It was a beautiful wedding.
Lothiriel spent most of it watching Eomer. As the Maiden Attendant to the bride, she had an excellent view of the proceedings, and after Eomer placed Eowyn's hand in Faramir's, he stood right next to her.
Really, how could she pass up such an opportunity?
She had to be subtle about it, though. As embarrassing as it would have been for Eomer to discover her feelings for him, it would be immeasurably worse if any of the Gondorian nobles, her father and brothers included, who had arrived two days beforehand for the wedding, noticed. Lothiriel shuddered at the thought. They would find themselves in the midst of political rigmarole before they knew what hit them. So she contended herself with fleeting, casual glances and 'accidental' eye contact, and when the dancing started she deliberately snuck outside so she would be spared the agony of a polite dance with Eomer.
And to spare him, she had to admit, the agony of dancing with her and her two left feet.
The gardens at Meduseld were more functional than ornamental, but the staff went to great pains to see that they were at least eye pleasing. Fruit trees bordered pathways through beds of vegetables and herbs. A few shrubs were interspersed with small flowerbeds here and there, and tall stone walls shielded the area from the wind. After a few minutes of wandering, Lothiriel found herself near a small well. A grouping of trees nearby cast black shadows in the night. It was so dark that she didn't notice the archway in the wall until she heard voices.
Lothiriel slipped back into the trees, intending to leave the speakers to their private conversation. Her intentions were arrested, however, when she heard her name and recognized the two men talking.
"What about Princess Lothiriel, then? She's a nice girl," Erulehton's distinctive voice floated out of the archway. Lothiriel heard the crunch of boots on gravel.
"Yes, she is nice, but as you say, she's a girl."
There was amusement in Erulehton's voice when he replied, dryly, "Well, if you aren't interested in females that would explain why I'm having such a hard time getting you married off. You should have said something sooner."
Eomer uttered something remarkably akin to a growl. "You know quite well it's not like that, Erulehton." They stopped next to the well, Not two yards away, Lothiriel froze in her hiding place, trying to breathe quietly. Eomer continued, "I'm still getting used to being King. The idea of marrying some immature girl I barely know just for political stability is something I know I'll eventually have to come to terms with, but to be frank, the concept is nauseating. Right now I just want to concentrate on keeping this country together."
Erulehton was silent for a moment. "I'll respect your wishes then, my Lord," he said seriously before reverting to his usual manner, "but tell me, what do you have against the lovely Lothiriel?"
"What? I don't have anything against her. She's a very nice, friendly, good influence for my sister. I hope they remain friends."
"Then what did you mean earlier?"
"Oh, that? I just meant that the Princess seems very young, very little-girlish. By the Valar, she can barely ride a horse! If anyone swung a sword at her she'd probably scream and cover her eyes, or worse, faint dead away. No…she makes a fine family friend, but I would never marry a girl like that. Come on, we'd best be getting back." Eomer and Erulehton left the way they had come, through the archway that, Lothiriel vaguely realized, led to a side door in Meduseld.
He thinks I'm a little girl! She sank to the ground, a dull ache starting in her chest. Stinging tears filled her eyes. An immature little girl who would faint if I was attacked! How could I be so stupid as to think he might care for me? Lothiriel took a ragged breath, helpless to stop herself from crying. As the tears coursed down her face, she thought they must be drops of her broken heart.
Ulthasos had been sent by Prince Imrahil to find the Princess. He had been secretly thrilled with the duty. It would give him the chance to speak with Lothiriel again.
Ulthasos supposed he had been in love with the Princess for four years now. He remembered clearly the day she had turned eighteen. There had been a ball, and a ceremony whereupon her father recognized her as an adult member of the royal family, and conferred upon her the duties her mother had held, until such time as she married and moved away. As Princess of Dol Amroth, she was also given a private guard to see to her safety whenever she left the city and Ulthasos, an up-and-coming soldier and son of a nobleman, was given the honor.
In an ancient ceremony, the Princess had presented him with a sword, symbolizing his duty to protect her life in exchange for the privileges of nobility. She had looked so beautiful, Ulthasos recalled with longing, standing there proud as could be in her blue and silver court robes, so young and innocent and sweet.
He found her sitting against a tree, dirt-stained, her face still wet with tears.
"Princess!" He grasped his sword and knelt beside her. "What happened? Are you all right? Have you been hurt?" If anyone had attacked his princess, Ulthasos would kill him. Plain and simple.
The Princess sniffed and looked up at him. She met his eyes and looked away. "N-no, Ulthasos, I'm fine. I…I've just received word that a dear friend of mine is ill. We must leave for home right away. Tomorrow at dawn."
She was lying, of course. But he could hardly accuse her of doing so. Ulthasos loved his position, but sometimes it was a strain on his self-control not to take the Princess in his arms and keep her safe. He sighed.
"As you wish, Princess. I will speak to your father, and…"
"No!" Lothiriel jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm. "I shall tell father. Please go ready the soldiers I came here with, Ulthasos. I will take care of the rest. Thank you."
Ulthasos nodded and reluctantly walked back towards Meduseld.
Lothiriel didn't like lying to her father and brothers, and she hated lying to Eowyn on her wedding night. But she couldn't very well cry on her friend's shoulder tonight- this was her day, after all. So she made a quiet exit to go pack, and said a guilty farewell to Eowyn before turning in for the night.
Unfortunately, Faramir caught her on her way to her chamber.
"All right, cousin. What really happened? What are you running away from?"
"Shouldn't you be with your new wife, Faramir? It's getting late…you should be on your way to the bridal chamber!" Goodness, where had that come from? Lothiriel was surprised. She never said things like that.
Faramir had the grace to blush- and the insight to wonder at Lothiriel's uncharacteristic teasing. "You can lie to everyone else, but not to me."
"You're using the Sight, aren't you? Faramir, you promised never to do that to me!"
"I can't help it! Your emotions are running so hard right now that I can't block them out. Just tell me what's made you so upset. I know it has to do with Eomer."
Lothiriel froze. Slowly, she spoke. "Yes, it does. But it's not his fault, Faramir. Even I have to admit that. It's my own doing. I was foolish enough to let myself fall for him, and I have only myself to blame for my disappointment."
Faramir studied her face. He could feel her pain, her sadness- but there was something else there, too. Steel in her gray-blue eyes. Stubbornness in her chin. A determined set to her mouth.
Excellent. She was plotting something.
"You know, Lothiriel, these past years I have worried about you. I thought perhaps the duties your father gave you were too much, too soon. But whatever it is he did, Eomer inadvertently brought out the old Lothiriel. So this plan you have up your sleeve- whatever it may be- I hope it goes well." With that, Faramir returned to the crowd.
Lothiriel was left staring after him. Why did Faramir have to be so cryptic?
She hadn't even been aware that she had a plan.