Chapter Six
The trip home was different from when they had made their way to the White City. Where that had been full of singing and fiery determination of going into battle, this was mellow and quiet. It seemed the sullen mood of their king and leader was affecting his men's moods as well. So far no one had dared to approach him and even Merry, who was family to the king, remained slightly behind, occasionally exchanging news with one of the soldiers. Éowyn had tried to talk to her brother but his disgruntled monosyllabic replies did much to deter further conversation and she left him to ride alone in front of their group. Eventually she grew tired of his childishness and spurred her horse forward to canter by his side.
"Éomer, this is going too far. Your sulking is putting a damper on your men's joy of returning home," she said, her eyes narrowed to annoyed slits focused on him. He didn't turn to look at her, but continued staring at a point in front of him.
"Éomer, this isn't fair. I demand you snap out of your self pitying mood, it is your own fault that she was so cold to you. You should not have talked to her like that," said Éowyn, her tone becoming angrier. Éomer let out a growl and turned to her.
"I do not tell them to how to feel. It is their own problem if they wish to be miserable," he snapped back at her. Éowyn's right hand went immediately for the hilt of her sword tucked neatly against her saddle. Breathing deeply she wiled herself to not resort to violence. She must learn to resolve arguments with diplomacy and not aggression.
"And, furthermore, I do not care how Lady Lothíriel speaks to me, it affects me naught," he continued slightly haughty. This time Éowyn snorted loudly. Éomer turned sharply to her before turning back to look to the road in front of him.
"You can not make me believe that for was I not the one to tell you to shut up about how Lothíriel and you are now friends?" she replied not taking her eyes of him. Éomer was impassive for a while, his expression hard and angry before suddenly dropping his head to the back of Firefoot's neck, burying his face in its mane. Éowyn was slightly surprised at his show of woe, especially within such close proximity with his men, but the smiled at his bent head. He is affected more that he will even know, she thought fondly.
"Éowyn, what have I done? I was so angry at her brother and I took it out on her," his voice was slightly muffled by the horse's mane but Éowyn heard him well enough to place a consoling hand on his bent shoulders.
"We are not that far from the white city and I believe Imrahil has not left the city as yet," she said gently. He lifted his head, his once before dull eyes bright once again with hope. Éowyn felt a pang of sadness in her heart for the boy who had once turned to her for comforting words was now a man who would instead find comfort in his wife's arms.
"Yes, I will simply return to the White City and ask for her forgiveness," he said. But his elation dropped when he saw his sister pull a face.
"What? You don't think she will forgive me?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
"It isn't that, brother but… well, look behind you," she said finally. He obliged her by turning and immediately saw her point. Behind him were men that were so tired the only thing giving them strength to remain on their horses was the thought of their loved ones awaiting their return. To turn back now for a personal matter would be cruel of him and any ideas of going by himself would definitely be opposed by his men and some would definitely insist on following him. He sighed in defeat.
"Well then, that's it," he said dejectedly. Éowyn rolled her eyes at him.
"Éomer where is your fighting spirit? Is this the great warrior that fought the War of the Rings? Where is the warrior that will go down in the history books of Rohan, whose story will be told before fireplaces in many homes long after he is placed to rest in his royal mound?" she said and Éomer couldn't help grin at her words.
"Yes, I am great aren't I?" he teased and laughed when Éowyn reached over and playfully pinched him. Now that his good mood had been restored, and he was no longer angry, he was able to think clearly again. He was also able to see that Éowyn was right. He was being unfair, and that he shouldn't have channeled his anger to the arrogant Elphir on Lothíriel instead. And since she would reside in his home during the next three weeks it would do well for him to make peace with the princess.
Well, he supposed he would have to ask, no, beseech for Lothíriel's forgiveness when the Dol Amroth group arrives at the end of this week. But then a thought entered his head. He was suddenly reminded of how unreasonable Éowyn could be if she was left to fester with her anger and since that was not the way of a warrior, Éomer concluded it must the way of a woman and no doubt Lothíriel would be the same. That would not do well at all. Especially as the newly crowned king and he will be able to dance with any maiden he chooses. Yes, he'll have to make his peace with the princess before she could begin to build a grudge against him. Once they reach Meduseld, he will send out a messenger to Dol Amroth with a letter to the princess.
Éowyn was silent as she watched the expressions pass through her brother's face. She knew his warrior mind would be thinking up strategies and how he will execute his plan. She smiled as her brother's facial expressions finally settled on a satisfied look and he turned to her.
"I suppose you would like to know what I plan," he asked dryly. Willing herself to remain impassive, Éowyn shrugged her shoulder.
"If you wish, I do not mind hearing," she said nonchalantly. Éomer gave her a grin, because he knew she was dying to know.
"Well, considering that she is unpredictable ground, to prolong the mission would be fatal as the consequences of letting her fester in her anger are unknown. The only path I see is a direct one that unfortunately can not be executed until we are within the walls of Meduseld. Once there, I will dispatch a small group immediately to Dol Amroth and…" his words were cut off by his sister's sudden hysterical laughter. All eyes were fixed onto the White Lady as she bent low on her saddle, clutching her sides hard, tears streaming down her face as her pearls of laughter washed over them. Before long, the tired men were also smiling and some chuckling as they watched her. Only Éomer wasn't laughing. He wasn't sure to be annoyed or confused. After a few moments Éowyn managed to pull herself together and was able to stop laughing long enough to wipe her tears and breathe in deeply. Once all traces of laughter had gone she turned to her brother, who had in the end, chosen to be annoyed. That caused her to laugh again.
"Éomer, I am sorry. I do not mean to make light of your plans, but… honestly… Mission? Unpredictable ground? Dispatch a small group? Of what… scouts? Shall we attack Dol Amroth at day break? Will we use the surprise tactic or lay siege till she forgives you willingly or surrenders in hunger? Or perhaps shall we instead kidnap her and threaten her into forgiving you?" cried Éowyn her arms flying out in front of her. Éomer slunk deeper into his saddle, his frown becoming more intense. Éowyn sighed between her chuckles, she knew she shouldn't have baited her brother so, as his foul temper was never something pleasant to deal with, but she couldn't resist.
"Éomer, I'm sorry, I really am… I shouldn't have teased you so, but honestly, why don't you just send Elleon back to Gondor with a written apology? She is a girl that was caught in the middle of two headstrong men. She is not an enemy territory to be conquered," she said gently, and slowly Éomer's frown began to clear up.
"I agree with lady Éowyn. A heartfelt apology from your majesty will definitely cool her fiery mind, and perhaps a flower to touch her maiden heart. There are many growing alongside our paths," said Merry who had joined them upon hearing Éowyn's words. He should have known it was the lovely princess who had managed to make his confident friend into an uncertain man.
"Yes, I suppose that will work well than what I had originally planned…" he said slowly.
"Eorlings, we stop and rest the horses for a short spell," he suddenly cried out as he brought his horse to a sudden stop. Before long, there were small groups of men lounging around, some grooming their horses, a few others having a mug of ale each and a third party had gone and taken a few of the horses to a nearby watering hole. Their leader however was neither of these people. Instead, he was huddled away from his men, sitting under the shade of a tree accompanied by his sister and Merry. Around his crossed legs were several pieces of crumpled paper. After several seconds of biting the tip of his quill, Éomer threw down the parchment and quill in a huff.
"Éowyn, why can't you write the letter? It makes no difference whether you or I write," he grumbled. Éowyn sighed for the tenth time and Merry turned away to hide his growing smile. She picked up the paper and quill and placed it back on his lap.
"Éomer, you must write this and I assure you she will know who wrote it," said Éowyn. Reluctantly, Éomer obliged and prepared to compose what would be his fourteenth draft.
"How can she possibly know who wrote it, unless she has eyes everywhere," grumbled Éomer after several minutes of staring blankly at the paper.
"She does not need to have eyes everywhere, she will know if I wrote it because I, dear brother, can spell," said Éowyn with a such straight face that it took a couple of seconds for Éomer to realize his sister was teasing him. He scowled deeper at her, and Merry couldn't contain it anymore. He burst into laughter.
"Friend, look at you. Never have I seen you, since we first met at Edoras, at a lost for words. The princess has left quite a mark on you hasn't she?" laughed Merry. Éowyn joined his laughter and Éomer blushed a slight pink.
"I simply want to make amends, Master Merriadoc. We are friends. If you had a small argument with Pippin, Frodo or Sam, would you also not want to make amends? It isn't my fault if I am not as great with words as I am with a sword," he stated, trying hard to cover his embarrassment at Merry's words, especially since it was hovering too closely to the truth.
"But your words did fine in upsetting her," said Éowyn dryly. Éomer just ignored her.
"Of course, your majesty, but it has never left me as flustered as you are now," he replied, his laugh subsiding to a huge grin. Éomer sighed. He couldn't understand why it was so difficult. There was once when he was caught in the middle of a five orc circle and that experience did not seem even half as difficult or mind wrecking as writing a letter to Lothíriel. They were friends and surely she will not hold his hot temper against him. And yet, he wanted the letter to be more than an apology letter. Maybe that was the problem.
"Éomer, write what is in your heart," came Éowyn's soft voice, entering his head. But it didn't help much because it was his inability to understand what was in his heart that was giving him difficulty. So he closed his eyes momentarily and pictured her face in his mind. He pictured her the first time they had met, her hair wild from the wind and her cheeks wet with tears of joy, then grief. How hard she had blushed when he teased her. He saw her standing at the abandoned watchtower, strong and powerful as she made her peace with fate and its cruel twists. Then he saw her looking so beautiful and graceful at Aragorn's wedding. She was everything a princess should look like and he remembered thinking that she was lovelier than Arwen herself. And when they kissed… he could still feel her against his lips. And she had bonded with his horse, which was definitely a high point for her. She was so much like Éowyn yet so much different. Where Éowyn displayed her strength in her ability to wield a sword, Lothíriel showed her strength through her gentle but firm actions, her understanding, her patience, her compassion and most of all her love for her family. Even that spoilt Prince Elphir. Opening his eyes, he knew what to write. Several minutes passed as Éomer concentrated hard on his words, letting Éowyn's and Merry's quiet chatter wash over him.
"It's done!" he cried out with satisfaction and the expression he wore was similar to the one he wore when he knew he had emerged victorious in a battle.
"Wonderful, brother. Seal it and then Elleon can ride to the White City and deliver it to your princess," said Éowyn. Éomer nodded and he was so pleased with himself he did not even correct Éowyn's words about "his princess". He got up and held out a hand to assist his sister before taking long strides back to where his men were congregated.
"Hamod, where is Elleon?" he asked one of his soldiers.
"I am here, your majesty and my horse is ready and saddled, my lord," came a voice behind him. Éomer turned to face a tall, gangly boy, no older than eighteen. As the boy had said, he was indeed ready to ride back to the white city. Éomer passed him the letter after sealing it with the green wax of Rohan bearing a head of a horse. But just before Elleon mounted his steed, Éomer remembered something.
"Boy, wait!" he said suddenly and Elleon paused, one leg already in a stirrup. Without a word Éomer walked away from the small group to the edge of the forest where there were several small patches of flowers growing. He looked at them, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.
"If I may, my lord, the pale lilac wildflowers will match her fair complexion and complement her blue eyes," a voice spoke up from his side. He turned and saw Helfast, his captain standing next to him.
"Yes, I see what you mean. How many do you think I should pick?" asked the young king, as besides being his captain, Helfast was first and foremost his friend, a bond that the two had form on the many battle fields and not to mention behind a many pints of ales. Helfast thought for a while.
"Pick enough to bring a smile to her lips but leave behind enough for another besotted young man who may come along to do the same for his lady love," replied Helfast, a small grin on his face.
"I am not a besotted man," Éomer protested, but Helfast placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave the king an encouraging smile before moving away to leave the king with the flowers and his words. But Éomer did not ponder long as he reached down a plucked seven lilac colored flowers. He walked back to the waiting messenger boy. Éowyn and Merry were standing nearby.
"Elleon, give these and the letter to Princess Lothíriel. Tell her that four are for the days we had already spent together, and the remaining three, represents the following weeks she will grace my home with her presence and beauty," he said softly and he fondly stroked the petals before handing it over to his messenger. Elleon took the flowers, his face grave, the twitching at the corner of his lips wonderfully hidden. But even he couldn't hold back when from the background Éowyn spoke out.
"Éomer, you did not tell me you are a man of poetry? Was it something you picked up from your orc raids?" said Éowyn dryly. Several faces broke into hidden grins while Elleon burst into laughter. Éomer glared at his sister then turned to Elleon.
"You dare to laugh at your king?" he said, his tone low with unspoken threat that he did not intend to carry out. Immediately Elleon stopped laughing and after a few stumbling apologies he practically jumped onto his horse and rode away as if Morgoth himself were chasing him. Once Éomer was satisfied that Elleon was heading in the right direction, he turned to his sister.
"Dear sister, I believe the same orc that taught me poetry taught you, how to be a lady," he retorted back. But Éowyn was in too much of a good mood to say anything. Her brother's growing feelings for the Dol Amroth princess was written all over his face. He will be declaring his love to the princess before the sun set on the first week she was there, and Éowyn's job would be satisfactorily done. Amrothos would be pleased to hear it as well. Éomer raised the orders that they would continue their journey home; Éowyn walked up to her own mare and mounted as did all the others. And as the Eored continued their journey home, their moods uplifted by the rest and food, somewhere at the back, a soldier, a young man who had tasted his first victory in battle, turned to an older, more weather worn soldier.
"Why does it matter so much to Éomer King that the princess forgives him?" he asked. Without turning to the boy, the man answered.
"It would matter if Éomer King expects her to be his queen."
"Amer, how long more till we are home?" Lothíriel whispered to her brother who was riding beside her. Amrothos turned to look at her, an eyebrow cocked up.
"Since the last time you asked me? Still a day and a half. Riel, we have only been traveling for no more than ten leagues from the White City. I can still see the high walls of Gondor," he answered. Lothíriel sighed and gently stroked Hermes's neck. It wasn't that she didn't like riding. In fact riding was the only thing that rivaled her love for the sea, it was simply that today had been a long and emotional tiring day, and she simply wished to retire to her chamber and listen to the sound of the sea. All that and the noon sun had not yet even graced the sky. Besides, she missed Éomer. She wished the whole thing had not happened and they had parted as friends still. But what had passed can not be changed. She just hoped he would at least be civil to her during her time there. Well, if he wasn't at least there is Lady Éowyn and her wedding plans to distract her.
Hmmm, Edoras has been said to be leagues and leagues of green grass. And if it is all green, where do they get their water supply? Oh dear I do hope I will be able to have a bath at least once a week, shethought idly as her mind began to drift to the three weeks she would be spending in Edoras. As she thought the words, she had begun to feel a little lonely.
Elphir had yet to talk to her, he just frowned angrily at the front of the group, her father and Erchirion were locked in some friendly argument that ended very often in laughter only to have the arguing pick up speed soon after that. She was tempted to join them, but from Erchirion's face she didn't think her father would allow her to hear what her brother had to say. To protect her delicate ears, it would seem. As for Amrothos, he would talk with her occasionally, but being the silent one among the four sibling, he preferred to stare into nothing and, as he had told Lothíriel many times, to reflect on the days events. So there she was the only female and bored stiff. She couldn't even spur Hermés into a decent gallop as no doubt her father would rear her back and tie his reins with hers, as he used to do when she was small and would not ride quietly next to him. She shifted slightly in her sidesaddle and the ruffles of her skirts caught Imrahil's attention.
"Swan are you well? Do you wish to rest?" he asked, his tone concerned. Lothíriel rolled her eyes at him. Seriously, will her father never stop treating her like a child?
"Father, must I remind you that it was I who rode two days none stop from Dol Amroth to the White City?" she replied back. He grinned at her and nodded.
"Of course I have not forgotten. If you are sure you do not wish to stop…" he tried again but Lothíriel firmly shook her head.
"I am fine," she answered. Imrahil nodded, gave her one more look then turned back to Erchirion.
"If you are bored, you could try to speak with Elphir," said Amrothos. She cringed at the thought of her brother's angry words.
"Father said I should let him cool a little, and he wishes to speak to Elphir first," said Lothíriel. Amrothos nodded. He hoped that his father would be able to knock some sense into Elphir. Ah well, that will be determined when they reached Dol Amroth.
Lothíriel sensed that Amrothos had returned to his pensive mood and was no longer interested in talking. So left to her own devices, she turned her head around and about, taking in the green and plush scenery that were lined of her left and right and wondering why she hadn't noticed how many funny looking trees there were in Middle Earth on her way to the White City.
Elleon reached the main gates of Gondor and hailed the guards at the watch towers above him.
"What message do you bring, herald of Rohan?" called back one of the guard.
"I have a letter to deliver to Princess Lothíriel, from my king, King Éomer of the Mark. Allow me to pass," was Elleon's reply.
"You are free to enter our gates but you are too late, herald of Rohan. Prince Imrahil and his family and men have left," the second guard replied. Elleon was shocked. They had left already? Prince Imrahil is obviously not a man to dally.
"How long and how far do you think they have traveled?" he asked. The guards exchanged a few words among themselves and someone else from behind the stone gates. The first guard turned back to Elleon.
"They can not be far. Perhaps ten leagues, or slightly more if not less," he answered. Elleon nodded in relief. They were not far and he could easily catch up with them.
"Will you tell me the direction they headed towards, so I may try and seek them out?" he called out again.
"Aye, follow the path of the noon sun," was the reply. Elleon waved his thank you and set of once again into a gallop, the seven flowers, safely tucked under his cloak.
Lothíriel lifted a palm to hide her face from the hot sun. The sun had been climbing steadily through the sky as the group journeyed to their city by the sea.
"Are you hot, sister?" Amrothos said from her side. She turned to him and nodded, slightly perturbed that she was the only one to feel the sun's heat. Looking around her, none of the other men was shielding their faces.
"Yes, I feel as if I could cook our lunch on my cheeks. I never remembered it being this hot before," she grumbled softly. Amrothos laughed at her words.
"Well, the sea breeze does have a cooling effect on our city. Here, wear this," he said and slid his helmet over her head. The sudden heaviness of the armor nearly caused her to fall of her horse.
"Amer, get it off me! Your helmet is heavy, and not to mention it reeks of sweat!" she cried, reaching up to pull it off her head. Her attempts were in vain as it refused to budge. Amrothos laughed harder, and her other family member's turned at the commotion.
"Amer, take it off your sister's head," Lothíriel could hear her father's voice, trying to sound stern but she didn't miss the laughter behind it. In one move, Amrothos slipped his helmet of her head. Immediately, Lothíriel began to fiddle with her hair, knowing that the hard work of her Lissesül had been destroyed. She shot her brother an angry look.
"It was not funny, brother and you have ruined my hair!" she snapped at him.
"You said you were hot and I was only trying to help," he replied, his eyes wide with mock innocence.
"That is a lie, you… filthy orc!" she replied. Amrothos innocent look turned to a pained one.
"Riel, you hurt me with your words," he cried. Lothíriel glared at him harder but then couldn't help laughing.
"Well, do me a favor then brother, next time I ask for help, do not offer me your assistance," she said and then spurred her horse up to her father and Erchirion.
"We shall rest soon, have lunch, and if all is well, we should be home by the third setting of the sun," said her father as she appeared by him. Lothíriel beamed.
"It will be wonderful to be home again. I truly miss the sea," she said, and sighed happily of the thought of running across the beach, feeling the soft sand under her feet.
"That will be a feeling you shall have to get used to, won't it, sister, as you will be spending the next three weeks in Rohan," Erchirion said from the other side of Imrahil. Amrothos had followed his sister and was now riding next to Erchirion. Lothíriel's face dropped at that.
"Yes, I suppose I shall have to, won't I?" she said sadly. Imrahil turned to look at her.
"Are you having second thought, my child? If you do not want to, I am sure Lady Éowyn will understand," said Imrahil. Lothíriel bit her lower lip and pondered the idea of pulling out. As much as she didn't want to disappoint Éowyn, she couldn't bear to spend such a long period of time in a place where the reigning monarch was angry at her. She had truly enjoyed Éomer's company in the White City and she wanted to cherish the brief yet sweet memories and not have it tinted by his aloofness upon her arrival. She opened her mouth to answer, but was unable to answer, as suddenly a soldier rode up beside her.
"My Lord, there is a rider bearing a message from King Éomer," Talahin said, addressing Prince Imrahil. Imrahil gave the soldier a startled look and turned. There riding just a few men behind him was a young boy in a green tunic with the symbol of a white horse on his breast. The emblem of Riddermark.
"Send him forward," he said and brought his horse to a stop. Talahin nodded his head to one of the men and Elleon was allowed to approach the Prince. He rode up in front of them and bowed his head to the royal family, who had surrounded him.
"Your Highness, Prince Imrahil, I am Elleon, messenger of Éomer King and he has asked me, with your permission, to give this letter to your daughter, the Princess Lothíriel," he said respectfully. Imrahil's eyebrows rose higher and looked at his daughter. Her three brothers also turned to look at her and at the end of the line, Elphir's frown deepened.
"Lothíriel, do you wish to accept it?" he asked her. Lothíriel looked a little dubious for honestly what else could the king possibly have to say to her? In the end she nodded, and Elleon beamed at her. For a minute, he had thought she was going to reject it, and he did not look forward to returning back to the eored with the letter still in his keeping. He was too young to die. Quickly he reached into the pockets of his tunic and drew out a yellow envelope. He handed it to the princess. A little hesitant, Lothíriel ripped open the envelope and her eyes scanned the words. A smile lit her face and she softly shook her head.
"Thank you, Elleon. Tell your king I accept his words," she said simply, ignoring the curious looks of her family members. Elleon bowed again to her. Then he gasped and his eyes flew open in shock. He had nearly forgotten. Pushing aside his tabard, he revealed seven lilac wildflowers, still unharmed by the rapid riding. He presented them to the princess who took it, delight and surprised happiness on her face.
"A second message from my King, your highness. He says that four are for the four days you had spent with him at the White City and the other three is for the three weeks you shall grace our homes with your beauty," he said. Lothíriel couldn't believe her ears.
"You jest, kind sir. Those are your words and not King Éomer," she said. Elleon shook his head vigorously.
"Nay, my lady, I swear upon Eorl's horse that those were his very own words," he replied in earnest.
"Well, it seems that Éomer is a poet as well as a warrior," said Imrahil wryly. His son's except Elphir of course, snorted in laughter. Even Elleon smiled and took no offence on their words about his King, for he could see the fondness they bore for King Éomer, especially Princess Lothíriel, who was blushing prettily as she buried her nose in the sweet smell of the wildflowers and keeping a tight hold of Éomer's letter as if it were a precious jewel.
"Aye, my lord, those were Lady Éowyn's words as well," he said. Imrahil laughed even harder.
"My lord, if it pleases I would ask for permission to return back to my eored," he said. Imrahil nodded.
"Of course, boy. Send my regards to your king," he said.
"Aye, my lord. A pleasant and safe journey home, to you and your men, my lord," said Elleon and began to spur his horse in the opposite direction.
"Aye, same to you as well, Rohirrim," replied Imrahil and with a final bow, Elleon rode of back towards Rohan. Imrahil spurred his horse back into a canter as the other followed his lead.
"Well, swan, do you still wish to take back your offer to lady Éowyn?" he asked the still smiling Lothíriel. She turned quickly to him, her eyes wide with horror.
"Father, how could you suggest such a thing! I have given my word to Lady Éowyn that I will help and I mean to honor my words. Indeed, father, what were you thinking to say such a thing?" she half cried and turned back to the flowers in her hand, sniffing the fragrance gently. Imrahil just stared at her, his mouth open. When he wanted to respond to her words, telling her that it had been her insinuation that she didn't want to stay in Edoras, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to Erchirion.
"Do not try to reason with her logic father, it is fighting a losing battle," he whispered. Imrahil shook his head but adhered to his son's advice. And that was the last that they heard of Lothíriel's complaints.
It was night, and the stars were scattered brightly against the infinite night sky. Elphir sighed as he watched the white tips of the wave break against the jagged rocks of the beach. He had longed to hear the sound of the crashing waves since he had left his city to patrol the borders a long three months ago, but now that he was here, in his home, by his beloved sea, he was anything but comforted.
"Eli," his father's voice broke into his thoughts and he turned to his father. He had been summoned to Prince Imrahil's study, shortly after dinner and there he was waiting for his father's reprimanding words for his earlier actions towards the King of Mark. But as Imrahil stood up from his chair to join his eldest son at the windowsill, chastise was the last thing on his mind.
"It is beautiful isn't it?" he said softly looking at the ocean before him. Elphir nodded and turned back to it. Imrahil sighed.
"I remembered when I was a child, Finduilas and I would spend hours just running the stretch of the beach. We were convinced that we could circle the entire middle earth. And every night your grandfather would carry us back to our rooms, both of us exhausted but not willing to give up. Eventually, we decided that it was more rewarding to just sit by the beach's end and let the song of the sea comfort us," he said. Elphir remained silent.
"There have only been two things that I wished I could change, and that was your mother's death and second, that my sister never left Dol Amroth," he said. Elphir continued with his silence but turned away. Now they were getting to the heart of it.
"Eli, look at me," he said softly and Elphir turned to look at his father. His eyes startled Imrahil, for he had not expected such pain in his son's eyes.
"Talk to me Eli," he said again. Elphir sighed. Unlike the other boys, Elphir never had trouble talking to his father about anything and everything and when their mother had died, he had spent the whole night in his father's arms, crying, something that many fourteen year olds couldn't say they have done.
"She will never be happy there. She loves the sea, and he could never make her happy," he finally whispered. Imrahil nodded, not because he agreed but he understood what Elphir was feeling. He has felt the same way when he heard news of Finduilas's marriage to Denethor, and though he was right then, now he knew Elphir wasn't. Éomer was not Denethor.
"Eli, do you not think you are moving a step faster than any of us? He does not have any intentions of taking Lothíriel back to Rohan as his bride," he said trying to sooth the fear of his son. Elphir let out a cynical laugh.
"Really father? Then why does he look at her like he would present the stars at her feet?" he answered. Imrahil had to agree on that. No matter what Éomer had told him about marrying only a Rohirrim lady, his actions and his eyes when Lothíriel was around betrayed how he really felt.
"And why would that be such a bad thing, Eli?" he asked. Elphir was silent for a while.
"Because she will be away from us, from me. I do not think I can bear it," he answered finally, his voice breaking slightly. Imrahil rested a hand on his son's shoulder.
"And I could? She is my only daughter, and if I could I would keep her with me forever. But I can't and if it makes her happy, then yes, I will give her to Éomer as his bride," he said. Elphir shook his head, his brow deepening into a frown.
"Father, don't you understand? How can a swan live in a field of horses? How can she be happy without other swans, others of her own kind?" he cried out and rested his head onto the windowsill.
"Own kind? My son, have you forgotten who our new queen is? How do you think her family felt, Elphir? At least we may still visit her, Queen Arwen will never see her father again," said Imrahil with equal frustration. Elphir had nothing to say to that. Imrahil shook his head and laughed slightly.
"We are talking as if she was already betrothed to him," he said his tone much lower. Elphir lifted his head and looked at his father.
"He will ask, it may not be anytime in the near future but he will ask," he said softly. Imrahil nodded. Aye, it was only a matter of time.
"And what should I say when he does, Eli?" he asked. Elphir sighed and thought of his sister. How much he wanted her to always remain by his side, hide her from the world and men who would want to marry her, but he knew to do so would only make her miserable especially if she actually fell in love with one of those males.
"Say whatever that would make Lothíriel happy," he said finally. Surprisingly, he meant it. He no longer hated Éomer for trying to take his sister away, and although it will tear his heart to shreds, he will be happy for them, as long as she's happy as well.
"Well answered, my son. Now, get some rest, I wish to inspect our city tomorrow and I expect you to be with me," he said and moved away from Elphir, sensing that the topic had come to a close. Elphir nodded and began to move towards the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned.
"Father, I am sorry for embarrassing you with my actions towards King Éomer. When we arrive in Edoras, I will extend my apologies to him," said Elphir. Imrahil smiled. He was glad that matter was resolved as well.
"It has been done. Do not dwell on the past and think instead of tomorrow. I am sure Éomer would understand, as he is a brother himself," said Imrahil, smiling at his son. Elphir nodded but couldn't bring himself to a smile of his own. He simply nodded and left. Imrahil sighed loudly as the door closed behind Elphir.
"Elbereth, let all be well," he silently prayed.
Elphir did not hear his father's words as he walked out of his father's study back to his room. The corridors were dark with only the faintly lit torch to guide his way. But Elphir knew the routes of his home and could find his way in the dark. Just as he was about to turn to the corridor that would take him to his room, a thin stream of light crossed in front of him. Looking up he saw it came from the slightly ajar door of Lothíriel's room. Walking up to the door he peered in. Lothíriel was gazing out the window a wistful look on her face. Elphir took a deep breath and knocked. He heard her dress shuffling as she came to the door and opened it wider.
"Eli," she cried out in surprise. He smiled faintly at her.
"You are not asleep yet, Riel?" he said softly. She nodded and smiled.
"No I could not sleep. Would you like to come in?" she asked suddenly and stood away from the entrance. Elphir hesitated but then walked in, immediately grateful for the warmth. His thoughts had run so deep within his mind, he did not realize how cold he was. He looked around and saw that she had not finished unpacking. Her clothes were draped across every chair and table and trunks lay open, pushed against the wall.
"Why has your maid not finished unpacking your items?" he asked, frowning. Lothíriel moved to stand next to him. She just waved her hand as if to dismiss the mess.
"I told her that I did not need her help as I would be packing again for our trip to Edoras. This way I can see what I have so I may know what to bring and what to leave behind," she said. Elphir nodded.
"Aye, I can see the strategy of it. You should have led the troops to Palennor Field. No doubt you would have the enemy baffled," he said, a little of his dry humor returning, much to Lothíriel's delight. She laughed appreciatively at his words.
"Aye, tis a lost that no one had thought of that," she replied.
"Eli, you may sit on the bed if you wish, I realize that the chairs had to be sacrifice for my brilliant plan," she said and sat herself down on her bed. Elphir followed suit and sat next to her. He looked at his hands for a while, his mind trying to come up with the suitable words. Eventually he looked up to Lothíriel who was sitting crossed leg, looking expectantly at him.
"Riel, I wish to apologize for my behavior towards yourself and King Éomer. I was wrong to act to out of line and make a fool of you," he said. Lothíriel gave him a warm smile and it lifted the heavy feeling in his heart.
"Do not think more of it, Eli. All is forgiven, although I can not say the same for King Éomer's feelings. He is very sensitive concerning his horse, as all Rohirrims are," she said. Elphir rolled his eyes.
"Aye, they are obsessed about their horses. You are right, I shall apologize to king Éomer when we arrive," he said. Lothíriel beamed at him and suddenly jumped up and hugged him. Elphir was caught in surprise and went falling back onto the bed. Lothíriel released him and propped herself up next to him.
"Eli, I just want to assure you that Éomer and I are friends. He has told me that his people expect him to marry a Rohirrim lady, and he will do just that," she said. Elphir nodded but didn't agree. He knew what he saw in the king's eyes. But if that is what Lothíriel wished to believe…
"Riel, if he weren't obliged to marry a Rohan lady, would you consider marrying him?" he asked. She thought for a while, and then shook her head.
"Why not?" Elphir asked in surprise.
"Because then I'll have to move so far away, and I'll be away from father, Chirion, Amer and most importantly, my favorite brother, Eli," she said and dropped her head onto his chest, her eyes looking up at the ceiling. Elphir wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger.
"Is that so? So you wouldn't marry him even though you love him?" he asked again. Lothíriel frowned.
"Love him? Eli, I do not know him to love him," she replied back. Elphir rolled his eyes at her answer, because he knew she was simply trying to wish it true. Lothíriel did not see his reaction and took his silence as agreeing with her. She let out a huge yawn.
"You are tired, I will leave you be," he said and moved to get up. She turned to him, worried that she had offended him. She had just fallen back into his good graces and did not want another cold war between them.
"No, stay if you wish, I am not that tired," she said imploringly. Elphir looked at her scared eyes and he wanted to kick himself for making her feel that way. Smiling tenderly at her, he dropped a warm kiss onto her forehead.
"Well, I am, little swan, and father has already made me promise to accompany him tomorrow around the city," he answered. She accepted his reasonings and smiled back.
"All right then, Eli. Sweet dreams," she said.
"Sweet dreams, Riel," he replied and left her room.
End of Chapter 6
(7,395 words)