Aha, see how quickly I can update when I put my mind to it? lol. Thank you Blue Eyes at Night, wondereye and Chocolate Trinkit for your wonderful and enthusiastic reviews!
Well I must tell you that this is the penultimate chapter -I did tell you there was shockingly little left to go! so in advance i want to thank everyone who has reviewed, keep em coming!
disclaimer -me not tolkien, me rita, skinnyrita. me lost marbles. k.o?
enjoy xxx
The Tale of Éomer and Lothíriel.
PART NINE.
Éomer was restless despite keeping himself busy. He had been gladdened by the victory, and relieved to greet Faramir, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli that morning, all in one piece and looking fit and happy, barely bandaged. He breathed relief on behalf of his sister and had shaken Faramir in particular warmly by the hand, spending most of the day in his company. By the second day, however, when he had not seen her and had not spoken to her, and had not touched her, he was more restless than he ever cared tell.
He knew that the Rohirrim were starting to wonder why they were still hanging around this foreign city now that the battle was over. Though for the most part they had revelled in the sight of the sea, and the feel of floating in the saltwater, he knew that like him all they wanted to do now was to go home to the rolling plains behind them, and rear their horses again, laugh with their children, see their wives. Not really at all like Éomer then, for he felt increasingly torn and troubled. He had only glimpsed the princess at mealtimes, where she had been far too occupied with her family around her again to pay him much notice save a quick flash of a smile. He wanted to stay, as he feverishly clung to the hope of these smiles, and what they might mean she wanted from any relationship they had forged, yet he also ached to be home, and concerned only with Rohan. As he had no wife or children, however, perhaps his ache was less than that of the majority of his army.
It was the very early morning of the third day when Éomer decided maybe it would be better if he began gathering his camp back together for the long march homeward. Hama had tactfully hinted at the restlessness and growing anxiety creeping into the camp, and Éomer was not deaf. He made a special effort that morning to give every horse his own personal inspection, to boost the homesick spirits around him, and then informed his officials that he would seek a private audience with Prince Imrahil that evening, to offer him farewell and invitation to visit their own lands. This was readily agreed to. It looked as though they would be gone within the week.
Thus satisfied, Éomer appeared punctual as always at breakfast, which was now a far livelier affair, with Lothíriel's little sisters all smiles and sweetness once more, her brothers, who it transpired in what Éomer thought was really quite a boring way, chained up in an orc holding cell, keeping close to their father, whose shoulders no longer appeared quite so stooped. Alphros, Elphir's young son, was on his best behaviour, sitting with a small plate at the brothers' feet. Éomer filled his plate slowly, taking the chance to glance round discreetly for Lothíriel, who he noticed was in conversation with Faramir, and for once apart from her newly found brothers. He approached them.
"Good morrow Faramir, my Lady," he offered Lothíriel a bow of his head.
She returned it, "Good morning my Lord."
"Take a seat Éomer," said Faramir genially, kind eyes crinkling, sensing the awkwardness between the two, "I was just relating to Lothi that we're due to march out tomorrow. Aragorn will probably want to shake your hand before we leave. The men are all bellyaching about missing their wives. Though I must say, I'm fair sick to get back to my own!"
Éomer smiled at him, and said, "yes, I will have to see Prince Imrahil myself later. I think everyone's tired for home now. We hope to leave ourselves within the week."
"Are you in such a hurry to leave, Lord Éomer?" Oh yes, he could detect a hint of panic in her voice.
"I would happily rest in such a fair realm for ever," he aid delicately, aware of Faramir's amused gaze, "yet I cannot disappoint my men who wish to return to their loved ones."
They finished their breakfast in silence, dwelling on each other. Finally Faramir broke it with the apology that he should go down to the Gondorian camp and check over the wounded. A quick glance around the dining hall had told him that Aragorn had already left.
Éomer also excused himself, but he had barely got out into the deserted hallway when he felt a tug on his arm, and realised that Lothíriel had pulled him behind a large pillar.
"Are you going soon?"
"Would you care?" He wasn't sure why he asked it.
"I- I- what is between us or did you think that nothing happened? What do you feel for me, I want to know!" she had dropped her voice to an angry whisper as a servant passed by their hiding place balancing a large vase on a tray.
"I feel that I love you, but I haven't seen you for days now!" hissed Éomer angrily, unconsciously gripping her arms, his flushed face close to hers, "do you hold me in so little regard that you think I would just take you without feeling? Have you no respect for any part of my own character, when I have grown so deeply in affection for you? Are you perhaps blind to me? Can't you see that I love you?" his breathing had grown harsh. His vision cleared and he was gazing into her shocked, blushing face. He loosened his grip on her and calmed down, hanging his head. "I'm sorry, do forgive me, I should not have raised my voice." He sighed. "I know you have been busy with your family at this time. I was jealous and upset. Please, ignore my incivility."
Lothiriel's eyes were very bright, staring up into his noble face. A King indeed. "You- you love me?"
Éomer moved closer to her gently, hope kindling in his veins. "I do. Will you love me, Princess Lothíriel?" he was speaking quietly, as if not to be overheard, though it felt to them that they had passed into their own private world.
Lothíriel started nodding mutely, slowly at first, then faster as the euphoria of finally comprehending these strange feelings bubbling and churning her up inside were realised. "Yes!" she finally managed, "yes, yes!" She thought suddenly that it was absolutely imperative that he understands her.
Éomer kissed her softly on the lips, then both of her hands. He glanced down at her bare feet. "I will have to go away though. I can't keep my men here forever. It isn't fair."
"I know."
They were interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of Prince Imrahil's newly discovered laugh, and sprang apart. "I have to talk to my advisors now, I promised I'd let them proposition me on the expenses of roads or something equally boring," said Éomer humorously, touching his forehead to Lothíriel's for a second. "But I'll find you later."
Lothíriel combed out her long dark curls with unnecessary care. Her hands were tingling because she was overcome with unexplainable nerves. It was not as though she was about to venture where never before. But then again, it all felt different. Definitely for the good, she decided. She rubbed a little water that had had flowers floating in it on her pulse points and glanced around again at her room, which she had for once tidied so that it couldn't be recognised, even by herself.
The knock at her door was quiet, secret. She opened it and let Éomer in. he was wearing a simple tunic and trousers, his hair rippling in golden waves over his shoulders; she thought he looked magnificent.
Éomer closed the door behind him and they stood looking at each other for a moment. He knew that this time it would be different. Last time had been rushed, a source of comfort for both to ease off the worry and the restlessness they had needed to beat up of them. This time it somehow would mean an awful lot more. He closed the distance and ran a finger through the soft long spirals at the side of her head, trailing the line down her side to her waist before kissing her gently.
Lothíriel smiled up into Éomer's kind eyes and knew that it would be all right.
It was only when she awoke the next morning to find herself nestled against the golden-haired man, his arm slung possessively round her waist, his sleeping face a picture of perfect content, that she remembered he was leaving.
how sad it is but next chappie should bring this story to a close. please express all views!
love skinnyrita xxx
