A/N: Thanks all for the nice reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far! Thanks Rosie26 for all of your invaluable help!
Éomer
After Faramir and I had exhausted our abilities to debate one another, arriving at a stalemate and in the end agreeing that we would never agree upon the Haradrim situation, I took a few moments in the guest room where I would be staying, to wash the dust from myself before dinner. As I splashed the cool water upon my face, I wondered just when it was that Éowyn had become as conniving and underhanded as the rest of the Gondorians, for the longer I scrubbed the dirt from myself, the more I realized that Éowyn was not being forthright with me about the Lady Lothíriel.
After I had changed into clean attire and soft boots, leaving my armor for my valet to polish, I returned to the great hall and found my sister raptly listening to Imrahil tell a story about something that his children had done when they were younger. When he was finished, I approached her.
"Éowyn, may I speak with you in private a moment, please?" It was not easy for me to be polite to her, but since it was not my own hall, I decided to be civil.
"But Éomer, we are just about to sit down to dinner. . . ."
"It shall only take a moment."
She nodded, a rueful look upon her face. "Very well, Éomer."
Making excuses to the rest of the party, we went into her sitting room, and I closed the door behind us before asking, "When are you planning on telling me what is going on tonight, Sister?"
She did not meet my eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"I am talking about Lothíriel. It is plain that you are trying to foist her upon me." I sighed. "I never thought that I should have to dodge prospective wives here of all places."
"Éomer, you should give her a chance. She is a lovely woman. . . ."
"So, I was correct! Éowyn, she is a silly girl!"
"Nay, though she looks very young, she is only a year younger than I am, Brother, and not a girl by any means."
"Well, she acts like a girl, primping and preening herself like a spoiled popinjay. What man would want a vain woman like that?"
"Éomer!" she chided. "Will you not believe me when I tell you that you should find her to be a very nice person once you get to know her better?"
"I am uncertain that I wish to know her better," I muttered.
My sister crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently at me. "Give her a chance," she hissed.
I sighed and nodded before adding, "Only because Imrahil has been such a good friend and ally to me, though."
Éowyn smiled smugly, and I knew that I was probably in for trouble as we returned to the great hall so Éowyn could announce that dinner was ready to be served.
Faramir
Dinner that evening was a very strange affair. Thíri and Éomer kept glancing at each other with something akin to fear upon their faces, and Éowyn and Uncle kept sharing glances of amusement. I wondered what was going on, for obviously, though I was the lord of the house, I had not been informed by anyone about the reasons for all of the odd behavior. And the conversation seemed forced between my cousin and the king, who kept looking to me as if searching for a rope to pull him from a raging river that was dragging him slowly beneath the surface.
"Thíri, what else do you have planned to do while you remain in Minas Tirith?" I asked, attempting to help him by drawing some of her attention toward me.
"No particular thing, Fara," she said absently, and then she was silent. So after a moment, I turned to the king.
"And you, Éomer? Aside from visiting with your sister, what else will you do while you are here in the city?"
He sent a pointed glance at Éowyn who ignored it, taking a sip of wine, before saying, "I know not. My social secretary has not informed me as of yet."
I raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware that you had a social secretary. Well, perhaps you and I and Uncle here could do a bit of hunting before you must depart?"
Finally his gaze rested on my face, and he nodded. "I would like that very much. It is long since I have been able to relax on a simple hunt with friends."
"I, too, would like that," added Uncle. "Maybe some stag hunting would be entertaining."
"Indeed," I said. "Perhaps we could go on the morrow?" I asked Éomer. I was startled by the immediate twin feminine no's that rang from either side of the table.
I looked to Thíri, who was looking down at her plate, and then to Éowyn, who was looking blankly at Uncle. "Éowyn, you object?"
She glanced at me, looking somewhat nervous, I thought. "Éomer has only just arrived, husband. I have not had enough time to speak with him thoroughly as of yet. Perhaps in a couple of days you could make plans for a hunt."
Éomer sighed aloud as I nodded, and I glanced to him before saying, "Very well. I would not monopolize your brother's time before you are finished with him, my dear," I said, wondering what the exact meaning of this strange behavior was.
I supposed that some amount of discord might exist between two people who are so obviously different as Éomer and Thíri are, the King of Rohan being a rather tactless and impatient man at times, and my cousin tending toward vanity and flightiness. But the strange undercurrent of the mood of the room pointed toward my wife's behavior. I decided then that I would question her later, if only to broaden the scope of my obvious lack of knowledge about the happenings in my own home, for I was feeling quite uneducated at that moment.
Lothíriel
Later, when dessert was finished, and it was beginning to grow late, Daddy, Fara and Éomer stood up from the table, intending to retire to Fara's study to look over some maps of the lands to the south. Before I lost my nerve, I quickly asked Lord Èomer if I might speak with him in private.
"Of course," he murmured politely, though he looked quite wary of me. I led him outside into what used to be Aunt Finduilas' garden, but now belonged to Éowyn, and sat down upon a bench near the door where we could overlook the lovely plantings in the soft glow of the moonlight. The king moved to stand before me, and though I bade him to sit with me, he refused and remained standing, flexing his fingers nervously before finally awkwardly clasping them behind his back.
"My lord," I began. "I wonder . . . that is, if you would. . . ."
"Yes, my lady? If I would what?"
I stood, suddenly feeling very anxious in his dominating presence and walked a bit farther into the darkness of the garden, until I stood on the other side of the king, facing away from him, looking out over the wall and down upon the darkened Pelennor. "I hear that you like to ride, Lord Éomer," I began again.
"You heard wrongly, my lady," he said, and my heart sank. But he continued, "I do not like to ride, for to say that would be like saying that a fish likes to swim or a bird likes to fly. Riding is a part of me. It is what I do, and anyone who truly knows me can tell that when I am afoot, I feel incomplete."
Finally I had discovered something that interested both of us. Thank you, Éowyn. "I feel not so passionately about riding as you do, Lord Èomer, but I do enjoy it, and I wondered if you might like to join me tomorrow for a ride upon the Pelennor, and perhaps we might take lunch together as well."
I dared not to look upon him, instead awaiting what he would say as he thought about his answer.
"I would enjoy that," he said at last, and I released a breath that I had not realized I had been holding. "And I promise that I shall not ask any stupid questions about what color your gown is," he added, and I whirled upon him, thinking that he was making fun of me again. But he did not appear to be jesting. Instead, he looked most regal, standing there, dallying with me in a moonlit garden, while I felt like a brainless girl when faced with this man.
I caught myself staring and broke my gaze from him, instead looking at the moon. "Forgive me, my lord. I have been most impatient with you in the past." I looked again at him and saw that he had not moved. "I shall try to do better in the future."
He simply nodded and then formally bowed before he went back into the house. And I remained in the garden, wondering what tomorrow would hold.
Faramir
"Éowyn, I wonder if you might tell me what was going on tonight at dinner between your brother and my cousin. Never have I been more confused by two people in my life."
She softly laughed as she sat wearily upon the edge of the bed. "They are courting," she said simply, and I laughed aloud.
"Are you certain?" I asked her when I was again able to speak. "There was not much evidence in their behavior this evening to suggest that! Perhaps you are mistaken, my love."
She shook her head. "Nay, I am not. You shall see, husband. In the end they shall be inseparable like we are."
I sat next to her and drew her into my embrace. "That should be an interesting outcome," I murmured, kissing her brow. "I look forward to witnessing it for I know not of two other people who deserve happiness more, and if they can find it with one another, so much the better."
She patted my hand where it rested lightly upon her abdomen. "You shall see," she repeated, her thoughts obviously turning toward something else.
"What is it?" I asked her, hoping she would speak with me, for it was evident that something had been bothering her since we had returned to Minas Tirith.
"I am worried," she stated.
"What about?"
She was silent a moment as if wondering what words to use. Finally she spoke. "I fear that I shall not be a good mother to this child, Faramir."
"Éowyn! How can you say such a thing? You have received much practice at nurturing me, how could you doubt that you should be a good mother?" I was teasing, but she was serious.
"Faramir, you are a man grown, and in truth, you do not need for me to take care of you, for you are capable of seeing to yourself even if you do tend to neglect yourself at times. But a babe. . . . He shall be dependent upon me for everything, and if I do the wrong thing, if I make a mistake. . . ."
"Oh, dear wife, you shall not make a mistake, and there is yet plenty of time to learn aught of which you are unsure before he arrives. Fear not! From what I have been told, babies are resilient and quick to forgive."
She laughed softly against me. "Then in truth they are much the same as you, Faramir." But then she sobered again. "Would you be very wroth with me if I told you that in truth I thought that we might yet have some time alone together before the children began to arrive?"
"No, Éowyn, I would not, though I should remind you that most people who have been married as long as we have, already have their first child."
She nodded. "I had thought that perhaps I was unable to provide an heir for you."
"Ah, but that is not a worry any longer, my love. I am so very happy that we shall soon have a son to lavish our attention upon."
"Yes," she agreed rather absently, I thought, and she looked to me as if she might add something, but then she rose and went to comb her long, lovely tresses. I laid back upon the pillows and gloried in her radiance and thought upon my son.
Éomer
When I knocked upon Lothíriel's door at the inn the next morning, I wondered what I had allowed myself to be forced into, for Éowyn had met me earlier in the stables with a bag of food and a knowing smile upon her lips. But it was too late to change my mind now. I would ride with the prince's daughter for one day, and then we would part ways as we had on the other occasions that we had chanced to meet, and there would be no further relations between us.
But when she opened the door to her room, I found myself faced with something unexpected. Lothíriel had pinned her hair into a style that held it away from her face, and I could at last see the long line of her graceful neck, the beautiful shape of her flawless face, and it suddenly occurred to me that the only daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth was not a mere girl in truth. She was a beautiful woman with hair as black as night and eyes greener than the most lush pasture, her skin smooth like pale rose petals.
"Good morning, my lord," she said, her expression one of amusement as she looked up at me.
"I. . . was concerned that I might have arrived too early, but I see that I have not. Are you ready to go?" I asked her.
She smiled as she nodded, and her face transformed, reminding me of a sunrise. I was surprised by my own reaction to her, as I suddenly could not form words. So without speaking, I offered her my arm, and she closed the door to her room behind her before she rested her hand lightly upon my forearm, and together, we departed the inn. When we reached the street, truly, I had intended to lean down and offer a hand to help her mount her gelding that I had brought from the sixth circle with me. But as the lady appeared so delicate, I unthinkingly took the liberty of circling her waist with my hands and lifting her onto the back of her gelding. The close proximity between us had the most disturbing effect upon her, as she was caught off guard by my actions, and squealed as I raised her into the saddle. I caught sight of the slight scowl upon her face and then found it difficult to meet her eye, for suddenly I knew not whether to laugh or apologize. Instead of either, I mounted quickly, and then I followed her as we wound our way through the cobbled streets, through the Great Gate and onto the Pelennor.
As soon as we entered the fields, I learned that Lothíriel liked to gallop her gelding, and though I had no trouble keeping up with her upon my stallion, Firefoot, I found that she was a skilled rider, and she seemed to forget her obvious dislike of me, as we finally relaxed in each other's company.
When lunchtime at last arrived, we found a shady spot under a huge oak near the road, and I spread a blanket that I had brought beneath it, before the lady sat silently upon it and awaited me to serve forth whatever Èowyn had packed for us. "I hope that Èowyn herself did not make any of this food, or we may find ourselves yet hungry this afternoon," I told her, and she giggled, plainly having heard about my sister's poor culinary skills. But the food was untainted, and my company revealed herself to be more interesting than I had expected as we discussed horses for a while, and then the conversation turned toward Faramir and Èowyn, and then for some time I knew not of what she spoke because the lilting quality of her voice distracted me from her words.
As I lounged upon the edge of the blanket, she noticed that I was not paying attention when I failed to answer a question that she had asked of me. I thought that she might grow wroth with me once more, but instead, she calmly suggested that we discuss something that I was more interested in. So I agreed and asked her to tell me about herself. I was surprised that she seemed confused by my request, and so I repeated myself.
"You wish to hear about me, my lord?"
"I said so, did I not? What is your favorite color?" I asked to give her something with which to begin. She seemed almost confused by my question, but she humored me.
"Dol Amroth blue, of course," she giggled, but then, in a conspiratorial tone, she added, "But since my father is not here. . . . Do you know of those thistles that bloom the pretty purple flowers atop them?"
"Aye, they make for poor pasture for our mounts. I spend much time yanking them from the ground and burning them at home." Her face fell, and I realized that speaking my mind had once again caused a breach between us.
"The color of those flowers is my favorite," she said quietly, looking somewhat disappointed, plucking a stem of grass from near the blanket and picking at it with her delicate fingers. "And your favorite color, Lord Éomer?"
"Color is not something that I pay much attention to, my lady," I admitted, feeling our tenuous affinity slipping further away.
"Oh."
For the sake of the conversation, I continued. "But if I had to give an answer to your question, I would say that I prefer black."
"Black?" She seemed horrified by my answer.
"Not in the way that you are thinking, Lothíriel. Not black like the bottomless black of the Dark Lord of Mordor," I assured her. "I am speaking of the blackness of a week-old foal, the sunlight shining on his velvety coat revealing highlights and shimmers of different colors depending on from which angle you look at him."
The expression on her face, so still and beautiful, revealed that I had actually said the correct thing, and then she smiled at me, and I was lost to her again. "I have never thought of the color black in quite that way," she murmured.
"Black," I nodded, "like your hair, my lady. You have arranged it in a most fetching manner today."
She blushed a little and reached up self-consciously to her bound tresses. "I thought that you had not noticed that I had pinned it differently."
"Lady Lothíriel, it was impossible for me not to notice. It seems that since I first saw you this morning, I have been able to notice little else."
She blushed again, more pronouncedly this time. "You flatter me, Lord Éomer."
I shrugged. "You may think that, but it is no flattery, merely truth. You are very beautiful, and I had blindly not noticed it before."
"I was not very polite to you before. Perhaps that is why you did not find me attractive."
I shrugged again. "Perhaps," I agreed, then I asked, "Why were you not polite before?"
She started to speak and then seemed to change her mind. "I cannot say."
"Cannot or will not?"
Her green eyes boldly bored into my brown ones. "I thought you were a dolt," she finally admitted.
I found her honesty refreshing after what seemed somewhat like forced politeness, and I could not help but laugh. "A dolt?"
She nodded solemnly and looked away from me, across the fields, and I thought I saw a glittering in her eyes that had not been there only a moment before. As I sobered, she said, "You ride very well, my lord."
"As do you, my lady. I had not thought that anyone who was not born in the Mark could ride as well as you do."
She turned to look at me once more. "I have had much practice. Other than attending court functions and shopping, there is not much else for me to do in Dol Amroth than ride or swim in the sea."
"Tell me about the sea. I have never seen it."
She smiled almost sadly. "It is huge and empty. The white-foamed waves crash upon the beach incessantly and the sea birds screech at one another as they fight over the small crabs that are washed ashore. The sand gets in my slippers, and it is nearly impossible to get rid of it. Sometimes it is fun to sail upon it, but I have not done that for ages, not since Elph joined the navy. . . ." Her voice trailed off into silence, and I was content to wait for her to stop her musing and rejoin me. It was quite a few minutes before she did. She turned her attention back to me and asked, "Is it true that the Rohirrim keep herds of horses so large that you cannot see across them to the other side?"
It was an odd question, but I answered it anyway. "We do allow many horses to roam freely upon the Riddermark, but I cannot say that the herd is as large as what you are asking. Though we have never counted them, I would guess that we have perhaps ten thousand horses. . . ."
"Ten thousand?" She seemed amazed by this prospect. "Surely you boast!"
In truth I was the sort of man to boast on occasion, but I was not boasting this time. "Ten thousand," I repeated.
She smiled. "I do not believe you!"
"And every one of them is better bred than yon Gondorian nag you have been riding today!" I teased.
Her smile faded quickly, and her eyes grew hard, and I realized suddenly that I had spoken too much. "That nag, as you call Roäc, was a gift from my father for my twentieth birthday, and he is among the finest that Dol Amroth has to offer!" She stood abruptly, and so I rose as well. "Not every horse can meet your demanding standards, Horse-Lord!" she growled, her hands balled into fists.
I truly had not realized that the horse belonged to her. I thought that he was borrowed or lent to her, and I knew I had made a stupid mistake. "I spoke in jest!" I exclaimed as she stomped away from me, but she chose not to listen as she leapt upon her mount and cantered away without another glance behind her. Sighing, I packed away the remaining food, folded the blanket and remounted Firefoot, sorry that our day had ended so quickly.
