-
-
-
By the Sea.
Chapter Five: Broken Hearts.
-
-
-
They were galloping across the luscious green plains of Rohan. The powerful stallion between her legs flexed his strong muscles at the silent command of his master.
Lothíriel found herself squinting as the world around her narrowed and grew blurry, the wind howling as it whipped past her reddened ears. From behind, she could feel the heat of her husband's body as he pressed into her back, his laughter was lost into the torrent of the lashing wind that scolded her crimson cheeks. His solid arms wound around her waist, holding her tightly to his chiselled body as though he could protect her from the cruelty of the world.
They continued this form of riding for nearly half an hour before she sensed his grip on the reins tighten, commanding the horse to slow and stop.
Éomer jumped off of the excited stallion and before she could find her bearings, he was lifting her from the saddle as if she weighed no more than a feather. He smiled warmly, his hands straying on her hips longer than she would have liked.
She remained silent.
If she were honest, she was silent because she was far too breathless to speak. The ride had been absolutely exhilarating and exciting; she could feel every muscle in her body sing and hum from the blood that was being pumped zealously to her muscles.
"Did you enjoy the ride?"
She blinked away her musings and focused on her husband, watching him take out a blanket from his pack so that he could set it down on the lustrous grassland. It was then that Lothíriel noticed her surroundings. She looked around in wonder, drinking in the sight of the white and yellow wild flowers that were perched upon healthy green stems, as the cloudless sky above mirrored a calm sea on a bright summer's day.
The delight she coveted at the vision and scent around her did not go unnoticed by her husband. He smiled inwardly as she absorbed the beauty of his country.
"I did enjoy myself," she finally replied breathlessly.
They locked eyes and Lothíriel found herself smiling, "I have never ridden so fast before! I dare say that it was terribly exciting to feel the wind upon my face and the world just seemed to fade away..." Lothíriel trailed off in embarrassment; the words she had spoken were the most she had said to him about her inner-thoughts since their marriage in Dol Amroth.
Éomer chuckled at her obvious pleasure, "I am glad you enjoyed yourself," he sat down upon the blanket and motioned for her to join him.
Lothíriel followed suit and sat down on the soft cloth with much aplomb. Deftly arranging her riding skirt in the correct manner, she finally looked up at him demurely. "You are an extremely accomplished rider," she admitted reluctantly, "I wish I had the skill to ride a horse with such familiarity and composition."
The Rohan King merely bowed his head modestly at her compliment, "The children of Rohan were born to be in the saddle... But I can teach you to ride, if you wish?"
"Really?" She was genuinely shocked by his offer. By being the newly crowned King of Rohan, she did not think that he would have much time to teach her the skill of riding a horse with the same dexterity and grace that he possessed. It was as if her husband was an extension of the powerful stallion, merely adding to the speed and beauty of the creature.
"Yes, really. Once you are settled into your duties, it will be my pleasure and honour to teach you," the sincerity of his voice warmed her.
"I am afraid you will need to possess a great amount of patience to teach me. I am not an adept learner."
"You are being too modest, my wife. I have seen your sharp mind at work in the learning of new languages and cultures of Middle-earth," he reached into his pack and began to set out their afternoon meal.
Lothíriel watched him closely as he set out bread and various cheeses and fruits to sate their appetite. She stopped his progress, much to his amusement, and took the pack from his hands so that she could continue with the task herself. "Aye, I do enjoy learning about the different races and languages; however, in physical tasks such as horse-riding, I am more clumsy than you would believe."
He laughed, "Surely you jest!"
She poured the crimson wine from the canteen into the silver goblet as she smiled sheepishly to herself, "I speak with the utmost truth, my lord. You may consult these findings with my father and brothers; I am far too clumsy for my own good."
"You do not have to worry," Éomer said quietly, "I will make sure that you do not fall."
Their fingers brushed lightly in an unsettling manner as she handed him the goblet of wine. Lothíriel shied away from his touch and observed the food before her critically. As the conversation between them began to taper off into an awkward silence, she desperately tried to think of something to say that would steer the conversation away from his comment.
"This is a beautiful meadow," she blurted out.
He sent her a strange look before answering, "There are many of these meadows spread out over Rohan's land. Farmers in the various settlements tended and cultivated the meadows and grasslands but many were ravaged during and before the time of the War. Though they are slowly beginning to heal from their hurts, it will be many years before Rohan is restored to it's former glory and beauty."
"That is a shame," she offered sympathetically. The gentle sound of running water caught her attention. Frowning, she tilted her head and gazed at her husband, "Is there a stream nearby?"
He was surprised by her alertness, "Yes, there is... How did you know?"
"Because I can hear it," she smiled secretly.
"But... It is not close by."
Lothíriel shrugged gracefully, "It is said that my ancestors were descended from Elvish blood. Perhaps that is the reason for my sensitive hearing."
Éomer stared at her long and hard, the corners of his mouth twitching as he mulled over her words, "It would explain your beauty," he said thoughtfully, "But it would not explain your clumsiness!"
Laughter overcame her at his wit, "Indeed, my lord! A toast to all Elves and their clumsy mortal descendants," she raised her glass and took a sip of the tart wine. Feeling much more relaxed in his presence, she settled herself comfortably and began the task of eating the delicious food in front of her.
After halting his laughter, Éomer and Lothíriel continued to eat their noon meal in mutual silence that was comforting rather than awkward. As the wine flowed and food disappeared, Lothíriel began to pack away the remainder of their impromptu picnic, still unwilling to break the calm silence that surrounded them.
"Thank you for this afternoon, Éomer," she said once the left-over food was tucked away into the pack.
He grinned, "You are welcome; I have enjoyed myself. I am dreading the thought of returning to Edoras... The duties I have to attend are endless."
"Such is the plight of a King."
"I did not wish for this..." Éomer grimaced, "I do not belong on the throne; I am a warrior and protector of this land. I do not have the capacity to rule a country and I am afraid," he lost himself within his thoughts.
Lothíriel empathised with the warrior-turned-king. There were many times that she wished she were an ordinary woman, rather than a princess with official court duties. They were tiring and taxing in their endless demands.
On impulse, she reached out held his hand, startling her husband from his reverie. He looked down at their entwined hands before gazing up at her with a heated expression that caused her to recoil inwardly.
Reaching down to the grassy bed, Éomer plucked a wild flower and handed her the tall green stem with an impish gleam in his sparkling brown eyes. She accepted the gift reluctantly and looked down at the white petals of the flower with a furrowed brow. The snowy petals bloomed outwards, as though they were the hands of a woman, reaching out for an invisible lover that did not exist.
Her thoughts were soon ripped away as, to her horror and surprise, Lothíriel suddenly found herself being pushed back onto the blanket. Her eyes widened as Éomer's lips sought hers, crushing them together with such bruising ardour and lust that it sparked a small amount of fear within her. She knew that he would not hurt her, but the sight of her husband acting so impulsively was simply daunting and unwelcome.
As he settled on top of her, she knew that she was helplessly pinned beneath him, at his mercy and will. She could see his fingers curl around the front ties of her bodice, slowly pulling them apart to reveal more of her naked flesh beneath the dress; his other hand trailed up the side of her thigh, beneath the folds of the riding dress.
Everything was happening too fast for her to comprehend.
With panic rising in her heart, she pounded her small fists against the hardened muscles of his chest. In his surprise at her actions, Lothíriel managed to push her husband away so that she could sit up and retie the front laces of her bodice with trembling fingers.
"Lothíriel?" Her husband's hesitant voice finally broke through the barriers in her mind. Her shoulders shook as she turned to face him, seeing him resting on his knees with a pensive expression upon the fine features of his face. "What is the matter, my love?"
"I am not your love," she heard herself snap. It was as if her voice was speaking from a distant land, echoing within her ears...
Éomer was confused by his wife's anger, "Have I done something to offend you?" He asked softly, watching her reaction with concern.
Taking a deep breath, she moved further away from his lumbering form. Tears brimmed beneath her ebony lashes, "I am sorry... I cannot continue to do this," she whispered.
"Do what?" He held his breath for her answer.
"I cannot continue to lie to you, Éomer..."
"Lie about what, Lothíriel?" The Rohan King demanded, sitting back on his heels as he folded his arms. She saw his jaw tighten, something she noticed that he would do when he was highly upset or agitated.
Lothíriel swallowed roughly, tearing her ice-blue eyes away from his warm brown pools that beckoned her to speak her mind. Could she tell him the truth? It would break his heart... But it would mean that she would be free from his advances. The consequences were dire, but the need to express herself freely was far too overwhelming.
And so, she steeled her courage into an impenetrable wall around her heart and spoke bluntly.
"I—I do not l-love you, Éomer. Please do not continue to seek your pleasure in my arms..."
The world around them froze as his eyes bore into hers.
They cut away every portion of her flesh, every pore of her skin and soon, she felt naked and raw under his burning gaze. The muscle in his jaw contracted and relaxed at an alarming rate as his eyes held her in a silent prison; she wished that he would release her from the bondage of his gaze. It was unnerving and frightening... Lothíriel shifted uncomfortably under his thorough scrutiny and she cursed herself for speaking her mind. If their relationship had been strained before, it would be a nightmare to be in his presence now that he had discovered the truth from her very lips. And the afternoon she had spent in his company had been so enjoyable!
She cursed her idiocy.
Although, a thrill of anticipation coursed through her veins as she waited impatiently for his response. She wondered why would he not speak. If he continued to remain silent, the torture of his searing eyes would be her undoing.
Finally, to her immense relief, he spoke; "Why did you not tell me sooner?"
Lothíriel lowered her eyelids in shame at his softly spoken question, her lashes caressed the tops of her cheeks as she looked away. The hidden pain within his stern voice rang true and clear within her heart and she felt awful to be the cause of his grief... She truly wished that she could hide from him.
"I was... I mean—I do not know, my lord."
"You do not know?" Éomer asked incredulously, his shoulders slumping in defeat, "I thought you returned my sentiments," he whispered to himself.
Lothíriel gaped at the audacity of the Rohan King, "How could I? I hardly know you! Do you honestly believe that I could love a man whom I knew nothing about?"
"You agreed to my proposal," he accused adamantly.
"I was advised by my father and his councillors," Lothíriel scoffed before continuing, "We spoke but three sentences to one another before you approached my father and yet... You claim to love me!" The truth of her words were not lost upon the couple and it made her comment sting even more.
She reached out desperately and took his large hand, cradling it between her long fingers, "Éomer," the princess pleaded, "I tried to tell you on the eve of our wedding in Dol Amroth, but then you spoke of your intentions and your heart and I could not—I could not find the courage to speak my mind. I was afraid..."
"So you find your courage on this day, after allowing me to seek comfort from your body—comfort that you did not wish to give," he said quietly as she continued to hold his hand within her own. "And now, we shall remain in a loveless marriage for all eternity."
The bitter resentment and acceptance of his voice was not lost upon Lothíriel and it caused her to wince in regret. "I could not pretend any longer... Please forgive me..?"
"What is done cannot be undone," Éomer sighed, "You should not have agreed to this marriage, Lothíriel. For now, we are both tied to our bonds and I fear that over time they will cause much strife between you and I."
She bit her trembling lip, "Why are you not angry?" She wondered absently as he looked at the open meadow of his country.
"I am not angry, Lothíriel... I am resentful and if I am to be honest, I am pained that you do not return my affections. Perhaps I was not admirable enough to secure your love."
"Nay! Do not speak such words; you are an admirable man," a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, "I see it in your eyes when you speak of your kingdom, I see it in the pride of your words—your qualities as a man are truly admirable!"
"I am no more than a horse-master who does not belong on the throne," he said numbly, "A man whom you will never love."
"Éomer..." She was fraught with tension at the defeated stance of her husband, "Mayhap—Mayhap I will grow to love you one day," she said hopefully, "You are a good man, I know you are and you deserve the joy that love can bring. We cannot undo our vows, it is too late, but we can learn to know one another; our likes, our dislikes... Everything!"
"It shall be as you wish."
"I do!"
The Rohan King remained silent, as though her words had not reached his ears. He rose from the blanket wordlessly and waited for her to do the same. Lothíriel sighed and stood, berating herself for the desperate and distraught words that fell from her lips. She did not wish to cause him pain with her comments and fruitless hope, but that was all she had seemed to accomplish.
They silently put away the remainder of their unfortunate picnic. The distraught air between them did not seem to dissipate as the couple walked towards the grazing stallion.
Lothíriel's heart grew heavy at the longing glance he offered her as he lifted her into the saddle, before diverting his eyes away from the delicate structure of her face. Bit by bit, she could see the emotion in his eyes cooling, only to be replaced by the stern and aloof countenance he wore whilst in the presence of other nobility.
The single prophecy she feared the most since her wedding night had finally come to pass; she had broken the King of Rohan's heart... And in turn, she had shattered her own for causing him such undue pain.
-
-
-
Added Notes: And there you have it. Éomer knows and is heartbroken, Lothíriel regrets her decision to speak her mind and Elfhelm did not make an appearance in this chapter. But he will be present in the next. I don't want to rush this story, but the future chapters and plot that I have written are extremely original. So when Lothíriel realises her love for Éomer, it will be done in a way that will leave you... Ok, I won't give too much away, lol. I ramble when I get excited.
Thanks to the reviewers!