Chapter Eight
"Are we there yet?" Aearon's voice could be heard for the third time within the six leagues between Erthellond and Morthlond. Lothíriel who was riding alongside him covered her mouth to hide her grin. Honestly, Aearon was acting like a child and perhaps a child would not be that troublesome. Elphir, on the admiral's other side, had begun to loose patience.
"No, Aearon, we are not," he said thru gritted teeth. That made Lothíriel press her hand harder against her lips as she knew Aearon's whining was solely to irritate the crown prince, as a payback for putting into Prince Imrahil's head that he should accompany the group to Edoras. And it seemed to be working as Elphir was red in the face, and the sun had barely reached the middle of the sky.
"But Eli… I need to relieve myself," he whined harder, pursing his lips into a pout. If there was anything Elphir disliked more than a fully grown whining man was a pouting one. Reaching out he grabbed the front of Aearon's tunic.
"Then pee on the damn horse for all I care, just stop whining," he growled. From the front, Imrahil and his two other son's could be heard laughing. Behind them among the soldiers, several snickers could be heard. Aearon pouted a little harder but the growing dark look of Elphir's face quickly changed the pout into a grin. In a show of momentary peace, Aearon steered his horse to trot beside Lothíriel, away from Elphir.
"Aearon, you are mean to bait my brother so," said Lothíriel softly. Aearon grinned at her.
"Not as mean as making me ride a horse, princess. Nay, he is getting his just rewards, and there is still a day more till we reach our destination, on which I shall entertain myself… at the expense of your brother of course," he matter-of-factly. Lothíriel couldn't help laugh. They had been on the road for two and a half days already, and Lothíriel was grateful to Aearon for the source of entertainment. Lothíriel laughed a little more as she thought of their first night on the road. All were tired and she for one had been glad to retire to her tent. Just as she was about to fall asleep, she heard a scuffle outside the tent. In haste she ran out of the tent only to see her brother standing over a fallen Aearon, who I may add, was grinning form ear to ear, while trying to look hurt as well.
"But Eli… I'm afwaid of the dark. I wanna sleep wiv you," he said imitating perfectly a small child. It seemed that Elphir had dove under his blanket just before to find an admiral already in it. The look on Elphir's face as the men tactfully hid their grin was to be cherished. He was gaping like a fish; his eyes wide in disbelief and in the end just stormed into his tent and slammed the tent flap shut. Aearon had gotten up to his feet, his grin still intact and not a hint of remorse or embarrassment on his brown face as he retired to his tent, not without a wink at Lothíriel.
Lothíriel was brought back to the present when her horse pulled back abruptly to prevent colliding with the back of Erchirion's horse. It seemed that Prince Imrahil had ordered a stop at the beginning of what seemed to be a winding valley. Lothíriel looked pass his head to the towering mountains before her, so high up that several of the tips were lost within the clouds. In between the mountains was a small road just enough for two horses to ride side by side. Imrahil turned to look at his men and family.
"Not many of you have taken the paths between the Ered Nimrais, but those of you who have, you know of the danger of this route. Be warned that the mountains do not take well to clamor of any such, and in years have only tolerated the placid footsteps of horses. So do not spur your steed to move beyond a trot and do not speak, not even a hush no louder than the dropping of a tear. It is nearly half a day's ride through the mountains and Edoras lies just beyond these paths. Remember, do not cause any sudden movements from your ride or you will have the mountains shed their mighty wraths of snow upon us, imprisoning us within with only little provisions," Imrahil paused to allow the full meaning of his words to sink in.
"Now, if you are all ready," he continued and when his followers nodded, he turned his horse back towards the opening of the valley. He spoke softly to his horse and then pushed him into a soft jog. Lothíriel followed his lead.
"Remember, Hermés, not a sound," she whispered. Hermés moved his head, not emitting a sound, like he understood her words. Aearon rolled his eyes.
"If we were on a ship, she would glide pass the temperamental mountains, so quiet that they would not even know of her presence," he whispered to her. Lothíriel wanted to reply but Aearon had already moved forward, irritating Elphir one last time by reaching out to hold Elphir's arm and moaning quietly;
"Eli, I'm scared, can I ride with you? Will you hold my hand?"
Then there was silence.
The ride did indeed take a whole day, but Lothíriel hardly noticed it as she was so in awe of the mountains along her side. In her eyes they were the icon of greatness, a sign to all those who saw it, the presence of a great and powerful force, greater than all of middle earth together. As she looked on, she saw that some had massive holes along its sides, forming deep depression across the smoothly snow surfaced plane. A reminder that He who created greatness can one day easily turn around and destroy it. Beside the towering testimony of prowess, there was little growth, and only pathetic brownish-green shrubs growing at the very base of the mountains but she did not need the soothing presence of greenery when she was facing the pureness of white. Before she or anybody else knew it, they had safely passed the unpredictable route and had emerged on the other side, secure on Rohan soil.
Lothíriel felt like she had stepped into another world altogether. Never had she even pictured a place to be like this, for spreading out before her was land. Leagues and leagues of land, coated in lush green grass, going on for miles undisturbed by hillocks or even trees.
"It is like a green sea," she exclaimed out loud. Amrothos who had ridden out beside her nodded.
"Get used to it sister, for this is all you shall see for the next three weeks," he said not unkindly. Lothíriel did not know how to respond to that.
"Come, there is still several hours till sunset. If we hurry, we can make it to Edoras by nightfall," said Imrahil before setting out into a full gallop. Immediately those in his group followed, the horses more than relieved to be doing more than the aggravating trot. Then just as the sun was laying down to rest beyond the horizon, they saw it. For no longer was the land barren of anything but grass, as before them scatters of hills, some were only slightly smaller than the smallest mountain. The other surrounding smaller hills each was cluttered with homes and bustling with life. Imrahil lead them towards the largest of these hills, and Lothíriel knew this was Edoras for standing tall and proud at the peak, glinting gold in the rays of the setting sun was no doubt Meduseld, the once home of Eorl the Young. Having seen her father do so, Lothíriel slowed her horse into a jog as did the others. They rode silently towards the huge thick gates, the only entrance within the mighty fortress.
"You have trespassed on the land of Éomer King, Leader of Rohan, O men from strange lands. Identify yourselves as friend or foe so we may treat you as we see fit," a hidden voice shouted down to them. Imrahil raised a hand and from somewhere between his men a banner of a white swan against blue background rose up, flying proudly against the wind.
"I am Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, here by invitation of your king, O voice with no face. Allows us in, as we are neither foe nor strange," shouted back Imrahil and Lothíriel couldn't help grin as her father threw back the barb at the guard. There was silence before a shuffling sound was heard. Then the sound of wooden doors being pulled entered their ears and it wasn't long when the oak gates of Edoras were drawn open. At the doorway, atop a great black horse was a man, and judging by the length of his stirrups he was mighty in height. He rode forward to Imrahil and bowed his head, a hand on his chest.
"Welcome to the Mark, Prince Imrahil. Your presence has been expected. I am Helfast, son of Hammond, Chief Marshal of the Mark," he said respectfully. Imrahil smiled at him and reached out for a handshake that was warmly returned.
"Thank you, Chief Marshal. I speak for all in my company when I say it is good to be here, as the trip has been long," he said. Helfast nodded.
"Of course, my lord. Also, the entourages of Minas Tirinth and Ithilien have arrived, so they will be eager to meet you, my lord. Please, shall we proceed in, so you and your men may rest and feast on the warm food and ale prepared?" said Helfast a big smile on his face. Imrahil brightened at the words.
"Why are you still speaking then, son of Hammond? Lead us in!" he cried out and with a laugh Helfast alongside Imrahil began their ride up the dusty path to the Golden Halls. Lothíriel took the opportunity to look at the city where she will be spending the next three weeks in. It was very different from Dol Amroth that was for certain. Here the air was still and hot, unlike Dol Amroth which was constantly subjected to the sea breeze, resulting in a nice cool effect. The roads were also made of coarse red sand rather than the fine white sands that usually found their way into the city. And where Dol Amroth was flat, Edoras was uneven with small hills jumping out here and there giving an uneven look to the arrangement of houses, as in Dol Amroth, houses were lined in single files around the border of the city.
But the two cities did show some similarities and that was the liveliness and simplicity of the people and their unabashed staring at strangers that entered the walls, as the Rohirrims were doing with her and her group. Lothíriel caught a young girl staring at her with wide eyes and instead of being offended at being gaped at; she waved at the young girl and smiled at her. The girl waved back timidly then hid her face within the fold of her mother's skirt. Lothíriel was unable to continue her assessment for they had reached the front steps of Meduseld and Éomer and Imrahil were already encased in a bear hug. As was proper, Lothíriel waited for one of her brother's to assist her from her horse. Instead, it was Éomer who was standing at her feet, his hands raised for hers. Smiling shyly she placed both hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his around her waist and carried her down.
"Welcome to Edoras, princess," he said softly so only she would hear. She looked up at his blue eyes and felt a wave of longing pass through her.
"Thank you, my lord. You have a beautiful home," she said. Éomer visibly beamed at her praise but said humbly.
"But I am sure it is not as beautiful as Dol Amroth, as it is so different," he said.
"I believe that it is the difference that makes both our homes beautiful," she answered back. Éomer grinned at her.
"So you have forgiven me?" he asked hopefully.
"I am here speaking civilly to you aren't I?" she responded. Éomer shrugged.
"Yes, but you may just being doing so out of respect in being in my home," he said. Lothíriel smiled.
"Then I say, yes, it is all forgiven, which you would have known by my dress color," she said pointedly.
"How can I look at anything else, my lady, when I am allowed the pleasure of looking at your lovely face," he replied but obliged by looking down at her dress, completely missing her blushed looks. Éomer inhaled deeply.
"It is the same color as the flowers I had given you," he breathed. Lothíriel nodded.
"Aye, which the petals I have pressed between leaves of books so it may be preserved long after it was destined too," she said. The two smiled at each other as they looked into each other eyes.
"Éomer, may I have a chance at greeting the princess now?" Éowyn's loud voice suddenly broke into their thoughts. Lothíriel quickly moved away from Éomer and walked up to Éowyn.
"Greetings Éowyn, and how fare you?" she asked before the two ladies hugged each other.
"I am fine, in fact I am better," she said and quickly glanced at Faramir, who, of course, was gazing lovingly at her.
"I am sure you are," she wryly making it clear that she had seen the quick gaze. Éowyn laughed but said nothing as that moment, Imrahil was introducing Aearon to Éomer. During the time Éomer was preoccupied with Lothíriel, Aearon had been introduced to all and even had time to devote his service and the Swan Fleet to the rule of King Elessar.
"Éomer, the admiral of my Swan Fleet, Admiral Aearon, son of Cirion," said Imrahil. Aearon bowed to the Rohan king.
"Your majesty, as long as I am your blessed lands, I remain always your humble subject," he said then straightened, masking perfectly well the grimace. But Éomer had seen his fair share of first riders and cocked an eyebrow.
"You have telltale signs of muscle stiffness? Do you not ride often?" he asked. Behind Éomer, Amrothos inhaled sharply. Unlike the blunt ways of the Mark, in Dol Amroth a man does not unearth the shortcomings of another man, especially in public. Those issues had more often than not ended in a deadly fight. But, to all's relief and slight surprise, Aearon broke into a grin.
"Aye, not since I was a young boy if my memory serves me well," he answered. Éomer looked at him skeptically.
"You jest. How can a man not ride for such long years and still live?" he asked. Aearon chuckled but Faramir answered for him.
"Believe it, your majesty. Why, he has even forsaken good friends to be instead with his confounded waves. Aearon, you have not visited me in Ithilien for a long time," said Faramir accusingly. As Aearon had spent most times with the four siblings, he had, as well, formed close ties with Boromir and Faramir.
"And you have not visited my bedchamber in the equal amount of time, Faramir," was Aearon's answer, without missing a beat. Erchirion, Amrothos and even Elphir snorted in laughter while Imrahil shook his head in despair. Lothíriel was too busy laughing at Éowyn's horrified look, identical to her brother's. Only Aragorn and Arwen remained composed, but there was a tell tale sign of a smirk at the corner of the Gondor king's lips.
"Have I embarrassed you, friend?" Aearon asked, his smile growing. Faramir returned the smile unfazed.
"Not at all, friend. You may try again tomorrow," he answered smoothly. Finally comprehending the situation, Éowyn's stricken face smoothed out into an amused smile, but for good measure, she firmly placed a hand in Faramir's.
"Indeed I will," Aearon said with a wink to Éowyn who just rolled her eyes, it had became quite clear that this was a game the two had been playing since younger days and who was Éowyn to stop two boys from having their fun?
"Come, Aearon, you have not answered my question," Éomer said going back to the previous topic. It truly baffled him that someone… anyone, does not ride a horse everyday of their lives.
"I am a man of the sea, my lord, where the sea is my mistress. She is a jealous lady and will share me naught, whether with a woman or horse," he answered whimsically.
"Spoken like a true sailor, Admiral," said Aragorn, who had moved to stand by Imrahil.
"Perhaps, but there is still time, Admiral Aearon, to get you on a horse," said Éowyn. Aearon's whimsy changed into a grimace.
"I do not think so my lady. There is certain delicateness pertaining to certain body parts that I think need the three days to heal before the return home," he said and his words were greeted with laughter by all.
"We shall see, Aearon, we may still make a horseman of you yet, for indeed you have the colorings of one," said Faramir.
"Let us leave that till tomorrow then. Now there is a feast waiting your presence and it grows colder as we linger here," said Éomer suddenly and beckoned his guest to enter Meduseld. He turned to offer his arm to Lothíriel only to see her already attached to Aearon's arm, looking very much like she belonged there. That did not suit the young king at all and suddenly felt a jolt of anger fly down his spine. But his thoughts were interrupted when a man, of his height but darker coloring, came to stand beside him. He turned and came upon a pair of stormy eyes.
"Prince Elphir," he said through gritted teeth. What did the pompous prince want from him now?
"Your majesty… I … this isn't easy… but I wish to ask for your forgiveness," said Elphir rushed. Éomer cocked an eyebrow.
"You are apologizing?" he asked, not really certain of the prince's integrity. But it was the flash of sincerity in his eyes that met with the blue penetrating gaze of the Rohan King.
"Yes, and I do so not because you are king of the land I am residing temporarily in but because I was wrong and let ill perceived thoughts control my action. I do hope you understand, as you are a brother yourself, that the feeling to protect your younger sister is so strong and primal, good judgment is sometimes neglected," he said. Éomer knew the truth of his words, and was never one to deny forgiveness when so earnestly asked. He placed a firm hand on Elphir's shoulder.
"Say no more of it. The deed is done, and whatever misunderstandings cleared. Let us be friends, now," he said smiling at the prince. Elphir returned it with his.
"Yes, thank you my lord," he said, truly relieved he had been forgiven. He wasn't a man or irrational thoughts but it had crossed his mind more than once that Éomer just might decided to throw him into the Meduseld dungeons the minute he steps foot into the palace.
"Come, the faster you eat, the sooner you can rest. There shall be much riding to do tomorrow as I am eager to show you my lands," said Éomer and the two began to walk after the others. Just as they were about to enter the dining hall, Éomer whispered to Elphir.
"Is it true that Aearon has not ridden since he was a young boy?" he asked. Elphir had to bite his inner cheek to prevent from laughing. The poor king looked truly bewildered. He nodded solemnly.
"Aye, tis true. It is only by luck that he can differentiate the horse's front from its rear," answered Elphir. Éomer just shook his head and he pushed the door open to join his friends and family, the next day's plans already floating happily in his mind.
By next morning, however, Éomer was more than ready to ship Aearon back to Dol Amroth if he had to nail the man's backside to his horse. In fact he was ready to send ALL of them packing. Except Lothíriel of course. In fact she was the cause of such thoughts anyway. He had woken up that morning, reveling in the fact that he actually had an excuse to escort the young princess WITHOUT arousing suspicion, only to find out that Aearon had beaten him to it. He entered the royal dining hall to see all seated waiting for him and she was five people away from Éomer, next to HIM! The only satisfaction he had gotten throughout the entire meal was when he mentioned his purebred of horses and had gained a promise from the princess to show the workings of his stables. But of course, Aragorn had to put in a request that he shows ALL of them his stables and horses, and Éomer wasn't that desperate to be alone with her that he would deny the request of a powerful ally.
After breakfast, he had led them down by foot to the outskirt of the city to where the horses were lazily grazing; the only flat land found on the uneven plains of Edoras, separated from the bustle of the city by wooden fences that formed a circle around the horses, with two stables forming an extension from it. Only two routes led to grazing fields and that was from the main section of the city and the other led out to the back paths of Edoras.
So there he was in his beloved fields and stables with his beloved horse and he was surrounded with men while he, the ignoramus, was talking to her! What could they possibly be talking about, for Eorl's sake? The damn admiral didn't even like horses! Ignoring the admiration of his friends concerning his horses, a sure sign that he was very much upset, he glared at the man who stood across from him with a disgusted look on his face as Lothíriel pointed to one horse then another, her face alight with joy. Thank heavens for the presence of Merriadoc Brandybuck who was almost well versed with the working of Edoras as Éomer was and this allowed Éomer to wallow in his rage as Merry entertained their guests.
"Éomer if you stare any harder at the poor man, he will surely combust into flames," a wry feminine voice spoke up beside him. She was not that involved with her betrothed to not notice her brother's growing anger. Éomer pulled back reluctantly and looked at his amused sister's eyes.
"He is a pain, I do not like him," he growled. Éowyn raised an eyebrow and feigned a puzzled look.
"Oh and why is that so? You have but known him for less than a day," she asked innocently, very much eager to know his answer.
"Because he does not like horses. Anybody who does not like horses is a pain. Look at him so, frowning at my best breeds. He should be locked in the dungeons for such treachery or better yet, exiled to never return to Edoras," the young king growled again. Éowyn had to bite her lips to stop from grinning. Horses indeed.
"Ï do not think Prince Imrahil would agree to such a thing, brother, and I think it would be beneficial to you to remain on his good side," said Éowyn with a straight faced. Éomer narrowed his eyes and turned back to the Dol Amroth Princess and her … admiral.
"Her father does not dictate Lothíriel's actions," he replied.
"Lothíriel? Brother I was talking about diplomatic relationships. What does the princess have to do with it?" she asked, successfully making herself sound surprised. Éomer just gave her a withering glare and turned away from her. Well, if he can't have the princess's attention, then he shall tend to her father instead. Perhaps he can manage to squeeze some information concerning this new and foreign enemy, and the best way to deal with it.
"Is he alright?" Faramir asked as he joined her, his eyes watching the retreating form of his soon to be brother in law. Éowyn let out an unladylike snort.
"He is so jealous that it consumes him. And he dares blame the innocent horses for his foolhardy," Éowyn spat, snuggling against Faramir. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He laughed gently into her hair.
"Aye, the poor innocent horses. A victim of a lovelorn man's jealous heart," he said, still laughing softly.
"Well, he wouldn't be in that position had he, from the beginning, let his heart guide his actions and not his masculine stupidity," she said again.
"But my lady, is it not crucial for a warrior to follow his head and not his heart in a time of battle?" he asked. Éowyn shrugged. He was right. From young, warriors were trained to think with their heads and maintain common sense on a battlefield and not let anger and retribution of the heart guide their movements.
"Perhaps, but this isn't a battle. She is a lady who is as smitten with Éomer as he is with her," she said adamantly.
"Ah, perhaps not to the lady who is wooed. To the men who is doing the wooing, courting is a deadly battle by itself," he answered. At that Éowyn raised her head to look at him.
"But you won me easily enough, my lord," she said almost coyly. He looked down at her and smiled, for a while lost in the sweet memories when she had returned his love.
"But that did not mean I did not spend nights awake wondering if and why the fair Lady Éowyn could ever love a common man as myself," he said humbly. Éowyn twirled in his arms and pressed her fingers into his cheeks, not so hard to hurt him.
"Listen to me, Faramir son of Denethor. You are by far the worthiest man for any woman to marry and every night I thank the powers that chose me to be your wife. So I do not want to hear anymore talk of you being a simple man. There is nothing simple about you, you are wonderfully special, is that understood?" she said, her eyes narrowed at him. He did not answer. Instead he bent down and kissed her and that was all the answer she needed.
A sudden commotion caused the two to pull apart and turn. Coming towards them, in full gallop was a mighty steed and atop it was what seemed to be a young lady. It seemed she had rode in from the back entrance of Edoras that was connected to the flat land where the horses were trained and reared. Just as she reached the doors of the stable, in one graceful and practice leap, she jumped off the horse to land elegantly on the ground. Handing her horse to a nearby stable boy the young lady walked towards the crowd oblivious to the stares of the visitors. In fact she had not noticed them as she was instead busy fiddling with her skirts. Only when she was at the feet of Éomer did she look up briefly.
"Greetings, Éomer King," she greeted him cheerfully, bobbing into a little curtsy.
"I have just come from the glade. It is beautiful and the trees are plush. Too plush though as I seem to have caught the hems of my skirt against a stray branch and ripped it beautifully. Would you be so kind as to tell me where my father is, so I may avoid him until I have changed. He would not appreciate my appearance. Oh by the way have your guests arrived?" she asked in one breath all the while checking her skirt to where the confounded tear would be.
"Your father is behind you, cringing in despair and if you would look up you will see that they have very much arrived and are around you, wondering what kind of animal you are to stray into my lands," Éomer answered wryly. At that Helena looked up so quickly, Éomer was surprised that her neck had not snapped at the impact. Casting a quick glance to the people staring at her she turned to her father with what she hoped was a dazzling smile. However, the dirt streaking across her cheek, tangled hair and torn skirt did much to hinder the effect.
"Father," she said. Helfast just shook his head and moved to stand by her.
"My lords and ladies, my only daughter, thank goodness, Lady Helena," he said. But despite her disorganized look, she still managed a perfect curtsy to the guests. The looking up, she gave a sly wink to a laughing Merry as the two had become acquainted in his past visit to Rohan and was one of the few who enjoyed her care-freeness.
"Welcome to Edoras, my lords and ladies. I am at your service if so you may need it," she said demurely, which really had no effect anymore after her somewhat non-demure entrance. The men just looked at her with unhidden amusement and Lothíriel found herself wanting to know more of this wild thing that flew into Edoras without a care on her brow.
"If you would excuse her, Helena will retire for a wash and hopefully her second impression will be more everlasting than her first," said Helfast, wryly looking at his daughter. Helena grinned sheepishly at him and with another curtsy; she made her way back to Meduseld, of course not before giving Faramir an appraising look and an arched eyebrow look to Éowyn who was holding tight to his arm, most assuredly looking like the cat who got the cream. The company watched her for a while before returning to the more important issue at hand, horses.
After a while, Éomer took his guest on a tour of the main parts of the city which was lively with activity as the city prepared for the festivities that would come after the coronation. Lothíriel looked warily at the mountain high load of ale barrels, wondering which family member she would have to haul back to his room first completely passed out from the alcohol. One thing, it will not be her father, for despite his age, he could drink with the best of them. Perhaps Elphir, her eldest brother had never been the raunchiest of the four. She passed a glance to her eldest brother, the doubled back as she saw the strangest expression on his face. But the men had finally satisfied their fixation for the beautiful steeds and had begun to return to Meduseld as the sun was at high noon and lunch would be served, so Lothíriel did not think more of the matter. Instead as she fell into step with Éowyn, her mind went back to Lady Helena. For a moment Lothíriel wondered how it would be like to be a lady from Rohan, for it was obvious they were not enclosed within the oppressive four walls and instead allowed to ride free with the horses.
"What are you thinking, cousin?" Faramir's voice broke into her thoughts. She gave him a smile.
"I was just thinking of Lady Helena, she seems to be quite a free spirit," she replied. Éowyn laughed.
"Aye, a little too free if you ask her father. But he loves her dearly and would let her get away with many things," said Éowyn. Lothíriel nodded but didn't say anything.
"She is quite a character is she not?" Lothíriel asked after a while. Éowyn who was walking beside her laughed.
"Yes, she and I would were a terror when we were young. And to a point we still are," she said. Lothíriel laughed. Yes, she could easily imagine the two running through the streets like small whirlwinds, blowing away everything and everyone in their paths.
"So you and her have known each other for a long time, then?" she asked. Éowyn nodded.
"It must be nice to live like that. Dol Amroth court ladies can be immensely boring," said Lothíriel again, a little woebegone. Éowyn let out a snort at that and turned her incredulous eyes to the princess.
"Princess, I can assure you that no matter how different our cultures are, there will always be the similarities and boring court ladies are one of them. You just have not had the misfortune to meet any. The only exceptions I have seen are you, me and Helena. Queen Arwen does not count as she was probably born graceful and did not require to learn it as us humble mortals have too," she said and flashed a grin to Arwen, who had turned briefly from the front of the group at the mention of her name. Arwen winked back with a smile of her own then turned once again to her husband. Lothíriel smiled as well.
"So she is quite familiar with Éomer as well, I assume?" she asked again, glad that her voice remained calm and collected. And why shouldn't she, it wasn't as if she was jealous or anything. Éowyn gave Faramir a knowing look then turned to Lothíriel.
"Yes, but she isn't about to become queen of Rohan if that is what you are asking. That position is still wide open," she said and grinned broadly when Lothíriel turned a little pink. Lothíriel shot Éowyn a contemptuous look.
"No that was not what I wanted to know and it matters not if Éomer would choose Lady Helena as his queen," she retorted back. Éowyn wanted to answer but at that moment Aearon had jogged up to them and took Lothíriel's hand in his. It wasn't long before he and Éowyn were engaged in a debate why ships were much better than horses. A debate that lasted the entire length back to Meduseld. But Lothíriel was not listening. Instead she was thinking about what Éowyn had said. Why shouldn't Éomer and Helena wed? From what she had seen, Helena was quite familiar with Éomer, greeting him on a first name basis so it wouldn't such a surprise. And she was not jealous. Not one bit.
But that thought went away with the wind when she, escorted by Aearon, entered the dining hall to see Lady Helena already there beside her father, and Éomer's chief advisor Feälef. Gone was the haphazard looking girl and in its place a lady of elegance and politesse. To put it simply, she looked stunning. Like a statue Lothíriel had seen once carved by an elf craftsman. Greeting the lady, Lothíriel felt gangly and bulky, next to Helena's petite and delicate form. She subconsciously touched her hair and it felt rough to her touch, where no doubt Lady Helena's hair was like golden brown silk. Suddenly Lothíriel did not want to know the vixen anymore and practically seethed when Éomer extended his arm to escort her to their seat. And only when Aearon gave a soft cry did she realize she had dug her nails into his flesh. Flashing him an apologetic smile she took the seat next to him, the seat that she had sat with normalcy yesterday and this morn but right now was too far away from Éomer as that… golden haired beauty sat beside him. How improper, that a mere daughter of a captain should sit so high up the table when she, a princess should sit so far down.
"Sister, what is wrong? You are not eating and seem to be more preoccupied with the Lady Helena," whispered Amrothos from her other side. Lothíriel turned to him.
"How dare she position herself higher than a princess?" she hissed but made sure to keep her voice low. Amrothos gave her a surprised look. It was not like Lothíriel to be so petty. But he soon saw the cause of her anger as he watched Éomer lean towards Helena and said something that made her laugh.
"You are angry that she is higher up the table or next to Éomer?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Lothíriel's eyes widen at that.
"I do not care of that, I care more that she has disregarded protocol!" Lothíriel defended herself.
"Riel, the rules and bylaws of social etiquette are different here, she may actually deserve to be there," he said gently. Lothíriel did not say anything realizing the truth of his words. She turned back to the head of the table and saw that Éomer was now talking to Aragorn and Helena was entertaining Master Merriadoc. There didn't seem to be any hint of romance between them, just simple camaraderie. Riel, get a grip of yourself. Just friends remember, said her voice of reason causing her to sigh outwardly.
"Princess, are you okay?" Aearon asked, looking at her with concern. Lothíriel nodded.
"It is just the heat. I think it needs getting used to, but I can feel my skin tingling a little," she said. Aearon nodded.
"I agree. After three weeks here, and you too shall be as burnt as me. Why we shall have to re-dub you, the Black Swan Princess of Dol Amroth, where her ebony beauty will shame even the darkest of nights," he said dramatically. Lothíriel couldn't help laugh at that and immediately felt better. Why should she despair at not being a Lady Helena when she had Aearon to entertain her?
Gone unnoticed to the two of them, glaring over the rim of his wine goblet, was a pair of steel blue eyes belonging to the young king, in his mind several images of how he would satisfyingly extricate a certain admiral from his manhood, the next image bloodier than the previous.
End of Chapter 8
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