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By the Sea.
Chapter Six: An Awkward Reconciliation
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They had both gone their separate ways upon their return to Edoras.
Her husband had been undoubtedly quiet throughout the entire journey as he spurred his trusted stallion across the open plains of The Mark. She could sense the tangible frigidity of his shoulders as he sat behind her at an appropriate distance, showing none of his underlying pain. His quiet mien was worrying and upsetting to her; before her confession, she had almost felt at ease in his presence. Now things had taken a turn for the worse, and she felt that she was solely to blame.
Lothíriel had never been more glad to see the golden roof of Meduseld, glowing heartily amidst the peach rays of the setting sun, as it sat atop the peak of a green hill at the foot of the White Mountains. They had been gone for most of the day... But to the princess, it felt like an unbearable eternity. As they had made their swift approach, the couple were spotted by the sentinels on guard and soon, the large gates were swiftly opened to welcome their return back to the city.
That had been over two hours ago.
Éomer had bid her farewell in the stables, informing her of unfinished business that needed to be conducted. He had managed to smile gently through his stern demeanour, before making a swift exit. She was not surprised by his restrained behaviour. Though, it hurt her to be on the receiving end of his distant conduct.
It was one of the reasons that she found herself sitting morosely on the steps leading up to The Golden Hall, once again staring out at the open plains of her husband's fair country.
"You are troubled."
Lothíriel almost jumped ungracefully at the voice that burst through her thoughts. She caught herself in time as she schooled her fine features into a smooth mask of blatant indifference.
"This is the second time you have caught me unawares; are you making a habit of it, my lord?"
"Nay, I simply have the tendency to find you at the times you are unguarded with your thoughts; and that is when you are alone," came the reply.
The princess glanced back at the two guards posted at the doors of Meduseld. "Not entirely alone," she pointed out caustically.
Without waiting for an invitation, her companion settled himself on the step above from where she sat. "You are correct," he said, "And you are also adept at changing the subject, my lady."
"I do not understand," she retorted swiftly.
"Come, my lady, do you take me for a fool?"
Lothíriel tilted her head backwards and upwards to look at the man she had become acquainted with in the past two days. He sat tall and proud under the glittering stars of the cloudless night. She could see his green eyes flicker with understanding and subtle mirth as he locked eyes with her dark-blue orbs, his golden hair fluttering in the gentle breeze. "Do you truly wish for me to answer your question, Lord Elfhelm?"
"Once again, you turn my thoughts away from my former comment," he said thoughtfully.
She almost rolled her eyes, "Is there nothing that will shield me from your prying questions?"
Elfhelm grinned, "It was not a question. I was merely observing."
A dour expression flitted across her face, "Then I must ask that you cease your observations."
Lothíriel could see that he was growing weary of her puzzling behaviour. "I will cease my observations..." He paused, cocking his head down as he looked at her, "But that shall only be done once you have spoken to me of your troubled thoughts."
"You cross your limits, my lord," she barked sharply. "I will not have you question me in such a manner! You are not my consort as you are with Éomer; do not forget that I am your superior and Queen."
As soon as the acerbic words had flown from her mouth, Lothíriel regretted them deeply. She was never one to inform people about her station and nobility, but she could not help herself. Elfhelm's continuing remarks about her troubles wore her fragile nerves to the breaking point and she found that she could not receive his attentions in good humour.
She braved a glance at the silent warrior, and found him probing her eyes with a penetrating stare.
"Forgive me, my lady," he said finally, his voice quiet and reserved.
Lothíriel inhaled deeply, tearing her eyes away from his wizened face. The night was growing cold with no clouds to hide the jewelled stars above. A heavy hand upon her shoulder, caused her to blink stiffly. But it was enough. Without care of discrimination, the sturdy walls around her heart crumbled at his touch and within moments, she found herself crying.
The hardened warrior within Elfhelm was startled at the sight of the sobbing female. But the benign and compassionate manner of his heart soon grew worried at the silver tears that rolled lightly down the curved expanse of her pale cheeks.
"My lady?" He allowed her to take his hand from her shoulder and hold it to her dampened cheek.
"Do not take offence to my words..."
Elfhelm frowned, "Never, my lady." He gently brushed away her tears, unable to stop himself. He knew that she was not weeping for her harshly spoken words, but he chose not to comment further lest she lose all composure.
"Will you escort me back to my chambers?" Lothíriel sniffed.
"Aye," he stood and helped her to her feet.
No words were needed to be spoken as Elfhelm led her back inside Meduseld. His presence was a simple comfort to Lothíriel, for which she was glad. Soon, they came to the large doors of the royal chambers.
As Elfhelm deftly kissed the top of her hand and bid her farewell, he felt an intense curiosity at the pain that burned within the Rohan Queen's eyes. He wondered at the many reasons that could have procured her tears, and found himself inextricably bound to her distress. Perhaps one day, she would be willing to speak about the affliction that coursed through her soul. But he knew that he should not expect such a feat.
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Éomer was already in their chambers when she entered.
He stood from the regal chair beside the hearth at her sudden entrance. Lothíriel smiled forcefully, allowing him to silently assess her appearance. "My lord," she bowed her head in greeting.
The King of Rohan sighed, his brow furrowing, "I shall always remain Éomer, if you wish it."
Lothíriel nodded, not knowing what to say. "I—Thank you."
Éomer lowered his head in acceptance, "Would you like to join me?" He raised his hand and gestured towards the two kingly, high-backed chairs beside the open hearth. The crackling flames soothed her somewhat, their glowing embers lighting the dim room in an appealing manner that calmed her considerably from her previous state.
Lothíriel accepted his invitation readily.
But before seating herself, she walked to the wooden dresser on the far side of the room where she stiffly began to remove her riding apparel. Her husband turned away as she began to dress herself appropriately in her night-shift and gown, seating himself upon one of the chairs as he waited for her presence.
She moved quietly around the room, barely making a sound as she seated herself upon the comfortable, cushioned chair that rested across from her husband's.
They rested together in silence, both turned towards the burning flames that flickered brightly within the large hearth.
"I believe it is my turn to apologise," Éomer announced indifferently.
Lothíriel looked at him in confusion.
"I must apologise for being blind to your true feelings. I misinterpreted them and for that, I am sorry."
If she had felt remorse at her admission before, she felt inconceivably regretful at that moment. How could he be so understanding? She could not fathom the strange inner workings of her husband's mind. It was unbelievable that he could be so empathetic towards her! No normal man would admit his feelings of acceptance at the conflict she had created...
"It is I who should seek clemency, not you," Lothíriel said numbly as they sat in close proximity with one another.
"Consider it granted," Éomer whispered.
"Have I pained you with my honesty?"
He smiled bitterly, "More than you know."
Lothíriel chewed her bottom lip carelessly, "You are a good man, Éomer," she reaffirmed, "From what I have seen, you are a good man..." She trailed off, absently fingering an ebony curl that sat upon her breast.
"—However?"
"I do not know you very well," the irony rang clearly in her voice.
Éomer let out a sharp, mirthless laugh. "I was foolish enough to believe that you reciprocated my affections. It is due to my folly that we are now in this predicament."
"That is in the past," she concluded lightly, "If you would allow me the honour... I should like to know more about the man whom I call my husband."
She almost laughed as he blinked owlishly, clearly confounded and surprised by her willingness to learn more about his character.
"You—You are certain of this?" He stammered.
"Aye... I am, if you would allow me to see the true man behind the crown."
A steady smile curved his lips upwards, before he caught the redness that rimmed her eyes in the soft fire-light. "Do I see faded tears upon my wife's cheeks?"
Lothíriel swallowed at his perceptive gaze, hastily wiping away the remnants of the outward pain she had shared with the Marshal of the East-mark.
When she did not answer, Éomer reached out to trace the faint lines with his finger. "Will you not speak, Lothíriel?"
She offered a sad smile, "I was merely grieving for the hurt I must have caused with my confession."
"Do not fret for me," he smiled in return, "I am made from the sturdy blood of the Rohirrim; we are born to face such taxing trials."
Lothíriel found herself laughing. "You are too good to me," she said, growing serious once more.
"Aye, that I am!" He joked.
"Can you not be serious for one moment?" She huffed, crossing her arms in exasperation.
"I thought it was your wish to know the man behind the crown?" Éomer retorted lightly.
Yet through their light banter, she could detect the small hint of pain lying beneath his jovial demeanour. It would be difficult for her husband to disregard all of his feelings for her. Though she was grateful for the distance he had placed between them, she knew that he would feel pained... His restrained disposition only served to increase Lothíriel's admiration for the man.
"I do," she replied softly, quirking her eyebrow in a pleasing manner so that he could find peace within his aching heart with the knowledge that she was willing to learn about his nature and his character.
"Then it is settled."
Lothíriel smiled, hiding a small yawn behind the palm of her hand.
"Do you wish to retire?" He asked.
She nodded reluctantly, casting a secret glance at the large bed they shared. Éomer rose from the chair and guided her to the bed. Her stomach tightened, wondering if she would have to share her bed with the Rohan King.
The princess was quite surprised when he left her beside the bed, and walked to the doors that led into their private breakfast parlour. She voiced her thoughts, "Where are you going?"
He halted in his steps and turned to his wife with a brittle smile, "There are another set of chambers beyond the parlour. I will—I will sleep there."
Lothíriel frowned, "You should not have to leave your own chambers... Please, stay."
They stood together in an awkward silence, eyeing one another before Éomer sighed resentfully, "Nay, it would not be appropriate."
Once again, Lothíriel could see the stony set of his jaw and the cold glaze that graced his eyes. She was not used to dealing with such different characteristics within one person. It was thoroughly confusing and wearying.
"I bid you good night," her husband said firmly, bowing once before he left the room.
She sat down upon the edge of the bed in a daze, looking at the doorway to the parlour with a flustered expression. Blinking rapidly, Lothíriel slid under the heavy covers and slowly fell into a light slumber, belatedly realising that the sputtering fire in the hearth had not been doused.
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Added Notes: Situations like this only become worse, before they can get better... Don't you agree? (insert evil laugh). Thank you for the wonderful reviews, I enjoy reading your thoughts and comments about this story so far. It is refreshing to hear such opinionated reviews. I am glad that people are embracing this wee little ficlet of mine :-)