Chapter Two
The four strolled leisurely into the lush gardens. It was a clear night, stars scattering the velvet black sky like diamonds and the bright moon lighted their paths. Éowyn had decided to use this opportunity to get to know Lothíriel and began asking her questions about Dol Amroth. Their two escorts remained silent walking behind them, also listening to Lothíriel's voice.
"And you say your city is built along the sea?" she asked and Lothíriel nodded.
"Well, technically yes. In truth the palace is built along the shores and the city extends past it towards the inland," she replied. Éowyn nodded, and then looked slightly confused.
"Why do you constantly refer to it so impersonally as "the palace"? Do you live elsewhere?" she asked. Lothíriel felt her face turn a little warm and was glad for the darkness that hid what she knew was her pink cheeks. Faramir laughed.
"Aye, that she does, for most of her growing years" he replied, a teasing smile on his face. Lothíriel shot his a narrow look but her cousin ignored it.
"If it doesn't offend your highness, where did you grow up?" asked Éomer, looking tentatively at Lothíriel. She was about to explain that her cousin was being silly, but Faramir was milking it for all its worth.
"Lothíriel could tell you the exact design and built of the royal stable in pitch darkness, but would get lost in the palace looking for her room," answered Faramir and he let out a gusto laugh. Éowyn smiled broadly too and placed a comforting arm on Lothíriel.
"Do not mind him, he is male," she said as if it explained it all. Éomer however wasn't laughing. In fact he looked with full understanding.
"That doesn't seem unusual. Why wouldn't anyone not know the insides of a stable with great detail?" he asked. Faramir ceased his laughter and gave his future brother in law an amused look.
"Aye, I would see how you would find it agreeable. You two would be a fine match, indeed," he said wryly. His words were simple and had no ulterior intensions behind them but still Lothíriel gave him a cuff on the arm, and Éomer had diverted his gaze elsewhere, most likely in hiding his reddening cheek, something that was becoming usual for him around the princess. Anyhow, the two missed the sudden thoughtful look on Éowyn's face. She looked at the two, rotating between the princess who was staring at Faramir with dagger looks and her brother, who had suddenly become preoccupied by a point past the garden boundaries and the wheels in her head began to churn.
"Princess Lothíriel," she said suddenly, and Lothíriel turned away from her laughing cousin to the Lady of Rohan.
"Please, I am only Lothíriel," she said pleasantly. Éowyn smiled. She was beginning to like the princess a lot and the plan in her head seemed better and better.
"Lothíriel, I have something to admit," she said, successfully making her voice remorseful. The other two men turned to look at her, and Lothíriel stepped closer, her eyes gentle questioning but without any traces of accusation. Éowyn threw a glance to her brother before lowering her lashes demurely, a troubled look on her face. Lothíriel understood the look.
"Would you please excuse us?" she said and gently steered Éowyn out of hearing distance from the two gentlemen. Both wore identical worried looks.
"What is it, Lady Éowyn?" she asked.
"Please call me Éowyn. It is this, my true intent to accompany your stroll was actually to lure Faramir for a quiet walk, just the two of us," she said, not taking her eyes of the ground. Lothíriel didn't know what to say. What was expected of her?
"But my brother…" Éowyn began again.
"Would not allow such a thing?" Lothíriel continued, finally understanding the situation. She did after all have three brothers of her own.
"You would want me to distract your brother so you may sneak off with my cousin?" she asked. Éowyn nodded and looked hopefully at Lothíriel. She laughed softly and agreed.
"Éowyn you have given a new meaning to my cousin's life and shown his weary spirit the joys of love and restored in his eyes his self worth and pride. How can I deny you anything?" she replied and Éowyn beamed.
"Thank you Lothíriel," she said.
"Do not thank me yet, for I do not know if I have the means to distract your brother," she said. Éowyn refrained from saying anything. Lothíriel had no idea what she was doing to her brother. Éowyn knew for a fact that Éomer's eyes were fixed on the Dol Amroth princess than his little sister.
"I thank you anyways for your efforts. Come let's return to our gallant gentlemen," she said and was delighted when Lothíriel colored at the implication that Éomer was her 'gentleman'. The two ladies walked back to Éomer and Faramir.
"Is anything amiss?" Faramir immediately asked his love but Éowyn just smiled and linked her arm around his. Lothíriel took her lead and turned to Éomer, thinking hard what would catch the young man's attention.
"King Éomer," she began. Éomer who had been looking at his sister turned to the princess.
"You had promised to escort me around the gardens yet you spend time with my cousin. Do you escort him instead?' she asked her lips upturned into a smile. Éomer chuckled.
""Forgive me your highness. May I?" he extended his arm to her and continued their walk, with Faramir and Éowyn behind them.
"The gardens are beautiful, are they not?" she asked. Éomer nodded but didn't offer any in put. Lothíriel knew that Éomer had keen senses and it would take something of great interest to catch his attention. She turned slightly to Éowyn and the other lady smiled in encouragement.
"Your majesty, tell me… um… ah yes, are women of Rohan normally seen in stables?" she asked then mentally kicked herself. It wouldn't do to remind the Rohan king about her un-princess like behavior. But Éomer looked more amused than scandalous.
"Horses are a big part of a Rohirrim, may it be male or female, so yes it would be usual to see several of my people linger in the stables, although I can not say I have seen any actually grow up in one," he said and Lothíriel cringed inwardly. She was going to skewer Faramir's tongue with his own sword.
"Your majesty shouldn't take much of Lord Faramir's words to heart. Sometimes his lack of intelligence disrupts his ability to say things of sense," she said. Éomer laughed at her words, briefly turning back to give Faramir a smirk but the steward was gone. And so was his sister. Lothíriel too noticed their absence and congratulated herself. Éomer released her arm but she quickly grabbed it back. He looked down at her questioningly an eyebrow raised. Suddenly it didn't seem like a good idea anymore to Lothíriel. No doubt King Éomer was angered by her deception and would march up to her father and declare Dol Amroth as the enemy. But none of it came. Instead the king returned her hands to the crook of his arm and continued down the path.
"I should have known she would try to pull something like that," he said almost to himself but Lothíriel heard and was glad for the absence of anger.
"With the usage of such a beautiful pawn, nonetheless," he said louder for Lothíriel to hear. Her eyes jerk up to meet his amused ones and she quickly lowered her eyelashes to hide her embarrassment and even a little tingle of pleasure from the compliment.
"She was afraid you would be angry, and asked for my help. I couldn't deny her time with my cousin, they are very much in love," she said successfully keeping her tone light but her chest tightened in pain. Éomer did hear the subtle ache in her voice but chose to ignore it. He had no rights to intervene with her personal life… yet.
"I have no doubts of their feelings but I do not believe she would fear my response to such daringness," he said. Lothíriel looked up in interest.
"Oh really?" she asked. Éomer laughed softly and his tone became gentle.
"Aye, since we were young she had been doing exactly what she wanted. If she wished to swing a sword than stitch, then there she was in the fields training with me and Theodred," he said, smiling at the memories.
"And who is Theodred?" she asked again. Éomer stiffened but answered her question.'
"He was my cousin and the heir to Rohan but he perished in an orc raid," he said. Lothíriel bit her lips.
"I am sorry. I know how it feels to lose a cousin," she whispered and once again the pain returned. This time Éomer didn't ignore it.
"Princess, I may be out of line and please do not answer if I offend, but your highness and Lord Boromir… were…" he didn't really know how to address his thoughts to her.
"Why do you ask?" Lothíriel asked her face hardening. The cheek of this man! Just because he is King doesn't mean he has a right to interfere with her personal life. Éomer felt her stiffen and thought hard on how to not offend the princess further.
"It is just that, you mourn him not as a cousin but as…" he stammered.
"But as a woman who is in love with him?" she said softly and pulled away from Éomer.
"Princess, I am sorry. I was out of line. Please, just forget my words and lets us continue our walk," he said in a desperate attempt to restore her good humor. But Lothíriel couldn't forget. Anymore than she could forget Boromir.
"I realize what you must think of me. In love with my own cousin. Completely unheard of in Rohan I'm sure. And I assure in Dol Amroth and Gondor, it is not a habit to marry to someone so closely related," she said, quickly the last bits, just in case Éomer thought that marriage between first cousins were a normality.
"Princess, I do not judge you. I was merely curious. Were you planning on getting married?" he asked again. Lothíriel laughed a little and she smiled at Éomer, even though her eyes shone with unshed tears.
"No, whatever feelings I had for him, were not returned and eventually my uncle would have made Boromir marry a daughter of a noble man within Gondor," she said. Éomer nodded. That would have been a fate to befall him if he hadn't become king.
"Well, my lord, you have stripped my heart of its covering, it is only fair that I return the favor. So, King Éomer, who will be Queen of Rohan?" she asked and her light mood returned. Éomer was pleased to hear her in her teasing mood again, but was a little uncomfortable with the question. And he visibly showed it, much to Lothíriel's amusement.
"Ah, a queen? I haven't really thought of that," he said shifting from foot to foot.
"But my lord, as king it is your duty to marry and produce an heir," she said, perfectly imitating one of his advisers. He rolled his eyes.
"Come now, King Éomer, do not tell me that there isn't a lady in Rohan that has struck your fancy?" she asked, her eyes wide in wonder. She would have thought this magnificent man in front of her would have no problems finding someone to bear his children. Éomer laughed.
"There are beautiful ladies in Rohan, I would not be a man if I said otherwise, but as third marshal and now King, I am preoccupied. With looking after my horse and ensuring safety," said Éomer, his tone indicating clearly which he considered his priority.
"Is that so? Your horse. Well, since Rohirrim are such avid horse lovers, I suppose your people wouldn't mind a horse taking the place of a queen. You'll have to enlargen the crown though to fit its head," she said, her tone serious as if she were talking about a woman instead. Éomer stared at her in wonder before letting go a boisterous laugh. He laughed long and hard, till he had to bend down and clutch his side, to stop the pain there. Lothíriel just looked at him a smug smile on her lips for making this man laugh. When he was finally done, he reached out and took her hand into his and placed a kiss on its back.
"Princess, I can not remember the last time I have laughed so. Thank you," he said breathlessly.
"You are welcome, my lord," she said and he held her hand a little longer, the two staring into each others eyes. And high above them, the moon's ray shifted to rest upon them, bathing the two in its silvery light, shutting out everything around them in darkness. But then a cloud passed across the moon and the moment was broken. Éomer quickly let go of Lothíriel's hand and turned his gaze past her head, tugging slightly at the neck of his tunic. He had suddenly felt a little hot. As for Lothíriel, her hand where his lips had grazed was tingling and she could feel unusual sensations flutter through her body.
"My lord, you still haven't told me who holds your heart?" she asked, her tone shy and she didn't look at him, but thought is best to lighten the intense mood that had unexpectedly settled on them. Her approach worked and Éomer smiled at her, the air no longer charged with static.
"Haven't we agreed that my horse will rule beside me?" he responded with a laugh. Lothíriel gave him a not amused look although her lips quivered upwards. Éomer sighed.
"You are a persistent one aren't you?" he sighed and Lothíriel broke into a smile.
"One of my many endearing qualities," she replied and Éomer just rolled his eyes before sighing again.
"To answer your question, princess, no I don't have a lady in mind to be queen," he said.
"There that wasn't so hard was it? Do not worry, my lord, you will find someone. You are not that bad too look at," she said patting his arm consolingly.
"My lady, any more tongue from you and I might just make you my queen," he said menacingly. Lothíriel saw the teasing in his eyes and decided to play along.
"No, please my lord, not that," she cried moving backwards. Éomer advanced towards her.
"I think yes, princess. I shall take you away to Rohan where you will have no choice but to live with the horses and me, in our stable!" he continued and Lothíriel placed a hand to her forehead, mimicking a damsel in distress pose.
"Live with you? In a stable! Oh the horror! How can I survive? I must run, and save myself from such a horrid fate," she said and lifted her skirts and ran. But she didn't get far before she was whisked off her feet and twirled around in Éomer's arms. Lothíriel let out a squeal and hung tight to Éomer's neck. Éomer laughed at her and swung her harder, causing her to squeal louder.
"Ahem," a loud sound caused Éomer to suddenly stop, turn around and promptly come face to face with a not very much amused Prince Imrahil.
"Éomer I must ask you to release my daughter," he said wryly. Éomer quickly lowered Lothíriel to her feet and the princess quickly smoothed her dress before moving to stand beside her father, her eyes not leaving the ground. Éomer met the prince's eyes, but his cheeks were a flame.
"Good night, Éomer," said the Imrahil again and with a firm grip on his daughter he lead her back to the palace leaving Éomer to stand alone in the garden. Lothíriel turned to offer him an apologetic look but her father pulled at her arm causing her to turn back in front. Éomer continued watching the two retreating figures and though he still felt a bit embarrassed, he could not deny another more pleasurable feeling stirring within him.
The next morning Éomer woke up late as a result of spending most of the night with his thoughts on the Dol Amroth princess. He had thought about her and their topic of conversation. She was right; he did need to find himself and Rohan a queen. He wasn't terribly surprised to realize that the princess who had so cleverly manipulated him and stirred his emotions would be a perfect candidate but as much as he wanted too, he knew it would not happen, his people's needs outweighed his own and he owed it to his people to marry a Rohirrim nobility. Whatever feelings he had felt stirring the night before he had to bury deep within him. He wouldn't court the princess and when he returned to Edoras he would look for a wife from the many ladies in his homeland.
"Brother," his sister's voice broke into his thoughts. He turned to Éowyn and was about to smile before he caught himself and turned his smile into a frown. He hadn't forgotten that it was her fault he was in trouble with his friend.
"A frown so early in the morning, brother. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed did you?" asked Éowyn trying to look pitying but failing. Her eyes were merry and her lips were still swollen from her midnight rendezvous. Éomer deciphered her expressions easily.
"It is not the bed that is at fault, but you, dear sister. You used Princess Lothíriel and your unsuspecting brother to be alone with Faramir under the pretense that you were joining Lothíriel and me on a night walk," he said not losing his frown. But Éowyn wasn't fazed by his stern exterior.
"I'm pretending? Like you are now?" she asked aghast or at least trying to sound so.
"I am not pretending," he answered in a huff.
"Yes you are. You can not make me believe that you didn't enjoy being alone with the princess, in a dark garden," she said, smiling suggestively at him. Éomer felt his face heat up.
"This isn't about me, Éowyn. It's about you and Faramir's improper behavior," he snapped. Éowyn bristled.
"Improper? I was out walking with my betrothed. How is that improper?" she asked defensively.
"It is improper when the following morning you appear before King Elessar's court with bite marks on your white neck," he said dryly. It was Éowyn's turn to blush, and a pale hand flew up to the offending marks on her slender neck before quickly rearranging her golden tresses to hide the passion mark.
"My skin is fair not white and they are insect bites," she said trying to keep the embarrassment out of her voice. Éomer snorted.
"Must be very big insects," he mumbled then groaned when his ribs came into contact with Éowyn's fist.
"At least Faramir and I are promised to each other. What of you and Lothíriel? Will you ask Imrahil permission to court her?' she asked, her face perking in interest. However Éomer was spared from answering her as the two had reached the doors to the formal dining room. They entered and saw that everyone had been assembled, men, elf, dwarf and hobbits. The two bowed to their friends before taking seats. Éowyn went to take her seat next to Faramir and Éomer went to sit between Legolas and Frodo.
"Éomer, rough night? Never seen you wake up late before," said Merry from across him. He glanced briefly to Lothíriel who had her head bent down over her plate and locked eyes with Imrahil instead which caused him to look away quickly.
"Yes, I had trouble sleeping. And you Master Brandybuck, I take it slept well?" he asked, smiling at the still red faces of the hobbits. Sam had his head in his hands, no doubt suffering a hangover. Merry grinned and gave Sam pat on the back.
"Yup, like a brick. Maybe you should come down to the tavern with us tonight. There is nothing better than a pint of ale to cure your sleepless nights," said Merry.
"Or three pints," cried out Pippin.
"Thank you friends, but I will pass. Maybe some other nights," he said and smiled as Merry shrugged then turned to Frodo and Pippin.
On the other side, Lothíriel ate her breakfast silently barely listening to the conversation around her, in her head her father's words playing over and over in her head. He had spent the entire walk to her room telling her that she was not a little girl (why does he only remember that when she does something wrong?) and that it isn't proper conduct for a princess to be out alone with a man, king or not and it was especially unacceptable to be flung around as she had been. She had refrained from reminding her father that it was Éomer who had done the act, she hadn't asked him too. She sighed. She would never be a lady, much less a princess. She was only grateful that he father had ceased his lecture when they arrived at her door and that the dress lady Arwen had laid down for her to wear today had been altered for her height.
"Princess Lothíriel," Prince Legolas's voice drew her away from her thoughts. She looked up and smiled at the elf, willing herself to not look at the Rohirrim next to him.
"Forgive me Prince Legolas, did you say something?" she asked, collecting her thoughts. He smiled at her and she had to blink to stop herself from freezing at his handsomeness.
"I simply wished to know if you are a regular visitor to Gondor," he said keeping his smile. Lothíriel smiled back and nodded then shook her head.
"I was when I was young, but then the road between Dol Amroth and Gondor became too dangerous, so I had to rely on news from messengers and my cousins," she said, and as usual the pain that accompanied her thoughts of Boromir returned although she noticed that it wasn't so intense. Legolas looked with understanding.
"I had the honor of being acquainted with Boromir and I share your grief, princess," he said. Lothíriel nodded but couldn't bring herself to speak.
"Come let's not dwell on those departed. We should find solace that his passing had been as he would have wanted it to be, in battle against evil," he continued and flashed another smile. And his smile must have been addictive as she smiled back and her spirit was lifted.
"So, Prince Legolas how long will you be in Gondor?" she asked.
"Until Aragorn's wedding and then Gimli and I have some unfinished business to attend too, don't you not agree Master Gimli," Legolas cried out to his friend. Gimli raised him beer pitcher in agreement. Lothíriel looked at the dwarf and laughed and her gaze momentarily landed on Éomer but the king was preoccupied with something on his plate. A small cough from her father, and she looked away from him back to her plate. Legolas didn't engage her in anymore conversation and she continued her breakfast in silence, and only half hearing the conversations around her.
Before long the four gentlemen took leave to King Elessar's parlor, while Lady Éowyn and Lady Arwen had decided to prepare the last minute details of tomorrow's dresses and the four hobbits had volunteered to inspect the food for the wedding. Lothíriel remained to converse with Legolas and Gimli for a while longer but then she too asked to be excused claiming that there was a lot of Gondor that she wanted to reacquaint herself with and no, she wouldn't need to be escorted.
Meanwhile inside the King Elessar's parlor, Éomer was facing the most deadly battle in his life, an audience with an angry father, and he didn't think he would come out of this unscathed.
"Éomer, I value your friendship and am indebted to you, but you must understand that I put my duty as a father before my duty to a friend. What are your intentions on my daughter?" Imrahil had suddenly burst after half an hour of silence. Aragorn poured him a glass of bourbon and handed it to the squeamish Rohirrim with a pitying look. He knew what it felt like to be under the scrutiny of a father, for hadn't Elrond given him enough share of grief over Arwen? Éomer took it down in one swallow.
"Imrahil, I have no ill intentions towards your daughter. In fact I have no intentions towards her at all," he said respectfully. In this situation he was not a king but a man who had acted in an improper manner towards a princess and must answer for his actions to the father. Imrahil inhaled deeply.
"That is not what I saw last night, Éomer. You were holding my daughter in your arms and twirling her around. She is a princess Éomer, not a common maid," Imrahil continued, his eyes narrow.
"I do not deny it. And to that I ask for your forgiveness," he said. Imrahil said nothing but nodded. He supposed he was over reacting, but when he saw his precious daughter in the arms of a man, he had felt fear. The sudden reality that his daughter was not a little girl was a grown woman to be married scared the life out of him. She was the last gift his beloved wife had left him. How could he let her go to another man, king or not?
"Do you intend to take her as your wife, Éomer?" Aragorn spoke for the first time. Imrahil paled a little, and dreaded the answer. So it was a surprise to him when Éomer shook his head.
"No? You do not find her suitable? Is she not beautiful enough for you?" Imrahil asked, relieved that he wasn't about to lose her yet, but miffed that he would reject her so. Éomer looked at Imrahil, his eyes glinting.
"She is beautiful Imrahil. She shines with her own light, her individuality without compromising her grace. I would have to be blind to say Princess Lothíriel is anything but beautiful. But I can not marry her. I am obliged to my people to marry a Rohirrim lady," he said.
"That is orc waste, Éomer!" Faramir suddenly cried out, and heads turned to him, suddenly remembering the Steward's presence. He was looking at Éomer with anger in his eyes.
"Éowyn is not of Gondor blood and neither is Lady Arwen. But the people here welcome them with open hearts. And so will the Rohirrim should you bring Lothíriel back with you to Edoras," he said.
"And if they do not? I would have uprooted her from all that she knows and loves to plant her in a place where she will not be accepted? No, there is no more to be said. I will marry a lady from Rohan," he said his tone not allowing any room for arguments. And beyond the slightly ajar oaken doors of the parlor, in a dress of dark green was Lothíriel, her chest heaving and her eyes brimming with tears. She hadn't meant to over hear the conversation but was now glad she did. She didn't know why she was reacting so strongly to it, but it didn't stop her from feeling hurt from the rejection. She softly walked away from the doors not caring where her feet would take her.
It took her to a point high above the palace. To one of the many watch towers, deserted many winters ago. Slowly she sat down on one of the crumbling bricks, making sure the surface was clean enough to not stain Lady Arwen's pretty dress. She tucked her feet under her and looked into the lands spread out before her. Gondor was indeed a beautiful city and now its glory restored bit by bit. Green meadows stretch further than the eyes can see and even the battlefields at the very gates of the city had begun to recover, as patches of green could be seen. It wouldn't be long before the redness of death would be replaced by the greenness of peace.
She sighed and closed her eyes letting the breeze blow over her, giving her a sense of calm. The first time in ages. In Dol Amroth when her father was out fighting, she would be left in charge along with her father's many advisers and her responsibility would not allow a moment of peace. And when the messenger had arrived, only four days ago, without much thought she had leapt on her faithful Hermés and sped to Gondor like a band of orcs were on her tail.
Then she had arrived and instead of feeling relieved that her father was safe, she had collapsed into a pile of emotions, crying at the most unusual moments, causing all around her to worry. And she hadn't even begun thinking about Éomer. What was he doing to her heart? She was still in love with Boromir and she should be mourning of his passing. But when she was with Éomer, he made her laugh. The night before, how easily he lifted her spirits from its gloom.
"But he doesn't think of me like a future love," she whispered to herself and despair washed over her.
Boromir hadn't loved her like she had loved him also. Maybe there was something wrong with her? Yes, that's what it was. It was her. Not Éomer, not Boromir, not any of the men in Dol Amroth. It was her. Suddenly her despair was replaced by anger. Anger that she should be judged so fiercely because she wasn't docile, quiet and because she wouldn't lower herself to the level of a doormat, like the other court ladies.
Lothíriel got to her feet and stood at the edge of the tower, looking down at the people busy with their everyday life. The anger was building inside her to a fever pitch. She couldn't hold it in anymore. Inhaling deeply she released a scream that would send an Oliphant into hiding. She shouted for the loss of Boromir, she shouted for the injustice that she was born a female, she shouted for all the families that had lost loved ones, she shouted for the despair that she would never bring pride to her father by marrying into a good family and when she had run out of things to scream about, she continued still until there was no air left in her lungs to allow her to continue.
She looked down and saw that the once busy streets had come to a standstill and all eyes were fixed on her. She couldn't see it, but she could imagine the shock on their faces. And it made her laugh. Falling back to the brick she had sat, she began to laugh. And that was how her father found her minutes later. He and the other gentlemen had heard a piercing scream and had rushed out. Upon questioning one of the guards had pointed to the deserted watch towers. There he saw Lothíriel standing horribly close to the edge, her hair flying madly around her. He was stunned. It was only when she had ceased her cries that he found his feet to run up to where she had yelled from.
"Lothíriel, daughter! What is the meaning of this?" he cried, rushing up to her side. She was still laughing, though not as loud, yet her body was still wracking in laughter. She looked up at him, her eyes merry with mirth. He father did not return her merriment.
"Father, did you run up all the way?" she asked in between laughter. Imrahil did not respond but let her finish laughing. Eventually her laughter subsided and when she turned to her father, her eyes were brimming with tears.
"He doesn't want me, father. I heard him, he doesn't want me," she sobbed and Imrahil gathered her into his arms where she sobbed into his shirt. He knew who she was talking about.
"What's wrong with me father? I am that horrendous to look at that no man wants me? Boromir didn't want me… no man does," she continued her tears flowing faster. Imrahil said nothing and simply allowed his daughter a very much earned cry. She had been strong too long, he was not in the dark of how his daughter had personally taken care of the women and children in his city as their husbands and fathers go out to war. And how she had to withhold her tears to console their grieved forms when news arrived of more casualties. She was expected to be the strong figure that she hadn't been allowed to mourn for the men that she had grown up with. Yes, Imrahil was very well aware of it all. After a while her sobs receded and she pulled away slightly so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Imrahil repositioned himself so they would be more comfortable.
"Father, I…" began Lothíriel, but Imrahil placed a finger to her lips.
"Shhh, I will speak. My sweet daughter, my precious jewel. You have been brave long enough, now it is your turn to be cared for… and allowed to grieve," he said softly, stroking her hair as if she were a little girl again. She snuggled further into her father's arms, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.
"There is nothing wrong with you, and don't you ever doubt that. You are beautiful in form and in spirit. It must be hard to live under a man's rule and not be able to express your thoughts, and let me be the first to apologize for keeping you down," her father continued. Lothíriel lifted her head to look at her father's forlorn face.
"No father, you have never kept me down. Have you not allowed me to do as I please? Allowed me freedom and eventually assisting in running our city? Father, you have done nothing but love me, flaw and all," she said. Imrahil smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead.
"Do not mistake your uniqueness as a flaw my dear daughter, for it isn't. And you may not believe it but, the people of Dol Amroth love you ever more for it. Did you not know a messenger had arrived late last night from our city with only one question? Is Princess Lothíriel safe? So how can you say there is something wrong with you?" he said and Lothíriel beamed at his words.
"That is why I came out to find you," he said and at this his voice thickened a little. Lothíriel felt it and thought it was because of her behavior.
"I am truly sorry for that father, I won't allow it to happen again," she said contritely. Imrahil laughed. The two remained silent and enjoyed the beauty spread before them and be grateful that they still had each other when so many others had lost someone they loved.
"Daughter, understand why Éomer can not marry you," he said after a while. Lothíriel flinched as she recalled her words. She had told her father her deepest secrets about her feelings for Boromir. But she nodded.
"Yes, he loves his people and would only do the best for them," she replied, and by saying those words aloud, she didn't feel anymore the hurt of rejection. And it wasn't as if she had entertained thoughts of marrying the King of Rohan in the first place.
"And as for Boromir, he held back only because he knew there was no future for the both of you, and he would keep you from being hurt," her father continued again. Lothíriel was stunned. What had her father just said? She straightened to look at him.
"I am not that preoccupied with matter of the state that I would neglect my daughter. I saw what passed between you and him and though you hadn't seen it, if he were anyone else but your cousin, no doubt he would have come to me long ago, asking for your hand," he continued. Lothíriel was silent as she digested her father's words.
"You are just saying this aren't you?" she said, her eyes narrowed.
"By my honor as a knight, I do not lie," replied Imrahil a solemn look on his face. Lothíriel couldn't help smile. In a way it helped to know that she hadn't been hanging by a thread.
"It matters not anymore, but your words are comforting father," she said looking at him. He responded by taking her hands into his.
"And maybe now you will release the ghost that holds you to your pain and be happy, dear daughter," said Imrahil, his tone almost pleading. Lothíriel sighed and closed her eyes. Her father was right. It was time to start a new. A figure formed in her mind, and slowly her cousin appeared before her. He was smiling and nodding and then as quickly as he had come he left, not before sending her a flying kiss. Lothíriel opened her eyes and felt different. Lighter and at peace with her emotions.
"It is gone. My ghost has flown from me," she said softly and with a small laugh she flung herself at her father, engulfing him in a tight hug. Imrahil fought back the tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks as he hugged back his daughter with equal ferocity.
"Let us head down now, there is a sovereign you owe your apologies too. You caused quite a stir, screaming like a Nazgul from the topmost post of Gondor," said Imrahil sternly. Lothíriel gave him an embarrassed smile.
"Could you not do so for me father, and let me remain up here? You are so much better with words than I am," she tried, looking pleadingly at him. Imrahil just gave her a narrowed look and stood up. He held out his hand which Lothíriel reluctantly took. The two made their way down, Lothíriel at first keeping her head down but a few well selected words from her father gave her confidence to raise her head and meet the gaze thrown her.
The made their way back to the palace to come face to face with five anxious people, as the ladies too were there. Faramir rushed forward to Lothíriel.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, and Lothíriel bit her lip to stop from laughing. Her cousin had gone completely pale.
"I am fine. King Elessar if I have caused alarm, I am truly contrite for it. I had some ghost that needed to be let loose of their binding," she said moving past Faramir to curtsey at Aragorn's feet.
"Don't we all princess? All that matter's is that you are well," said Aragorn his face full of relief, as was the others.
"Uncle may I engage Riel in a walk?" Faramir asked Imrahil. Imrahil nodded, but Lothíriel was a little hesitant. Éowyn saw this and knew instinctively that right now, Lothíriel did not need a lecture, as she knew Faramir was wont to do.
"No you may not, Princess Lothíriel will be joining Lady Arwen and me in preparation for tomorrow's events," Éowyn suddenly piped in, taking hold of Lothíriel's arm.
"Yes, we have much to do to alter a dress befitting you," replied Arwen in a softer tone than Éowyn.
"Maybe another time, cousin," said Lothíriel to Faramir and the steward bowed in acquiesce. With a curtsey to the four gentlemen, Lothíriel, Arwen and Éowyn headed back into the palace. And only when they had completely lost sight of the men did Lothíriel give herself a mental pat on the back for not looking at Éomer even a slight bit, although she could feel his eyes piercing into her.
They headed for a small, but femininely decorated room, and it was a mess. There were two ladies sewing what seemed to be layers and layers of lace and draped across a chair was a white silk dress, lined with silver thread. Lothíriel gasped as she touched the dress. No doubt it was Arwen's wedding dress.
"Lady Arwen, this dress is beautiful. You will look like the Evenstar that you are tomorrow," she breathed before sitting on an empty chair. Lady Arwen who had already sat down smiled over her sewing. Lothíriel saw that she was sewing white roses onto her veil. She then turned to lady Éowyn who too was sewing but didn't look like she enjoyed it much. Éowyn hissed as the needle struck her fingers again.
"Éowyn, would you like me to assist?" Lothíriel finally asked after watching Éowyn prick her finger the third time. Éowyn lost no time handing the dress to Lothíriel.
"Thank you, I am at a loss when it comes to clothes," she said despairingly. Lothíriel masterfully began sewing a hem line on Éowyn's dress.
"If you had taken your lessons as a child, you would not be at a loss," said Arwen not looking up from her veil but smiling. Éowyn leaned back on her chair and grinned.
"Lady Arwen, you sound like my brother. Éomer can be such an old woman at times," she replied. Neither noticed that Lothíriel had dropped her needle at the mention of his name. However, with a straight face she picked it up and resumed her task.
"Éowyn, this is the color of Gondor. Do you not wear your city's color?" asked Lothíriel, fingering the dark blue fabric, similar to Dol Amroth's although Lothíriel's city's color was of sky blue and sea blue. Lady Éowyn's dress was the color of midnight blue. Éowyn laughed.
"Aye, Éomer said that too," she said and once again Lothíriel had to pick her dropped needle. This time it did not go unnoticed. Although not by the sister.
"Nay, I will be wed to Faramir soon so it is befitting that I wear the Stewards color, do you not agree?" she asked. Lothíriel only nodded. Éowyn gave Lothíriel an appraising look, narrowing her eyes as her brow furrowed in thought. After a while Lothíriel looked up to meet Éowyn's gaze.
"Do I have a second head growing Éowyn? Why do you look at me so?" she asked laughing a little.
"I was just imagining you in green and gold. I think you would look beautiful in the Rohan colors tomorrow," she said with a satisfied look. Lothíriel was stunned and even Arwen looked up at Éowyn.
"And pray tell, why would I be wearing your city's color?" Lothíriel said softly, wiling herself to feel nothing. Éowyn was surprised.
"Well, do you not want to match Éomer tomorrow, it is only normal to match the colors of your betrothed, like I have done," she said simply as if Lothíriel were but a small child. The princess blushed beet red.
"You are mistaken Éowyn, he and I are not pledged to each other," she replied and she looked away from the congregation. Éowyn rolled her eyes.
"He is a coward! No doubt he has taken time to ask you father. No worries he will…" she began but Lothíriel interrupted her.
"Nay Éowyn. We are not betrothed and never will be. He has made it clear that only a Rohirrim lady shall sire his heirs. He will not ask, not now not ever," said Lothíriel her tone hard, indicating there was no more words to be said of the issue. Éowyn's eyes widen then harden but she gave Lothíriel an apologetic smile.
"I am sorry Lothíriel. I must have been mistaken," she said and Lothíriel nodded as she resumed her sewing but didn't look at Éowyn. Éowyn on the other hand, smile still in place was thinking of ways to knock some sense into her brother's head, and none of them were painless.
End of Chapter 2
(7,332 words)