Chapter Seven
Dol Amroth.
Lothíriel was awakened by the songs of the seagulls and the echo of waves hitting the beach.
"Its high tide," she said softly as she stretched with catlike grace. She listened a little longer to the familiar and much missed sounds before jumping out of bed, the night's rest doing much to invigorate her after the previous three day's journey. She walked up to her window and inhaled deeply the fresh sea air. A gust of wind blew in and playfully danced around her, causing her hair to twirl around her face and body like black silk threads.
"My lady, you are awake early today," a sound from behind her caused her to turn. She smiled at her maid, Glowen.
"A good morn to you, Glowen, how fares your family?" she asked and walked up to her vanity dresser and sat down before it. Glowen stood behind her, her reflection smiling happily at Lothíriel's.
"We are well, your highness, with Gilwen's safe return," she said as she began to expertly brush Lothíriel's hair. Lothíriel's eyes brightened.
"Glowen, that is wonderful! Why are you here then? You should be home celebrating your brother's return," she said and got up to push her handmaiden out of the room. But Glowen was more persistent than her and pushed her back onto the chair.
"I have spent the week with him, my lady. Now I wish to spend time with you. Honestly, my lady, what were you thinking, running of like that?" said Glowen and her eyes narrowed as if in annoyance but Lothíriel saw the teasing glint in her eyes.
"Do not start, Glowen. I have already been lectured on the consequences of my actions by my father and then my brother," sighed Lothíriel. Glowen laughed a little.
"I am sure Prince Elphir had much to say. It is good to have him back, isn't it my lady?" she said blushing slightly. Lothíriel noticed her rosy parlor and grinned wickedly.
"Only him Glowen? How about the other princes of Dol Amroth?" she asked teasingly and laughed when Glowen blushed harder.
"Of course I meant everyone, Princess Lothíriel, do not tease me so," she replied back, trying hard to hide her embarrassment under a frown. Lothíriel laughed harder. Then Glowen's frown turned upright into a mischievous grin.
"Someone else is back in the city as well," she said as she brushed the final locks of black hair. The tone that Glowen used caused Lothíriel's eyebrow to rise in interest.
"And who may that be?" she asked. Glowen's grin widened.
"Think hard, my lady. Someone you would very much like to meet," she said again and moved away to pick out a dress for Lothíriel.
"Éomer is here!" Lothíriel cried out before she even thought the words. She quickly bit her lips and ducked her head to hide the redness that she knew was climbing up her neck. But Glowen just gave a puzzled look.
"Who is Éomer? I do not think I have ever met him," she asked visibly surprised by the intensity of Lothíriel's outburst. Lothíriel quickly shook her head.
"He is not from here. He is just someone I met in the White City. But that is not the point, Glowen, who has returned?" she asked a little irritated, mostly at herself than the handmaiden. Glowen's grin had returned.
"Oh, just a certain admiral," she began casually. Lothíriel frowned. Huh? Why would that make me happy? It would make father happy but it wouldn't really affect me.
"You have lost me, Glowen, why would I be happy… I mean I am happy but I do not think that Admiral Cirion… ack!" she suddenly cried out and whirled around to face Glowen. Lord Cirion had not been Dol Amroth's admiral for over ten years.
"Aearon is back!" she cried out again. Glowen couldn't help but laugh at her princess's reaction.
"Aye, my lady. If you had not rushed away to the White City as fast as you did, you would have known that," she said and began the long process of dressing Lothíriel. But Lothíriel hardly noticed. Her thoughts kept on going back to the boy she had spent a lot of her childhood with (mainly because he was the very few males Elphir had not seen as a threat). His father the late Lord Cirion was Prince Imrahil's best friend which meant it was only natural that the children should play together as often as they had done. She remembered how weird she used to think he was, for instead of going on long rides as her brothers, he would prefer to spend hours at the mariner, in one boathouse or another. He would disappear for days at ends and appear out of the blue, redder than the crabs cook would serve sometimes. His hair was unlike any of the other Dol Amrothian. It wasn't black as the majority or gold, but… the brown of earth after a refreshing downpour, with glints of gold, bleached irreparably by the sun.
And for as long as she had known him, she couldn't remember him without a smile or a positive thought. Even when his father died while out searching for survivors in one of Dol Amroth's well known storms, and the whole city was mourning the passing of a great man, he would sit at the beach for hours a peaceful look on his golden brown face, and if anybody asked him how he was coping, he would only give them one answer, there is nothing to grieve for. He's up there manning the stern of Earandil's great ship, and one day I will join him, and left it at that. Then came the day everyone had expected where Prince Imrahil named him the new Admiral of the Swan Fleet, and she didn't see him as much anymore. Shortly after, the war began, and they drifted further apart, fulfilling whatever role Eru had in store for them. So to hear now that her childhood friend was back and well lifted her heart to higher grounds.
"You are done, my lady," Glowen's voice broke into Lothíriel's reminiscing. The princess gave her a smile and with as much grace as she could master, she quickly made her way to her father's study. When she got there, her brother's and father were already there. And with them was…
"Aearon?" she said uncertainly. She had built such great hopes, she didn't think she could handle the reality that the fifth person was some one else. But when the tall man, wearing the official dark blue navy suit and earth brown hair turned to her and fixed her with the same care free smile she could have recognized in her sleep, she had to blink back tears of joy. What she wanted to do was run up to him and engulf him in a hug. But here she was a princess again and certain rules and regulations had to be obeyed. Instead, what she did was walk up to him and with a huge grin she extended her hand for him to receive with a kiss at the back of her hand, as was custom… and protocol. Aearon fixed her with an amused look as he took her proffered hand and placed a quick kiss.
"Greetings Princess Lothíriel," he said, gazing at her with his twinkling brown eyes.
"Greetings Admiral Aearon, my heart is relieved to see that you are safe," she replied and looked up at him. From behind Elphir snorted.
"And as burnt as ever. Any darker, friend and you shall blend into the night," he said and with that sarcastic jest, the tension and formalness was broken. Laughing, Lothíriel placed a hand around his arm and walked up to her father and brothers', joining them on the cushioned chairs surrounding an oak table.
"Aearon was just telling us about the battle with theCorsairs at the eastern bay," said Amrothos. Lothíriel frowned a little.
"Oh and how did it fare?" she asked feeling a little sad that despite the end of the war, there were still certain parties that would not make peace. Aearon's eyes clouded a little.
"Let us just say that the evil has passed and good will bloom in its place," he said with his normal optimism, the twinkle returning.
"Well said Aearon, your father would have said the same thing," said Imrahil and reached forward to give Aearon a pat on the back.
"That is a compliment of the highest form, your highness and I thank you for it," he said bowing his head a little. Lothíriel reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm but giggled when he turned and winked at her.
"Princess, what is this I hear of your running away to the White City and falling in love with a king?" he asked giving her his full attention. Lothíriel rolled her eyes. No doubt her brothers had informed him of her unscheduled trip and adding a little here and there.
"I was not running away to fall in love with anyone, Aearon. I heard that father was at the White City and I simply wished to see for myself that he was well, that is all," she said her tone defensive when she saw that he wore a I don't believe you, but if you say so look. He nodded.
"I see. Then I was wrongly informed," he stated and sneaked a peek at the three young prince. Elphir remained calm, Erchirion was grinning from ear to ear, as he had added the falling in love with a king bit, and Amrothos refused to say anything. He would not jinx it.
"Yes, you were," she said firmly. He nodded again the turned to Imrahil.
"Speaking of kings, what of our new king, what are your thoughts your highness?" he asked. Imrahil was thoughtful for a while.
"He has lived a life of self-exile in the forest and has been given the crown without much preparation. But I have complete faith that he will do well," said Imrahil finally and Aearon could tell from his tone that Imrahil held their new king in high respect.
"It is a shame that I could not meet him," said Aearon regretfully.
"If you wish to meet him, you are most welcome to join us when we leave for Rohan in four days time," said Imrahil after a while.
"Why Rohan? Is that not further north of Gondor?" asked Aearon, puzzlement marring his handsome features.
"It is to pay respect to a fallen king and to behold the crowning of a new one," said Imrahil again. Aearon nodded but the words had no effect on him. He did not care for any King of another city. All he wanted now was to get back onto his ship and sail as he had done for the past months. Elphir, being the closest of the four to him, read his thoughts clearer than the clear surface of a lake.
"Why don't you come with us, Aearon? It will be a welcome change from the wooden boards of your ship," he said. Aearon laughed. Him, away from his beloved ship? Not in this age.
"I thank you, Prince Elphir, but I shall have to pass," he said and to him the matter was dismissed. What could be more welcoming than the salty sea wind in his face and the sturdy wooden deck under his feet? But Imrahil did not think so.
"Why not, Aearon? As the admiral of this city's fleet your homage to our king is long overdue. You shall accompany us," said Imrahil with finality.
"Aearon, do not look so pale. You will enjoy Rohan I am sure," said Lothíriel as Aearon took a glass of bourbon from a sniggering Amrothos. Amrothos could not remember a day when Aearon had been away from the sea.
"Aye, you and King Éomer will have plenty to talk about," said Amrothos. At this Aearon brightened. If the Rohan King shared the same interest as him then Rohan must not be that far from the sea.
"Is that so? I suppose Rohan is closer to the sea that I had thought," he said happily. The four men burst into laughter and Lothíriel looked at him sympathetically.
"Nay, Amer is only playing with you, Aearon. Edoras is leagues and leagues away from the shores. In fact, there are very few Rohirrims who have seen the sea and Éomer is not one of them," she said. Aearon inhaled deeply.
"And how long will we be there?" he asked.
"Four days on horse, three days there and three days back," answered Elphir through his laughter. Aearon buried his head in his hands. Ten days away from Dol Amroth and his ships, and seven of those days will be on a horse.
"I do not know which is worst, Ten days of no sailing or seven days on horseback," he sighed and the laughter grew louder. Even Lothíriel cracked a little smile.
"Ah well, if that is what my prince would wish me to do, then ride a horse I shall," he said finally and he too laughed at the image of him bouncing uncomfortably on a horse. He shook his head.
"My lord, I hope our king is worth the pain I shall no doubt suffer," he said to Imrahil.
"Aye, that and the hospitality of the Rohirrim ale would be worth it," said Imrahil his laughter beginning to reside, although Erchirion's laughter had begun to increase. It took the arrival of one of the servants to announce breakfast for any laughter to finally die down.
Breakfast passed quickly as Prince Imrahil was most eager to begin his ride about his city. Aearon excused himself to return to the harbor and Erchirion and Amrothos were more eager to join the patrolling of the city walls than ride. So, it was Imrahil, Elphir and Lothíriel who walked up to the royal stables to meet with the stable master, Diego.
"Good morning, my lords and lady," he greeted the three royals as they entered the stables.
"Good Morning, Diego," replied Imrahil and walked up to his saddled horse. Elphir and Lothíriel echoed his words and they too moved towards their horses. Lothíriel gave Hermés a loving kiss on the nose before mounting him. The three left the stables and met up with Imrahil's advisors who had begun earlier to prepare for Imrahil inspection. Their route consisted mainly of the road that made the outskirts of the city. And as a beach front was wont to be, there were many large sand tors scattered about Dol Amroth and several had formed a border around the city, reinforced with thick stone walls. Imrahil usually uses the route as it allowed him a bird's eye view of his city. It wasn't long before Lothíriel began to feel bored of the conversation between her father and his advisors. She spurred her horse to canter next to Elphir, who was listening attentively to what the advisors had to say.
"Eli," she whispered. He did not look at her. She whispered again this time a little louder and it caught his attention.
"Yes?" he asked trying to listen to her and pay attention to the other men as well.
"May I ride by myself for a while?" she asked softly, not intending her father to hear. But when the word by "herself" was mentioned, her father snapped his head towards her.
"Where do you wish to ride?" he asked, frowning a little. He didn't completely trust Lothíriel to not wonder away from the city gates, and frankly there were still too many dangers out there.
"Only around here, father. I do wish to go to the market," she said, pointing towards a large cluster of makeshift stands that was being set up in the middle of the city centre. It was crowded with people pushing carts of fruits and fish, and women with baskets laden with food. Set up on either side of the main road that ran through the city were stalls of all shapes and sizes, selling a variety of items, most of them materials that had been bartered during the trip to the White City. Imrahil nodded and reminded her to be home by noon. Thanking her father happily, Lothíriel spurred her horse into a gallop as she rode down the path that would join to the market place. Once she was there, she dismounted her horse and leisurely began to walk amongst the people, her people, at the same time, keeping a firm hold of Hermés's reins.
But of course whatever sense of anonymity she had hoped to achieve was soon thwarted when the women around her began realizing her presence. Almost immediately after the first woman noticed her, she found herself in the middle of groups of people, all of them she knew by name and all wanting to tell her about the joy of their loved ones return, how relived they were that she was safe, and was the new King as handsome as the rumors say he was? Several young girls gave her small bouquets of white flowers which she accepted graciously much to their delight. Eventually her words satisfied their curiosity and slowly the crowds began to resume their daily activity allowing her to continue her walk.
She made sure to stop at each stall and if she didn't purchase anything, she would instead strike up a conversation with the vender, asking them of their family and the return of sons and husbands, laughing when the news was wonderful and offering comforting words when the news was bad. Lothíriel had no qualms about lowering herself to level of a child and kissing a scratched knee or elbow and would unflinchingly gaze upon a man with scars that would cause the strongest of stomachs to churn in disgust. She had been dubbed the people's princess and had yet to fail her duties or the title bestowed on her. During the war, it was she who had managed to convince the prim and proper ladies of the court to lay down their sewing and snooty airs to help those wounded. She was also the one who would lie awake all night looking after children as their mothers cried over the dead bodies of their husbands, then turning to the same mothers and consoling them. Even now, garbed in the silks and satins entitled to a royal princess, Lothíriel easily fitted in with her people and the love she had for her people were only surpassed by the love her people had for her.
The days passed easily and quickly, with Imrahil and his sons already throwing themselves whole heartedly into the rebuilding of the Swan City. Villages outside the city walls that had been plundered were slowly beginning to take shape again and water tainted by the filth of the enemy cleansed for usage. Forgetting that he was battle worn with still some bruises that needed heeling, it would not be unusual to find the ruling prince of the city in the middle of sweating men, hauling a piece of log to another or hammering nails into foundations surrounded by his sons, also involved in the manual labor. So by the time the sun set on the day before their departure to Edoras, the glory that was once Dol Amroth was gradually being restored.
Lothíriel sighed contentedly as she tucked the folds of her skirt around her toes and hugged her knees closer to her body. She was alone on the beach, her eyes looking over the wide expanse of the calm sea. A gust of wind blew over her and she shivered, having only a little shawl draped over her shoulders.
"Princess, you should know better than to come out at night with little to warm you," a familiar voice said behind her and she felt a thick cloak fall against her body, immediately giving warmth to her cold limbs. Smiling, she watched Aearon sit down beside her.
"Eli was right, any darker and you will blend into the night," she said and he laughed, his white teeth bright against his dark skin.
"Then I shall paint myself a vessel of black night and together we shall sail away, invisible to the naked eye," he said, not taking his eyes of the sea. Lothíriel laughed and fondly remembered how his poetic garble would drive her brothers crazy sometimes, especially when they needed a straight answer from him.
"You haven't changed at all," she said resting her head on her knees, the coarseness of the woolen cloak scratching against her smooth cheeks.
"And how would you want me to change?" he asked, turning to look at her. Lothíriel shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know, it's just that with war, most of the happiest men I have met have turned a little bitter and their eyes have a tragic look in them. But you have yet to loose your smile or that twinkle in your eyes," she answered back. Aearon's grin grew bigger.
"Well, I can assure you I wasn't smiling when we were up against the Easterlings. But the race of men are safe and the prophesied King has ascended the throne, Dol Amroth will prosper so why shouldn't I smile?" he said.
"You are ever the optimist, Aearon. Do not change," she said turning to look at the sea. But Aearon kept his eyes on her.
"I have no intentions of changing, princess. But you have," he said. Lothíriel turned to him in surprise.
"Me? Change? I am still the same, Aearon," she said in protest laughing a little at the absurdity of his words. But Aearon shook his head.
"No, the Lothíriel I remembered would have thrown custom to the wind and bounded across the room to give an old friend a hug. She would have also spurred her horse into a gallop to where she wanted to go than demurely ask for permission, much less sit sidesaddle. That Lothíriel would have also been begging me to take her sailing at any given opportunity, very unladylike and highly improper, I must add. She also wasn't such a beauty that the gardens of Yavanna would turn green in envy," he finished. Lothíriel gaped at her friend open mouthed.
"Aearon, I was serious and you tease me so," she said, glad that the night hid her pink cheeks. Aearon shrugged.
"I wasn't teasing, simply telling you the truth. You have changed from a wild, unruly girl to an elegant and refined lady, that is all," he said. Lothíriel smacked him on the arm.
"I was never unruly, Aearon, just high spirited," she protested.
"Oh, is that the royal term for it? Forgive my peasant ignorance," he said grinning as she smacked him again. Then she turned to the sea again.
"I will miss the sea," she sighed softly.
"Where are you going?" he asked in surprise.
"I am remaining in Rohan," she said. Aearon let out a strangled sound. Lothíriel turned to him and saw that his eyes were wide and his jaw was hanging a little off its hinges.
"You are marrying a man from Rohan?" he finally gasped out. Lothíriel was stunned at his words. Aearon flinched then frowned.
"It is that king isn't it? What is his name, the man Erchirion said you had fallen in love with," he continued. At that Lothíriel snapped out of her shock.
"What are you talking about? I am not getting married!" she cried out. Aearon's frown turned to puzzlement.
"But you said you were moving to Rohan," he said. Lothíriel rolled her eyes. Is it possible that there was someone who didn't know she was going to spend three weeks in Rohan? Since word had leaked out that was all the people of her city could talk about and Glowen was more than happy to express her distress of an unmarried princess in an unmarried King's city. Even Imrahil's advisors had tried to talk him against it, making clear their fear of their precious swan princess in the city of smelly horse lords. That particular advisor had received such a tongue clipping from Imrahil, it was said he was still red from the embarrassment.
"No, Aearon, I will remain in Rohan for three weeks, to help Lady Éowyn with her preparation to join the Gondor court when she becomes the princess of Ithilien," she explained. Aearon exhaled deeply the grinned sheepishly at her.
"Oh, right, yes, I knew that. I was just trying to tease you," he answered then his grin dropped a little.
"But are you?" he asked. Lothíriel looked at him, puzzled again.
"Am I what?" she asked, her tone taking an exasperated edge. Aearon heard it and grinned a little more.
"In love with the Rohan king?" he said again. Lothíriel buried her head in her arms before answering her tone angry.
"NO! I am not in love with Éomer! We are friends! Just friends. And we are definitely not getting married! I wish people would get that through their thick skulls! If I have to bear one more person asking me that I will scream till the bottoms of sea tremor at the sound!" she cried out in exasperation, her voice magnified by the silence of the place. Aearon held out his hands in surrender.
"I just asked, princess. I meant no offense. Fine, you are not in love with the Rohan King. Have pity on me and do not cause the sea to shake, I already have to spend thirteen days away from it," he said and his words made her laugh.
"Aye and what a tragedy that is," she said, her anger already subsiding. He put on a sad look.
"I agree, I am traumatized just thinking of it. I just hope that the days pass by quickly and granted a speedy return to Dol Amroth," he said and he sounded so dejected Lothíriel had to laugh again. She placed a hand on his arm.
"Do not despair so. Perhaps you will enjoy the horse ride and decide that you are a horse lover than a sea lover," she said. He gave her a look that said it would never happen in this age or any other. Suddenly, the sound of someone calling Lothíriel's name caused them to turn back to the palace. Standing on one of the balconies facing the sea was her father. Lothíriel shouted out a reply then turned back to Aearon. He was cringing and held a hand to his ears.
"I was wrong, you haven't changed. That was no voice of a lady," he said. Lothíriel just grinned and stood up. Aearon did the same and together they returned to the palace.
Rohan
He stared blindly at the fresh mound in front of him. The earth was still wet and brown, unlike the other mounds which were covered in green grass and white flowers. In his right hand, he held the shovel, the mud beginning to dry at the tips of the shovel, having had partaken in the digging of the knoll, the least he could do for the man who had provided a roof over his and Éowyn's head, taught him to fight, ride a horse into battle, enjoy the pleasures of a pint of ale and a willing female body after a victorious battle and most importantly, loved him as he did his own son. In his arm was his sister, her face grey from the pain deep within her heart, and her eyes shiny from unshed tears. Around them, heads bent low, the proud flag of the white horse flying among them, were those who had spent years fighting along side the old king, men who would have followed their king to the edges of the world had he just said the word. The same men that would now serve him, their new king.
Uncle, I am not ready. How can I possibly be king to all these people? Why did you land me with such responsibility? Why did you leave us? The thoughts rolled around in his head, overlapping each other, muddling his already muddled mind. Then a soft and mournful tune rose from those gathered, becoming stronger as more voices joined in the song. Éomer heard his own baritone voice joining in with them, and for that moment the men were linked by their voices. They sang of hope, they sang of love, they sang of the end and then the beginning. And as if Théoden had heard their singing, the sky suddenly broke into soft showers with the sun's rays shinning between them. Éowyn gave Éomer a nudge and pointed to the sky beyond their heads. Spanning across the vast sky in an arc, of what seemed to be right above their city, was a rainbow. The last gift from their fallen king, a blessing to the new rule of Rohan. Éomer smiled through his tears and pulled Éowyn closer to him.
"My lord, we should return to the palace," Helfast gently broke into their thoughts. Éomer looked around him to see the men looking expectantly at him, waiting for his lead. Éomer nodded and released Éowyn's waist, but reached down to take her hand. He was glad that at least death had spared him one family member. Ah, well, at least he can take solace that his uncle had died in his right of mind, defending the land he loved, no longer under the spell of the treacherous Wormtongue's words.
He and Éowyn made their way up the now wet and muddy path to Meduseld, refusing the usage of horses to climb the steep mount upwards. As it had been since Eorl, only family members and soldiers of his eored were allowed to attend the burial of a king. Other people would have to take satisfaction in climbing up the walls of the city and watch the procession from a far. But that didn't mean they loved him any less, and Éomer felt it was their right to be able to share their grief with him, and so his reason to refuse to ride back to Meduseld. He and Éowyn entered the big gates of the city, beyond it, his people already waiting to offer their condolences. He accepted their words with a smile and gratitude, never being too mighty to bend down on his knees and accept tokens from the youngest of his people, or hug momentarily those who were crying so hard to say anything. To his right, Éowyn had already had her arms full of flowers and was patiently letting the women give brief kisses on her pale cheeks. And so it was all the way towards the palace, and even before the siblings were about to enter the building, they turned one last time to wave to their subjects who were standing eagerly at the base of the steps.
"It is over," Éomer breathed out as he sat down on one of the plush sofas in his newly acquired study. It had belonged to Théoden and Thengel, his grandsire. Sighing loudly Éomer surveyed the scene around him. The several tables cluttered to the side were littered with maps, quills and ink bottles. To the farthest end of the room, behind a huge oak table were four bookshelves, overflowing with books and papers. The bookshelves were engraved with galloping horses around its borders and the oak table before it had scenes of grazing horses on the sides, to complement the embroidery on the chair situated behind it. On all four walls were tapestries, retelling the story of Eorl and the founding of Edoras. And where he was seated, to the corner of the room, was a small family area, with chairs facing a hearth.
Éomer had spent many nights in front of the fire with his sister, uncle and cousin, sometimes listening to his uncle's childhood days and tales of past battles, sometimes laughing or moaning about their daily lives and sometimes, just sitting in silence, enjoying each other's presence. It was there also that Théoden had sat all night, not speaking a word with a stricken Éomer when he had returned from his first battle and experienced first hand the brutality of such blood spilling. Éomer knew that his uncle did not have to do so, as Eorlings were expected to overcome their initial shock by themselves, so the fact that Théoden had sat all night with him, only increased his love for his uncle… and the pain that now his uncle was gone forever. Well, maybe not forever. Perhaps they will meet again, when it was Éomer's turn to lay to rest.
"What are your thoughts, brother?" Éowyn's asked gently, settling herself next to him. He draped a hand around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
"It will be so different now, without uncle and soon, without you," he said. Éowyn wrapped her hands tighter around her brother's middle.
"You can always come and visit, and I will come and visit occasionally as well," she said.
"Edoras will always be your home and if Faramir ever treats you badly…"
"Yes, I know, you and the rage of Riddermark will sweep upon him in all fury and take me back to safety. You have repeated yourself enough times," laughed Éowyn. Éomer chuckled a little too. He supposed he had been a little too protective.
"It is good you remember that and that husband of yours should be reminded as well," he said. Éowyn smiled then pulled away slightly to look at him.
"Éomer, you will not hassle Faramir when they arrive in two days time," she said sternly. Éomer gave her an innocent look.
"Sister, it did not cross my mind at all," he said. Éowyn narrowed her eyes at him.
"I mean it, Éomer. Just because we are on your turf now, you will not scare my love or I shall never speak to you again!" she said again. Éomer placed a hand on his heart.
"I swear that I will not scare Faramir from you," he said solemnly. Éowyn was not convinced.
"And no challenging him to a race across the plains OR challenging him in the arena," she said. Éomer cringed. Damn, she was perceptive. He would have enjoyed seeing Faramir trying to keep his horse steady on the rough terrains or seeing him struggling to not fall from a wild horse.
"Fine, I swear that too," he said dryly, rolling his eyes as he said so. Éowyn grinned at him and patted his head.
"That's my good boy," she cooed at him. Then a small knock on the door caused them to turn and see a lady standing by it, a sad smile on her face. She was barely taller than Éowyn and was one of the very few Rohirrims who had dark brown hair. Unlike Éowyn, her complexion was more golden from the sun and full red lips with sparkling brown eyes. One would say that she had the features of a bronze angel, as was the innocence projected across her face. Right now however, they were downcast and her lips, that would normally be curved into a smile was slightly tilted at the corners. When the two acknowledge her presence, she dropped into a graceful curtsey, a habit of second nature.
"My Lord and Lady, forgive me for interrupting," she said her voice much softer and demure than Éowyn's. Éowyn stood up from her seat and walked over to the lady.
"Helena, since when had we become so formal with each other," Éowyn addressed their Chief of Marshal's daughter.
"Since father told me that things have changed and that our childhood days have passed us," she said, repeating the words of Helfast, her voice having tinges of remorse in it. Although she and Éomer only knew each other through Éowyn, Helena and Éowyn had spent many summers frolicking the meadows of Rohan and she was sad to have it all reduced to only memories. Éowyn let out a laugh.
"What nonsense. I only have three weeks here, and I intend of creating as much havoc and I depend on you to be there with me," she said pointedly. Helena laughed as she thought back to the chaos the two little girls had done, much to the grief and despair of the Chief of Marshal and the king.
"So we are still as we were?" she asked. Éowyn nodded and grinned. Helena sighed with relief and in a flash had engulfed Éowyn in a fiery hug. Gone was the gentleness and demureness.
"Do you know that my heart nearly stopped when I heard that you had been badly injured!" she cried out and hugged Éowyn tighter before releasing her. Éowyn grinned at her friend.
"Quite impressive, don't you think? But I'm alright now," she said. Helena shook her head.
"I do not know which to be more upset about. That you had dressed as a man and nearly gotten yourself killed or that you're about to marry a man from Gondor," she said, with such disappointment. Éowyn laughed as she knew Helena was only jesting.
"I agree with you, Helena. No doubt her injury messed up her mind," said Éomer from behind his sister. Helena laughed at Éowyn's dagger look at Éomer.
"Aye, honestly Éowyn. There are so many men here in Riddermark and you chose a Gondorian weakling," she said in disgust and took a seat adjacent from Éomer.
"He is not a Gondorian weakling!" she cried out in protest.
"He is braver than a lot of the men here, he is sensitive but strong, gentle but firm, handsome and sweet and he loves me," she said the last bit with a dreamy look on her face.
"So doeth thaws the heart of the ice queen," said Helena her look one of bewilderment as she watched her friend walk around the room a wistful look on her face. Helena had never seen her friend so smitten before; this was truly a new side of Éowyn she was seeing. It was obvious that Éowyn was lost in her thoughts so Helena turned to Éomer.
"My lord, I am sorry for your loss, and grieve as well but my heart sings gladly on yours and Lady Éowyn's safe return," she said, her demure tone returning.
"Helena, you are spared from such formalities with me as well. I will have enough of all that later," he said. Helena dropped her demure act and smirked at him.
"That I can assure you of. Not to mention all the fawning that will soon take place as well. The court ladies are just waiting for permission from Feälef before they begin to sink their claws into your skin," she added with a huge grin. Éomer gave her a withering look.
"Thank you. I truly wish to be reminded that I am now no better than a caged animal trained to entertain," he said and sighed again. Helena laughed.
"Even caged animals may roam free one day. So tell me, how does this Faramir look like?" she asked looking at him expectantly.
"He is a scholar, he looks like a girl with curls in his hair and is thin like a stick," he said. Helena's eyes widen. Why would Éowyn want to marry such a man? But the she saw the twinkle in his eyes and knew she had been tricked.
"You almost had me there, Éomer. I have never met a Gondorian man before, is it true their skin is the color of a frog's underbelly?" she asked, her face alight with interest. Éomer swallowed a laugh. How he wished Aragorn or Faramir was here to hear Helena's words. Their faces would indeed be worth to see.
"Nay, they are not that pale, and they are good people. The Oath of Eorl had been renewed and once again Gondor and Rohan shall ride together, as Cirion and Eorl had done a long time ago," he said and his face turned serious as he said the words. Helena nodded.
"I am glad that Éowyn has found someone worthy of her, even if she has to move so far away," said Helena and looked wistfully at Éowyn who had finally taken a seat but her eyes looking deeply into the ambers of the simmering fire. With Éowyn gone, she would have no choice but to join the other daughters of noblemen and they can be so boring.
"You shall be able to meet them when they arrive in a few days time. Ah, there shall be much celebrations to welcome our guests," he said and grinned at the thought of seeing his friends again. They will be a wonderful distraction.
"If I may ask, will the new king come as well?" Helena asked for although Gondor and Rohan had a peaceful relationship, never has the reigning sovereign really attended the functions of either city, sending instead representatives.
"Yes, King Elessar and his queen, and Faramir, naturally, and also Prince Imrahil, his three sons and daughter," said Éomer his words slightly wobbly at the mention of Imrahil's daughter. Éomer wondered if Lothíriel had truly forgiven him or had Elleon sugar coated the truth to save his king's ego? Helena caught the catch and raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"A daughter, is it? Am I right that she is…oh… unmarried?" she asked her eyes glinting mischievously. At the mention of Faramir, Éowyn was brought back to the present and heard Helena's teasing words. Now she will repay her brother for his words against Faramir.
"Oh, yes, very much unmarried. Tis a shame really as she is a princess and other princes in her realm are unfortunately related to her, so she can not marry a man of her status. She will have to marry a common nobleman, so unfitting for a lady of her position," sighed Éowyn dramatically. Helena caught on quickly.
"Aye, I see her dilemma. The poor father that his daughter must marry below her title. But rightfully only a king would be of rank with her," said Helena sighing as well. Éomer had clamped his mouth shut and was beginning to become a little sulky. Éowyn glanced a look at him and had to stop herself from bursting into laughter.
"And where is this modern age will we be able to find a king, unmarried to say the least?" she asked and Helena nodded in agreement. Then in perfect timing as if they had rehearsed it before hand, both ladies' eyes grew wider, their mouths gaping open a little.
"Éomer, you are a king…" they began and began to smile broadly as they turned to him. Éomer glowered as best as he could at the two, trying hard to keep his face from turning bright red.
"I do not know what you two are implying so cease your silly chatter," he growled at them and quickly got up to his feet.
"I must seek out Feälef, concerning the accommodations of our guests. Try to keep out of trouble both of you," he said sternly and in a flash he was gone. Éowyn let out a loud laugh, and Helena joined in.
"I have never seen your brother so squeamish when it comes to a lady before," Helena said her laugh dying down to a chuckle.
"If you think him squeamish now, wait till he is face to face with her. He is like a boy experiencing his first yearning," Éowyn replied.
"She must be beautiful then," said Helena. Éowyn nodded.
"Yes, I do not think Éomer, being the man he is, would have noticed if she wasn't. But after the first meeting, she proved to be more than a pretty face. Indeed she is no docile princess," said Éowyn and began to tell Helena of Lothíriel's few escapades while in the white city. Helena's eyes were wide with astonishment by the time Éowyn was done.
"She sound more raucous that you," exclaimed Helena. Éowyn shook her head.
"Nay, that is the thing, she isn't. She very much a lady most of the time. If I had not gotten to know her well, I would think her a little tipsy in the head, as her behaviors change so quickly," said Éowyn. Helena grinned.
"Why not, we have everything else, so why shouldn't Rohan have a tipsy queen," she said. At these words Éowyn took on a grim face.
"Oh no, Éomer has made it clear that he has no desire to wed her," she said dryly. Helena cocked an eyebrow.
"But you said he was quite infatuated by her, why would he not wed her?" she asked. Éowyn snorted in derision.
"He has gotten into his head that he must only marry a Rohirrim lady, to please our people. According to him, that is what the people expect of him" she said.
"Well, I can not deny I have heard the same thing, but it is mostly idle talk over too many pints of ale. Many of the past queens have been of Gondor birth and as long as she is no fragile being, afraid of the smallest things, the people will love her anyway," she said.
"That is not what Éomer believes," she said. Helena shrugged her shoulders.
"Perhaps in the days she will stay here, he will see that her place of birth does not matter, and marry her anyway," she said. Éowyn sat upright her face animated.
"Aye, I thought of that too. So I had invited her to stay in Rohan for three weeks to help me prepare for life in the Gondor court," said Éowyn. Helena smiled. Now this is the Éowyn she knew. No doubt Éowyn had it all planned out. Helena almost felt a twinge of pity for her king. The poor man, if Éowyn will have it her way, which she will, Éomer will fall in love with the princess whether he wants to or not.
"And if he is still unconvinced, then he deserves to marry the power hungry Rohirrim ladies," said Helena. Éowyn nodded vigorously.
"Yes, but not before we do our best, as I expect you to help me," she said.
"I shall assist where needed, Éowyn. I do not know this princess but if you hold her high in regard then I have no doubt she is worth such effort," said Helena. Éowyn beamed at her and reached forward to hug her friend.
"I believe she is and I just know she will be a great queen for our people. The only person I can think to be a better candidate than her is you," said Éowyn. Helena pulled a face.
"Nay, I do not wish to be queen. And I regard your brother as mine that the thought of marrying him makes my stomach churn," said Helena and her face did take up a slight green tinge. Éowyn laughed.
"Now I can not wait for our friends to arrive. This will indeed be the best three weeks of our lives," she said and leaned back against her chair, happy as a mare in a luscious meadow. Éomer, this is one battle you will not win.
End of Chapter 7
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