Chapter Fourteen
As all this was taking place in Rohan, in Dol Amroth, there was a different kind of hush all over the city as the people gathered outside the steps of the palace, some devastated, some bewildered and some in disbelief, but all diligently offering prayers that their beloved princess would wake up. The only sounds heard in the city were the mournful songs that rose from the coastlines, the sad tunes carried gently by the winds. The sky was barren and grey, the sea empty and lifeless. The beloved swans and ships that inhabited the sky and sea to a point it had somewhat become a permanent fixture of Dol Amroth instead lay quietly in their respective waterfronts, seeming as if they too had fallen into a deep slumber with their princess. Three sunrise and sunsets greeted the quiet city, each dawn bringing new hopes only to have them cruelly dashed with the setting of the sun.
Inside the palace, in a room facing the great vastness of the sea, similar prayers were ushered, as four nearly identical raven heads bent around the bed where the lifeless princess lay. They prayed day in, day out, during high tides as well as low tides, eating was too much a chore to perform so hence was temporarily forgotten. For Imrahil, history was repeating itself again. His beautiful wife too had lain motionless in their bed, the steady rising and falling of her chest the only indication that she was still with them. But that too, one cold frosty morning, had stopped, and she had left him and their children. And now, his precious daughter was threatening to join her mother and he was helpless to stop her. No amount of begging or holding her hand would make her change her mind should she decide to take that final step.
Pain clutched his old heart and a muffled sob filled the silent room. He wanted to comfort his sons, he wanted to pull all three of them into his arms, onto his lap and reassure them, tell them it was alright, things would be fine, especially Elphir who had been old enough to grieve the death of his mother once and perhaps now his sister and would no doubt be affected the worst, but how could he when he couldn't offer comfort to his own heart? His own mind and soul? How could he dry their tears when he couldn't stop his own from streaming down his cheeks? He did not deserve to be forsaken by the gods in such a manner. He did not deserve it!
But the sun set for the fourth time and with it the hopes of the prince that today would be different.
The sun rose again for the fifth time, and as usual, its rays crossed the horizon without much fanfare, slowly pushing the night away, and dimming out the stars. It was so like the other four sunrises in appearances that no one noticed at first the subtle changes. Imrahil had returned to his seat by his daughter, gently caressing her forehead, willing her to return to him. His three sons remained on the other three corners of the bed, tunics rumpled, hair messy, eyes red with lack of sleep and each sported a stubby rough beard. Neither of them noticed anything.
Suddenly, Amrothos stood up, a look of awe on his face.
"Do you feel that?" he asked his voice coarse with lack of use. The other three turned to him.
"Amer, what is it?" Elphir asked tiredly. Amrothos raised a finger to silence him and furrowed his brow, like he was concentrating hard on something.
"You do not feel it?" he asked, his tone getting louder. Erchirion, who had remained by his side rose to stand by him.
"Amer…" he began the he too stopped. The brother's exchanged looks, wonder in their eyes and, could it be? A little bit of hope as well.
"The winds have shifted," Erchirion said. Imrahil looked up at them. His sons were right. The wind had shifted and was blowing into the room, ruffling their hairs and the edges of the bed. With a show of energy that had been lacking these past days, Amrothos rushed to the window and leaned so far out, Erchirion had to grab hold of him to prevent him from toppling out. There was a smile on his face.
"The birds. The birds have graced our skies once again and the sea is no longer grey and lifeless. Look!" he beckoned to them. Elphir and Erchirion acquiesced to his request and true enough, there were swans flying gracefully in the sky and the sea was a shade of orange, red, yellow, blue and green, the surface sparkling like liquid diamonds under the new sun. It was like a veil had been lifted off their eyes allowing them to once again see color. The three brothers exchanged joyful looks then turned to their father and saw that the same anticipation blossoming in their hearts taking root in their father's eyes as well.
The sun rose steadily for a few more hours before the greatest news was delivered by one of Imrahil's councilor.
King Elessar and Queen Arwen have just passed into the city walls.
Ignoring the fact that he was hardly dressed in a state to greet his king, Imrahil rushed out to the steps to greet the arriving monarchs. Little words were exchanged between the two, and Imrahil just barely registering that Faramir was there as well, before taking King Elessar and Queen Arwen to his daughter.
Imrahil had not been present when King Elessar had healed Éowyn and Faramir and was not aware of the true power involved. Now, as he sat by Lothíriel, both hands clutching her limp ones in almost a desperate plea, he watched in amazement as King Elessar, who had Lothíriel's other hand, chant softly, his eyes closed, and his face was calm. Arwen had placed both her hands on her husband's shoulders, she too chanting softly. Imrahil couldn't tell if it was the sun's rays or the healing power itself, but a thin band of golden light began to frame the two sovereigns. He watched as the thin band moved to his daughter's frail form and began to outline her as well. And when the band reached the hand enclosed so tightly in his, Imrahil felt a jolt rush through his body, hitting him so hard his eyes blinded. But he could feel. And what he felt was his daughter's spirit in his hands.
"Father…" he heard her call softly and knew what he had to do. Using all his strength, he wrapped his fingers around the essence in his hand and pulled as hard as he could, feeling a sudden impact hit his chest forcefully. His eyes snapped back into focus and… he couldn't stop the chocked sob from escaping him as he returned the pressure from the hand that tightly gripped his own.
Lothíriel had been awake for a total of six days already, and though she was slowly beginning to regain her strength, her father insisted she remain in bed, a request which she gladly accepted, as she wasn't completely ready to let go of her father and brother's constant fawning over her. Simply said, she was having a wonderful time recovering. At that moment however, she was alone as her two younger brother had resume border patrol and Eli and her father were caught up with matters of states, leaving her to sort through the many letters and gifts that had yet to stop arriving, all of them well wishes from her people. Sighing happily, Lothíriel draped a shawl of midnight blue with silver trimmings across her shoulders, a gift from the city seamstresses and read the note that accompanied it. Somehow she would have to find the time to reply the large stack of letters she had received or perhaps once she was feeling better, she would personally thank them. Her musings was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in," she said tentatively, hoping it wasn't the healers again to poke and prod her and give her nasty tasting herbal tea. Instead of the elderly lady in a white apron and bonnet, it was her father.
"And how are you feeling today, Swan?" he asked dotingly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. She beamed up at him.
"Much better now that I have seen you," she replied and he chuckled lightly.
"Is it?" he arched an eyebrow and she nodded vigorously, widening her eyes in which she knew was nearly angelic.
"Oh yes. I do not think anything could make me feel any better than I do right now with you here," she answered, already imagining the sweet chocolate coated strawberries that would be accompanying her lunch as it always does with such compliments. Imrahil, who was quite aware of his daughter's buttering up tactics, just flicked her nose gently.
"We'll see." He said softly. "Come in, boy!"
Lothíriel gasped. And it wasn't because of the basket of lilac wild flowers that was so many it was brimming over the top and completely hiding the upper body of the holder. Or because of the green ribbon with the insignia of a white horse used to tie the flowers together. It wasn't even the brief glimpse of familiar gold hair. No, what really held her attention at that moment was the pair of hide boots, worn out with well usage, a pair of boots that she had seen so many times, especially when her head was bent low trying to hide the blush from his teasings. The pair of boots she had seen him take off several times at night in exchange for a pair of soft slippers before he settled before the fire with her and his sister.
"Éomer?" she couldn't dare to hope. That had been the only thing that she could not bring herself to ask in the days she had been awake and no one had offered any news. And now… and now, he may be right there standing right in front of her. The man staggered a little under the weight of the basket before dropping it roughly at the foot of her bed, dislodging some of the lilac petals. But she didn't notice any of it as she gazed transfixed at the familiar blue eyes, which right now were lit like a blue flare.
"Lothíriel," Éomer breathed, his voice choked. He couldn't believe she was before him, alive and well, her cheeks flushed and her complexion no longer pale and gaunt. Overwhelmed by the sight of her alive, Éomer forgot Imrahil's presence and rushed forward to wrap his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her hair, grateful to be able to once again smell the floral freshness that he had long ago associated with her, to be able to hold her in his arms and should she slap him for his boldness, then that too he will savor.
"Alright, alright, boy, that's enough. Release her before she has a relapse," Imrahil's dry tone broke the two apart.
"Yes, sir, sorry," Éomer mumbled humbly, giving Lothíriel a small smile which she shyly replied. He then took one of the seats by her bed and the three were quiet for a while, Lothíriel playing with the hem of her shawl, Imrahil casually looking out the window but once in a while shooting sharp looks at Éomer and the young king just looked uncomfortable. He appeared to open his mouth to say something but the he'd feel Imrahil's piercing gaze on him and clam up again. This happened a few more times before Lothíriel released a sigh of frustration.
"Father, you do not have to remain here. I am sure there are other important tasks that you must attend to," she said looking at him, a sweet smile on her lips. Imrahil frowned.
"No, this arrangement is fine," Imrahil said. The smile turned to a small pout.
"Father…"
"I shall be outside," he growled, casting one last glare at Éomer before walking out. Now that they were alone, Éomer's rigid composure relaxed visibly.
"Sorry about that," Lothíriel said then went beet red when Éomer reached out and took hold of her hands.
"I am sorry, Lothíriel. For everything. For hurting you, for … being the reason you are here in this state," he said, looking deep into her eyes, his own beseeching for forgiveness from her. Forgiveness that she so willingly gave.
"Do not apologize, sweet king. What I did, I did on my own free will, and no one, especially you should take blame for it," she replied softly, dislodging a hand from his grip to gently touch his cheeks. Éomer leaned into the touch, the corners of his lips grazing slightly the skin of her palms.
"Ai, but it is my fault and I must beg for your forgiveness, mŷ frëndscipë, mŷ cwën," he breathed, now dropping soft kisses onto her palm sending sparks through her body that it didn't cross her mind at all to ask what he had just said to her.
"Since you have asked so nicely, it would cruel of me to not forgive… so… um… I forgive you…Eep!" she squealed as he begun nipping at her fingers, his eyes firmly shut as if relishing the taste of her skin.
"Éomer, please… my father…" she couldn't continue as another jolt of pleasure rushed through her body, just barely managing to swallow a moan. Éomer gave a smug grin and the princess grabbed back her hand and bestowed a small slap onto Éomer's hands, her lips pouting playfully.
"My lord, we are not in Edoras anymore and here in Dol Amroth, ladies are treated with respect. Which means, dear king, there shall be no touchy-kissing, especially unchaperoned as we are right now," she huffed at him, fixing him with a stern look. But the bright twinkle in her eyes and the rosy pallor of her smooth cheeks spoke her true feelings on the matter of 'touchy-kissing'.
"Then I apologized once again, your highness," he replied contritely. Lothíriel nodded, still maintaining her prissy tone.
"I accept your apology, my lord, and you may resume holding my hand, and only hold it," she replied and held out her hand regally. At that Éomer let out a short laugh and Lothíriel couldn't help return the laugh. He took her hand in his big ones and smiled wistfully at them.
"Aye, for now I am satisfied with small touches from yourself until I have proven my worth and gain the right to do more," he said softly not looking at her, but he could sense her surprise at his words.
"Éomer… what are you saying?" she stammered. Please, enough games.
"Lothíriel, I …."
The door opened suddenly and the two jumped, immediately releasing each other's hands.
"Éomer, your entourage has arrived, would you like to meet them?" Imrahil stood at the door, taking note of the red faces before him. Perhaps it was still not too late to throw Éomer's arse out of his city. But that would mean encountering the wrath of his daughter and personally Imrahil thought even the King of Wraiths would not be able to withstand the onslaught, much less himself. Éomer cleared his throat and rose to his feet. He had momentarily forgotten about them.
"Ah, yes, I think that would be advisable," he said, trying to inject some confidence into his tone but between nearly getting caught for improper conduct by Lothíriel's father and the tongue lashing he would no doubt receive from Éowyn then Helfast for spurring his horse on a solo ride without proper escorts to the city walls, there wasn't much confidence to inject. He turned to Lothíriel and with a nod and smile followed Imrahil out leaving Lothíriel alone once again.
When Éowyn entered sometime later, she was greeted with a sleeping princess who had her right hand nestled lovingly against her cheek and a soft smile gracing her lips.
Lothíriel heard her father's laughter even before she turned the corner that would take her to her father's study. Another burst of laughter wafted through the air towards her and she could easily discern her Amrothos's slightly high pitched tone from Éomer's deep baritone ones. In a way she was relieved that neither one of her overly possessive nor more times than not unreasonable family blame Éomer for the unfortunate happenings and still treated him as a friend.
And perhaps one day as family the sneaky voice in her head teased her. Éomer's words from the morning still haunted her and she mentally willed him to explain himself hopefully sometime tonight. Finally reaching the doors to her father's study, she did a last minute check that her appearance was presentable before pushing the heavy door open.
Eight pairs of eyes turned to look at her, momentarily too stunned by her unexpected attendance to say anything. But a squeal and a sudden flurry of maroon flying across the room brought them back to reality and relieved chuckles were heard as they all watched Éowyn (the cause of the flying maroon cloth) smother Lothíriel in a hug.
"You are well, praise all that is good and pure, you are alright!" Éowyn half sobbed into her shoulder. Lothíriel, touched that the Rohirrim princess had been so concerned, returned the hug accompanied by some soothing pats on the other lady's back.
"Aye I am well, please no more tears, all is well," she cooed gently into Éowyn's ears. Éowyn nodded before pulling back and with a laugh, began to wipe her tears away. Lothíriel was right, all was well and there should be no more tears. She stepped away to reveal Helena standing patiently for her turn. A twinge of pain ripped through Lothíriel's heart seeing the small lady, knowing that the other lady had something Lothíriel badly wanted, but she repressed the feeling and bestowed Helena with a warm smile, sincerely given despite it all.
"Lady Helena, tis a pleasure to see you again," she said. Helena's eyes widen a little before she dropped into a curtsy.
"Nay your highness, the pleasure is in seeing you well and healthy," replied the petite lady and Lothíriel was a little surprised at the emotion in her voice and was surprised even more when she saw the glistening of tears in Helena's eyes as she rose from her curtsy.
"My daughter speaks true, your highness," another voice joined them and Lothíriel looked up into the smiling face of Helfast. Now, thoroughly touched by their kind words and sincere well-wishes concerning her well-being, Lothíriel blushed red and smiled. Then Helfast did something that completely took her and everyone else in that room by surprise. He knelt before her and reached down to kiss the hem of her skirt. Above his head, Éowyn and Helena exchanged astonished but extremely pleased looks, Éomer had to blink back tears at the unconditional loyalty Helfast was indirectly showing to his sovereign, and Lothíriel's brother's were simply stunned. As for Imrahil, he just leaned back in his seat. He had seen such an act of allegiance before, a long time ago when he was just a lad visiting their neighbors in the north.
Dinner in the Castle by the Sea was indeed a merry event and once again the palace was filled with laughter and songs. Not a corner in the palace was spared from music and singing that wafted in from the four corners of the city, for there was as much celebration outside the palace as there was in it. In the royal dining hall, plates and plates of food were placed on the table only to have them taken back a short time later as hungry hands reached out for the tasty morsel. Éowyn and Helena's presence did much to cheer the healing princess, for once again Éowyn had someone to moan and groan about the tedious wedding preparations with and her anecdotes were a constant source of laughter for Lothíriel.
"Would you believe, your highness that Éowyn was all prepared to sew a scabbard to the skirt of her wedding dress so she may wear her sword on the day?" Helena cried indignantly. Éowyn, on Lothíriel's other side, bristled as the other's burst into laughter.
"I am a shield maiden! Tis only proper," she protested. Helena rolled her eyes.
"Éowyn you are trying to get a man to marry you, scaring him away by wielding a sword to your own wedding will not help your case," she replied dryly. This made Lothíriel laugh louder, as a mental image of Faramir cowering before his bride filled her mind.
"Éowyn you are truly hopeless. Very well, I shall help you plan your wedding… again," Lothíriel said between her laughter. Very much delighted Éowyn wrapped her arms around Lothíriel, and to the amusement of all, she admitted that she had indeed brought all the necessary materials to complete her dress, and that three of Éomer's men, were actually seamstresses in disguise and finally, this shamefully said, that, with Imrahil's permission of course, Feälef would send enough nobles and aristocrats from Rohan to join the wedding consortium that it would seem as if they had begun from Rohan itself.
"And what would you have done, dear sister, had prince Imrahil said no, or even better, if I had said no?" Éomer asked her, shaking his head in disbelief at her story. Éowyn shrugged.
"Whether you agree or not does not concern me, dear brother, and beside Queen Arwen assured me Prince Imrahil will be alright with the idea, and you are, are you not, your highness?" Éowyn asked, smiling sweetly at the older man. Imrahil who had listened with amusement, nodded.
"I do not mind, Lady Éowyn, it will be something to look forward too, and more excuses to continue celebrating," replied Imrahil. Éowyn gave her brother a smug look and the young king gave her a much undignified look.
"Queen Arwen's involvement would explain then why she had been insistent on Faramir's immediate departure from Dol Amroth," said Elphir, suddenly thoughtful. He had been more that surprised when the Gondor queen virtually threw Faramir onto his horse and shoot her husband a death glare when Faramir relayed his wishes to remain in Dol Amroth after Lothíriel's awakening and Aragorn agreeing.
"Naturally, it is not proper for a bride to see her future husband until the wedding," said Helena and for one brief moment, she and Elphir locked eyes. But that moment passed when Imrahil stood up and beckoned everyone for an after dinner drink in one of the royal parlors. In an instant Éomer was by Lothíriel's chair, offering his arm. Flushed and pleased, Lothíriel accepted his offer, in her heart she still hoped to talk to him about his previous comments although the sudden remembrance of Helena in his life made her cagey and more than cautious.
"I must check my back for dagger marks tonight, for I distinctively felt some pierce my back from the looks your brothers gave me," he whispered to her as they walked through the brightly lit halls. Before them, Imrahil and Helfast were in an animated conversation, joined once in a while by Elphir with Lady Helena on his arm. Amrothos and Erchirion were with Éowyn, and unknown to the two, conspiring to resume their "matchmaking" albeit the two men were less than enthusiastic with very good reasons in their favor.
"My lord you exaggerate," Lothíriel laughed softly at him. "Besides, the glares you feel now are nothing compared to the looks you shall receive when you escort me to my chambers later tonight," she didn't look at him, but she could feel a small chuckle vibrate through him.
"Oh, I was not aware I am duty bound to escort your highness, but I shall endure it with a strong front," he replied and this time she chuckled.
"Truthfully, I wish to have a word with you. There is something that has been a nagging voice in my mind and I must clear it with you or I will never know peace of mind again," she replied, her tone suddenly serious. She knew she was being very forward and improper but she had to know. Éomer picked up on her seriousness and nodded.
It felt like years to the two before Prince Imrahil finally expressed his desire to retire to his chambers, therefore allowing the other's to retire as well. It took skillful maneuvering from both Éomer and Lothíriel's side to make their arrangement seem like a coincidental event and not something that had been planned out beforehand.
The two remained silent as they walked through the hall, neither saying anything but their minds whirling vigorously, one with curiosity and the other with apprehension. Finally they reached the white doors of Lothíriel's room and still the princess had not said anything.
"Princess, what is it you wished to speak to me about?" Éomer asked eventually after a few seconds of fidgeting from the two. Lothíriel nodded and bit her lip before inhaling deeply.
"What did you mean when you said previously about gaining right and proving your worth?" she blurted out. She had wanted to be tactful and eventually bring the subject up, but her nervousness got the better of her instead. Éomer visibly relaxed at her words and even chuckled softly.
"What do you think I meant, princess?" he asked, leaning against the wood of the door, not taking his eyes off her. Lothíriel fidgeted again, knowing that the look he was giving her was not appropriate but not wanting him to stop for the look made her feel… desirable. So to hide the sudden heat she felt, she frowned at him.
"I believe I asked you a question first. Please answer it," she retorted, and Éomer's grin grew but his eyes did not waver.
"It meant what it meant. I had the chance to make you mine and I let it slip through my hands. Now, with what I hope is a second chance I intend to right the wrong, prove to all and everyone that I do deserve you," he replied. Lothíriel blinked dumbly at his words. What did he just say?
"Make me yours?" she repeated still shell shocked. She couldn't believe she was hearing this. How could it be? Wasn't it too late? Helena was his betrothed; the chance had slipped them by.
"Do you remember once I told you, had I still been the Third Marshal I would court you so hard that you would have no choice but to accept me?" he asked, pushing off the wall to stand just inches away from her. Lothíriel nodded. Of course she remembered. He had kissed her that night, and she would take the memory of that night to her death bed.
"Well, its come to my attention that I am king, and do you know what that means?" he asked, the gap between them growing even smaller. Swallowing heavily Lothíriel shook her head, and only half of her knew what she was shaking her head to. The other half had lost itself in the sweet musky smell that had wafted into her nose.
"It means, dear princess that I can have anything or anyone I want. And I want you," his voice deepened and he was so close, she felt his breath against her skin and his lips… were so close… and getting closer…. Her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips claimed hers. It started of slow and closed lips, each savoring the softness pressing against each other and the warmth of their breath on each other's cheeks. Gradually the kiss deepened, and their lips molded deeply against the other causing Lothíriel to part her lips in a low moan. Éomer took this opportunity to part her lips further, letting his tongue slide in to meet hers.
Lothíriel was drowning in the sensation of the kiss. She could hardly believe that Éomer was kissing her. So many nights of only dreaming of him and now here he was, fingers entwined in her hair and he kissing her like his life depended on it. She felt like a tornado was tearing through her, lightening flashing down her spine and her body was tingling in his from the contact. Then the bit of her brain that wasn't wholly involved in that fascinating activity reminded her that he was engaged and it was not to her. Mustering all her will power, she broke the kiss and pushed him off her.
"Lothíriel?" Éomer was still reeling from the kiss and his thoughts were muddled from the ecstasy he was just experienced.
"My lord! What do you think you're doing?" she half cried, still panting a little from the kiss. Éomer smiled at her and moved closer to her again.
"I thought that was obvious, princess," he answered and moved in for another kiss but Lothíriel resolutely turned away, pushing him back again.
"That was not what I meant. Lady Helena…"
"Will make your brother a very happy man, I am sure, but let us concentrate on you and I and not on them," Éomer answered, and tried to kiss her again, but her palms were placed quite firmly on his chest, keeping him at a distance. With a sigh, Éomer pushed off her and looked warily at her.
"My brother? What does my brother have to do with your betrothed? And which one do you mean?" she asked.
"Helena broke off our engagement, and your brother, Elphir, has everything to do with it, since she left me because she loves him," he answered and watched adoringly as she processed the information.
"What?"
"Shall I explain again?"
"Curb your cheekiness, your majesty," she said.
"Éomer,"
"Pardon me?"
"My name is Éomer. I would like you to use it," came the wry reply.
"Very well, Éomer. So you and Helena are no longer arranged to be wed?" he nodded his head.
"Because she wished to wed Eli?" another nod.
"So the… um, what we just did was alright?"
"Yes, no laws were broken, no hearts betrayed," he answered. Lothíriel nodded. Seeing that she no longer had any questions, he reached out and pulled her closer to him. She went to him without anymore fuss.
"Are you done?" he whispered. She nodded her eyes transfixed to his lips.
"May I kiss you again?" he asked and laughed softly at the vehemence of her nod. He leaned forward and gently his lips roamed her face, kissing her eyelids, nose, jaw, hair, sending sparks of pleasure rushing through her. He repeated this until she felt like bursting with frustration, for she wanted to feel his lips on hers again. Sensing her distress he gave in and with more passion he kissed her. They remained like that till Lothíriel reluctantly pulled back, her need for air greater than her desire to live her whole life joined to his lips.
"Lothíriel, I want to start over," he whispered, tightening his hold of her body.
"Start over?" she asked, resting her head against his chest, her arms wrapping itself around his neck, a finger playing with a lock of hair.
"Aye, I wish to court you. I want to make you fall in love with me," he said and Lothíriel inhaled deeply. It was the first time tonight he had spoken of love.
"Fall in love with you? What makes you think I have not already done that?" she asked.
"Nay, do not tell me what you feel yet. Let me show you what I feel in my heart, show you my intentions are honourable and then if you still feel the same…" he couldn't finish the sentence. Was this a mistake? Should he marry her now rather than wait? But what if she decided as he courted her that she didn't like him after all? His life would end if she came to that conclusion.
"Éomer, what I feel can never change. Court me a hundred times over if you wish, but my answer to you at the end will always be the same," she replied and pulled back slightly to look at him.
"And what would that answer be?" he asked. She opened her mouth to answer but then closed it again. She released herself from his hold and retreated to the door of her room, a mischievous smile on her lips.
"You'll have to wait till the end wouldn't you?" she replied and opened her door. Éomer started to protest, but she silenced him with a look.
"Good night, Éomer," she said and with a smile she slipped into her room, leaving the king to stand alone in the hallway. Grinning, Éomer just shook his head, staring at the white door but seeing Lothíriel's face.
"Your majesty?" a sudden voice brought him out of his thoughts. He turned abruptly and met face to face with Erchirion and Amrothos.
"Prince Erchirion, Prince Amrothos, you are still awake," he said, hiding his true emotions behind a wall of calmness.
"As are you, my lord. Are you lost?" Amrothos asked.
"Err… no. I was… just about to head to my chamber actually," he said.
"Let us accompany you then," Erchirion offered. Éomer's eyes widen at that. He was still a little guarded of the three brother's attitude towards him, and had chosen to not take their calm appearance at face value.
"No, that is not necessary…"
"Your majesty we insist!"
"Very well, err… thank you,"
It was a silent walk to Éomer's assigned chambers, the two brothers's flanking Éomer on both side and Éomer felt like he was walking to his execution, so thick was the tension between them. So when they reached his room, Éomer couldn't help release a sigh of relief. He turned to thank the brother's again but just as he was about to enter his room, he felt a hand grip his arm, holding him back. He turned to face Erchirion, Amrothos just there by his shoulder, both their faces grim.
"We do not know what divine powers grace your being to allow you this second chance with our sister, but hear this Éomer King, hurt her again and not even your crown will stop us from feeding you to the sharks," Erchirion said, his tone neutral but Éomer saw the threat in his eyes. Éomer had no idea what a shark was but he knew he did not want to find out.
"If I should be so stupid to do so, then I myself shall bare my chest to your sword willingly," he replied with equal gravity.
"It is understood then," Erchirion said. Éomer nodded and waited for what else to be said to him. He did not expect instead the two to break into a huge grin.
"Wonderful. We shall leave you to your rest then, for if Lothíriel is as difficult with you as she is with us, then you shall need all your energy to court her successfully," Amrothos said cheerfully.
"Good night, Éomer king," Erchirion said and with a thump to his back, the two brother's walked away in the direction of their own rooms already engaged in rowdy bantering. Éomer stared after them a while, not really knowing what to make of all that then deciding to not make anything of it at all. As the saying goes, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Turning back to his room, he smiled to himself. The next couple of days will no doubt be very interesting.
The sun was well on its way to high noon when Helena decided to break away from Lothíriel, Éowyn, the seamstresses and their many yards of silk and cloth to experience first hand the beauty of the city. She wandered the sandy streets with no particular destination in mind, marvelling at how different her home and Lothíriel's home was. Not for the first time, Helena felt a sense of awe and admiration for the princess who would one day have to leave her home and her family to reside for the remaining of her life in a foreign land, her husband's home. Just the thought of being away from her father and Rohan made her stomach churn painfully. To never see the grass glow with a golden hue during the early hours of the day and later in the late of day when the sun sets, to not be able to smell fresh hay or the earthy smell of horses, not waking up to the rambunctious singing of her father or possibly never seeing him as often as she wanted… that was a life she couldn't bear to live. The only thing that could convince her otherwise would have to be nothing short of a miracle happening or ….
Elphir.
Her mind drew a sudden blank, and all thoughts of home and fathers disappeared. The noisy chatter of the people, the chirping of the birds and the crashing of waves against the shore had suddenly become silent, like it had all ceased to exist. All she saw was him… bending over a trough of water, his idle sword by his feet a sure sign of his prior activities. Her eyes followed the steady flow of water trickling down his broad chest, disappearing into the waist of his leggings. Sighing softly, almost in hopeless longing, reality returned to her and realised that she should make her presence scarce before anyone noticed. It was insane how strongly she felt for the prince, when she barely knew him. But she knew this was more than infatuation or even lust. She knew it was love that she felt. But it was a doomed romance, her story, destined to be lost before it had even been found.
"Sad is your fate, to reject a king's ransom for a brief interlude in the shadow of man who wouldn't spare you a look," she said softly to herself. A shrill cry from above her head, beckoned her to lift her gaze and for a while her sad mood lifted to see a flock of wild swans fly above, their white wings reflecting the sun's rays like gold, except one. In the midst of the sparkling white swans was a single black swan, its ebony darkness contrasting strongly against the rest, the feathers absorbing the rays to give a light gold sheen, its neck the most graceful and slender. The vision was mesmerising, and for a while Helena stood transfixed at the sight. And when the flock passed her by, a strange feeling warmed her from the inside and made her turn back to the young prince. Her path was spread before her and all she had to do was chose which road she would take… but not before trying out all her choices. What did she have to lose? If she erred, then she will return to Rohan and turn her back to her mistake. She was never one to wallow in regret anyways.
The warmth within her changed to determination that steeled her back and before she had a chance to really analyse her actions, she began walking to the prince, not once taking her eyes off his bent back. The loud splashes hid the sounds of her steps and with an unwavering look on her face she reached and lightly tapped his shoulder. The next moment she found herself gasping for breath as Elphir swung around and knocked her into the trough. Both of them were very surprised.
"Lady Helena! Are you hurt? Sweet Valar I am sorry, but you should never sneak up on a person like that!" Elphir cried after a moment of staring in total shock at her spluttering form. He held out his hand to help her but was roughly pushed aside. Helena was wiping her eyes and looking at her soaked gown.
"Tell me do you treat all the ladies like your war horse or am I especially lucky?" she spat, placing her hands by the side of the trough in an attempt to raise herself, but her feet slipped and she fell under again. She broke surface for the second time, spluttering just as hard and looked up at Elphir's amused face. His arms were folded as he thoroughly took in her state.
"You are laughing at me! How dare you!" she hissed, now enraged, and wishing she were in reach of his sword. How she would love to swing it at his head. With a soft chuckle, Elphir reached down for her submerged waist and lifted her completely out of the water. Helena glared at him, trying her best to muster whatever left of her pride but from the laughter in his eyes, she knew he found her incensed expression even funnier.
"Do you plan to hold me till I dry or will let me go and allow me to salvage whatever is left of my pride?" she asked, her anger ebbing away as she suddenly realised she had a very good view of his naked chest. And what a chest it was.
"Of course my lady. Forgive me," Elphir said quickly and placed her back to her feet. They were silent, each not trying to look at each other and trying to think of something to say.
"So… is there something you wish from me, Lady Helena?" Elphir broke the silence. Helena wanted to nod. Yes, I do wish for something, Prince Elphir. Your heart. But of course she couldn't say that.
"I was simply taking a stroll down that lane and came upon yourself and decided to wish you a good morning. Should I have known I would be attacked, I would have don on my father's armour beforehand," she replied instead, pointing to a narrow gravel road that connected the castle to the seashore. Elphir chuckled at her words then flicked a glance to the midday sun. Helena saw it and flushed a little.
"Ah, it would seem that my greeting has come too late. Morning has passed," she said sheepishly. Elphir gave her a lopsided grin.
"Yes, it would seem so. But don't despair. You are in time to wish me a good afternoon, if you wish," he answered.
"You are right. Well, good afternoon, Prince Elphir," she said with a small laugh.
"And good afternoon to you too, Lady Helena," he replied with a flourish bow that caused her to laugh louder and a little of the nervousness in her heart lifted.
"And now that you have wished me, how else may I be of service," he said after a moments break. Still a little high from their easy bantering, Helena's tongue relaxed a little more than it should.
"Actually there is something I have to tell you," she said before realising that she had slipped and the apprehension returned two folds. Elphir looked at her questioningly.
"And that would be?" he prompted. Playing with the soaked cloth of her gown, Helena's eyes darted about trying to find a way out. She hadn't meant to say it like that. She wanted to drop hints, not blurt everything out. Knowing Elphir and his sense of propriety, he would just be disgusted by her forwardness and that would set her back even further. Then her eyes fell on his abandoned sword.
"Have you just finished training, your highness?" she asked hoping he would take her bait. He looked a little puzzled at the sudden change of conversation and turned to the sword.
"Err, yes, I have. Every morning, some of my men and myself train along the shores. The sea breeze clears our heads and sharpens our concentration," he replied. Helena nodded in understanding.
"Actually a few of King Éomer's men had joined us this morning," he continued before growing silent, his face contemplating something.
"Forgive me if I am intruding… but you and Éomer are no longer betrothed?" he asked. Helena shook her head to show that she didn't mind the question.
"Nay, we are not. How can I marry him when he is obviously in love with your sister?" she said amiably. Elphir's face darkened a little at that. It was obvious that even though he had declared truce he still harboured a little animosity to the young king.
"Aye… that is most unfortunate," he replied and Helena had a feeling he was referring to Éomer and Lothíriel being in love and not to her.
"I think it is a beautiful match. They are very well matched," she said. Elphir sighed.
"Yes they are… I suppose. But Rohan is so far away," he said softly. Helena's heart ached as she watched the sadness creep into his eyes.
"Distance is a small price to pay for the happiness of a loved one," she said gently, hoping to soothe him a little. It appeared to work as he gave her a smile, and his stormy eyes were a little less dull.
"Aye, you are right. She is happy and I treasure that above all rest," he said.
"You are a good man, Prince Elphir of Dol Amroth," Helena said this time openly staring at him. He flushed a little at her compliment but returned her gaze head on. However, a sudden chill blew in from the sea causing Helena to shiver.
"You are cold! I am so thoughtless," Elphir cried, breaking the moment the two had shared by moving away to a nearby pole and grabbing the cloak that had been hung on it. He carefully draped it over her cold body and secured the pin at the neck, ensuring that she was completely covered.
"Thank you," she said beginning to grow shy. It was such a personal gesture from him, to lend her his cloak while he stood half undressed before her. He just shrugged his shoulder and tried not to look too pleased with himself.
"That is okay. Just wished I had thought of it sooner," he replied and to her delight, she saw his ears turn pink.
"Perhaps I should head back to the palace and change to something dry," she said. Elphir nodded… and did she see a jolt of disappointment in his eyes. No… she must have been mistaken.
"Aye, that would be wise," he replied. She nodded and made a move to leave.
"Lady Helena!" Helena turned back. She was already a good distance away from him.
"Yes?"
"You said you had something to tell me," was his reply. She nodded, aye she had said that.
"I only wished to say that a man with a noble heart like you should be rewarded and that yours is right before you," she said. He was a little confused but then smiled wryly.
"Oh, and pray tell, what is this something before me that is to be my reward for having a noble heart?" he asked.
"Not something, my lord, but someone. Good day," she replied then swiftly turned back and quicken her steps. She did not look back to him but continued her quick pace all the way back to the palace. Only once she had entered the marble walls did she slow down to a normal pace. Upon rounding a corner, she was met by the other two princes of Dol Amroth.
"Greetings, Lady Helena," Amrothos greeted her, and followed by his brother.
"Greetings your highnesses," she replied with a smile. If the two were curious about her wet condition, they hid it well.
"Have you just returned from a walk, my lady?" Erchirion asked. Helena nodded.
"Aye, this is a beautiful place. But if I may be excused, I must return to my chambers," she said and the two men nodded. With a small curtsy she resumed her walk back to her room, leaving the two to stare at her back. Erchirion and Amrothos continued their walk in the direction she had come from when Amrothos suddenly stopped. He turned to his brother, a look of wonder on his face.
"Was that not Eli's cloak?" he asked. The two brothers shared a look and promptly turned to look out the window where in direct line of their vision was their eldest brother, heir to the City by the Sea, sitting at the edge of the water through, staring into nothing and wearing an expression of utter bewilderment.
The clean salty sea air was a refreshing change from the stifling four walls where Lothíriel had spent most of the morning sewing pieces of cloth together. Leaning a little over the edge she was able to feel the gentle spraying of the sea water against her face, and the saltiness of its taste in her mouth. She was glad that Aearon's fleet had docked in earlier than expected and her father had suggested a day at sea. Food and drinks had been prepared with a rush, and after some last minute instructions to a newly assembled crew, the royal family and their royal guest had boarded one of the smaller ships, a vessel designed for leisure trips, for a day of fun and sun. A sudden grab from behind shook her out of her musing and Lothíriel felt herself being pulled against a masculine chest. Rolling her eyes, she put on an annoyed glare and turned to stare to the man.
"Éomer, if you can not stay on your feet then take a seat," she said, turning to face him, as he continued to hold her, while trying to maintain his balance. This had been going since they had set sail. Lothíriel just couldn't understand how someone so skilful on a horse could not even stand straight on a ship. Both needed skill and grace but whatever dexterity Éomer had displayed while riding had completely disappeared since he stepped foot on deck.
"And shame myself in front of him? Never," Éomer growled back, slowly releasing his hold of her and attempting to gain his footing again. Lothíriel knew who him meant, and risked a glance to Aearon who was steering the ship, a look of contentment on his face as he stared into the horizon. When he had first arrived, Lothíriel warned him to not bait the Rohan king and so far Aearon had kept his promise by not engaging her in a private discussion before the young king although she saw the amused smile he kept sending Éomer, who did not seem very happy to see the admiral. But so far, the day had passed without any confrontation from either if them.
A sudden lurch from the vessel and Lothíriel found herself once again wrapped in his arms. Honestly she didn't mind, in fact enjoyed the closeness, but she really didn't want to test the patience of her father and brothers, especially Elphir. It was a miracle that her eldest brother hadn't made any attempts to throw Éomer into the sea for this was not the first time Éomer had made a grab for her. And she really didn't think Éomer's excuse of losing balance would earn him any sympathy from her over protective brother.
"Éomer, go and sit," she said, her voice muffled in his tunic. Sighing again, she placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him upright. He released her with a pout.
"Anyone looking would think you did not like touching me," he said sulkily.
"That is not true and you know it. It just isn't proper that's all," she replied quickly and gently trailed a finger across his cheek to show that she did indeed like touching him. That gesture placated him and his pout turned into a smile.
"When we are alone then," he said and winked mischievously at her before making his way, with small staggering baby steps to the main group, where his sister and friends stood talking. It took the two quite a while, with Éomer constantly stumbling on his footing and reaching out to pull Lothíriel closer to him. Silently, Lothíriel felt Éomer didn't mind the continuous stumbling as long he had her to grab to. How this was suppose to be a courtship she had no idea.
"Éomer, when my sons were small and first stepped foot onto a ship, I would tie a rope to their middle and secure the other end to that mast over there to help them balance. Would you like me to do the same for you?" Imrahil said as the two approached.
"Ha-ha. Your humour amuses me so," Éomer replied wryly, eliciting a laugh from Éowyn. She too was a little surprised at her brother's inability to walk straight.
"It would give poor Lothíriel some time away from having to baby-sit you and make sure you do not fall overboard," Éowyn added.
"Best to make the rope as short as possible as well," continued Helfast and there was more laughter when Éomer tried to take a swing at his captain but failing miserably when he stumbled again and missed.
"Alright, alright, you have made your point," grumbled Éomer at them.
"Come, no more teasing Éomer. I believe it is time for some lunch. Father?" Lothíriel said quickly, and her father catching on nodded. He signalled to Amrothos and Erchirion to carry out the large picnic basket containing a leg ham, some freshly baked bread, seasoning and a large bottle of wine with crystal glasses. Éowyn, Lothíriel and Helena then began preparing the sandwiches and passed them to the men. After all had been served, Lothíriel remembered that Aearon had not yet received his.
"Father, I shall send some food to Aearon as well, is that alright?" Lothíriel addressed her father. But before he could say anything Éomer turned to her, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.
"Why? He can come down and get it himself," Éomer snapped. Lothíriel returned his look with a venomous one of her own.
"Éomer, do not start," she warned.
"I am not starting anything, I am simply saying…" but he was cut off when she shot an exceptionally deadly look. Knowing the discussion was close to debate, he turned around and stared at the sea. Sighing softly, Lothíriel picked up the sandwich which Helena had prepared and began her ascend to the upper deck where Aearon was still steering the ship.
"Aearon, I have brought you some lunch," she said as she climbed the last of the steps and walked to him.
"Thank you, but you shouldn't have. I do not want to stir anything between you and King Éomer," he said taking the bread from her, but still keeping one hand on the wheel.
"Don't be silly. Nothing has been stirred, he'll get over it," she replied and smiled. "Besides, he's courting me, so he can not be angry with me for long," she continued. Aearon gave an "ah" look.
"I see, rule number one in courting is it?" he asked and she nodded laughing a little. He bit into his sandwich and the two were quiet for a while.
"The view is so much more beautiful from high up here. There isn't anything you can't see beyond the ship," sighed Lothíriel. Aearon nodded, knowing exactly how she felt.
"You speak words of truth, princess; one could feel like he is just one step away from heaven when standing high up here. But I think today's point of interest lies a little closer to home," he said. Lothíriel looked at him questioningly, but he just smiled and looked pointedly at the deck below them, where her family and friends had positioned themselves along the railing, and were talking merrily to each other. There was nothing out of the odds and she couldn't see what Aearon had meant.
"I do not understand," she said, still looking at the deck below. The upper deck had been built in such a way that the people on it were hidden from below but the deck below could be seen at all angles from above. Aearon gave a small chuckle.
"Do you not think it is rather mysterious how preoccupied Elphir is this beautiful day? And how he remained oblivious to umm, King Éomer's rather unsubtle attempts of being near you?" he hinted further. Lothíriel shifted her gaze to Elphir and saw that he was indeed lost in his own thoughts even though Helfast and Erchirion had engaged him in a discussion. And for someone who lived for open debates, Elphir's sudden change of attitude was strange. She continued to stare at him when she noticed something. If she hadn't particularly been paying attention to him, she would have missed his very quick and very brief glance at… Lady Helena. Not quite sure she had seen what she thought she saw, she watched him a little and longer… and there it was. Another quick glance to her.
"He's being doing that the entire time," Aearon's voice pulled her away from her analysing.
"Well, I… I didn't see that coming," she breathed, still a little unable to believe what she saw. It wasn't that she didn't like Helena, and she was aware of Helena's feeling to Elphir courtesy of Éomer, she just didn't think her brother would reciprocate the feeling. Elphir was so… stiff and Helena was nothing like that at all. She just doesn't seem like the woman Elphir would marry, that is all.
"She'd be good for him," Aearon said again.
"But they are so different," she gasped.
"And that is why they would be good together. Elphir's grounded attitude will stop her from flying all over the place and Helena's cheerfulness will prevent Elphir from working to his death. Yes, they are very well suited," explained Aearon and after seeing it that way, Lothíriel slowly understood how it could be possible.
"Well, I am glad. Helena is a wonderful lady and I can't think of anyone better," she said. Aearon laughed at that.
"Ah, as long as she is not marrying your man, then she is the best of everything is it?" he said and blushing a little Lothíriel laughed as well. Aearon did have a point. But he could say whatever he wanted, Éomer wanted to marry her and that is all that matters. Still smiling to herself, she turned her gaze to the man in question, who was leaning against the mast, a goblet in his hands. He was alone and looked to be contemplating something. She was about to go join him when he suddenly pushed of the towering pillar and began walking to where the wine casket was placed. Lothíriel held her breath and hoped someone would notice and help him should he stumble. But the other's were involved amongst themselves and didn't notice. Surprisingly though, Éomer made it to the casket without much wobbling and even managed to refill his glass without spilling anything.
Unexpectedly, the ship hit into a big wave causing it to jerk abruptly to one side that even Aearon lost his footing a little. But Lothíriel didn't see that. No, her eyes were fixed on Éomer, who, still holding the wine bottle in his hand, had managed to brace himself neatly against the onslaught and didn't seem perturbed at all. Thinking he had been lucky, she watched him some more, and a second time the ship jerked abruptly and for the second time Éomer managed to maintain footing. In fact he didn't seem to be having any difficulty walking on the moving ship at all. Realisation dawned on her. He had been faking it! He could walk smoothly but he had been pretending that he couldn't and …. Anger took over and with a swish of her dress she stomped back to the lower deck, ignoring Aearon's gleeful smile.
She continued walking till she was right behind him, not caring that her angry face had caught everyone else's attention and jabbed his back forcefully with her finger. Éomer turned with a start, and when he saw her his eyes widen momentarily before he promptly fell on his backside. Instantly, Helfast and Imrahil started laughing, while Éowyn just shook her head.
"Nice try, but I know you can walk properly," Lothíriel hissed at his fallen form. Hearing that Éomer grinned sheepishly but Lothíriel was unwavering. She stood towering over him, her arms crossed and Éomer knew he had to start explaining.
"Lothíriel, darling… I can explain. I just managed to …. umm … walk… properly… umm…" he stammered. Lothíriel's eyes narrowed and all of a sudden she didn't feel like listening to his excuse and swiftly turned heel to walk away. She didn't get far when she felt her arm being grabbed and herself swung around.
"Release me," she ordered, not looking at him.
"No." and the next minute she was pressed against a wall, and he pressed against her.
"Riel, please don't be angry," his voice was soft and pleading, but she refused to let up so easily.
"You deliberately made a fool of me," she said and hated the way her voice began to quiver. Immediately his arms tightened around her and she felt a kiss being dropped on her forehead.
"No, no, my love, that was not my intention at all. I would never make a fool of you, never. I just… dammit, Lothíriel, how can you expect me to be so close to you and not touch you? Do you not know how my whole body cries for your touches? Even a brief touch fills me with such ecstasy and joy, and I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to hurt you, or trick you, I just want to feel you," he said looking straight into her eyes. Seeing the sincerity and the pain, her anger slowly began to die.
"Alright I believe you," she said.
"Do you forgive me?" he asked.
"Yes, I do," she replied and his smile was so wide, it dissolved the remaining anger and she returned it fully.
"May I kiss you?" he asked again, and she nodded.
"That would be advisable," she said and he softly chuckled. Leaning in he caught her lips in a soft and sweet kiss which she willingly returned. All had been forgiven.
End of Chapter 14
(10,387 words)