Notes: I'm trying not to think about all the schoolwork I should be doing, because this is a much better way to spend a snow-day!
Lady Hades: You're the only one who picked up on that, but yes, there is a boy I have a crush on that inspired this story (along with lady scribe of avandell's plot idea!). Sorry to say, this is a shameless excuse for me to write out my struggles ;)
Several mornings later, Lothiriel studied her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She was going riding in a few minutes with Eowyn, Faramir, and Ulthasos, the lord and captain of the host that had escorted them from Minas Tirith. Eomer was going as well.
Normally, for a day of riding (and, undoubtedly, racing), Lothiriel would have worn her old brown split skirt and a plain blouse, but because the King would be accompanying them she wanted to look her best. The deep green habit was tempting but, she felt, much too obvious, so she had settled on a royal blue dress that was boring and serviceable, but complimented her coloring and was more form-fitting than the brown. Her hair was plaited and pinned up, which, smoothed as it now was with water, looked nice, but Lothiriel knew that the minute she stepped outdoors the wind would blow it into a frizzy disarray that would be most unbecoming. Still, short of cutting it off, there was nothing she could do about it.
How she longed to be beautiful! Lothiriel was doomed, she thought, to spend the rest of her days envying Queen Arwen's grace and regality, and Eowyn's vivacious spirit. She knew she lacked both. Oh, she wasn't homely, by any means, but when she was in love with a King, who could have any woman he wanted as his wife.
And that woman will certainly not be plump, with frizzy brown hair and freckles and a big nose and eyes that are neither blue nor gray. She will be lovely and blonde, with a flawless complexion and piercing sapphire eyes and a willowy figure. Not only that, but she will surely be delicate and graceful with a laugh like silver bells, and carry herself with dignity and poise…in short, the exact opposite of me.
I will be nice. Lothiriel told herself firmly. I will be friendly, and I will laugh, and I will make jokes. I will be myself and I will forget all about Eomer and his stupid, beautiful green eyes.
Of course, it didn't work. From the moment he greeted her outside the stables, she was lost. Eomer, Eowyn, and Faramir were all waiting for her
"I bid you a good morning, Princess." Eomer said politely.
"My Lord," she replied, forcing a cheerful smile onto her face and adding a chipper attempt at conversation, "'Tis not merely good, but beautiful! If it were not for the wind it would be perfect." Lothiriel, remembering her resolutions, looked the king in the eye quickly. She could not hold his gaze for long without blushing.
"But Princess, the wind today is quite calm. Hardly more than a gentle breeze, I would say." Eomer gave her a small smile.
Don't you dare blush! "Surely you are not being serious?" Lothiriel asked just as a gust from the North caught them full force, whipping her skirt into a frenzy around her knees.
Eomer nodded, his smile widening into a full-fledged grin. Clearly, he was enjoying her discomfort. For the first time, Lothiriel found herself slightly irritated by the man. It brought him, momentarily, anyway, down to a more approachable level.
"Well I shall simply write my intent of maintaining a well-groomed appearance off as a lost cause, then, and concentrate on enjoying my stay in your fair country!" Eomer laughed at Lothiriel's outburst.
Faramir spoke up. "Women spend too much time worrying about the way they look, anyway." Without bothering to help Eowyn to mount (Faramir had learned that lesson after making the mistake only once) swung gracefully onto his horse. Lothiriel felt a twinge of wistful appreciation at his skill. She herself was uncomfortable riding horses. She always felt as though she was going to tumble right off the saddle onto the ground, so she was never able to relax. She did love horses, though, and would spend spare moments at home in the stables, stroking their necks and telling them how beautiful they were.
With one easy movement that made Faramir look like an ungainly little boy, Eowyn was soon astride her mare. Lothiriel was used to being intimidated by her friend's skill, but when Eomer mounted he made even his sister look like an amateur. The man simply became a part of the horse…or was the horse already part of him? It was impossible to tell, so natural were their movements.
Her companions looked down at her expectantly, and Lothiriel realized she was delaying them. Nevertheless, she balked at the idea of these accomplished people watching her climb awkwardly into the saddle. So she stalled.
"Where is Ulthasos, do you suppose?" She asked, looking around her. There were many Rohirrim milling about, some in armor, others dressed for mucking out stables.
"He cannot come." Eowyn answered her. Lothiriel's heart sped up. She had counted on talking to the young man to distract herself from the King of Rohan. "He is slightly ill this morning. He sent word that it is nothing serious, merely an inconvenience."
Perceptive as always, Faramir read the subtle signs of panic in her face, but interepreted them wrongly. "Do not worry, cousin. You will be safe enough without the Captain. We will not go far from the city."
Lothiriel bristled. "I am not a delicate courtier, Faramir. I was not worried about matters of safety in the slightest."
Faramir wisely let the matter drop. Her dignity bruised, Lothiriel pulled herself onto her horse, keeping her head high and her back straight all the while. She stared straight ahead as they set out, her pursed lips daring anyone to comment on her riding ability.
Eowyn dropped back to ride next to her friend, pulling her out of hearing distance from Faramir and Eomer. "Relax, Lothiriel. What is the matter with you?"
"I am doing it again, aren't I? Acting standoffish and stuck up? I am sorry, Eowyn." Lothiriel said glumly, her shoulders drooping.
"Yes." Eowyn said bluntly.
Lothiriel smiled. "Thank you for putting it so tactfully, Eowyn. You always know how to spare my feelings."
Eowyn laughed. "And you are the only one besides Faramir and my brother that can always make me smile. I think perhaps your entire family is joyful, for your father is the same way. Always ready to be the best of friends with anyone. But despite that, a brilliant war commander as well."
Now it was Lothiriels turn to giggle. "I will be certain to tell him that when he arrives! Atar likes to think of himself as an imposing and formidable Lord of Gondor." She was quiet for a moment. "But he has considered you a daughter since the day he saw them carrying you into the city, Eowyn. And I want you to know that if I had a sister, I would want her to be like you."
There was a minute of companionable silence before Eowyn was attacked by a fit of laughter louder than any she had yet had. Lothiriel raised her eyebrows and teased her.
"What is the matter, Eowyn? Do you not wish to be my sister?"
"No, no!" Eowyn gasped between giggles. "I just realized…if you were my sister, then Eomer would be your brother!"
True to form, Lothiriel blushed.