I'm back….this real life thing is really cutting into my spare time….
Chapter 5 – A Heady Encounter.
Lothíriel walked the city listlessly. Her chamber had become too small for her thoughts and the need for space and air had overcome her desire to hide until the world ended and it was safe to come out. She had not seen Éomer since the disastrous dinner and despite her father's inexplicable good faith, Lothíriel could see no future for herself and the handsome King of Rohan.
She mused unhappily on the nature of love, a few days ago she would have liked nothing better than to never have to set eyes on the bloody man again and now she hoped for nothing so much as a glimpse of him. Sighing heavily, she leaned against a white wall and gave in to a moment of pure self-loathing. Is this what the princess of Dol Amroth had been reduced to? A pitiful maiden sick with love? Lothíriel shuddered inwardly and resumed her upward walk. Unwittingly, her feet had chosen the winding path that led to the top of the city. Perhaps she had hoped the view would give her some perspective. At least the climb was physically tiring, with luck, pure exhaustion would allow her a night's sleep tonight instead of restlessness and torment. How could her father be so sure of Éomer's intentions? The man had not approached her in over a week. Not a word, not a note, not so much as a glance. Lothíriel despaired anew but caught herself before it became overwhelming. No more, she admonished, no more blithering!
She was admitted past the highest gate and climbed to the courtyard at the top of Minas Tirith. The view was truly breathtaking. Lothíriel gazed longingly in the direction of home, it was hidden by the mountains but she fancied she could taste a faint tang of the sea from her vantage point. Closing her eyes, she threw her arms wide as was her habit on the fields of Belfalas, and breathed deep. She could feel her abraded nerves loosen and relax and she sighed with some semblance of contentment. The sun glowed redly through her eyelids and its warmth flowed into her, soothing her tensions. Reaching behind her, Lothíriel loosed the ties binding her hair and let it whip freely around her from the breezes below. Unfortunately, some of the dark strands whipped right into the eyes of the King of Rohan, delivering stinging blindness more effectively than a mace.
His sharp cry broke through her enjoyable reverie and she turned round to see the Pride of the Rohirrim clutching his eyes and cursing freely. Outrage quickly outstripped embarrassment at being caught acting like a child, how dare he creep up on her! Seeing him at a disadvantage and thinking of her own discomfiture at being caught, Lothíriel couldn't resist doing something rather unladylike. Hurriedly she drew one softly booted foot back and was just about to plant it squarely where it would do a nasty skulker the most good when Éomer suddenly straightened up and said 'Don't you dare!' in a stern voice. It was the sternness that brought her back to herself. Quickly replacing her foot on the ground she became the picture of maidenly acquiescence and less of a hoyden.
'Why shouldn't I dare?' she said primly, 'I'm not the creeping sneaker!' Fresh anger burst through her, 'And how dare you? Sneak up behind me, will you? I suppose you were going to hang me over the edge until I screamed?'
Éomer stared, insulted beyond measure that she would think him capable of such a thing but then a spark flared in his eyes and he replied, 'You know that's exactly what you deserve for thinking so ill of me…' Lothíriel goggled in disbelief as he covered the ground between them in a heartbeat, swung her up into his arms and before she could draw breath to scream she was upside down hanging by her heels from the walls of Minas Tirith. As the Fields of the Pellennor swung erratically before her eyes, she noticed dreamily that he had grabbed her skirts so they remained modestly plastered to her ankles. All the better to see the view, she thought distractedly. A giggle escaped her lips. The absurdity of her situation was suddenly inescapable and she began to shake with laughter and not a little terror. What if he dropped her?
After what seemed an age, but had in reality been about ten vertiginous seconds, Lothíriel found herself on her feet and right way up again. Looking into a pair of shocked green eyes, she grinned inanely before fainting dead away for the second time in her life.
Éomer stared disbelievingly at the supine figure at his feet. Had he really done that? Hung the princess of Dol Amroth upside down from the walls of Minas Tirith? He had spotted her from below with her arms outflung and hair streaming in the wind and thought her the most beautiful wild creature he had ever set eyes on. Approaching her quietly, he thought he was showing respect for her reverie. A capricious breeze had swept her hair into his eyes stinging them and well…the rest was just a terrible misunderstanding that had resulted in him hanging her upside down from the walls of Minas Tirith. Imrahil would kill him, he may as well fall upon his sword right away to save time. He'd behaved like a barbarian, how could he have lost control like that? Why oh why did every encounter with her go wrong? She could have been killed! He sank down beside Lothíriel and seized her hands in an attempt to rouse her. She sighed and his heart started beating again. Her grey eyes opened and a smile curved her soft mouth. 'I am not dead then?' she asked, he shook his head mutely, not trusting his voice. What, after all, could he say? What excuse could he offer for laying ungentle hands on a noble lady? 'I can't believe you did that,' she murmured accusingly. 'In truth, my Lady, neither can I,' he answered earnestly, dropping her hands immediately, 'I can only offer my heartfelt apologies and I swear that once I see you safe into your father's care, I will not come within a league of you again…' Éomer's hands were in the air and he was on the point of backing away when his apology was interrupted by Lothíriel's bubbling laughter, 'I deserved it for what I nearly did to you!' she spluttered through hysterical sobs of mirth. The headiness of the experience had completely overtaken her and her body trembled with shock, relief and a thousand other sensations not least of which was the memory of Éomer's warm hands on her own. Pulling herself to a sitting position, Lothíriel was gratified when Éomer returned immediately to her side to assist her to her feet. Swaying slightly and clutching his arm she turned to the sweeping panoramic view and was promptly assailed by a fresh burst of giggles. 'I must be the only person living or dead to have seen this view whilst upside down!' she said when she regained control. Éomer started at her intently. She seemed genuinely amused. The shock was passing and she did not seem to want to faint, cry or kill him. Hardly daring to hope, he essayed a return smile to the one on her face. Her eyes narrowed and Éomer braced himself for whatever was to come. Eorl knew he deserved it.
'You are not a man to goad, I see,' she said slowly. He said nothing, just held her gaze whilst also holding her upright. She was still unsteady on her legs but rapidly regaining strength. He became aware of shouts and the sound of running footsteps. The Guards of the Citadel approached at speed.
'My Lady,' called one, 'is all well with you, we saw…we saw him hang you from the wall!'
Éomer closed his eyes and prepared to step back from Lothíriel. He would be arrested and cast into a cell to await the King's judgement and it was no more than he deserved.
The Guard panted up to them and Lothíriel addressed him without delay.
'Good sir,' she said, quickly, 'there is nothing to be concerned about, I asked the King of Rohan to humour me in a silly childish game and being too much of a gentleman to refuse me, he obliged. And you see I am perfectly alright…' she took a few steps to demonstrate for the Guard who looked less than convinced by her unsteady performance. Éomer stood as though turned to stone and said nothing. The Guard turned an unfriendly eye on him and asked baldly, 'Is that true?'
Éomer sighed and said 'Who am I to cast aspersions on the word of a Lady?' and was rewarded by a smile that to him was blinding.