Hello again. Ah see I'm a good updater. That's because the end is vaguely near and I want to get this one finished for everyone before returning to 'Flying the Nest', which has been neglected for a long time! Reviews first:
Chocolate Trinkit: Thanks I will begin sneaking in her brothers now, as they play a part later (la la laa laaa laaaa). Thanks for your tips I take them into account, and I'm glad you're enjoying the fic more now! Do review this chapter, I had to give them a brief break, next chap we can go into battle.
Lady Scribe of Avandell: What can I say to your short review first -um this sounds sooo completely bigheaded but I thought that if I said Lothiriel was prettier than me I would seem mildly modest. In future I will just admit to being totally gorgeous. Lol. Ah I dunno, I don't think we should stress about Lothiriel too much. Did I get Eomer ok? He's who I like most in this. (mmmm Eomer) Onto other review -yes I think I've read your fic... what else... um what else did you put?? Oh right, lust I think is always a major factor, and I know from experience as i expect most of us do, that it is very easy to want to jump the bones of some guy you absolutely hate. However, as Eomer and Lothiriel converse more, they will get to know each other more too. Last bit: Eomer is a sensible man and I did wonder what I could have him do at the end. He can't go after her in case they get caught (also he's half dressed), and he is unlikely to want to throw something in a guest-room, he's too macho to sit and feel sorry for himself or worried... so he does what he needs to do: on with the boots.
Lady Hades: farewell my dear, 'tis a pity that you are to leave us. Glad that both you and Lady Scribe have said that you like my writing style :-).
Blue Eyes at Night: I love Eomer. I'm afraid Eomer won't be getting shirtless again for a while as they have an ambush to conduct soon, but patience they say is a virtue. (mmmmm Eomer...) very glad you thought it was funny too.
EruntaleofRohan: thanks! :-)
Wonderye: Yes I think that this story is really more about Eomer. He and Lothi are more alike than they realise I reckon.
Phew! On with the tale, please review, I felt that Faramir should not be neglected. After all, he is her cousin. Disclaimer: I am alive, Tolkien is dead. I am a girl, he was a man... can I make this more obvious? OK: I did not write LOTR. Not even a blade of grass. All I own of this is the plot and a few made up names.
The Tale of Éomer and Lothíriel.
PART SEVEN.
"Good morning father."
Lothíriel waited for the advisors to file out and crossed the study. Prince Imrahil was sitting in a high backed chair facing the window overlooking the bay below. She edged closer, gauging his mood. They hadn't been conversing very well lately. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled under his chin. She kissed him on the top of his head.
"Hello, Lothi." Ah. A very dull, flat, grey sound. 'Hello' –what was that then?
Hello.
A normal greeting, I like to think.
But a daughter who has lived with her father's complex moods for over twenty years starts to see patterns. Hello. In the morning, that meant 'I am dead today. My life has become devoid of meaning and gloom is hanging over my head.' But Lothi. Now THAT meant, 'I forgive you and I love you, and today I will listen to you.' A complex man.
"I hoped we could go to breakfast together. I'm going into battle tonight."
Imrahil took one of her hands and kissed it. He looked extremely old. "Did you think I'd forgotten? Come, I want a nice walk with my daughter. Let's take the scenic route." He heaved himself up.
Lothíriel had been lying. She had come to escape Éomer.
Éomer attacked his hair with a bristly horsehair brush, which had seen more battles in his pack than he cared recall. And now he was up to his neck in the worst one he'd ever encountered- the war against himself. He pulled his hair back over his shoulders with a shrug, hoping that no one would notice the state of it, and smoothed the slightly frizzy bits at the top. It would do. He tried to look at himself in the polished bronze bits of his shield, but the outline was too fuzzy to see if he looked in any way handsome. After ten seconds of preening he felt like a ponce.
There was a loud, brisk knock on his door and he opened it expecting to see a servant (he didn't dare hope it could be Lothíriel). He was met with Legolas, who as usual looked impeccably groomed and completely at ease with the prospect of oncoming battle. "Morning," he said, genially, "got time to come down to the stables with me? The Dwarf if going to drive me insane."
"One moment," said Éomer. If Legolas noticed the testy tone of his voice, he didn't mention it. He checked scabbard and sword before following the eternal youth out of the house. His horse was stabled in the Rohirrim camp, where they were both greeted politely, Éomer sometime jovially, Legolas sometime warily.
"Good day, Hama."
"Good morning my Lord. Lord Legolas," said Hama, falling into step with Éomer to discuss the coming day. "The men grow restless, Éomer. Roused at five as ordered, horses checked and exercised, men drilled on the horse –we await you in the practice rings to lead field exercise."
"Good, good, thank you Hama. I just have to check on Firefoot; has he been exercised?"
"Done myself."
"Then I will return for the sword after breakfast; our audience is requested with the Prince."
"Good my Lord, may we expect you by half eleven?"
"At the latest. And now I beg you get a bite yourself, I can tell you haven't eaten yet. We will need some energy for tonight. Go to, I will speak with you later in my council tent following training."
They reached the makeshift stables, which were vast, Legolas and Éomer entering, Hama turning away and jogging back to camp.
"This morning seems to bring little dread," said Legolas, standing in front of a golden mare and admiring her nose.
"I have some dread. Legolas, I count you as a friend and did so ever since you rose out of the grass in Rohan, so I will tell you this: that it is for none of my own men that I hold this dread, nor for myself, but for the Princess. Lothíriel."
"She is a brave woman and accomplished soldier. I have seen her in the training rings, even since her sudden malady. Have you a cause for dread?"
"My mind falters some. I spoke to her… yesterday (he thought it would probably be unwise to say 'last night'), and she told me of her brothers. I heard Imrahil speak of them too, when we were in Gondor. They are said to be three of the most fearsome warriors on Middle Earth. Stealthy and silent killers. You will not take it amiss I know when I tell you that I thought strongly of Elves, and their connection back through the ages by blood to your own people. Get now are they gone. Perhaps dead."
"The Princess does not believe that to be."
"I thought as much. But this has been my question: would an orc have the wit to take the Princess, although in soldiers' garb, given a chance?"
"I hope for her sake that you worry needlessly," said Legolas, turning to face him wearing an uncharacteristic frown.
"So do I."
When Lothíriel and her father entered the dining hall they saw a few advisors of the various authorities assembled and discussing leather thickness for saddles –the couple of blonde men who had made the walk up from the Rohirrim camp exercising some knowledge in this area. Legolas had rejoined Aragorn and Gimli, who were smoking pipes and blowing large smoke rings into the fireplace. Imrahil took a plate of meat and eggs from the main table and made his way over to them.
Lothíriel dithered by the table, wondering which group she should make an attempt to sit with. She glanced about for her younger sisters as such busy times had left her little time for play, but they were not in the room. She was just contemplating how rude it would look to take her plate onto the terrace and seek out Cerahil, who was sure to have some pipe weed on him, when she heard her name being called.
"Lothíriel? Cousin, won't you please join us?" called Faramir warmly. Lothíriel turned and noticed him in the corner talking to Éomer. Both had their feet up, boots resting on the bench between them that was also supporting their steaming cups of tea. Éomer looked up at her. He ran a hand over his beard involuntarily, looking slightly uneasy and rather guilty. Lothíriel rubbed her nose quickly so that no one would see her nostrils flaring. Faramir smiled at her, oblivious of the exchange. Damn. She would have to go over there.
"How are you this morning cousin? My Lord Éomer, I… hope you slept well."
"I am well and all the better for seeing you before tonight," said Faramir, rising to kiss her on the cheek. "You look beautiful, cousin, your health looks greatly improved."
"Thank you, really I am very well," she replied. Steeling her courage, she turned to face Éomer, who gave her a private smile. That smile held a lot of secrets.
"I slept very well, my Lady. This house holds the best in hospitality. I would not be sorry to return here, in peace." Lothíriel cleared her throat, and then raised her chin.
"I would not object to having any of our guests return under more enjoyable circumstances." Éomer gave the slightest of nods. Lothíriel curtsied and sat down. If she had let him kiss her hand she would not have survived it.
After a slightly shaky start, in which Éomer and Lothíriel concentrated on eating and drinking and Faramir was left to attempt topics of conversation, they began to relax a little, and as the Prince of Ithilien and the Princess of Dol Amroth began recounting some of the funnier escapades of their youth, like the time Faramir and the Lady had attempted a race, on horseback, blindfolded, trying to keep the horses between lines of shells and spears, and were soundly beaten by Boromir, who had given both of them a two minute head start. Or the time when Faramir was convinced Lothíriel was drowning out in the sea and it was really just Amrothos trying to dive for pearls. (Who had not been best pleased to have been mistaken for a girl and had cut his hair short that very afternoon.)
Éomer began telling stories of his attempts to get Eowyn to ride her own horse but she had been so adamant that his own should be hers that he'd given it to her as a gift when she was fifteen. Or the 'adventures' he and Theodred had had way out on the plains, only to be scolded by his sister on their return because they had promised to school her in swordsmanship.
'That smile is gorgeous,' thought Lothíriel, suddenly, as she saw Éomer let go, care rippling away from his forehead to his hairline, as if it had never been there. She saw the man he had been before his cousin's death had heaped on the responsibilities, to be closely followed with the weight of unexpected kingship. 'I want to find that man again.'
"I wish I'd known you then," she said, without thinking. Éomer stopped laughing and looked at her. She dropped her gaze and concentrated on her cup. Faramir's eyes flicked between them.
Éomer cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I will be late for the sword. I would fain let down my men." He set his plate down and offered a bow to Lothíriel and a nod to Faramir before departing.
Faramir trained his eye on his cousin. She glanced up at him with wide, guilty eyes. 'There it is, she's a woman again," he thought. "I was thinking of walking for a while. I have no duties at the moment. Will you accompany me?"
"Alright."
They made their way to the small courtyard gardens at the back of the house, to a small section housing a fountain shaped like a fish, a bench, and some red flowers shaped like horns.
"Lothi? Lothi stop. I've known you my whole life, don't shut me out now. Lothi what have you done?"
"I spent the night in his room," said Lothíriel, frankly, concentrating on the fish.
"Oh, Lothi!" Faramir sat down on the bench and slumped his shoulders. Lothíriel leaned on the rim of the fountain bowl and faced him.
"You MUST keep this a secret, please, please Faramir. Besides, nothing happened."
"Do you wish it had?" Lothíriel gave him a sharp look. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I don't know." She didn't want to mention the nearly-kiss. "But I really don't want to do the ambush with him later."
"You idiot."
"I know, I know," she sat next to him and tilted her head back to look at the sky. "I only went in there to talk about the strategy for tonight. I thought it would unnerve him. I hoped… he just seemed to think he knows so much. We just couldn't get on. I thought maybe if I caught him off guard- but then it turned out he DOES know everything. The plan he devised, it's flawless -I'll be surprised if we have even twenty casualties all night. It's true. He is a great strategist. There's everything. Back up plans, the lot. He asked me my opinion all the way through."
"It all seems perfect from where I'm sitting."
"I know! But that's what we have a council room for, isn't it? Not… beds…" said Lothíriel, with a groan, sliding down the seat and slouching in a most inelegant manner.
"Right." Faramir chuckled and put him arm round her in a lopsided hug. "Well, at least you didn't jump on him."
She nearly did though ;-). Do review, love to you all, skinnyrita xxxx
