Thank you all once again for the divine reviews. I have enjoyed reading the responses so much, and I have felt so guilty for not updating for so long. This chapter is very long and it was hard to write, for I was at a loss to have to word some things in the middle. However, here it is, and I will try to update sooner next time. A word to you all:
Sarian Uldae: Thank you so much! It is so hard not to stray from cannon and I find myself re-writing many things after I reread. I am glad you like it.
LothírielofRohan: Lol, I understand exactly what you mean by saying Lothíriel is the luckiest girl to marry Éomer. I find myself wishing I were her- or I met someone like Éomer on Earth and married him! Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it!
merrymagic: Thank you for pointing out my error. Right when I read it, I changed it and am so glad you caught it. I'm glad you liked the necklace, and the story as well.
she1dmaidenofrohan: Yes, I am playing Lothíriel's fear of horses out, and it goes into depth in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for you review. Yes, at times I feel bad for Éomer, but hopefully everything will work out, right:-)
Axa: I'm glad you like the plots, the necklace, and the story as a whole. Thanks for the great review!
Elijahcat: I am glad you like the differences in Lothíriel and Éomer and my idea for Lothíriel's talent. Hey, opposites attract, right? Lol, thanks again for the lovely review!
jennierenn, quizzabella, fandun, wondereye, MexDev, and starnat: Thank you all so much for your kind words and reviews. I am so glad you all are enjoying this!
-Mystikal(19)
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The foods were all delicious. There was a mighty boar in the middle of the grand table, marinated with lemons and spices, a specialty of the cook. Around the main dish there were dishes of vegetables, loaves of bread, potatoes, soups of spiced broths, diced carrots, and peas, corn, and of course the beer that the Rohirrim were so infamous for. The description of ambrosia seemed dwarfed by the meal that lay before the men and kings that the cooks had spent two days preparing for.
Lothíriel ate daintily beside Éomer, sipping a glass of wine for though she did not mind drinking beer, she hated the side effects. The men around were guzzling the ale as if it were water and Lothíriel smirked as she saw her brother Amrothos drinking as much as he could swallow, knowing the next morning it would be fortunate if he rose from bed before noon. All were merry in the Great Hall, and Lothíriel was glad, for perhaps she could too find peace that night.
Once the food was consumed, and the men and women had a moment to rest before the dancing, the tables were moved and the musicians began playing jolly music that was traditional in Rohan. The music, Lothíriel thought, was very charming, and as a tradition, she and Éomer danced the first dance solely, the rest of the populace was to join in during the second strum.
Lothíriel felt Éomer lead her to the middle of the dais to begin the dance. Lothíriel had always loved dancing and she was ecstatic to dance that night, for she had missed the steps from her dancing lessons wholeheartedly. When the couple stopped in the middle, Lothíriel felt Éomer wrap his arms around her, Lothíriel placing a hand on Éomer's waist and holding a corner of her full skirt in her other hand.
The music began to play and the dance began, Lothíriel following the hardened warrior's precise steps, marveling that someone so accustomed to war could behold such grace in a dance step.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Éomer questioned in her ear after a moment of silence. Lothíriel cheeks welcomed a smile.
"Yes. I am having a grand time, Éomer. The food is luscious."
"And the company?"
Lothíriel felt her lips falter, knowing what company he was speaking of. "The company is splendid as well."
"Good," Éomer said softly. "I pray you find Rohan satisfying."
"The people are kind, the lands are magnificent, Meduseld is beautiful…what more could I ask for?" Lothíriel queried. Éomer was pensive for a moment as he dipped Lothíriel back in the pause of the music. He found dancing in front of everyone's criticizing eyes nerve-racking, as if everyone were waiting for him to mess up, but Lothíriel seemed to enjoy it and thus he tried his all to enjoy it if not for himself but for her, his new wife.
Lothíriel's feet moved gracefully and she allowed Éomer to guide her all throughout the dais. Feeling the awkwardness that speaking caused them, the new couple found themselves happy together, for a first since the wedding day. The eyes of watchers bore onto Lothíriel's back and she tried not to look at the ladies of Rohan for fear that they would be furious towards her for taking the title of Éomer's wife. She had not thought of the consequences that an outsider from the Rohirrim court becoming Queen would lead to, until Amrothos jested of the angry women awaiting her arrival to pick at each flaw.
The words had not meant to bring anxiousness to Lothíriel, but they had. Amrothos had been sorry after Elphir and Erchirion had scolded him for bringing more worry to Lothíriel's heart, but it did not erase the frets now occupying others. However, it seemed to Lothíriel that when she danced the worries fell from her in the rush of the steps.
"You dance beautifully," Éomer remarked in her ear after he had turned her with one hand. Lothíriel felt her cheeks flush from pleasure.
"My dance instructors would be pleased, methinks you should send them a letter of gratitude. Perhaps that would help them forgive me for bruising their toes in the process," Lothíriel smiled. The laughter erupting from Éomer's mouth startled Lothíriel at first, but she found herself giggling as well, blissful that she had caused it.
"Many times did I hear from your brothers and Imrahil that you are the epitome of beauty and aristocracy, but never had I heard of the wit that you effortlessly acquire," Éomer approved.
Unable to say anything in response to the highest praise she could remember receiving from a man that was not blood related, Lothíriel merely smiled. Lothíriel could see the satisfied eyes of her family following her throughout the king and her dance. Imrahil's eyes, in particular, looked gleeful as he saw his daughter smiling in the presence of her new husband so genuinely.
When the last strum of the musicians sounded, Éomer lowered Lothíriel back so low Lothíriel found she could not hold herself up. Therefore, her stance solely remained upon her husband's will; if he wished to embarrass her and fall to the floor in a loud crash, gravity would permit it. However, Éomer eased his wife up and she smiled to him, her cheeks faintly flushed in exhilaration. It seemed the two could not keep from smiling that moment, and Imrahil broke it ceremoniously, holding the glass in his hand high.
"My lords and ladies, please be upstanding. I would propose a toast; in occasion of the last dance that all who was present at the wedding ceremony in Rohan. I thank you all for accompanying me on these days where I realize exactly what my next role as a father plays to be- though I do not loath it for the longest road has no turning. Looking at my daughter, I have found the secret to immortality amongst man, for she looks just like my late wife. We, as parents, shall live on, not through our own spirits and selves, but by our children, and their children and so forth. My heart swells in pride as I gaze upon my daughter, and my new son-in-law. So here, I give thee my toast: may the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day in your past. To: Éomer-King and Lothíriel-Queen of Rohan!"
All that were present- be them a nobleman or king- raised their glass as they repeated Imrahil's final sentence. Éomer took Lothíriel's hand in his, placing it on his arm. Taking a sip of their drink, the populace looked back to Imrahil, silently questioning if he was finished.
"King Aragorn," Imrahil's voice rang true and clear after his emotional speech, "have you anything to add?"
All heads turned to the handsome king and his ethereal wife standing at the front of the room. Aragorn was wearing his crown, a tunic of fine material and a smile as he gazed upon his dear friend while Arwen was capturing many green soldiers' breaths away in her satin gown of azure. Raising his glass in turn, Aragorn offered a smile.
"May you both see your children's children; may you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings; may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward." Aragorn paused here for a murmur of assent throughout the crowd. Exchanging a glance with his wife, he finished, "Here's a toast to your enemies' enemies!"
Laughter rang through the Great Hall, and Éomer beamed as his wife laughed along with them. When the noise quieted, Éomer broke it.
"Come, then, my enemies' enemies," he laughed, "join my wife and me in a dance! If you have yet been toasted, what more is there for you to have during a dance in the name of the King and Queen of Rohan?"
More laughter erupted from the hall, and Éomer turned to the musicians.
"Let us speak no more. It is time for dance and song!" he called. Cheering erupted to the ceiling and the musicians began to play once more. Éomer and Lothíriel were joined by the other noblemen and ladies in their dancing.
No sooner did the couple begin to dance did Éowyn and Faramir cut in, smiling as they walked to the two through the crowd. Éowyn's hair glowed and her eyes shown brilliant against her white gown. Faramir looked just as handsome, adorning a smile as he looked to his brother-in-arms and cousin.
"Allow me to dance with Lothíriel, Éomer," Faramir spoke as Éowyn let go of her husband's arm and Éomer nodded.
"Of course," Éomer spoke. Turning, he saw the tankards of ail and a thirsty Amrothos never leaving his post near them. "I was thinking of getting a drink-"
"And deny me the dance, brother? Never!" Taking hold of her brother's arm, Éowyn smiled to her husband and Lothíriel. "Do enjoy yourself, Lothíriel. I know I shall." The two women exchanged smiles.
"Of course, Éowyn," Lothíriel smiled and Faramir nodded and led her away to begin the dance as Éowyn set herself up in Éomer's arms.
When they began to dance, Éomer felt the difference from Éowyn and Lothíriel straightaway. He liked how Lothíriel allowed him the control where they moved to, and allowing him to dip her back or turn her when he wished it. Éowyn, however, steered the two to her heart's desire and her back was stiff and she did not allow him to spin her when the music quickened or slowed in pace.
Nevertheless, Éomer was comforted by the easy talk that he and his sister shared, not having to fear whether he was erring in his words or if she would look away in submissiveness. It was odd that women were so different. Not even the most learned of scholars, Éomer mused, could figure out his sister and wife. It seemed to be the only similarity the two shared and yet they were friends!
"It is so nice to be in Meduseld once more," Éowyn sighed. Éomer nodded.
"I have missed you dearly, sister."
"You shall become accustomed to my absence now that you have a wife." Éomer looked to her sharply, though a twinkle in his eye portrayed his jest.
"And how do you know this? After you received a husband had all thought of me diminished?" he asked pointedly. Éowyn flushed, but stood her ground as she turned Éomer to the right and they continued dancing towards the place where Aragorn and Arwen graced.
"You know the lies to that! I still miss you, but it seems that I would miss Faramir more if I were to be away from him. Know that you always have a place in my heart, mind you, but Faramir is my husband and-" Éowyn rambled in a strained voice. Éomer smiled to her gently.
"Peace, Éowyn. You know I am merely jesting."
Éomer watched as Faramir handed Lothíriel to her father, Imrahil, whose eyes were misty though his smile had never been broader. Faramir took a spot beside Amrothos who was practically swimming in ale, while Erchirion continued to pester the Ladies of Rohan and Elphir and Nienna danced, Alphros had been put to bed after the eating. Pippin and Merry's voices could be heard singing, and Gimli's laugh was audible still through the crowds.
"Forleaswyn is getting larger," Éowyn said as the brother and sister once again lapsed into friendly conversation. Éomer laughed.
"Do not tell her so; she yelled at Éothain half last week after he asked her if she needed to have her dresses altered once again. He tells me he merely said they were slightly tight," Éomer laughed. Éowyn grimaced.
"Men can be such idiots," she exclaimed. "Poor Forleaswyn!" Éomer would have argued further but checked his tongue after he remembered Éowyn's temper was as quick as his own and stayed silent.
After a moment of the silence, Éowyn began to speak once more, her eyes resting on something behind Éomer. "I plan to stay until Forleaswyn gives birth," she admitted, "I wish to see the babe when it is born and what kind of friend would I be if I left? Her midwife and the healers say she should give birth sometime in the next two weeks."
Éomer smiled, wishing Forleaswyn would not give birth for another year if it would keep his sister with him. He hated to see his sister leave him all alone with a melancholic bride, and found that women were harder to care for than a newly weaned colt. "And Faramir?" he asked. Éowyn smiled.
"He shall stay as well, for he thinks that his presence will help settle Lothíriel to her home. However, you were doing a fine job dancing with her this night. Perhaps you are not the arrogant idiotic that I took you to be earlier."
Deeming it best not to say a word, Éomer purely chuckled. The music stopped after the set ended. After a few moments, they began a new song, and Éowyn led Éomer off the dais, proclaiming she wished to have a breath. Lothíriel was still dancing, this time with Legolas, making her rounds of her friends easily.
The brother and sister found a place beside Forleaswyn and Éothain. Forleaswyn was wearing a gown of scarlet, the cut trying to hide her belly but in contrast, it only accentuated it more. Éothain was looking dashing in his finest clothing, although a little uncomfortable, and he did not seem to be having the best time. Éomer mused he had most likely said something offensive yet again, though he shut his mouth before such things could be questioned.
"It is miserable," Forleaswyn remarked to Éowyn as she leaned into her husband as he wrapped an arm around her waist, "that at such a time filled with many dances and feasts that I am pregnant. I wish no more than to dance and look my finest like you, Éowyn, though I suppose it shall be worth it when the babe is born."
Éowyn looked sympathetic. "Your babe will be the pride of you both. Mark my words, this will all be worth it."
Sighing, Forleaswyn held onto Éothain's arm, her eyes filled with such a deep love that all present knew the complaining that they had heard from her lips so often was nothing more than a way to help ease her fears. "I know Éowyn," Forleaswyn smiled, she placed her free hand to her belly. "Never have I ever doubted this."
It was then that Lothíriel joined them, on her last dance partner's arm, Erchirion. They were both looking jovial as they greeted the group gathered at the columns of the Great Hall, separating outside from in. The sun only showed a sliver above the horizon, staining the farthest strip of field the human eye could see a brilliant gold. Erchirion let Lothíriel's hand fall from his arm and he stepped away, as if wordlessly pushing her to speak with Éomer.
Clearing her throat as she realized these unspoken words of advice, Lothíriel looked to her husband, her eyes locking with his own and she felt her heart flutter in her bosom as she kept the gaze. "Would you like to go for a walk outside?" she asked. To explain the question, she added, "The sunset is especially beautiful this night."
Éomer looked to his friends and his sister nodded, her eyes urging as Éomer found his voice. Once he turned his eyes back to Lothíriel, he found she would not meet his gaze again. Nevertheless, he spoke, "Yes, I would like to."
Lothíriel smiled, accepting Éomer's proffered arm, and then turned to the two women and her brother. "If my father comes by, or any other wishing to see me at that, you will tell them where I am, won't you?" she inquired. They all nodded.
"Of course," Éowyn spoke up on behalf of the cluster. She spotted Faramir walking beside Amrothos who was beginning to stumble in a drunken state. Smiling, Éowyn said, "I think I will dance with my husband."
As Éowyn left, so did Lothíriel and Éomer, walking nobly together. Lothíriel tried not to pay heed to the stares of daggers that a few of the women of upper class shot her, but it was hard. The pair walked outside in silence, then to the wall to watch the sunset. Cursing her bashful tongue, Lothíriel realized that she should speak first, for it had been her idea to leave their humble stance amongst friends and family.
Desperately trying to think of something to say, Lothíriel tensed and Éomer felt this in the hand that still rested upon his arm. He knew it was half his fault for her uncomfortable emotions. However, he was just as lost as she was, not knowing what to say for he knew nothing of her, save she could draw, her mother died when she was alone, and she was fearful of horses- yet she thought they were beautiful.
"In comparison, what does the palace of Dol Amroth look like to Meduseld?" Éomer found himself asking. As soon as his mouth closed, he thought himself a fool. Comparing homes when she was his wife and he could speak of anything! Surely, Éowyn was right when she had teased him when he was younger and said he could not woo a brood mare in heat!
"Well," Lothíriel said, her eyes gazing on the horizon easily, "they are both grand and large, though the palace of the Swan Knights is on the sea and has a great wall protecting it from the large surf. The palace in Dol Amroth is white, as well, matching the sea caps splendidly. All around the palace there are neither trees nor vegetation, though there is much sand and building. Though farther out from the walls, the nature is beautifully green and full. You have never seen Dol Amroth?"
"Nay," Éomer said, "My cousin, Théodred did, however. He went on behalf of my uncle King Théoden a few times and said it was magnificent."
Lothíriel was silent for a moment. "I apologize that your cousin fell during the War of the Ring. And your Uncle. Dol Amroth mourned when we learned of King Théoden."
Éomer fell hushed to pensive thoughts and Lothíriel feared she had angered him. She had not, however, and he was merely pondering over the horror that had kept him awake for so many nights and had drawn tears of grief when the world was shut out of his room and he was alone. It had never been his dream to take the crown. It had been his dream to serve his uncle and then cousin the best he could. He wished to serve Rohan, and with the consequences that followed the fall of two heroic men, he had to be king. Éomer found his throat beginning to tighten, cleared it, and spoke.
"Every person walking in these wonderful lands has lost someone dear to them during the war. Be it a king, a brother, son, husband… I apologize as well for your mother," Éomer said. "However, with good must come bad."
"Therefore we should experience a windfall of blessings this year," Lothíriel whispered with trembling lips as she remembered her mother's pale face, calling out hoarsely for her father as she breathed her last and her body trembled in paroxysms. What was Lothíriel, a mere girl, supposed to do in that time? Her father was out of reach and she did not know who to trust with a letter bearing the fears settled in her heart.
"My brother, Erchirion told you of my mother, did he not?" Lothíriel asked. Shamefully, Éomer nodded. "I should have told you myself. You are my husband now."
Offering a raw smile, Éomer said, "If there is anything you wish to know of me, do not feel ashamed or fearful to inquire. Or if there is something you want, all you need to do is ask."
"Thank you," Lothíriel said as she loosened her grip on his arm and sighed.
"Would you like to walk, Lothíriel?" Éomer asked, looking at her earnestly. Lothíriel was hesitant.
"Perhaps we should return inside? I do not wish people to worry of us."
"We are husband and wife, it is not undignified to walk alone," Éomer remarked with a smirk, then he added after another roar of laughter and cheers entered the night from the Great Hall, "And they seem to be having a fine time without us."
Giggling, Lothíriel nodded. "You are right. I would love a walk."
Éomer lead Lothíriel down a flight of steps and they began their walk. It was refreshing for them both to be alone together, and they both were beginning to open up to one another. While Éomer spoke earnestly of past adventures he and Éowyn shared, Lothíriel pondered telling him of her tales with her brothers, even with her mother and first betrothed. Éomer finished yet another humorous tale of him and Éowyn when she had bested him during a quarrel in front of his éored. He had received much bantering afterwards and still to the day. Biting her lip, Lothíriel began to tell him a story of her, revealing for the first time her heart.
"When I was eighteen, I was betrothed for the first time. We were betrothed for a year, and the wedding was often delayed because of the battles leading to the War of the Ring," Lothíriel took a steadying breath, remembering. "He was killed during one of the skirmishes on the northern border of Dol Amroth when it was filled with orcs. All I remember is seeing his horse coming towards me with no rider…"
Éomer's breath caught in his throat. Was this the reason why she was fearful of horses? "Did you love him?" he managed to say nonchalantly. However, his insides were squirming. Had she given her heart to someone else? Was this all a lost cause?
"No," Lothíriel's prim replay restored the flicker of hope in Éomer's mind. "We were best friends and it was only to be expected for us to wed. Our father's arranged it; thinking that our friendship was more than what it was." Lothíriel saw the relief in Éomer's face and felt pleased that he even cared of the issues of her heart.
Their faces lingered close for a moment, and Lothíriel thought that Éomer might kiss her. Her timidity returned and she looked away, to the floor and took in a deep breath, steadying her racing heart. "We should return to the feast," she murmured, though her heart was not sure what she wanted anymore.
Disappointment flashed in Éomer's eyes for a brief moment. "You are right," Éomer said after a pause. They turned and finished their walk back to the Great Hall, where the feast was merely a few hours from ending.
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