This chapter was hard to write, though I do not know why. I hope you all enjoy it, and might I tell you a lot happens in it! So take a deep breath – you will need it!
madrone: I'm so glad you are looking forward to the surprises, perhaps you might not need to wait for 9 days! Yes, Lothíriel desperately needs Éowyn; it will be interesting to see her with Éomer alone, huh?
Blue Eyes at Night: Lol, it seems to me as well Aefentid, Rastus, and Firefoot have much more sense than their owners! Perhaps they will lend Éomer and Lothíriel some, you never know! Thanks for the review it was very amusing. :)
lindaholyland: Yes, I do know a lot about horses! I have been around them since I was four due to my mother, and I have two. That is probably why I love Éomer so much, though he is handsome too, is he not?
wondereye: Yes, Lothíriel is a terrible rider, but one never knows what miracles may happen next! Thanks for the review, I'm so happy you like it.
thayzel: Their lying just may prove to be more difficult than telling the truth, no? Thanks for the review; I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.
Rebby Éowyn: Wouldn't a happy ending be nice? Perhaps I can become a magician and pull one out of thin air…one never knows:)
quizzabelle: Yes…I am a rider! I have many amusing tales of myself learning to ride when I was five. I was completely terrified of horses, which calls for my decision that maybe Lothíriel, of the sea with more boats than horses, would be afraid. Thank you for the review!
Taima1: Fluff! I do not know if that is on this chapter's agenda …I guess you will just have to wait to see:)
Idon'tletschoolinthewayofmyedu: I tried to hurry, but it failed once again, lol. Sorry, maybe next time it will work out better! And I agree with you, there are not enough Éomer stories!
Seyadda: Thank you for your review, here's more!
kezya: Yeah, I kinda rushed Lothíriel's loss of fear of horses. The main reason I saw was with Éowyn and all…helping her out you know? I'm glad you like "my" Lothíriel. I tried to go more into depth of why Lothíriel seemed not to fear the horses the other day, but I doubt it was as good as it should have been. Oh, and no problem for the long review, I loved your story and it deserved it:)
steelelf: Glad you like it, here's more!
Nan75: It does make you disheartened with all the drama! It even makes me exasperated, and I'm writing it! Loved your pun, it gave me a good laugh. Here's more, sorry it took me so long:)
leslienicolespeaks: No, it doesn't seem like you would like LOTR, but you're welcome here anytime you want! I'm glad you like my story thus far, hopefully this chapter will bring you more 'gladness'. Thanks!
And without further ado, here's the next chapter!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lothíriel awoke the subsequent morning with aching limbs. It took her a moment to keep the moan playing in her throat from escaping, and when she bit down on her lip and eased open her eyes, she found Éomer looking at her pointedly. For a moment, she had no idea what he could be staring at so questionably, but then she realized. When she had been sleeping, her night dress had slipped from her shoulder, revealing the huge dark purple bruise she had earned from her first fall off Aefentid. Lothíriel felt her cheeks burn a deep shade of red, and she quickly pulled at her night dress to cover the bruise.
"Where did you receive that?" Éomer asked immediately. It took only a moment for Lothíriel to think of a suitable answer, whilst hiding the lie she so wished to keep from her husband.
"I tripped and fell."
The look Éomer gave her made Lothíriel second guess that her lie might not have been 'suitable,' for the bruise would be hard to acquire by merely tripping when she was walking. Though she truly did not want to say so many lies that she might slip truth unconsciously, Lothíriel deemed perhaps it would have been better to fib more. Éomer reached and pulled the gauzy fabric away from her shoulder once more, gawking at the swollen bruise with narrowed eyebrows. He compared the size of the bruise to his fist, and when he found they were roughly the same size, his eyes furrowed further.
"Did someone hurt you, Lothíriel?" asked he. Eyes widening in shock, Lothíriel shook her head hastily.
"No, of course no one hurt me! I am very clumsy, milord, and I fell from the stairs off the western side of Meduseld. They are very steep, you know, and I tripped on my skirts," Lothíriel smiled beneath the blush. Her skirts were very heavy and full the other day. Éomer would have believed her if he had not been building her the drawing room off the western side of Meduseld.
"I know you are lying, Lothíriel. I was at the western side of Meduseld and saw you not once."
"You could not have been at the western side the whole day," Lothíriel said exasperatedly, "You were at councils, and Éothain told me you took Firefoot for a ride afterward. This is true, is it not?"
No, Éomer stifled in his throat, I was there the whole time. Why is she lying to me? He could not understand how Lothíriel could lie to him! If someone had laid a hand upon her, he would be sure to have them punished, no matter who it was. He only wished she would be honest with him. Éomer only desired to help her, and the bruise was dark against her golden skin, swollen and painful looking. Éomer did not realize at the time that he was lying just as much as she was.
"You are right," Éomer finally gave in, "I could not have been there the whole day and I believe you. But if anyone tries to do anything to you, I want to know."
"You will be the first to know," Lothíriel assured. "I would not hide it from you if someone was physically hurting me. I am not daft."
So now, he thought her a fool!
"I know you are not," Éomer said, clamping his jaw shut on his tongue. Why did she have to be so difficult?
Pushing back the covers and revealing a few more bruises on her legs before she could fix her night dress, Lothíriel stood. "I am going to take a walk, milord. It is nearly morning and I do not think I could return to sleep even if I tried."
Quickly, she changed behind the Amakan screen into a brilliant blue gown and left the room before Éomer could protest. Cursing himself and his tongue in a flurry of Rohirric words that the whole of Rohan would be surprised their King would say, he stood and dressed. There was not a chance he could sleep after all of the lies that he had flung to her, and the lies she had flung to him. Their relationship was growing worse by the day, for how could they learn more of each other if they lied and could not get along? Feeling more of a fool than ever, Éomer left the room in search for ale to ease his aching head.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lothíriel visited Forleaswyn after she broke her nightly fast and found the new parents' room easily in the halls of Meduseld. Lothíriel was beginning to grow accustomed to the turns and where each door was located, and she was glad for she had grown irritable feeling lost each day. Éothain was pulling on his boots when Lothíriel knocked on their door, and Forleaswyn beckoned her inside softly. Lothíriel smiled when she saw the picturesque sight in front of her; Forleaswyn sat in a rocking chair with Théodric in her lap, the darling baby boy fast asleep in her arms. It seemed Forleaswyn and Éothain were the perfect family. Lothíriel only wished that one day she would be half as happy with Éomer.
"Good morning, Lothíriel," Forleaswyn crooned.
"Good morning, Forleaswyn, Éothain," Lothíriel said in turn. Éothain smiled as he stood. "How is Théodric?"
"Asleep, and I praise Béma for it. He cried all night and I felt like crying in vexation with him," Éothain said. Lothíriel cringed as she saw the dark circles under the eyes of mother and father alike. Perhaps her night was not as bad as she had thought before, for she felt refreshed from the sleep no matter how her head ached from the argument with her husband.
"It seems Théodric enjoys taunting us with the fact he can sleep whenever he pleases. I could fall asleep currently, but have things to do so I must suffer. 'Tis the curse of being a mother I suppose," Forleaswyn said, gazing down upon the bundle in her arms. Éothain yawned and stretched before he spoke.
"Have you seen your husband, Lady Lothíriel?" asked he. "I wish not to search the entire grounds if he is still asleep for I daresay my legs would buckle underneath my weight in ten minutes' time."
Lothíriel could not help to laugh at his words though the expression on his face was of complete seriousness. "No, I do not know where Lord Éomer is." Her voice was so cold when she spoke his name, both in the room understood immediately the couple had fought.
"I suppose he would be in the stables, then," Éothain said hastily, exchanging a glance with his wife that told her to find what the fight was so they could help make amendments. She nodded before he continued. "I will leave you two to yourselves, then. If you need me, Forleaswyn, you know where I will be."
Forleaswyn nodded as Éothain kissed her gently on the lips before he left the room. When the door shut, Lothíriel fell to a seat on a chair and leaned her head onto her hand in a brooding thought. Forleaswyn said nothing, for she knew once the young woman was ready to speak of her thoughts she would. For a few moments, Lothíriel sat in silence, and when she finally spoke, her words were tinted with gloom.
"Éomer and I fought this morning," Lothíriel said, proving to Forleaswyn her and Éothain's silent prediction was true. Offering a sympathetic look, Forleaswyn spoke.
"Of what did you fight of?"
"Of this," Lothíriel said as she pulled at her dress, sliding it tenderly over her shoulder and revealing a nasty bruise. Forleaswyn's eyebrows rose. "He wanted to know where I got it and I could not answer him in truth so I lied. He did not believe my lies."
"Of course he did not. Rohirrim men can pick a lie out of truths as if a person's face turns green when they say the lie. Éothain can detect a lie before the words exit my lips and I have long before learned to never lie to him. The truth is always the best way to go, and the consequences that follow never leave in hurt feelings or mislead thoughts." Forleaswyn paused for a moment. "How did you truly get it?"
"By a false hope, a dream that shall never come true," Lothíriel spoke dramatically, resting her chin in her hand as she sat. Forleaswyn furrowed her brow in concentration.
"And would this 'false hope' involve Éomer?"
"By the name 'Éomer' you mean my husband, do you not?"
Knowing Lothíriel was merely trying to avoid the question, Forleaswyn gave her a pointed look, and Lothíriel merely sighed. Making her eyes fall downcast, Lothíriel felt tears prick the dry surfaces. Never had she felt more alone!
"Yes," Lothíriel admitted in a moment's time. Without any urging for further explanations from Forleaswyn, Lothíriel continued. "I had a notion that if I could get past my fear of horses, Éomer would find a place for me in his heart. I fell many times, though I tried not to be frightened, and I earned bruises in various places. I had thought I would hide them. I am no longer sure why I had thought I could do this, for riding horses seems even scarier than looking at them and imagining what could happen. This morning, Éomer saw my bruises, and he concluded that some person had hurt me, begging me to tell him who it was. Though I cannot, for it was merely a fall from his horse, a horse I had not the permission to ride, for the reason I promised myself I would not tell him."
Forleaswyn was pensive as she rocked Théodric in her tender arms.
"Do you wish to continue with your lessons?" asked Forleaswyn gently. Tears continued to build in Lothíriel's eyes before she could continue.
"Yesterday, yes, I wanted to continue. It seemed I was undaunted by the terror horses send me, but today I feel desperately inept. I know there is no chance that in a weeks' time – or even a year for that matter – could I hold the grace, skill, and courage to ride a horse as Éowyn does, or even half of what she does, that could make Éomer proud of me. To make him love me," Lothíriel said softly, her lips trembling with each word. Forleaswyn spoke.
"You wish to stop your lessons and continue holding a phobia of horses?" Oh, how cruel was it to Forleaswyn to know both sides of the new couple's trials to please the other! If only she could tell Lothíriel, that Éomer was attempting to bring her joy too! However, Forleaswyn was quiet if only because she promised her husband she would never say a word, and never one to shake aside a promise, a true tradition of the Rohirrim; Forleaswyn kept her mouth quiet but tried in other ways to help.
"No…I do not. However, what if I continue to fall and hurt myself worse? Éomer would be so displeased to see that I was lying to him," Lothíriel cried. "What if he goes to Elfhelm or Gamling and tells them I was assaulted, hurt by the hand of one of my own people? The whole city of Edoras would know and I would be shunned for lying to the King and being incapable of staying atop a trained mare!"
The young woman was growing hysterical. "Hush, Lothíriel," Forleaswyn snapped and the child in her arms began to awaken. After singing softly to her son as he fell back to sleep, Forleaswyn spoke once more. "If you believe that all could happen, just because of these lies you have spoken, you must tell Éomer the truth. If he is pleased that you attempted to learn the art of riding, perhaps he could continue your lessons, but marriage needs truths. To have a happy marriage, you cannot lie to your husband."
"He will hate me if he knows of my lies!" Lothíriel continued to grow somber, though Forleaswyn thought it ironic that both were confiding their fears of rejection in their friends, yet the one person who needed to know knew nothing except their own fears.
"Éomer tells lies himself," Forleaswyn said, nearly snorting at the honesty she spoke of. Lothíriel's voice was dismal and bitter with anguish.
"Rohirrim are known for their bravery and honesty. I have neither. Perhaps Éomer will ask to have me assassinated to take a better wife."
Laughing harshly, Forleaswyn nearly awoke her sleeping son once more, but it seemed the boy could sleep far better in daylight and he did not stir. "Éomer would not assassinate you," she said, "He thinks you are beautiful."
"On the outside yes, I am sure he thinks so for he has told me, but not the inside. He does not know me for me, so he will only know the lies," Lothíriel returned, fiddling with the hem of her dress diligently. Forleaswyn sighed in exasperation at the King and Queen's situation.
"He does not know your emotions and personality because you do not let him. Tell him the truths, and tell him you want him to teach you to ride. When he teaches you, you will bond and learn about each other and the lies will fade and be forgotten. Well, forgotten until you have children and tell them of the situations you got yourselves in when you were first wedded," Forleaswyn chided. For the first time that morning, Lothíriel looked hopeful.
"Perhaps you are right."
"Of course I am right. Did you ever doubt me?"
Deciding to forget the last remark, Lothíriel continued. "I will go tell him now. There is nowhere to go now but up, is there?"
If only she knew what was in store for her!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Éomer bent to run his hands over the front right foot of Aefentid. Cursing at the swollen lamellae, the bottom of Aefentid's hoof, Éomer could not understand how the mare had gotten the sore hoof. Éothain joined Éomer and looked at the hoof after the vet who Éomer had called to check upon his new mare left to make a compress for the mare's foot. Éothain agreed that he could not understand how Aefentid received the lameness, for they had not ridden her and no one had asked to ride her either. For all they knew, she had been in her stall for the past few days, and it seemed impossible for her to become lame from the soft bedding she slept upon.
"The only thing I can think that she got this would be laminitis. It isn't as much something that stress on the foot gives, but genetics can give the horse the disease," Éothain murmured, the seriousness of the horrible fact painfully aware to both. Aefentid was truly miserable though she loved the attention she was receiving from Éomer and Éothain.
"Laminitis usually affects more than one hoof, though," Éomer countered, praying to Béma this was not the case. Laminitis was extremely serious, and the worst cases of it lead to the inability to ride the horse ever again. "Haleth agreed with me, and suggests we apply a compress to her hoof and check her other hoofs each day just in case."
"I agree as well, but I do not see how Aefentid could get a stone bruise if she has not been taken out on a harsh ride for a week at least, and you always clean her feet well. I asked the stable hands and they say that none of them have taken Aefentid out either, so I see no way that perpetual stress on a hoof with a stone in it could be possible," Éothain remarked. Éomer nodded, as he believed that no one had ridden his horse but him and Éothain.
Haleth, the horse doctor, wandered into the stall, holding in his hands a compress made of bandages soaked in herbs that would suffocate the pain for Aefentid. He was an elder man who had helped raise Firefoot, which kept him in a high place in Éomer's mind. They placed some bandages inside Aefentid's hoof and then swathed flannel wrap around her lower foot. When they were finished, Haleth left after a few words of directions, and Lothíriel entered, her eyes wide when she saw Aefentid's right hoof covered in bandages.
"Good morning, Lady Lothíriel," Éothain said for Éomer, who was unsure that he should break the silent truce between them. To explain the dilemma that Aefentid was in, Éothain said, "Éomer's poor horse here seems to have a hoof problem. Hopefully it is merely a bruise."
Petrified that she could have been the reason for the hurt hoof, Lothíriel said in a shaky voice, forgetting her pledge to Forleaswyn to tell Éomer of all the happenings of the other day, "What else could it be?"
"Laminitis," Éomer spoke for the first time since their argument. Lothíriel's eyes strayed to his, flickering to the ground with pallid cheeks growing paler. "This would prove the inability for anyone to ride her and even worse, we may need to put her down if it leads to structural compromise."
Tears immediately graced Lothíriel's eyes and she reached out to grab a hold of the stall wall. Steadying her breathing and voice, Lothíriel asked the last question that could prove it was indeed her fault entirely. "How could she have gotten this?"
Éothain answered this, his exhausted manner only increasing the horrors that entered Lothíriel's mind of this horse's horrible life inside a stall with a hurt hoof because of her. "Stress on a tender part of her hoof, genetics, small hooves in comparison to her body weight…a number of reasons that could apply to this."
Because Lothíriel did not know much of horses, she did not realize that the problem could merely be a stone bruise, brought on by a stone wedged into the frog of her hoof. This problem merely needed a few days to heel, and while Lothíriel was riding, this could have happened. However, she was so fearful that she had ruined Éomer's horse by her escapade and trials to learn the art of an equestrian, her breath caught in her throat and she could not speak. Oh, Éomer could never know the truths that she had caused Aefentid this laminitis! He would never forgive her.
"This problem could have been caused by riding," Éothain continued, speaking of a stone bruise, not the laminitis, "Have you seen anyone riding Aefentid?"
Her face brightened to a brilliant red. Lothíriel fidgeted underneath both of the men's gazes. "No…"
"I had not thought you would," Éomer said, not meaning for his voice to sound to bitter. "What did you want when you came here?"
"I wanted to…" Lothíriel swallowed hard, trying to think of yet another lie, "Ask you if you knew where my father was."
"I am not sure," Éomer said, turning to Aefentid once more after becoming irritable that his wife looked even more intimidated by him. What was he doing wrong? He had tried everything! Now that Aefentid was hurt, he would not be able to work on the drawing room for her as often as he had planned. Nothing seemed to be going right.
"Well," Lothíriel pitiful voice squeaked, "I will look for him. I pray Aefentid gets better. Good day, my lords."
Before either of the men could say a word to her, Lothíriel turned on her heel and hurried from the stables.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Before dinner, Éomer went to change because the clothes he was wearing were sweaty. After he had made sure that Aefentid was as well as she could be, he and Éothain gathered Elfhelm and continued the building of the drawing room. They had not gotten far until it was time to freshen up for dinner, and so they planned to begin construction earlier the next morning to make up for the lost time. When Éomer entered his room, he found a desolate Lothíriel weeping into her pillow on their bed. The scene was like a terrible dream, the bed looking large and massive, the canopy draping about her regally, and Lothíriel crumbling into the velvet blankets.
Éomer paced to the bed, and his wife looked up and saw him peering down upon her. She took a deep breath, wiped aside her tears, and tried to keep her face from crumpling in grief. Her face was pale, except the tip of her nose, which was a brilliant red, and her eyes, which were swollen. Lothíriel sat up from her position on the bed and looked at the floor like a guilty child and Éomer's frustration peaked. He could no longer keep inside him the many questions he had for her to answer, nor could he keep his voice lowered.
"What is wrong, Lothíriel?" he spoke, "What is it that I have done so horribly to make you so fearful of me? Why are you avoiding me, and what gave you those bruises? I must know Lothíriel, please tell me."
"You have done nothing wrong, milord," Lothíriel's meek voice cracked and she cringed at the exasperated look he was giving her.
"My name is Éomer, Lothíriel. Please, address me by nothing but my name." Éomer could sense there was an unspeakable problem, and he knew the only way she would tell him was if he insisted upon it. Knowing she would be far more distressful before she told him, Éomer tried to control his frustration. "If I have done nothing, what is the matter?"
His voice was pleading and his eyes groped hers as he kneeled beside her. Lothíriel trembled under his gaze, shaking her head in desperation. "I – I – cannot tell you!" she began to grovel, the tears returning as she imagined his reaction. If he were this mad now, how mad would he be when he learned the truth?
"Yes, Lothíriel, you can tell me. You may want to, but you must tell me," Éomer's loud voice rumbled, making Lothíriel squirm beneath his gaze even more. It came to a point where Éomer no longer cared. He wanted the truths, and he wanted them now.
"You would never forgive me if you knew the truth," Lothíriel wept harsher and harsher, her vision blurring and her head spinning as if she drank too much ale. Éomer's hands found hers, and he squeezed them in reassurance.
"Of all the stupid things Éowyn did to me when we were children, I forgave her each time. I doubt I could ever hold a grudge to you, Lothíriel." His voice, which was a moment before trembling in frustration, was now soft. "You are my wife, and I wish for nothing more than our marriage to be blissful."
"You will hate me," Lothíriel cried. Éomer placed his hand upon her cheek and her tear-filled eyes held his gaze for the first time.
"I could never hate you, Lothíriel."
Lothíriel realized that his eyes held nothing but sincere honesty and she bit her lip harshly. She knew what she had to do. It would not have been so hard if he did not already enchant her. She only wished for his love and acceptation. Steadying her racing heart, Lothíriel took a deep breath to begin the explanation.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
