By the Sea Chapter 9: Broken, a lord of the rings fanfic

By the Sea.

Chapter Nine: Broken.

She was now seven months pregnant. Her brother had stayed in Edoras for only one month, claiming that her father needed his sons present during the various meetings that were to be held between Gondor and the Eastern countries. She had been surprised to find out that Éomer had commissioned Amrothos to carve their statues for the courtyard gardens; he had worked on them secretly for a month, without ever informing or alerting her to his presence! She felt that there was something familiar about the statues, and to know that her brother had created them, only served to reaffirm her thoughts.

Her brother was a wonderful man to accept the King of Rohan's request, especially when he was asked to remain silent about his presence in Edoras. Lothíriel knew that he must have disciplined himself quite harshly to accomplish that feat. Amrothos was never known for his patience or ability to keep secrets. Truthfully, she had been so touched by the gesture... And now she had a piece of her brother with her in Rohan. She would remember his strong hands, carefully chiseling and carving every line of the stone statues...

Now that he was gone, she missed him terribly. The only other person that could to lift her spirits was Éomer, or Elfhelm. But the Marshal had returned to his post and she felt quite lonely during the days without his company. However, the nights were a different matter.

Éomer would continuously find ways to brighten her dampening moods, and not once did he complain about her changing behaviour. Whether she was brooding or solemn, angry or restless, he always knew what to say to make her heart soar with laughter. There were times when they disagreed, but those arguments were far and few between. Her relationship with her husband was improving greatly and Lothíriel felt that if it continued on this path, then their friendship and respect for one another would blossom even more exquisitely than it already was. She cared deeply for the Rohan King. A form of love was there, but she still did not believe that it was a romantic love.

Something niggled in the back of her mind, however.

She knew that men had certain urges they needed to fulfill, but she also knew that he was not receiving release in her arms. On many an occasion, Lothíriel had thought to speak to him about this. As their relationship grew, she found herself being more out-spoken and vocal and it was on one rainy night that she had mentioned his needs. She spoke to him and told him that if he wished to take other women to his bed, then she would have no qualms about this. After all, she did not love him and even though they were married, she knew that on occasion he would seek out some form of bodily release. She had spoken about this, as nearly all former Kings kept mistresses; in the early days, marriage had only been conducted for political reasons, to join two countries together and form stronger ties. Her marriage, although politically sound, had been carried out solely for the love her husband felt for her. He had no political agenda regarding her, or so she thought.

Lothíriel understood that she was being presumptuous in speaking with him so bluntly, she understood that he loved her. His deep brown eyes often shone with that emotion when he looked at her, but she could not be cruel and allow him to participate in such a one-sided love. And so, she asked him if he would be willing to keep a mistress.

The look on his face had been almost comical, twisted with confusion and then the dawning realisation of her words. Instantly, he had grown angry with her question and had refused to continue the conversation with her for the rest of the night. Usually at first light, he would be gone from their chambers due to his strenuous schedule. But that following morning, he had sat beside her on the bed and spoke to her quite frankly; he refused to take a mistress to ease and relieve him.

He assured her that he was quite well and he even apologised for his anger, which she had been surprised about. She did not deserve such an apology. Her question had been asked in vain, and it was wrong of her to ask that he take another woman to bed, especially when she knew of the love he harboured for her. And if Lothíriel had been completely honest with herself, she would have said that she was relieved to receive such comforting words from him, even though it pained her to see that he would receive no physical love from her when he loved her so completely with his heart, soul and body...

After that day, they never spoke of such a topic again. She could see that it pained him, and so she respected his reticence towards the subject.

The light of the candle, resting inside the candelabra, flickered and reminded her of the late hour and that she had spent far too long on her musings.

The mattress of the bed beneath her was so comfortable, and she wished nothing more than to travel the wondrous journey into the land of dreams, but she could not. She found no rest when her husband was not beside her. He had been extremely busy in the past week, arriving to their chambers late in the evening—exhausted and weary. He informed her not to wait for his arrival, but she could not sleep without him. It was incredibly amusing that she should find herself in such a predicament. But to know that he would be there beside her, always ready to protect her was comforting and so she found herself able to sleep much better with his presence near.

A few moments later, a gentle creak resounded through the large room, alerting her to his arrival. She sat up in the bed, cradling her protruding stomach as her husband stepped through the heavy doors. She winced as the movement jarred her enlarged breasts; they had grown considerably larger, much to Éomer's amusement, and he delighted in teasing her about the tenderness. With their new found friendship, Lothíriel quickly realised that her husband could be quite mischievous and crude when he wished to be. She did not mind his behaviour—she found to be highly amusing and entertaining. It was one of the things that made her laugh about him.

However, as he entered their chambers the look in his fair face was far from amused. A frown furrowed his dark brow and his eyes were troubled and angry.

Éomer stopped by the bed and offered a disapproving stare, "You should be asleep," he said softly, tugging at the ties of his green embroidered tunic.

Lothíriel watched him with concern, "You know that I cannot sleep without my husband beside me; who will protect me otherwise?" She offered a teasing pout to lighten his dark mood. It worked only briefly as the corners of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, before returning to its' former frowning position. In the golden glow of the room, she waited patiently and looked away as he removed his tunic and breeches, so that he could don his nightly apparel. Soon, the bed shifted and he was quickly seated beside her, beneath the heavy covers.

"I will always protect you," he remarked solemnly, dropping a chaste kiss to her forehead.

Lothíriel held back a frown, "What is the matter?" She twisted her position on the bed to face him as best she could in her pregnant state.

Éomer lowered his eyes to her rounded belly, his face brightening slightly at thought of the new life growing inside his wife's womb. " Tis nothing, all is well."

She raised her hand to his cheek and forced him to look into her eyes, "You are lying, I can see that you are troubled. Will you not share your burden with me?"

He sighed and nuzzled his cheek into her palm, closing his eyes briefly as he found joy and contentment in her touch. "I do not wish to worry you unnecessarily."

"Do not try to make excuses, Éomer. Speak," she prompted.

Hesitating only briefly before coming to a decision, Éomer reached out and hovered his calloused palm above her stomach, "May I?"

Lothíriel conceded to his request and took his hand, placing his palm firmly on the bulge, "Speak."

Taking a deep breath, Éomer followed his wife's instruction, "There were many council meetings this day. Reports have been coming in from various cities and strongholds of Rohan..."

"What reports?" She asked, almost fearful of his reply.

"Orc attacks in West and East Emnet; smaller farming villages being ransacked... The foul creatures purge and pillage, killing everything in their path destroying the lands. If it continues this way, then I fear that this year's harvest will be in short supply and the country will starve without provisions. We are trying our best to secure the borders and areas of Rohan's farming vicinity, especially the uninhabited areas where the orcs seem to believe that they can create forts of their own," he snorted, "Sauron has been destroyed but his minions have grown wild in their freedom, to think that they can enter our borders forcefully and take our land... I have already sent a few of my scouts to see how we may solve this new problem..."

"And how will you deal with it?" She whispered, barely noticing his warm fingers stroke her swollen stomach.

Éomer sighed deeply, "If need be, we will have to march into battle. Small skirmishes are all well and good, but if there are more fell creatures than we had previously thought, my éored will be needed."

"And so... You will also be expected to join them?" Lothíriel asked fearfully.

"Aye. As their King, it is my duty to insure the safety of our people. I will lead my men in this mission." He paused and saw the apprehension in her eyes, "Do not fear for me, my wife. All will be well in the end."

"I shall trust your judgement, King," she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Éomer smiled. His brow rose fractionally as his gaze lowered to her chest and observed the wet, circular patches that dampened her nightshift at her breasts. Lothíriel blushed and crossed her arms above her chest, laughing nervously. "The mid-wife said that it was quite normal for expecting mothers to experience such strange changes to the body.

"I did not say anything," his voice held back his mirth.

She scowled and promptly smacked his hand away from her stomach. "Tease!"

He laughed openly, his mood considerably brighter than it had been before had stepped into the room. Leaning close, he could not resist placing a chaste kiss upon her cheek. "Sleep, Lothíriel. I will have plenty of time to tease you in the future."

Grumbling, she heeded his words and slid back onto the bed, shifting until she found a comfortable position. A small, sleepy smile graced her face as her husband deftly kissed her temple whilst he rubbed her stomach once more before blowing out the chivering flame of the candle and joining her in some much needed rest.

Her husband's fears had been founded.

There were more orcs than had been expected and so the battle that would take place in East Ement had been inevitable. A few weeks after their late-night conversation, her husband had left with his men to deal with the continuing problem that the country faced in East Emnet.

Had it only been a few days since her husband had led his cavalry out of Edoras? It felt like an eternity to Lothíriel! She could not stand the waiting! No news had arrived as to the outcome of the battle, which should have ended many days prior. She wondered why the cavalry had not yet arrived. Perhaps there had been other, smaller skirmishes that had taken place? She could not be sure.

And so, this was the reason that she had steadily been pacing the throne room of the Golden Hall for the past two days, wearing out the wood flooring with her mindless, effortless task. Stopping briefly, she walked to the small ornately decorated table between the two thrones and lifted the painted, clay-stone vase that rested there. It was already filled with cool water, so that she could pour herself a glass of the nourishing liquid. All of her worrying had left her quite thirsty.

Before she could pour the water, the sound of distant horns interrupted her task.

It was the éored!

Forgetting to place the jug back onto the table, she held it in her hands as she hastily made her way out of Meduseld to greet her husband and the returning men. She walked onto the grand platform that looked out over the entire city of Edoras and the land of Rohan, and waited patiently for the men to enter the gates of the city.

Far below, she could see their horses slowly travel up the winding dirt path towards the Golden Hall. She was relieved to see that of the men that Éomer took with him, many of them had arrived safely. As they neared the base of the steps leading up to the hall, she frowned as she could not see her husband leading the men. Absently, as she searched the large group of warriors, she wondered why their expressions were so somber.

The men came to a halt at the base of the grand staircase that led up to Meduseld. Lothíriel patiently waited for her husband to step forward.

Her grasp on the stone jug tightened as Gamling, her husband's right-hand man slowly ascended the stairs. He came to a halt before her, his eyes hard yet filled with grief.

An acute sense of dread filled her. She did not even notice that many of the citizens had come out of their thatched homes to witness the arrival of their King and his reunion with their dark-haired Queen. Behind Gamling at the bottom of the stairs, the warriors stood silently as they watched the interaction between their Queen and Chief Commander.

Gamling fell to his knee and bowed regally.

"Gamling?" She heard herself whisper, "Where is Éomer?"

It was then that she recognised the familiar sword in the man's hands. He presented it to her, holding it above his bowed head as he knelt before her.

"Your majesty," Gamling started, his voice strained, "I present to you my lord-king's sword..."

All colour drained from her face with the fair-haired man's spoken words. She knew of this ritual... To be presented with a warrior's sword meant that—

Masking her face in a stony expression, she looked down at the man with all of the poise and grace she could muster in her pregnant state. "Explain yourself." She was proud that her voice had not trembled.

Gamling sighed, "It is my deepest sorrow to inform you that his highness has fallen... He led us into battle and guaranteed our victory. But upon the return journey, our company had been ambushed and trapped by another group of orcs from West Emnet. We fought as best we could in the treacherous conditions, but as the night faded and the new day dawned, we found no trace of the King... We believe that he fell, though we could not find his—body," the man grimaced at the harsh words.

At Gamling's words and confession, the decorated water-filled jug Lothíriel had been holding, deftly slipped from her fingers and crashed to the ground. The liquid spilled out onto the stone platform as the jagged shards of the clay-stone clattered against the hardened ground, lying at her feet in broken pieces, like her heart.

Added Notes: ;gasp; What have I done? I know... I am evil! ;does an evil jig; Poor Lothíriel, poor Éomer, poor unborn baby. I am glad that everyone appreciates the fast updates, it makes writing worthwhile to know that people embrace this aspect. Hugs and kisses to all!

Thanks for reviewing!