?" She turned in the circle of his embrace. "To talk?"
"Among other things," he answered, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. The king smiled at her. "I wanted you to see this." He turned her to face the mountain, keeping his arms around her waist. The sun was just beginning to peek over the crest, the first rays casting a pink and orange glow across the jagged ridges of the Starkhorn. Anhuil watched as the sun slowly rose. The sheer beauty of the white and black streaked mountain peaks tinged with the rose of dawn awed her. Éomer smiled at her obvious pleasure in the sunrise as her eyes lit up brighter than the dawn.
"But this, " he added, turning her back to face the other direction, "is what I wanted to talk to you about."
He turned her around, their backs to the peak of the Starkhorn, now facing down across the vale in which Meduseld lay. The green hill upon which the city of Edoras lay was clearly visible now in the pale morning light. As the sun climbed higher over the peaks, the sky erupting in an explosion of pinks, oranges and reds, the golden thatched rooftop of Meduseld glinted in the sunlight. Reflecting back the colors of the sky, the golden hall glowed first pink, then orange, then sparkled gold as the sun fell full on it, shining brightly as if on fire from the inside.
"What do you think?" he asked her, his arms still around her waist, his chin resting on her head.
Anhuil leaned back against the hard muscles of his chest, grateful his arms were around her and shook her head slowly. "Words fail me, Éomer. It is..." she sighed. "Beautiful does not do it justice."
The king grinned. "I rather hoped you would like it," he chuckled.
"Like it?" she turned to face him. "It is exquisite."
He raised his hand to her cheek, tracing the outline of her jaw with his fingers. "You are exquisite." His mouth covered hers, the soft kiss leaving her as breathless as the sunrise.
"You said there was something about which you wished to speak to me?"
"So I did," he responded. Éomer turned her around again, to face the courts of Meduseld below. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close. "That is my home, now, Anhuil. Théoden and Théodred are gone. Éowyn will be leaving here soon. It will be a very large, empty hall." He paused, carefully selecting the words. "I do not want to live here alone."
"Large, perhaps, but from what I have seen it is rarely empty," she chuckled. "I would think you would be looking forward to some peace."
"Well, the people of the Mark do not have to look hard to find reasons to celebrate, that is true," he agreed, laughing. "And I would not mind giving them yet another reason."
"Such as?"
"I believe they would celebrate for weeks over a new Queen of the Mark," he answered softly.
Anhuil's heart skipped a beat, her knees weakening. "What are you saying, Éomer?" She turned in his arms, green eyes searching dark brown.
"I am saying, princess, that I want to fall asleep with you in my arms every night and wake up to you every morning. I want you to be here to see me off when I ride into battle and to be here when I return. I want our children's laughter to ring through those halls." He paused, smiling down at her. "I want you to stay."
Confusion clouded her features. "Éomer..."
He continued, undaunted. "I want you to be Queen of that Golden Hall. I want you to marry me, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth."
Anhuil was fairly certain her heart had not skipped a beat but had skidded completely to a halt. She stared at him, unable to form even a word, much less a comprehensive sentence.
Éomer looked at her questioningly. "Did you hear me, Ani?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She managed a slight nod.
"Good. I would not want my intentions to be unclear." He grinned at her. "I love you, Ani. I want you to marry me."
"But my father...Fenwick..."
"I will speak to both of them as soon as possible."
Anhuil averted her gaze. "Éomer, you know I cannot promise you..."
His fingers gently lifted her face to his. "Do not tell me what you cannot do, Ani. Tell me what you want to do."
Her eyes locked on to his. "I want to say yes. I want to marry you, Éomer."
"Then we will find a way to make that happen, Princess." He leaned down, capturing her lips with his own. No hesitation, no holding back. His. That was all he could think of. She was his.
Pulling back, he smiled
down at her. "We should get you back before there is trouble," he
said softly, brushing her curls from her eyes. With one last look
around at the incredible view, she followed him back down the narrow
path.
Anhuil was back in bed before Cam awoke.
Lying in the soft bed, staring at the patterns of the stone on the
ceiling, her mind reeled. She closed her eyes, the images of Meduseld
in the early morning light filling her mind. Images of his arms
around her, Éomer's soft voice in her ear, telling her he
wanted her to be his wife. She drew in a deep breath, letting it out
slowly.
"Ani? Are you awake?" Cam's soft voice shook her
from her reverie.
"Yes," the princess answered.
"Did
you have a nice time?" the blonde asked teasingly.
"What
do you mean?" Anhuil played innocent.
"Ani, please... I
may be younger than you but I am no fool," her friend joked. "Tell
me!"
The princess sat up in bed, grinning at her friend. "He
took me to see the sunrise over Edoras. We had a very pleasant talk."
She smiled sweetly."
Cam raised one eyebrow. "Talk? About
what?"
"Oh, nothing, really," she casually commented,
standing and pulling on a robe. "He only asked me to marry him,"
she said quietly, flipping her hair back over her shoulders.
Cam
leapt from the bed. "He did what? Ani, what did you tell
him?"
"What could I say, Camwethrin?" she turned to look
out the window. "I told him I wanted to marry him. But he knows I
cannot promise that. He understands that my betrothal to Fenwick is
still an obstacle. Whether we can overcome that, I do not know."
She leaned on the stone sill, gazing absently across the
plain.
"There has to be a way," Cam said quietly. "You
belong here, Ani. As much as I would miss you...you belong with
Éomer."
The princess smiled, pulling her robe tightly
around her, Éomer's sweet words still echoing in her head.
His wife. His queen. Their children.
How could she leave
now?
Imrahil stood as the other men left the
council chamber, waiting until the door closed behind them, then
turned to Éomer.
"What are your thoughts?" the
king asked the prince.
Imrahil nodded approvingly. "I
believe you have put much consideration into this decision, and I
believe your reasoning is sound."
"Thank you, Imrahil. It
means much coming from you."
The prince smiled,
acknowledging the compliment with a nod, then held the king's gaze.
"Was there something else?" Éomer asked him, leaning
forward in his chair.
Taking a seat across from Éomer,
Imrahil leaned back and regarded the younger man intently. "I
believe there is something you wish to discuss with me, am I
correct?" The prince's piercing grey eyes raked over him, making
him feel much more like a wayward stripling than a king. The chair in
which he sat creaked as he shifted his weight, leaning back slightly.
"Of what matter are you speaking?" Éomer finally
asked, unsure how much Imrahil knew.
"I speak of my
daughter," the prince said.
A nod from the king affirmed his
suspicion, but Éomer's gaze never wavered. "I will tell
you the honest truth, Imrahil. You are my friend, and I would not
have any enmity between us." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I
am in love with your daughter."
The prince did not seem the
least bit surprised. "Does my daughter return your love?"
"I
believe she does, my lord," Éomer answered quietly. "So
she has told me."
He nodded thoughtfully. "It is my
understanding that she met up with you when she ran away, is that
correct?" Imrahil asked.
"Yes," Éomer told him,
"although she did not tell me who she was. Had she done so I assure
you I would have seen her back to Dol Amroth as quickly as
possible."
"But since you did not know she was a princess,
you felt it was not inappropriate to begin a dalliance with her?"
Imrahil asked him.
The king's eyes narrowed. "A dalliance?
Is that what you think of this?" He shook his head. "Believe me,
friend, it was the last thing I was looking for. Had another company
come along I most likely would have sent her away as quickly as
possible, as onerous as she was in the beginning. Fighting my men,
arguing with me constantly, deliberately defying every order I
gave..."
"Sounds all too familiar," the prince
chuckled.
"Trust me, Imrahil," He said, laughing softly.
"I would have gladly escorted her to the nearest border and sent
her on her way, just to be rid of her sass! The last thing I was
thinking of was falling in love with her."
"And yet, you
did."
"I could not stop myself any more than I could stop
the flow of the Entwash," Éomer said resignedly, shaking his
head. "I do not think she meant for it to happen, either. She was
not overly fond of me in the beginning."
The prince stared
at him a moment longer. "You truly love her?"
"With all
of my heart," Éomer answered truthfully.
With a
heavy sigh, Imrahil leaned forward on the table. "She is betrothed
to another. I take it you know this," he said.
"I do. But
I did not when I met her, I assure you." He stood from his seat and
walked to the window, looking out across the field below. "Is there
nothing that can be done? No way to dissolve such a contract?"
The
expression on the face of the prince told Éomer more than he
wanted to know. "It is just not done. Betrothals are a vow, almost
as sacred as marriage itself." The prince sighed heavily. "I
cannot change the laws of the land based upon what I want or do not
want for my daughter. I wish I could. It is simply not
possible."
Éomer stood, staring absently out the
window, his hands folded behind his back. "You are saying there is
nothing that can be done?"
Imrahil sighed. "Unless the
dissolution is agreed upon by both parties involved, it would be most
difficult indeed."
The king spun on his heel to face the
prince. "If Mardil Fenwick would release her from the obligation of
the contract then she would be free to marry me?"
"I do
not know if he would agree to it Éomer. But barring adultery
or some form of fraud on his part, that is the only way."
"Then
I shall have a chat with Lord Fenwick," the king said, smiling. "He
is a man, after all. Perhaps he will see reason." Éomer had
a sudden thought. "But what of your issues with the Corsairs if
Lord Fenwick does not take the position to aid you with your
harbors?"
"We will cross that bridge when we come to it,
Éomer."
"You know that I would do whatever was
necessary to aid you, Imrahil. Not only did you save my life on the
battlefield, but my sister's as well. For that, I will forever be
in your debt."
"I did nothing of great valor, friend, but
I will keep the offer in mind should the situation become worse. And
in speaking of such, I should mention that we will soon be returning
to Dol Amroth. I must see to these matters as soon as
possible."
"Then I should speak with Fenwick right away,"
Éomer said determinedly. "I shall make it a point to do so
this evening."
Rising from his seat, the prince pushed in
the chair, leaning on the back of it with the heels of his hands.
"There is a possibility he will refuse," Imrahil warned him.
"I
understand. And in that case, I will find another way."
"I
admire your determination," the prince said. "All men should be
so sure of what they want in life."
Éomer smiled
widely. "All men should be so fortunate as to win the love of a
woman like your daughter, Imrahil."
With a nod, the prince
excused himself from the chamber, leaving Éomer to stare out
the window, contemplating the best time to confront Mardil
Fenwick.
Yet another evening of revelry was
in full swing, the fair citizens of Edoras doing their part to honor
their new king. Éomer pushed open the doors and stepped out on
to the terrace of the Golden Hall, taking a deep breath. The air was
not much cooler outside but at least it was not laden with pipe
smoke. Some guests milled around the courtyard, the sounds of muffled
music and laughter drifting on the night breeze.
"She is not
out here. She has gone to bed, according to Lady Valesa."
The
king turned abruptly to see Mardil Fenwick strolling out of the
shadows. "I beg your pardon?"
"If you are looking for
the princess, I was told she went to bed." He came to stand beside
Éomer, his gaze following the king's out across the
plains.
"Duly noted," Éomer answered. He folded his
hands in front of him, keeping his gaze directed at the moonlit
mountaintops in the distance. "However, it was not for her I was
searching. I was hoping to have a word with you about a matter that
concerns us both."
"What in Middle Earth do we possibly
have to say to one another?" Mardil asked him.
Éomer
turned slowly, his eyes meeting Fenwick's. "I believe you know
about what I speak."
"Ah, yes. Our mutual interest in the
fair Princess of Dol Amroth. I do not see where there is anything to
discuss. She is my betrothed, and she will marry me." Fenwick met
the king's gaze steadily, his shoulders squared.
"It is
the betrothal I wish to speak to you about. I understand wedding
contracts are binding in Gondor."
"Yes," Mardil answered
confidently. "So long as neither party was coerced. And she will
tell you she signed them voluntarily."
Éomer nodded.
"I understand. I also understand she was feeling pressured due to
the political situation in Dol Amroth, with the attacks on the
harbors."
The dark-haired man shook his head woefully. "Yes.
A nasty business, that. Had much the same issues in Lebennin but we
were able to institute measures that protected our people. Attacks
rarely occur in our harbors now. Of course, that requires freeing up
the Admiral to focus on the situation, and someone running operations
onshore."
"Thus your proposal to Prince Imrahil," Éomer
noted with a raised eyebrow. "How very convenient."
Mardil
shrugged innocently, holding his hands up, palms out. "The prince
needed someone who could aid his people. I am in need of a wife. We
are all adults, Éomer. No one forced her to sign anything."
He regarded the king silently for a moment. "What is it you want
from me?"
Éomer faced him squarely, his dark eyes
boring into Mardil's pale grey. "I want you to release her from
the contract."
Mardil snickered, the sound turning into a
full-blown laugh, before he choked and coughed. "I beg YOUR pardon,
Your Majesty. Did you just ask me to call off my engagement to the
princess?"
"I did," the king answered quietly.
"Surely
you jest," Fenwick said, still stifling laughter. "You want me to
release her from the betrothal? I believe you have taken one too many
falls from your mount, Horsemaster."
Clenching his clasped
hands tighter to keep from punching Fenwick again, Éomer took
a deep breath, keeping his calm gaze on the man from Lebennin. "I
am quite serious, Lord Fenwick."
Shaking his head, Fenwick
laughed again. "As am I. You are insane if you believe for one
minute I will release her from her obligation to marry me. She signed
that contract willingly, knowing full well what she was agreeing to.
I will not give up my aspirations simply because some fickle female
has changed her mind."
"You do not love her," Éomer
commented.
"Love her?" Mardil laughed out loud again. "Of
course I do not love her." He shook his head again. "You truly do
not understand, do you? This marriage is not about love, my Lord. It
is about political opportunity."
"Imrahil would grant you
the position without the benefit of marriage," the king observed.
Fenwick looked thoughtful, tugging at the edge of his sleeve.
"Perhaps. But how does that serve me? To move from my home to a new
harbor simply to continue doing the same task?" He pulled the
sleeve of his tunic straight and raised his eyes to the king's.
"That does nothing to advance my career or my social standing. See,
unlike you, I was not fortunate enough to have the way paved for my
social ascension by the death of others." His lips curled almost
imperceptibly when he noticed the king stiffen slightly at his words.
"By marrying the princess, not only do I gain more respect among
the nobility, I am, by rights, the husband of a princess and
therefore royalty by title."
"The princess is fourth in
line for the throne. There is little chance of her ever sitting in
her father's place," Éomer reminded him, his voice tight.
"One never knows what will happen. Did you ever think you
would be sitting on the throne of Rohan?"
Éomer's
hackles rose at the insinuation, but he refused to let this man rile
him, and even further refused to acknowledge the remark with any kind
of argument. "How can you force a woman to marry you knowing she
loves another?"
Mardil sighed as if dealing with an overly
curious child. "I care not who she loves, as long as she does not
shame me. Her part is to marry me and bear my heirs. To whom her
heart belongs means little to me."
"Would you not wish to
marry someone you love? Someone who would love you in return?"
"Only
fools marry for love, Your Majesty," he responded flatly.
"And
for what do the wise marry, Master Fenwick?" Éomer asked
pointedly.
Mardil smiled a little at the comment. "I can
only give you my reasons. I am marrying her because her father is the
Prince of Dol Amroth. I am marrying her so that the sons I sire will
be heirs to the throne of Dol Amroth." He almost snickered again at
the way the king narrowed his eyes at that comment. "Her gift for
political savvy is rare in women. The fact that she is beautiful is a
boon, and her intelligence will have its merits, once her attitude is
under control." The self-satisfied smirk crossed his face again. He
looked Éomer directly in the eye. "I care not if she ever
loves me, so long as she does her duty as my wife. Love is the bane
of all good marriages. Emotions do nothing but cloud one's
judgment. The princess is naught but a means to an end. I have made
no pretense otherwise, although I am certain it will not be an
altogether unpleasant arrangement."
The king was silent;
fearing that if he spoke or even moved his ire would be unleashed on
Fenwick without thought of recompense. It was not a chance he wished
to take, for Ani's sake. He cleared his throat, fighting to keep
his voice as calm as possible.
Éomer stepped closer to
Fenwick, one hand on the hilt of his sword, grasping tightly. "We
disagree on many things, Mardil Fenwick. You may think marrying the
princess will bring you esteem, but let me share one thing with you
that first my father and then my king drove into me from the time I
was a lad. Respect is not bestowed upon you with a title. It must be
earned. And if you do not deserve it, you will not receive it. As far
as I am concerned, you will not receive it from me. And I will not
tolerate you speaking inappropriately about the princess, betrothed
or not."
"You dare call me on impropriety,
Horsemaster?"
It took every ounce of self-restraint Éomer
had to keep his sword in the scabbard. "Were you not the guest of
Prince Imrahil, I would not tolerate your presence here another
moment. Out of my great respect for the prince and his daughter, I
will not throw you out of my home. But if I ever hear you speak of
the princess or any other woman in that manner again, for that matter
if you so much as look at one of them in a way I feel is
inappropriate, I will not only throw you out personally, I will run
you through first." He stepped back, forcibly relaxing his grip on
his sword hilt.
"You are out of line, Horselord," Fenwick
snapped.
The king's dark eyes flashed with anger, but he
remained remarkably calm. So calm it almost scared Fenwick. "You
are in my realm," he said quietly, his jaw set firmly. "I draw
the lines."
Flipping his dark hair back over his shoulders,
Mardil turned and stalked away.
Meduseld
25
Urui, 3019 T.A.
The sharp knock on the door
startled her from sleep.
"Lothíriel! Are you in
there?"
Finding it difficult to open her eyes, she rubbed
them with her fingers.
"Lothíriel!"
"Yes,
yes, I am here, Fenwick. Melkor's chains! Let me get a robe on at
least."
Stumbling from the bed, she quickly donned her
robe. Cracking the door open slightly, she peered out into the
hallway.
Fenwick stood in the hallway, Neville lurking close
behind. "What do you want, Fenwick? I was sleeping."
"We
have things to talk about, Lothíriel," he remarked.
"No,
we do not. I am going back to bed." She started to shut the
door.
"Lothíriel, it is nearly noon. May I have a
word with you?"
His words hit her like a bucket of ice
water. Her last day in Edoras and she was sleeping it away.
"This
will only take a moment," he said.
She folded her arms and
leaned on the doorframe, throwing a look over his shoulder to
Neville. "Can you not ever go anywhere without him? He is like some
Valar-forsaken shadow, always tagging along behind," she
snapped.
"Neville is here for a reason, Princess. He tells
me he saw a rather interesting sight. Is that so, Neville?" The
chubby man nodded. Fenwick smiled at him and turned back to his
betrothed. "Neville here tells me he saw you early yesterday
morning."
Anhuil's blood turned to ice, panic closing off
her throat. Struggling to maintain a passive expression, she let her
gaze fall in Neville. "What does he claim to have seen?"
"Why,
you, my dear, riding with the King of Rohan. But that cannot be,
because my devoted little wife would not do something like that, now
would she? Riding out alone, un-chaperoned, with another man?"
"Stop
calling me your wife. I am not your wife, Mardil Fenwick. And until I
am I will do as I please," she quipped angrily, reaching to shut
the door.
"Lothíriel, please do not cause me to make
a scene."
She paused, her hand on the brass pull. "What
is it you want, Mardil?"
"I want you to stop this
behavior. It is one thing if you make some effort to be discreet, but
riding across Rohan in plain view of anyone watching is just
deplorable. You are making a mockery of our betrothal, and I will not
have it. The very least you can do is show a little discretion."
The
loud laugh escaped before she could even make an effort to contain
it. "A mockery? Fenwick, this whole marriage is a mockery!"
"You
knew from the beginning I was not promising you a fairy tale,
Princess. Why do you act now as if this is a new revelation?"
Glowering at the tall, dark-haired man, she drew herself up.
"Perhaps I have decided I would rather have the fairy tale."
Eyes
narrowing, Fenwick's ire rose visibly, his lips drawn into a tight
line. "Speaking of your fairy tale, your king came to speak with
me. He asked me to release you from our betrothal
contract."
Anhuil's stomach knotted, and she fought for
stability in her voice. "And?"
"I told him he was insane
if he thought for one moment I'd do so."
She regarded him
as coolly as she could. "Perhaps I have changed my mind about
marrying you."
"That is no longer your decision to make,
Lothíriel." He chortled haughtily.
His expression
paled as one corner of her mouth turned up slightly. "Is it not?
Perhaps we shall see."
Neville turned to Fenwick, a panicked
look on is pale face. "Does she mean that? Can she truly call off
your engagement?"
Mardil's jaw worked furiously, his lips
clenched shut, but he did not answer. He stepped forward, his face
inches from hers, a smug smile creeping across his face. "Let me
assure you of one thing, Princess. If you think for one moment I am
going to let you destroy all that I have worked for on some girlish
whim of yours, you are sorely mistaken. I can make life most
unpleasant for you and for many you care about, including that
Rohirrim king."
She glowered at him. "Are you threatening
me, Mardil?"
He smiled at her, straightening his tunic. "It
is not a threat, Lothíriel. It is a fact." He spun on his
booted heel and strolled down the hall, leaving the irate princess
staring knives into his back.
She slammed the heavy door,
clicking the lock.
Leaning back on the door, she glanced the
room, noticing Cam's bed was made. Briefly wondering where the
blonde was, she pulled on a pair of trousers and a tunic, buckling
her dagger belt around her waist. She hastily braided her hair back.
Studying her reflection in the mirror, she frowned. Could there be
something she did not know? Could he do something to hurt her father,
or Éomer?
The knot in her stomach had returned. What
she needed was a good long ride with Olórin to clear her head.
Pulling on her boots, she grabbed her cloak and headed for the
stable.
Éomer rapped lightly on the
door. "Ani?"
Cam pulled open the door. "She is not here,
Éomer."
"Not here?" he repeated. Cam shook her
head. "Where is she?"
The blonde shrugged her shoulders.
"I have not seen her since this morning. She was asleep when I left
and when I came back she was gone. Her boots and cloak are gone as
well, if that helps. I think she must have gone riding with
Éowyn."
The king cursed under his breath. "I just
saw Éowyn in the hall, and she was going to meet Arwen for a
ride. Any idea how long ago she left?"
"She was gone when
I came back a few moments ago, that is all I know."
Éomer
turned, almost running down the hall. He burst into the stable,
looking quickly around. Olórin was gone, but the other horses
were still there. Muttering a few colorful Rohirric phrases, he
quickly saddled Firefoot. Leading the horse out of the stable, he
nearly ran into Éowyn in his haste.
"And where are
you going in such a hurry, brother?"
"That imprudent
woman has taken off alone. I am going after her."
"Imprudent?"
His sister chuckled. "Hmm...sounds like someone else I
know..."
Cutting her a sharp look, he mounted his horse and
bolted for the gate, pausing to speak to the guard.
"Which
way did the princess go?"
"We tried to stop her, Your
Majesty--"
"Which way?" he demanded, cutting the soldier
off.
He kicked the horse into a full gallop and headed in the
direction the soldier pointed.
The woman was insane. Brave,
perhaps, but completely reckless.
Allowing
Olórin free rein to run as fast as he wished, Ani held on
tightly, enjoying the rush of the warm air on her face. The sweet
fragrance of the wildflowers in the field rushed up as the horse's
hooves trampled the plants underneath, assailing her with the scents
of lavender and jasmine, and some she could not identify. It did not
matter. The freedom of running wild through the field was what she
needed. She smiled to see Elenion running at Olórin's heels.
He had disappeared when they had entered Edoras, preferring the wild
plains to the bustle of the city.
She slowed her mount to a
trot, then reined him in, dismounting to take in the beauty of the
landscape. This was what she wanted. This was why she had run away in
the first place. She knelt and scratched the wolf's ears as she took
in her surroundings.
Freedom.
Dol Amroth, for all its
royal glory, could not compare to the awesome sites before her.
Snow capped mountains, even in midsummer, loomed in the
distance. Fields of tall grass and wildflowers, small streams
gleaming in the sunlight as they wound their way through the vale
toward the Entwash. Villages dotting areas of the horizon, smoke
rising from small chimneys. A simpler life. Peace.
The
drumming of hoof beats in the distance caught her attention. Quickly
turning, she saw a lone rider headed in her direction. The dappled
grey stallion and blonde hair flowing in the wind told her exactly
who it was. Frustration swelled inside her. She didn't want
company. She had only wanted to be alone, to have some time to think
things through. Why did he have to come after her as if she were a
lost child?
Resigning herself to the tongue-lashing she was
about to receive, she decided she would at least get a good run out
of it. Leaping astride her mount, she heeled him into a gallop and
bolted across the field toward the river she had ridden to so many
times with Éowyn.
The king had seen her halt her mount,
and look in his direction. Now she was galloping across the field as
if Wargs were at her heels. Elenion bounded along behind. Éomer
had wondered where that animal disappeared to when they arrived at
Edoras. He just hoped he had not made meals of the local sheep.
Digging his boots into Firefoot's flanks, he took off after
her.
He caught up with her at the riverbank, where she had
slowed Olórin to a walk and was making her way toward a copse
of trees. She looked over her shoulder at him as he approached,
riding alongside her. Elenion took off after a rabbit into the
shrubbery.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?"
She whirled around, surprised by the sharpness of his tone. The
king's heart was still pounding. "This is not Minas Tirith or
Dol Amroth, Ani. There are still quite a few dangers out there! The
Dunlendings continue to attack villages near these mountains. You
have no business riding out alone in a country that is strange to
you!"
"I beg your pardon! I did not go out unarmed.
I can protect myself. Did I not save your hide once?"
"Yes,
and I have also seen you almost get yourself killed! I do not wish
your blood on my hands ever again!"
Anhuil halted her
mount, staring at him, shocked by his outburst. "Am I not allowed
even a short time alone? By the VALAR I am weary of everyone fussing
over me." She kicked Olórin slightly, into a walk, moving
away from Éomer.
His expression softened as he stopped
beside her. "I am sorry, Ani. I did not mean to raise my voice. You
frightened me. No one knew where you were." Ignoring him, she kept
her horse at a walk. He skillfully moved his mount beside her and
grabbed her reins as she tried to pass him, halting her horse.
Anger flared in her, frustration at her seeming lack of
ability to do anything at all about her circumstances. She jerked her
reins free from his grip. "I am sorely tired of being told what
to do and what not to do by men deciding what is best for me without
heed to what I might desire. Men have run my entire life, and you are
all driving me spare! You worry over me as if I were a child!"
Éomer
moved his horse in front of her, blocking her path. "Do you not
understand that I worry about you because I love you?"
She
growled in frustration. "Why?" she asked, trying to guide her
horse past him. "Why do you put yourself through this? Why do you
not just find some pretty, flaxen-haired Rohirrim girl and forget you
ever knew me?"
Éomer's eyes shot up to hers. A
fist to the gut would have hurt less. He grabbed her reins, holding
tightly, jerking her horse to a stop.
"I do not want
someone else, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth! I want you!"
he shouted at her. "Bloody hell, woman! I love you! I want you
by my side for the rest of my life!"
She looked up at
him, deep green eyes welling with tears. "How can this be worth it
to you?" she asked, her voice nearly a whisper. "How can it be
worth what I have put you through, what I am putting you
through?"
Pulling her horse alongside his, he reached for
her, his hands banding her waist, lifting her from her saddle and
into his lap. She laughed softly through her tears as he settled her
against him, looking down at her. Her arms went around his neck, and
he leaned his forehead against hers. "What must I do to make you
understand," he asked her, "that there is nothing, absolutely
nothing, more important to me than you?"
"You are a king,
Éomer," she said quietly, brushing his hair from his face
with her fingertips. "Surely there are things that must take
priority."
"I would abdicate my throne without a second
thought if I had to choose between you and the crown," he told her,
his lips nearly against hers.
"I would never allow you to do
that. Your people need you. And if you tried, I would be most
disappointed in you." she quipped.
"Would you?" he
asked, one arm going around her waist, the other holding the reins of
his mount. She nodded. "Then I hope I shall never have to make that
choice. Perhaps we should stay with the original plan and find a way
to get rid of Fenwick."
Anhuil threw her head back and
growled in frustration. "I hate that man," she shouted skyward.
Éomer took advantage of her position and pressed his lips
against her neck. She closed her eyes, leaning closer to him in the
saddle. "You realize this is most inappropriate, Your Majesty,"
she said, raising her head and bringing her lips to his.
"Propriety
is highly overrated, Your Highness," he said softly.
"That
may be the case," she answered, "but do you not think it best for
me to ride my own mount back to Edoras?"
Éomer bit
down hard on his tongue at the image that came to mind. "Hmm, I am
not sure..." he said thoughtfully. "I rather like this
arrangement," he said. "It definitely has potential."
"You
are incorrigible, Your Majesty," she chastised.
"And you
like it," he snapped back with a quick lift of his
eyebrows.
"Regardless, I do not think it in either of our
best interest for us to arrive in Edoras in this fashion. Enough
tongues will be wagging as it is."
He was beginning to
wonder exactly how aware she was of the innuendo she used. "The
things you say, woman..." he muttered, capturing her lips again.
The hand around her waist slid behind her hip, pulling her further
into his lap. There was no denying the effect she had on him as he
deepened his kiss, his tongue gently finding hers.
She pushed
him back with a chuckle. "Get my horse back over here before we
both get into trouble," she demanded gently.
"If you
insist, Your Highness," he answered with a resigned sigh, whistling
for Olórin.