Chapter Three
The palace was quiet. A little too quiet for Éowyn's comfort. It was night's like these that brought back old anxieties to her heart. A time when darkness engulfed the Riddermark and Wormtongue's slinky voice was continuous in her ears. It was always when the nights were peaceful and the air was still that the worst would seem to befall the people of Edoras. She tightened the shawl around her shoulders, not really from the cold but from the memories.
"Éowyn, cease your morbid thoughts. Has Faramir not taught you anything of hope for the future?" she chided herself. Then she smiled as a vision of Faramir floated through her mind. How much she loved him. And what's more wonderful was that he loved her too.
"Please are you to see me, sister?" Éomer's voice brought Éowyn back to reality.
"Nay, you did not enter my thoughts for a minute," she answered back walking up to her brother. So lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed that she had wandered to the long stretch of the palace balcony where at that moment her brother was perched on its railings, his back pressed against one of the many pillars supporting the foundation.
"Éowyn, you wound my heart. Do you not have any love for your brother anymore?" he asked feigning a hurt tone.
"Brother, you should be so lucky. If I were armed, I would hurt more than your heart I am sure. And I do it for my love for you," said Éowyn. Éomer raised an eyebrow.
"And what have I done to receive such words?" he asked clearly puzzled. Éowyn frowned at her brother.
"You have the nerve to ask me that. I know of your "talk" with Prince Imrahil," she said. Éomer still looked puzzled. He and Imrahil had talked about a lot of things that day. Which political topic was she talking about?
"About Lothíriel," Éowyn snapped. Éomer leaned back against the pillar, his face turned away from Éowyn.
"Faramir has a big mouth for someone quiet. That does not concern you, sister. Do not meddle in things you know nothing about," he said softly. There was nothing that riled the soon to not be White Lady of Rohan than to be told to mind her own business.
"Do not tell me it is none of my concerns. It involves you dear brother so it becomes my concern," she half yelled. Éomer quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard his sisters out burst.
"Éowyn do not shout so. It is not lady like," her brother said. Éowyn just narrowed her eyes.
"Do not try to distract me Éomer. Why won't you marry Lothíriel?' she asked lowering her voice. Éomer rolled his eyes.
"For the love of Eorl, I do not know her, Éowyn! We have only met for a day. I am not the third marshal anymore. I am king. King of Rohan. No longer are my wants of any importance! Can you not understand that?" he cried. This time it was Éowyn who looked around.
"I know you have only met her. And so have I, yet she is all I would want in a sister and a queen. She is strong inside but a perfect lady on the outside. Well, not a perfect lady, but she shows more grace that I ever will. Court her Éomer, and get to know her. I do not think you would regret it," she said the last bit softly, reaching out a hand to place on her brother's arm. He took her hand into his and massaged it, though his mind was preoccupied.
"I know I will not regret it. But Éowyn, I must marry a lady from Rohan. The people expect this of me," he said, desperately wanting his sister to understand.
"Éomer, how do you know the peoples want?" she asked softly.
"When Theodred was alive, I hear the men speak that they wish and hope Theodred would marry a Rohirrim, and when he… passed on, the expectation fell onto me. I do not talk through a horse's rear, Éowyn, but through what I have heard and seen," he said continuing to massage her hand. Éowyn fell silent at this. But she wouldn't give up.
"Éomer, they will change their minds once they have the fortune of meeting her, I am sure," she tried again. Éomer dropped her hand and looked out into the night.
"No Éowyn, they will not. They want a Rohirrim queen, and no outside lady can change that. Even if she's full of spirit, grace, beauty, wit… it will not change their minds," he answered. Éowyn sighed.
"So you shall remain mere friends with her?" she asked dejectedly. Her brother had made up his mind and she didn't know where to begin changing it. Maybe if they were to be friends…
"No, for I can not trust my heart to not fall in love with her," his answered doused any hope left in her.
"Are you falling in love with her? You do seem to become uncomfortable around her, very unusual for you," she asked. Her brother was no shy soldier in Edoras and does not mind to entertain ladies who should fall into his path. And there are many, that is for certain.
"I do not put it pass my heart to do so but at this moment no I am not in love with her… simply… if you were any other lady I would not say this, but my uncomfortableness comes not from my heart but another region," he grinned sheepishly at his sister. Éowyn gave him a withering look. He has lost none of it.
"And when she appeared in lady Arwen's dress, so tight…" he sighed and smiled out into the night. His mind went back to the night when he twirled her in his arms, how soft she had felt and so inviting. Éowyn smacked him across the head.
"Ow!" he cried out rubbing his head, for her prowess was not of a lady.
"She is a princess, Éomer not a bar maiden, and you should talk of her with respect," she growled.
"And the further more reason why I should stay away from her," he said starting to grin again.
"Éomer…" Éowyn began but he held up his hand.
"She is too much like you Éowyn, restless with herself, never at ease at what is expected of her. And truthfully, after handling you for twenty over years, I would like to spend my life with someone less… like a temperamental stallion," he said hoping his sister would ease with the questions and pestering. Of course he meant not a word of it but he had made up his mind; he will wed only a Rohirrim lady.
"What I feel is only an attraction to her physical form, nothing else. It would be an ill decision to pursue her," he continued this time with finality. He truly believes what he is saying, she thought in disbelief. She shook her head.
"I leave you be, Éomer, for you are an idiot. Good night," she said and without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked back to her chambers. Éomer looked at her receding form a little longer before turning his eyes back to the night. He sighed. Honestly, he would like to get to know the princess, for the bit he had experience the night in the garden had intrigued his senses. And it wasn't her body that made her desirable, though it helped, but her. Even Éowyn wouldn't dare to stand at the highest most point of Rohan and scream like a band of orcs. Yet, Lothíriel had done so, without losing an inch of grace or dignity. And to travel all the way from Dol Amroth with no escorts was truly commendable. There was no doubt in his mind that she was an excellent horsewoman and that was a high point in her favor.
But it doesn't change a thing. Just because she can handle one horse does not mean she would fit in with the Rohirrim. There were many pure bred stallions in Rohan and most of them were wild than tame. It wouldn't do to have the Queen of the Mark, Horse Lords of Old, lift her skirts and run at the sign of an agitated horse. And no doubt, living by the sea all her life she would never accustom herself to only seeing green grass for miles long, and the occasional hills. And as Éomer listed more problems that would arise if he did marry Lothíriel, he grew more and more confident that she would never make a good queen for Rohan.
It was the morning of the wedding and Lothíriel stretched luxuriously in her bed, the satin sheets pressing tightly around each curve of her body. Then with a loud sigh she exhaled deeply and turned her head to look out the window, just at the foot of her bed. She missed hearing the sound of sea breaking against the beach in the mornings, but she decided that for now hearing the sweet calls of birds and the sound of merriment from below would suffice until she returned. Tucking a hand behind her head, Lothíriel continued her daydreams and didn't turn when Lissesül entered.
"Good morrow, my lady," her hand maiden greeted in her soft voice. Lothíriel turned to her and smiled.
"Aye, it is indeed a good day. Is today not a perfect day for a wedding Lissesül?" Lothíriel sighed contentedly. What could be more wonderful in celebrating the end of an evil reign but with a wedding? The grandest wedding to ever be seen in Middle Earth she was certain. Lissesül laughed at her lady's expression.
"And how would my lady know how the day is when she has barely awaken and not left her bed?" teased Lissesül as she hung the dress the princess would be wearing that day on a nearby hook. Lothíriel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
"Because I feel it. It fills every part of my being," she said and she truly felt what she said.
"If you feel like this on another's wedding, then you would soon burst on your wedding day, my lady," said Lissesül. At the mention of her own wedding, Lothíriel felt her elation drop.
"I do not see that day coming anytime soon, so there are no worries of me bursting," she said softly. Lissesül just shook her head.
"Such talk, my lady. Gentlemen will be lining to win your hand. And from what I hear, there is already a certain king heading that line," said Lissesül. Lothíriel narrowed her eyes at the handmaiden.
"I thought elves were above idle gossip," she said and Lissesül smiled.
"There are exceptions in every rule, my lady," she answered, her smile changing to a smirk, also another non-elf trait.
"Well, then I shall inform you first hand that you are mistaken. Éomer has no interest in me except that I am Prince Imrahil's daughter and he is obliged to entertain me because of his friendship with my father," she explained and began to sit up in the process. Lissesül did not believe a word of it.
"Give it time my lady and all will fall to place as it was written by Eru," she said looking at her charge softly. At that moment Lothíriel looked like a lost lamb in between the yards of satin sheets and her hair that was tousled in every direction.
"Aye, I suppose my marriage will happen but it will not be for love, but more of a political gain among the lords in my city," she said dejectedly. Lissesül said nothing as she prepared Lothíriel's bath.
"Do you love the King?" asked Lissesül suddenly.
"Yes, I do and to him I bear my loyalties and allegiance to his wisdom and rule," she answered. Lissesül was not amused.
"I do not speak of King Elessar and you know it. I am speaking of King Éomer of the Mark," she said her tone dry. Lothíriel made an 'oh' sound, even though she was very well aware of who Lissesül had been speaking about.
"Lissesül I will say this. Éomer is truly the most handsomest and magnificent man I have ever had the pleasure to meet and I would not be a woman to say that being near him does not make me tremble a little," she said in one breath wanting to appease the handmaiden's incessant questions but then something struck her. He was the handsomest man she had ever met and for the first time she could not draw a clear picture of Boromir's face. And suddenly Boromir seemed like a memory of the past while Éomer stood solid and real in her mind. But she quickly shook her head clear of it. Lissesül's words were playing with her mind.
"Your words muddle my mind, Lissesül. Do not speak of the matter anymore. Éomer will marry a Rohan lady as expected and I shall remain a Dol Amroth princess, wife to no man," she said titling her chin upwards as if challenging Lissesül to say otherwise. But the handmaiden just smiled and bowed to her mistress.
"Very well, my lady. Come a way from your bed so I may disrobe you before the water cools" she said. Lothíriel got off her bed and before long she was soaking in a hot tub as Lissesül scrubbed her back and washed her hair.
"Lissesül what will I be wearing today? I do feel wretched for imposing on Lady Arwen's hospitality. This is the third dress of the lady that I will be using," sighed Lothíriel once she had finished and dried. She had undergone the preliminaries of dressing, where layers and layers of silk petticoats were tied around her narrow waist which was encased in a corset. She had not seen the dress as Lissesül had made sure to distract her from seeing it.
"Lady Arwen does not feel the same, I assure you my lady and she is more than happy to lend you her dresses. She had this picked out for you especially," said Lissesül and removed the dress from where it was hanging to present it to Lothíriel. Lothíriel gasped when she saw it. It was the same dress she had first touched the night she arrived. The dress that was neither the color of the sea yet a mixture of its shades. Slowly her hand reached out to touch the fabric. It felt the same as it had that night. Like water running through her fingers.
"Lissesül, I can not wear it. It is too good for me," she breathed, wanting but not wanting too.
"You would offend the Lady Arwen by denying to wear this dress?" asked Lissesül in mock surprise. Lothíriel bit her lip and shook her head. Lissesül smiled and brought Lothíriel to her feet. Coaxing Lothíriel to raise her hands she slipped the dress over her head and over her body. It fitted Lothíriel like a glove. Lothíriel gaped in front on the mirror.
"Lissesül, please move, you are in my way I can not see myself," she said looking into the mirror. Lissesül laughed for she was nowhere near the mirror of Lady Lothíriel.
"I am here, my lady. That is indeed you that see in the mirror," she answered.
"Lissesül that can not be me. This dress has transformed me, I look… beautiful," she breathed tenderly touching the fold of the skirts.
"Nay, you are the beauty of the pair. This is just a dress," said Lissesül and began to comb Lothíriel's hair before styling it in some intricate style. When she was done, Lothíriel's eyes nearly fell out from it socket.
"Lissesül…" Lothíriel didn't know what to say. Her hair, the dress, herself… she had never seen herself like that. She didn't even realize Lissesül had left the room. Her hair was pilled atop her head and allowed to fall around her head in ringlets. Her blue eyes were shining in joy, the excitement staining her cheeks giving it a rosy parlor. The dress cut low over her breast moving down to mould into her form and the skirt was layers of every shade of blue, a slit in the middle to allow movement. A knock on the door but Lothíriel ignored it. She was too overwhelmed by what she saw. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever looked like that. Even during the parties in Dol Amroth, she had never. She maintained her simplicity. It helped her bond with her people so she could help them when the time came. She wasn't the only one stupefied by her looks, but from the corner of the mirror he father came into view and he too had an identical look of disbelief on his face.
"Who are you? And what have you done with my little girl?" he asked smiling broadly. Lothíriel laughed and hugged him, although not tightly as she would mess up Lissesül's work.
"Sweet Valar, Riel. Is that really you?" he said as he pulled her away from him to look at her.
"Do you approve?" she asked shyly. Imrahil laughed.
"I do not know. I am proud that my daughter is beautiful as she is wonderful yet I am scared to let you out of this room for fear some gentleman will take you away from me," he said and he ran a finger down his daughter cheek. If he had been stunned the other night, now he was astounded. Lothíriel beamed at him.
"Where have all the years gone, my daughter?" he continued. Lothíriel could feel tears prick behind her eyes and blinked fast.
"Father, just because I have grown up does not mean I am no longer your little girl. I will always be her," she said gently. Imrahil nodded.
"Yes that you will be. Now I must retrain my army to fend off suitors instead of orcs, for I am sure to encounter many of them after today," he said wryly. Lothíriel bit her lip.
"Father, I just want you to know, that I will marry any man you see fit," she said looking at her feet. Imrahil placed a finger on her chin and tilted her head up. His tone was serious.
"Riel, I will not force you into a political marriage. I swear on my honor as a knight. You will choose who you deem worthy to marry and if he never comes along, I will be more than happy to have you all to myself till the end of my days," he said and Lothíriel knew he was speaking the truth. The fact that her father trusted and loved her so much overwhelmed her that she couldn't stop a tear trickling down her cheek. Laughing a little she wiped it away.
"Thank you father. Shall we go?" she said. Imrahil nodded but then said.
"Wait, I want to give you something. It was your mothers and I have always carried it around with me. I would like you to have it," he said and reached into the pockets of his tunic. From it he took out a handkerchief. He opened it to reveal a necklace. The pendant it carried was in the shape of a swan made of blue cat-eye stone.
"It is beautiful," said Lothíriel touching the cool stone. Her father smiled and fixed it around her. Lothíriel turned once again to the mirror.
"It is not as beautiful as you, daughter," he said and kissed her forehead before extending an arm in which she looped her hand through. Together they descended towards the Palace courtyard where all the other guests had assembled. It was an open area, where borders of white roses and lilies made a large square area for the arrived guests to mingle. Imrahil lead Lothíriel through a similarly decorated arch into the crowd of guests. No sooner had the two stepped into the area, did Éomer come up to the two, a mischievous smile on his lips.
"Imrahil, you had your dear friends thinking that you would escort your daughter, instead you return with another beautiful lady on your arm. Are you eager for a mate, old friend?" laughed Éomer. Imrahil said nothing but smiled raising an eyebrow at Éomer. Éomer gave him a look then turned to the lady beside him. His jaw dropped in surprise.
"Lothíriel?" he blinked once, twice, three times. Lothíriel let out a small giggle and Imrahil held his head back and roared with laughter, causing several heads to turn to them.
"Your mouth will evermore get you in tight fix, look how you turn crimson," said Imrahil between laughs. Lothíriel caught up on her father's mood and began to laugh, although not so loud. Éomer grinned sheepishly at the two of them.
"You have made your point, Imrahil. Princess Lothíriel, I am sorry for not recognizing you before hand, although I do not know how I had done so," said Éomer gallantly and took her free hand to bestow it with a kiss. This beautiful creature was making herself hard for him to ignore and making it even harder for him to keep to his resolution. Thank the forces that allowed him and only him to hear the pounding of his heart as he looked at the princess.
Lothíriel was saying a similar prayer of thanks for she had never expected to see the King of Rohan looking so… enticing. From beneath her eyelashes she took in the strength of his broad shoulder encased in the green and gold of his colors to the muscular calves inside the dark green breeches he wore. His hair was held together in a pony tail and it glowed brighter than the morning sun. Even the hide boots he wore added to the overall image he presented. Strong, confident and oh so handsome. If her hand wasn't still on her fathers she would have sank to the ground as her knees no longer had the ability to support her weight.
"I assure you that I too had trouble recognizing myself in the beginning," she said smiling at him. The three were then joined by a fourth person.
"Princess, your beauty is putting all the other ladies to shame," said Aragorn, winking at Lothíriel as he bowed in greeting. Lothíriel responded with a curtsy.
"My King, I believe you should save your sweet talking for your wife, who I am sure will put me to shame," said Lothíriel. Aragorn laughed and then turned to Imrahil.
"Imrahil, I have news that will indeed please you and your daughter," he said smiling expectantly. Imrahil stop his laughing and fixed his attention to King Elessar. Lothíriel did the same. Even Éomer turned to the king interestedly.
"A messenger arrived but moments ago bearing the banner of the Swan Knights, announcing the soon to be arrival of your knights," said Aragorn. Lothíriel squealed in delight and gripped her father's arm. It was only the heaviness of the dress that prevented her from jumping in joy.
"Also, they are being led by the three princes of Dol Amroth," finished Aragorn. Here Lothíriel didn't jump. In fact her smile dropped tremendously.
"My King, father, King Éomer, accept my apologies. Indeed this will be a beautiful wedding, my lords, and king Elessar and queen Arwen will indeed begin the rest of their lives with love and joy. I am sorry that I can not witness the wonderful event," she said rushed and began inching away from the three men. They all looked at her in surprise and puzzlement at the suddenness of her words.
"Daughter, speak clearly, you are conversing in riddles, and not even that makes any sense," snapped Imrahil. Lothíriel sighed.
"Father, my brothers are coming! I must hide before they see me, preferably back to Dol Amroth," said Lothíriel beginning to panic. Turning to the two kings.
"My lords, you never saw me, I never came," she said and turned with full intention to flee, but Imrahil was faster. He reached out and caught a fold of her billowing sleeve and pulled her back to the small crowd. He sighed deeply as the other two men exchanged amused looks.
"Daughter explain," he sighed again. Lothíriel had turned considerably pale.
"Father, I left Dol Amroth unescorted, without permission, put myself in danger and not to mention two other soldiers, wore out my horse, and no doubt the list does grow. So father, I would like to prevent a murder… my murder should Elphir get his hands on me," she said the last bit with exasperation, as if her father was a dolt to be told all that.
"You fear your brother than you do your father?" Imrahil asked incredulously. Lothíriel gave him a kiss on the cheeks.
"Father, you are a dear, but Elphir is a brute and being a man he knows not the meaning of reason," she said.
"My lady, do you insult us?" Éomer spoke up for the first time, his face a hurt look on it. Lothíriel bit her lip. Ah, and so the princess of Dol Amroth has once again put a foot in her mouth.
"Nay my lord, I rephrase it, being a male with a younger sister makes him unreasonable," she said sweetly then slapped her forehead.
"Aye, a brother is what you are too," she said despairingly. Now she wished she was wearing her old clothes again. Somehow her appearance of a lady and her mouth of a fool did not mix well. Éomer was looking down at her, his face still the hurt look but his eyes were teasing. And for that she was at least grateful. It would be disastrous for her if the king of Rohan had no sense of humor. She opened her mouth to fix her words but the blasting of familiar trumpets caused her to close her mouth again. Her second attempt to flee was once again foiled by Imrahil's firm grip.
"I will face my end with pride," she said softly and lifted herself to her full height and tilted her chin in a dignified manner. Éomer for one moment was captivated by her royal stance and in the same moment saw the queen that was in her and that she would someday become. The sound of horses galloping into the palace courtyard turned his attention away from the princess, though only after they had all stopped in front of him and King Elessar.
There weren't many of the Swan Knights that had arrived in the entourage, probably twenty, or less, most of them a familiar face to Lothíriel and she was glad to see them safe and alive. But her joy faded when her eyes fell to the warrior leading the men. He was tall, with blackest of hairs, just brushing the collar of his tunic and eyes the color of a stormy sea. His fair looks were defined with years of hard toil and outdoor conditions. His jaw was firm, his nose straight and noble and his lips were naught more than a fine line on his face, a trait that in others would make them unadorned but in him only added to his beauty. As he leapt of his horse with grace and ease of years of experience, and began walking to her little crowd, his steps echoed with power and confidence. And this man was Elphir, Lothíriel's eldest brother and heir to Dol Amroth. Behind him, in similar clothings were her other two brothers, Erchirion and Amrothos. Though they shared their brother's looks, they were not as tall or as formidable. Lothíriel rested this detail on the fact that her other two brothers had a sense of humor where else Elphir had none.
"King Elessar, my lord and liege, I am Elphir of Dol Amroth and I present to you my brothers and my men. To you we pledge our allegiance and service and forever more remain your loyal subjects," his voice, rich and deep, rang loud and clear through the congregation. Imrahil's chest puffed out with pride as he watched his son get down to one knee his right hand on his heart as he recited his oath to the throne of Gondor and was prouder still when his other two son's and his knights followed suit. No one anywhere can say that Dol Amroth does not welcome the prophesized king.
"Elphir of Dol Amroth, rise and let it be known to all that the son's of Imrahil are welcomed, as are his men, within the walls of the White City and are herald as our kinsmen," said Aragorn his voice matching Elphir's in strength. The men around them cheered at his words and the ladies clapped with joy, some of the single ones already eyeing the three brothers. The men rose to their feet at Aragorn's beckoning and the knights were led away to join others of their stature in celebration.
"Sons, you are well, and I trust the journey was pleasant," said Imrahil for the first time addressing his sons. He had not seen them for almost as long as he had not seen his daughter for when he marched into Palennor; his sons were defending the borders of their fair city. Elphir nodded and lost some of his regal pose.
"Yes father all is well and it has become better with seeing you safe," he said and gave his father a hug. He did not care if he was showing his soft side for doing so, for he had missed his father and feared for him so much. Erchirion and Amrothos stepped up to him and Erchirion playfully pushed their brother aside.
"Aye, we agree with our brother's words. You are well and that is all that matters," said Erchirion and moved to hug his father followed by his youngest brother.
Lothíriel wiped a tear from her eyes at the exchanged between the father and his sons. And she was also relieved that her eldest brother had not turned his wrath upon her. This caused her to sigh in relief.
"Do not be relieved yet, little sister. I have not forgotten about you," Elphir's voice broke into her thoughts and her heart began to pound again. She looked up to her brother and tried to smile sweetly. But her nervousness made it come out wobbly.
"Brother, please understand. I didn't mean to disobey or such but…" Lothíriel's words were cut off as her brother pulled her into a tight hug.
"Riel, my heart nearly stopped when they told me you had gone by yourself, and I swear I have spurted grey hairs from the worry. I do understand, sister, but such recklessness," whispered Elphir into her ear, his words coated with so much love for her that she began to tear.
"I am sorry," she whispered back and tears flowed down her cheeks. He pulled away from her and stared deep into her blue ones.
"But I swear if you do that to me again I will lock you in a chest and send you adrift, is that understood?" he said sternly. She didn't believe a word he said but she nodded.
"I thank you brother for sparring me, I am grateful, I really am," she said meekly and Elphir laughed.
"Elphir, stop terrorizing our sister and let us have a look at her," suddenly Elphir was pushed away again by Erchirion again and she was then faced with her two other brothers.
"Chirion, Amer, how wonderful to see you well," she said and wrapped her arms around both their necks. The two brothers returned her hug with equal ferocity, and then pulled back.
"Riel, look at you. You're no longer our dirty little sister, but a lady of the court," said Amrothos, shaking his head at the sudden change of his sister. Lothíriel beamed at her brothers words and the two gasped inwardly at how the rosy cheeks changed their sister's complexion completely. They began to see her as they would the other beautiful ladies in Dol Amroth. A fierce wave of possessiveness washed over the brothers and now they began to understand their eldest brother's firm grip on their sister's life. For Elphir had seen the beauty Lothíriel would grow into and had built a wariness against potential suitors when Lothíriel was a young girl. Erchirion had to fight down the urge to drape his cloak around his sister and lock her in a room where only immediate families could visit. Amrothos began looking over his sister's head and had an overwhelming feeling to hit all the men who were looking at her. Elphir however had his eyes fixed solely on the blond stranger who had yet to take his eyes off their sister and Elphir was not happy with what he saw in the man's eyes.
Imrahil had stepped back a little during his children's reunion and was very interested in seeing their reactions. There was nothing that he had not suspected. Imrahil purposely delayed in introducing Éomer to his son's and Elphir's reaction, the animosity in his looks towards the King of Rohan, who still fixed his eyes on Lothíriel, was not unexpected. And neither were the protective looks of his other two sons towards their sister who they suddenly realized was in fact a lady and a beautiful one at that. He had half a mind to leave the four to settle their differences but then remembered that Elphir was not the epitome of reason and thought otherwise. At least Éomer's rank would keep his eldest son at bay.
"Sons, leave your sister be and allow me to introduce you to King Éomer of Riddermark," Imrahil's voice broke into the thoughts of his three sons. Lothíriel breathed a sigh of relief at her father's quick save for she too had noticed her brother's sudden change and was now in despair that she would have to handle three overbearing brothers rather than Elphir alone. Éomer, hearing his name turned away from the princess and turned instead to look at the three brothers.
"Éomer, my sons, Elphir my heir, Erchirion second born and my youngest Amrothos," said Imrahil. Éomer bowed low to the three men and was replied in the same way.
"King Éomer, it is an honor to meet you. We have heard many tales of the great Third Marshal of Riddermark," said Erchirion and gave the king a big smile. Amrothos nodded and also smiled at the young king. Only Elphir remained stoic and only briefly nodded. Éomer laughed.
"Those were the good days gone away, my lords. Now I am not allowed to ride further than my palace, and I fear I am starting to get soft as a princess" he added ruefully. Erchirion and Amrothos laughed at his words and even more at Lothíriel's protest.
"King Éomer, you would insult me?" she said pouting her lips a little. Éomer smiled and took her hand.
"How careless of me, of course when I said princess I meant in a good way, a privilege," he said to her. Lothíriel pulled her hand away.
"Beware your sugar coated tongue does not give you toothaches, my lord," she said but broke into a smile. Neither of them saw Elphir beginning to bristle.
"Eli, Amer, it is our cousin, come let us greet him. Excuse us, my lord, and we shall see you later, sister," Erchirion said and with a quick bow he headed of in a small run towards his cousin. Amrothos followed seconds later but Elphir made no move to follow his brothers. Instead he fixed his stormy eyes on the king Rohan.
"King Éomer, so how do the people of Rohan fare with the end of the war?" he asked his tone civil enough but Lothíriel heard the hard edge in it.
"When I left, we had just recovered from an attack of the dark forces, but messages have arrived from my advisers and in it he tells me that Riddermark is slowly beginning to mend, in the city and in the people," answered the king, straightening to his full height and looking at the Dol Amroth prince straight in the eyes. They had no idea that they had caught the attention of every single female in the vicinity, married or not. Éomer's gold fairness contrasted strongly with Elphir's raven looks, bringing out the qualities in each of them and enhancing their splendor and good looks even more. Lothíriel was momentarily speechless as she watched the two. She had never noticed how handsome her brother was. But the tension emanating from them brought back her speech ability.
"Brother, have you been to Rohan before?" she asked. Elphir turned to her and his features softened.
"No, unfortunately my duty has not brought me as far as the golden city," he said.
"Meduseld will always be open to the sons of Imrahil… and his daughter," said Éomer and as he said the last bit he turned to smile at Lothíriel. Lothíriel smiled prettily back at him. Elphir made a resolution to not let Lothíriel anywhere near 500 leagues of the city. He turned to his sister to ask her to join their father for he didn't like the exchange between the two. But instead his eyes caught sight of the shiny object and his eyes misted over with memories.
"You are wearing mother's necklace," he said softly. Lothíriel's hand flew up to it and she nodded.
"Father gave it to me this morning," she replied.
"Its beauty suits your eyes," Éomer added in as he too looked at the pendant hanging around Lothíriel's neck. But his eyes flew upwards when a hand was placed roughly on his chest. He looked into the angry eyes of Elphir.
"Watch where you place your eyes, for I do not trust them to not stray," he hissed to Éomer. Éomer's clear blue eyes clouded with equal anger for he did not miss what the prince was implying. He was about to retort back when Lothíriel, who had also heard the words of her brother, pushed in between them, using her frame to separate them.
"Brother, you have yet to greet our cousin. He is standing there alone, I suggest you go and join him," she said, her tone angry. How dare her brother embarrass her like that? Elphir turned briefly to look at Faramir, before turning back to the young king.
"I'll be watching you, King Éomer," he said with mock politeness and then strode away from them. Lothíriel let out a sigh.
"King Éomer, I apologize for my brother's words. He is unreasonable when it concerns me," she said casting Éomer a fearful look. Éomer who had kept his eyes on the prince's back turned to look down at her. At the sight of her troubled face, his features immediately softened and his anger ebbed away.
"You do not have to apologize, princess. As I brother, I can understand," he said and gave her a winning smile to show that he had taken no offense of her brother nor did he hold her responsible for it. Lothíriel felt relived and smiled back at Éomer.
From the other end of the gathering, Faramir was looking at the exchange between his cousin and the King of Mark with unabashed interest. He may not be able to hear the words his hot tempered cousin gave the king, but he had a brief idea of it and he didn't know whether Elphir was gallant in his actions or just plain stupid. He watched Elphir leave the small group and head his way.
"Cousin, how do you fare?" he called out in greeting. He watched as Elphir's stony look dissolve into a familiar grin, albeit a little stiff.
"Hail, Steward of Gondor," responded Elphir and stopped in front of his cousin, his head bowed and a hand on his heart, a mark of loyalty to the ruling steward.
"Cease that, Elphir. We are kin, I value that more that your allegiance," scoffed a slightly embarrassed Faramir as he gathered his cousin into a hug. Elphir replied to the hug with one of his own hearty one.
"You are ever the humble of the two," he said and then his smile dropped.
"My condolences on your loss. I feel it as a loss of my own too, as I have fought along side your brother in many battles," he said gravely. Faramir nodded with equal gravity before breaking into a smile.
"Thank you, but do not let it dampen your days here. Boromir died as he had lived, with a sword in his hand and in battle," said Faramir.
"An optimistic as well as humble, you are one of a kind cousin," said Elphir. Faramir laughed.
"I am a simple man, a victim of circumstances that have landed me the title of steward," said Faramir with honesty. Elphir did not question his words. He knew Faramir would give up the stewardship for the return of Boromir.
"You deserve what gift you are given, for you are the only one I believe deserves to gain happiness from such tragedy," said Elphir. Faramir laughed at his words.
"I do not agree for I can name many others, and one of them being a certain king you so foolishly provoked," he said this in a wry tone. Elphir's cheery countenance faded to be replaced with annoyance as he turned away from the Faramir to look at Lothíriel and Éomer. Lothíriel was laughing at something Éomer was saying.
"She glows under his attention don't you agree?" said Faramir softly. Elphir growled.
"The light makes her appear so, it has nothing to do with that man," he replied. Faramir snorted. Of course Elphir would not agree to such a thing. Faramir knew it wasn't a personal dislike to the king but Elphir had disliked any man who dared to be near his sister. He remembered how Boromir had been at the receiving end of Elphir's fist until he had managed to convince the Dol Amroth prince that he was mistaken. After that Elphir and Boromir had been nearly inseparable, going on orc hunts together and responding to each other's call for help during battles.
"You do not approve of him only because he shows interest in your sister," said Faramir. Elphir shrugged. He won't deny it, but he disliked how Faramir made it sound.
"Faramir, when will you introduce me to your betrothed? I am eager to meet the lady who slain the Witch King when so many seasoned soldiers have failed," Elphir said in an attempt to change the topic, although his eyes never left his sister and the King.
"I do not know cousin, I do not trust you at this moment," said Faramir, narrowing his eyes at Elphir. That jolted Elphir.
"And what have I done to lose your trust, Faramir," he asked visibly troubled by the stewards words. Faramir laughed at the shock and hurt in Elphir's eyes.
"Nay, my words came out wrong. Of course I trust you, but what I mean I do not trust you to not pass a barb remark to her," he said. Elphir's hurt look was replaced with puzzlement.
"Faramir I can assure I have never let a crass remark escape my lips in the presence of a lady," he said.
"Even to the sister of the man you look daggers at?" inquired Faramir, raising an eyebrow. Elphir's face cleared in understanding.
"Ah, I see. If I give you my solemn promise to be good will you introduce me to your lady?" asked Elphir and he put on a pleading little boy face. Faramir laughed and clasped his cousin's shoulder.
"How can I resist? Aye, come, she is over there," said Faramir and began moving away from their spot. And away from Lothíriel and Éomer. Elphir hesitated for he did not want to lose sight of his sister. But Faramir's hard tug on his tunic sleeve caused him to move and follow Faramir towards the Lady Éowyn.
End of Chapter 3
(7,374 words)