Harvest. In the great year of plenty, which touched all lands in Middle Earth, it was a word more welcome than ever before. No child of Rohan would be forced this winter to endure the cruel cramp of hunger. Crib, cradle, and barn were full to bursting with the golden riches – more precious than the finest gems or silver – of wheat, barley, and warm thankfulness.
Lothíriel had experienced her share of festivals—for many years she had planned and supervised the high feasts and celebrations held in her father's court— but never had she known a celebration quite like this. All of Edoras milled about in a steady stream of jovial industry— Lothíriel's first taste of the annual tradition called thatching day.
Thatching, she had learned, did not need to be done every year. A tightly thatched roof, properly done, would last several years before needing replaced. As such, only a fraction of the homes in Edoras needed replaced or mended each harvest, and the entire city—from the king to the lowliest shoemaker—turned out to lend a hand.
Lothíriel's hands had finally begun to toughen since summer's end, but today they were being tested in a whole new way. It was late morning, already quite warm for early October, and she had been twisting and tying long straw into bundles – called yealms— for several hours. These were then delivered to the men on the rooftops to be added in layers to the thatch work already in place. Her shoulders ached a little bit, but not as much as they would have done a few months ago. Even had they been, she wouldn't have been of a spirit to complain. Despite that everyone was hard at work, there wasn't a dismal face to be seen.
Lothíriel sat at the head of a long table along one of the village streets, constructed by joining end to end all the kitchen tables from a dozen homes. To her right was Mistress Mavaen and her two small daughters, whose home had been lost in the fire all those weeks ago. Already a new structure had been built in its place, still smelling of freshly-hewn timber. Lothíriel had marveled at the speed of its assembly. It would be the first to be thatched today.
Lothíriel watched Mistress Mavaen out of the corner of her eye. The lady worked mostly in silence, occasionally offering a quiet word of advice to her daughters. The elder helped with the yealming. The younger, who wasn't nearly old or strong enough yet, was trying to put a doll's cap on a half-grown kitten. Froilas, sitting nearby, was watching the little creature warily, as if daring it to leave the safety of its captor.
Despite the support of the community and the rebuilding of her home, nothing but time would be able to ease the heartache that caused Mistress Mavaen's spirit of sadness. Her young son had not survived the effects of being trapped in the smoke for so long, though Lothíriel had the best healers in Edoras fighting valiantly for his life for three days. Lothíriel hadn't known many children to die in her lifetime, at least not so young and unexpected. She imagined it must cause a pain equally as raw as that she'd suffered at the loss of Théodred. Yet she could also see Mistress Mavaen's strength. She had not withdrawn upon herself, as Lothíriel had done. Though her grief was still plain to the world, she threw herself back into her life as passionately as Lothíriel was sure she ever had, not neglecting her other children or her husband.
She opened herself up to the possibility of pain again with no sign of fear. Lothíriel recognized something in this that she did not yet understand.
Gaerwyn, two places to Lothíriel's right looked up at the position of the sun. "Soon it will be time to begin preparing for midday," she observed.
As she spoke, Emeí returned, laden with a fresh batch of long straw, which she tossed lightly onto the middle of the table where the women worked. "They are making good progress with your house, Mistress Mavaen," she said cheerfully. "Halfway to the ridge on both sides. Captain Éothain was scolding the king for walking to recklessly on the beam. It was very funny."
"Éothain is right," Gaerwyn said, frowning. She craned her neck back towards the street. "The king is foolish to endanger his life so." She looked back at Lothíriel disapprovingly, as if expecting her to take action.
"You think iI/i could stop him?" Lothíriel said, smiling, causing the other ladies to laugh. Even Mistress Mavaen smiled slightly. "If he is determined to show off…" she began, then shrugged. Truthfully, Gaerwyn was probably right, but a rider of Rohan was nothing without a fine sense of balance. She didn't really think Éomer would endanger his life beyond what was in keeping with climbing around on roofs to begin with.
At length, the women broke off their work to prepare dinner. Smoked fish from the river, bread, and cheese made for lighter fare on such a warm day, though already a great spit was being prepared for the oxen that had been slaughtered for tonight's feasting. There would be music and dancing, and Lothíriel was looking forward to it. She had not danced in what felt like ages, and Emeí had been teaching her as many of the local dances as she possibly could.
"You spoil that beast."
Lothíriel looked up from slipping Froilas a piece of fish under the table to see Éomer taking his place beside her, his eyes amused. "Perhaps," she agreed, laughing. "But she is not conceited by it." She scratched the hound affectionately around the ears and then commanded. "Go play. Go!" At her command, Froilas dashed off, barking, and Éomer laughed.
"At least she is obedient."
"Spoiled or well-behaved, my lord. Which shall it be?"
"It seems it is possible to achieve both at once."
"My spies tell me your antics today endangered the throne of Rohan."
"You may tell Emeí that the king of the Riddermark does not back down from a challenge."
Lothíriel laughed heartily. "In that case, how could I expect otherwise? Your pride will be your death."
It was strange to see Éomer in these surroundings. Devoid of the trappings of kingship, working alongside his men in simplicity and common labor. That afternoon, when it was Lothíriel's turn to fetch straw, she paused a while to watch him, sweating under the sun, his boisterous laugh ringing down from the eaves, his strong shoulders straining with hammer and rod. He was a remarkable man, Éomer of Rohan. He had borne his unexpected mantle with extraordinary balance indeed.
Later, they led off the dancing together, silent and solemn at first, but soon they were joined by the others and the night became as jovial as had been the day. Lothíriel felt almost giddy, caught up in the joy and relief of her new people and this most welcome of days. Everything was done and prepared for the winter. Now was the time to rest.
Éomer was a fine dancer when he wasn't toasting spilling tankards of ale with his men to rousing folk songs, which was often. He wasn't the most skilled partner she'd ever known— that prize actually went to Faramir, but she would never tell— but his merriment more than compensated.
Lothíriel was exhausted at the end of the night, but satisfied. Gaerwyn and Eothain disappeared before they ever made it back to the Golden Hall, and Éomer joked that they should send a search party. Lothíriel laughed and advised against it as she helped a sleepy Emeí up the hill. She dragged the girl all the way to the queen's chambers, nudged her into bed, and then returned to bid the king goodnight.
She was surprised to find him alert and active in the hall, alone, stirring about the table. He looked up as if expecting her. "Come," he beckoned, holding out a chair. "Sit." There was a bowl and some cloths on the tabletop.
Curious, Lothíriel did as she was bid. Her questions stirred within her but somehow died on her lips. Éomer took a chair opposite her and reached for her hand. "I noticed your hands were in a very poor condition as we danced," he said quietly. "Did you think to leave them thus?" He dipped a cloth in the basin and began washing her palm.
"How do you—?" Lothíriel began, but once again lost her words.
He smiled, eyes twinkling. "You are not the only one who knows remedies, my lady," he explained. "Granted, I don't know many, but I know enough to sooth my queen's hands."
Lothíriel did not reply, but watched him work, strangely sober and transfixed. The frequency of his rough fingertips brushing hers so tenderly was becoming disconcerting. He bathed and dried her hands, rubbed them with salve, and bound them neatly in clean linen. When he finished, he stood her to her feet. Lothíriel only stared back.
"There," he said, smiling kindly. "They will heal nicely, I wager, though I say it myself."
"Thank you," she said in a voice almost inaudible.
There was a strange and heavy silence. Instinct told her what was about to happen as Éomer's eyes carefully searched her face, but she was too paralyzed to do anything about it. She was so overcome by the moment that she wasn't even certain she wanted to.
The kiss was hesitant, but perfect. Lothíriel overcame her paralysis long enough to close her eyes. She did not return the gesture—she was too afraid at first— but she could not stop him. She was in many ways unwilling. He was so incredibly good to her. She did not deserve him.
A single tear spilled from her eye and trailed down her cheek. Lothíriel wasn't entirely sure why. But suddenly she was very, very afraid.
Théodred…
Gasping softly, Lothíriel pulled away from Éomer and swallowed.
Immediately, she regretted it. His expression became one of such pain that it ripped her gut into a thousand shreds. He took three steps back, and turned around, his shoulders hard and taught with anger and frustration, his hands on his hips. There was an eternity's pause of unendurable tension. Lothíriel's mind raced frantically, trying to think of some explanation, some apology, but she could only stare.
Finally, Éomer spoke. His words were hard, though he did not shout. "You are not the only one who loved my cousin," he said. He did not look at her. "You are not the only one who grieved for him."
Without another word, he stormed away.
All the day's joy was robbed in a moment. Lothíriel wept all through the night, full of self-loathing at her selfishness. He was right. She had to find some way to put this behind her. It had been well over a year now. How could she learn to be like Mistress Mavaen? She tried and tried to think of words to try and explain herself to him, to make up for her recalcitrance, but the only thing she was finally able to resolve was to visit him first thing in the morning and see what came of the moment.
As it turned out, she was not given the chance. A brisk knock on her chamber door sounded just before dawn. Gesturing to Emeí to remain abed, Lothíriel donned her robe, and went to answer, grateful for the gift of activity, however brief it would prove.
Éomer stood without. Lothíriel's eyes widened, stomach lurching. She opened her mouth to try and speak, but he held up a hand. "No. I came to apologize. I broke my promise."
"My lord, I—"
"Prepare yourself for a journey," he continued stiffly, cutting her off. "We will be gone for several days. Dress warmly. It will be cold at night."
"My lord?"
"There is something you must see. Something I ought to have shown you a long time ago."
Replies:
Blue Eyes at Night- Yes! What a great quote to apply to silly Legolas. I did not remember this directly, but I think I did subconsciously. Gandalf, too, with his speaking in riddles. ;-) I don't think it ever said directly that Gimli would have asked Éomer's permission to explore the caves, but it makes sense. And yes, cryptic is a fabulous word. LOL
Jazzcat- You wrote 29 chapters and resisted posting! Wow, that's an achievement. I'm such a limelight hog. I can never wait for feedback. LOL Legolas was fun to play around with in that chapter. I don't mind seeing him written as the romantic hero (if it's well done) but I think he likes to be just a plain ol' aloof elf once in awhile, too. ;-)
Eokat- Not long indeed. You shall see. ;-)
Aria Fox- I found your review to be interesting and ironic, especially the timing. Your thoughts about Éomer snapping a little bit were very choicely put, and I had the scenario for this chapter already planned out at the time, so… a gold star for you! I hope you liked the results.
Peachy Papayas - Internet cooperating better yet? Thanks for the review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Linnath- Thank you! This wait was long, too, I know. Sorry about that.
Lady ot Rings- Well, I can tell you that Éomer has figured it out now, although I'm uncertain as to whether he's put it together with Legolas's words. JelloGAL- She's got the ol' maternal instinct in spades, Lothíriel. You think she'd get a clue that she could do with some kids of her own. ;-)
kati58- Hmmn. Possibly… this cliffhanger? (hides) LOL
smor- Hey, Éomer should be proud. (cringe) Sorry for the delay.
Vera of the Woods- Gah, I can't take credit for the fire idea, actually. I was desperate for a plot device for that chapter, so I stole one from the book this story is named after. LOL. I agree, I always thought their marriage had more to do with politics than love, also, but I also know how romantic Tolkien was so naturally the marriage would become an alliance of love. ;-) And you're welcome for answering your review. It's actually quite fun for me!
KaterineKasdorf- Thanks for the explanation of eyeteeth. It makes a lot of sense, actually. Can't believe I didn't think of it. LOL And deliciously wonderful, eh? Well… cool!
Sadie - Eh… Lothíriel has issues. We should smack her around a bit. ;-)
Terreis- Patience, patience. Well, Éomer lost his patience a little bit. I was proud of him. She needs something to snap her out of it. ;-) Hey, did you see that they posted grown-up pictures of my muse? Looks like I picked a good'un. LOL
Faerchithiel- Well, I must say, that was certainly one of the most interesting reviews I ever received. However, I sneezed all over my monitor the other day, so I find it even funnier now. LOL
Ramarama- Many of us are in agreement with you in frustration with Lothíriel. But she's slowly coming around, I think. Hope the French is going okay!
Tracey- Hey, don't be fooled. I've gone through my share of blatant writing (I refuse to look at my first fanfic anymore. It makes me ill. LOL)! And I was mightily pleased with Legolas's role in that chapter. He was very fun to play with.
Alora- I believe I read every book in the series except the very last one. I think the first was always my favorite, though. I've read it several times, including a recent re-read to get inspiration for this story. I saw the first hallmark movie.
WONDEREYE- I guess it does seem strange that she's wearing the ring now and she wasn't before. I honestly don't totally understand it myself, so… don't ask me. ;-) As for flashbacks, there are two more, I believe, but in very specific places in the story. The first should be in the next chapter.
understand it myself, so… don't ask me. ;-) As for flashbacks, there are two more, I believe, but in very specific places in the story. The first should be in the next chapter.
Estel la Rodeuse- This one was short too, but moved things along, I think. Hope you enjoyed!
Nexstar- Welcome! I'm glad you liked Amelia. I'm very fond of that story. I'm actually in the middle of a thorough rewrite of it right now. And I don't mind being on your C2. Thanks for the compliment!
MexicanDevil-RoadCrew- Thank you! Hope the wait wasn't too bad for you.
CapriceAnnHedican-Kocur- More flashbacks forthcoming, I promise!
Elwen of Lorien- Long delay, I know. Welcome and thanks for reviewing. Updates come slowly, but I promise they still come. ;-)
K- Thanks! I appreciate the compliment. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story as much!
A/N: Yeah, okay, um… (hides). No excuse this time, really. Finally obtained the means to make fanvids and kind of went overboard. I made five and each one takes awhile. As such, all thoughts of writing went out the door for awhile.
In any case, hope the wait was worth it. Anybody want to guess where they're going:-D
Cheers!
Saché