It was very late when Lisswyn crawled into the bed next to Brynwyn. Hilde had retired earlier, taking the little girl with her, but Lisswyn had stayed in the hall, enjoying spending time with the boys, Brecka, and the others, as well as getting to know Ceolwyn and some of the other women of Edoras better. And the King's sister had sat with them for quite a while as well.
For most of the evening, her mood had been happy and content and she'd known it had as much to do with the earlier encounter with the King as with anything. Even while enjoying the conversations around her, she'd watched him as he'd moved from person to person, group to group, listening, reassuring and encouraging. She had liked the fact that he had spent quite a bit of time in particular with the families of his riders who had died in the initial orc attack. It was just another confirmation of what she already knew, that he was a good man and a compassionate king.
Adding to her pleasure, she would occasionally find his gaze resting on her, a look in his eyes that thrilled her.
But gradually, contentment and pleasure, and even that thrill, had been replaced with disquiet. Things between them had been fairly simple in the caves. Despite his identity, it had been so easy to talk to him, to spend time with him. To look beyond the king to the man. And even on the journey to Edoras, it had seemed just as natural to be with him, to let the feelings come, and grow. But always, she'd known that things would have to change once they reached Edoras.
He cared for her. Remembering the way he'd sought her out, held her the night she grieved for Maegwen, or the times they'd ridden together enroute to Edoras, she could not question that she mattered to him. And he was attracted to her. His kisses left no doubt about that.
But he'd never spoken of his feelings, nor of a future between the two of them.
Because he knew such a future didn't exist.
Honor was as much a part of him as were his bone and muscle. He would never degrade her, would never seek a dishonorable relationship with her.
But even an honorable man could long for things he could never have.
Prior to their arrival at Edoras, their spending time together probably hadn't been completely wise, but there'd been no one to note it, to remark on it. His men were loyal, and the women from the caves would never speak of it. But now that they were in the city, people would see. Would talk.
She couldn't bear the idea of their relationship being seen as something shameful. It meant too much to her, he meant too much to her, to allow that.
Somehow, she had to find the courage to tell him that, to convince him of that, the next time they met.
Shifting, she rolled over, buried her face in the pillow. And wept.
Eomer was still in a good mood when he retired to his chambers much later in the evening. A few stolen moments with Lisswyn, a kiss, time spent with friends…it had been a nice evening. He'd kept his distance from Lisswyn once they'd returned to the hall, not wanting to single her out in any way. But more than once he'd spied her laughing and talking with her friends, or sitting with the boys. And he'd also noticed Eowyn chatting with her for a while. That was good, too.
A sharp rap at his door interrupted his thoughts. "Come."
He had barely spoken the word when his sister threw open the door and stormed into his rooms. "Have you lost your mind?" Her eyes narrowed in anger, she stalked toward him. "What were you thinking? Are you trying to destroy what you claim is your best chance of happiness?"
"What are you talking about?" Baffled by the attack after such an enjoyable evening, he looked at her in confusion.
She stared back, shook her head slowly. "You really don't get it, do you? Men." She said the last word more as more of a curse than anything else, then paced past him before turning back to glare at him. "Everyone in the room tonight saw you sneak off with Lisswyn."
"We didn't sneak off!"
"What would you call it? She leaves, you leave, she returns – looking rather well-kissed, I might add – then you return, looking quite pleased with yourself." She stalked around in a circle before looking back at him again. "And then you complete the exercise by staring at each other all night. Eomer, you're going to destroy her!"
"I didn't stare at her! And I doubt anyone but you even noticed!" Frustrated, the words came out more loudly than he'd intended.
Her expression turned pitying. "Excuse me. Have you noticed that you're the King? People notice everything you do. And yes, people noticed tonight, both when you left and returned, and where your eyes strayed most of the evening. You might as well be wearing a sign," she finished with disgust.
He groaned, pulled out a chair and sat down. "You're making it worse than it is. We were only gone for a few moments – I wanted to check on her after my remarks about her friend."
"Eomer, you don't have the luxury of behaving the way you used to, or the way the other men do when interested in a woman." Her voice was not without compassion now. "Everyone in Edoras now knows you're interested in her, but because you're not free to make your intentions known, they'll assume the worst. That you're just playing with Lisswyn. Using her. And you know what court gossip is like. It will be impossible for her."
"I'm not using her!" He came to his feet, his fists clenched.
"I know that. But the rest of Edoras only sees that you're hiding something."
"I can't bring it out in the open until after I've talked to Imrahil. And I can't do that until the situation with the orcs is resolved." His voice was bitter.
"I know."
"What would you have me do, then?"
"Don't single her out. Don't follow her when she leaves the room. And for pity's sake, find something else to stare at!"
His cheeks heated with embarrassment. "I didn't stare at her all the night. You make me sound like a callow love-sick youth," he muttered.
She raised an eyebrow. "If the boot fits…"
"That's not funny."
"You're right. I'm sorry." After a moment, she continued, "For what it's worth, I see what you mean about her. She's a delightful woman, and I will be honored to call her my sister. And I will do what I can to convince Faramir of that. But you must tread carefully until you can bring your relationship out in the open."
"I intended to. But I was worried about her when she left the room. I really did not think anyone would notice that I followed her. And I deliberately did not return with her."
"As I said, you're the king. People notice what you do." Her voice was quiet. "And it would help if she hadn't obviously just been kissed."
His face went a shade darker. "I did not intend for that to happen."
"There's a reason for chaperones."
"You're enjoying some part of this, aren't you?"
"Retaliation for how difficult you made it for me and Faramir to have any private time together? Oh, yes, I am." At his snort, she added, "But I'm fully aware of the differences – at least people know he and I are betrothed."
Eomer groaned. "You really think I've damaged her reputation?"
"I will do what I can. My spending time with her will help. But think about it, Eomer. Our people are curious, and when they see you paying attention to her but not declaring yourself in any way, they'll assume it's because you don't intend for it to be an honorable relationship."
"Maybe I should declare myself, and risk the anger of Dol Amroth," he muttered.
"You could do that. But is that the way you want to start your marriage?"
"You know it's not. And I don't want to put you in an awkward position between me and Faramir, either."
"You've already done that, but I won't mind if it means your happiness."
He walked over to her, touched her cheek. "Thank you for that."
"But you must be more careful."
He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. "I will no doubt be very busy the next few days. That will help."
She nodded, touched his arm as she started back to her own room. "Take some rest, and leave Lisswyn to me."
"Thank you." He caught her smile in response as she closed the door between their chambers.
Brooding, his good humor gone, he stared into the fire and reconsidered what he'd said to Eowyn. Should he tell Lisswyn why he was delaying? But to what purpose? If he told her he loved her, but didn't ask her to be his wife, she might begin to think he meant to engage in a dishonorable relationship with her.
And if he told her about Lothiriel?
One of the reasons he loved her was that she had such a strong sense of duty to the Riddermark. He'd seen that the night she had begged him to go with the women to the top of cliffs, to hide from the orcs while she and the others faced the battle alone, merely to prevent the Mark from being without a king.
She might well decide that marriage to a princess of Gondor was better for the Riddermark, no matter how she felt about him. And wouldn't that be a fine thing? To have the woman he loved insist that duty required him to marry someone else?
What, then, if he went ahead, proposed and then – assuming she said yes – announced their betrothal immediately, while hoping he could still get to Imrahil and Faramir before they heard about it from someone else?
It was a tempting thought, and he tried to imagine the responses of the two men were he to do such a thing. Just how bad could the results be?
It would depend on how the two of them viewed that first conversation, he decided. If they saw it as a very preliminary discussion – the way he did – they might be annoyed and mildly insulted on behalf of the Princess, but would probably let it go. But if either or both of them had viewed that initial conversation as more binding, particularly if discussion about the possibility of a formal betrothal was already making the rounds in Gondor, the results would be disastrous. Lothiriel would be humiliated – something he would never wish to have any part in – and her father and cousin would view him as utterly without honor. Justifiably so.
Such a situation would almost inevitably cause tension between Gondor and the Riddermark, something they could ill afford. Aragorn would support him. He was sure of that – but what kind of problems would that cause the other man, to have the Princes of Dol Amroth and Ithilien angry with Eomer? And for that matter, was it possible, despite Eowyn's confidence, for Faramir to be angry enough for his feelings to spill over onto his relationship with his sister?
He rubbed his forehead. Faramir had told Eowyn of the conversation, had led her to believe a formal betrothal was imminent. That meant he, at least, must view that initial conversation as binding, although it was possible Eowyn had misunderstood.
Regardless, he would not risk it. It would be much better, cleaner, to wait to speak to Lisswyn until he had spoken to Imrahil and Faramir, and was completely free.
Wearily, he stripped off his clothes and flung himself onto his bed. He wanted to believe Eowyn was over-reacting, but knew his sister well enough to know it was unlikely. She was always more aware than he was of what was going on socially at Meduseld. He could only hope Lisswyn developed the same skill.
In the way of some dreams, he knew he was dreaming. She was standing next to his bed, and on her face was a smile that broadened once she knew she had his attention. The look in her eyes was a knowing one, telling him they'd played this game many times before, that she already belonged to him in every possible way. Then she reached up, slipped her dress off her shoulders.
Though his mouth went dry with longing, he couldn't look away from her eyes, eyes full of love and warmth.
She moved to where he stood, and tugged on his tunic. "You're wearing too many clothes." There was laughter in her voice.
His vision blurred as she undressed him, her hands everywhere, touching, teasing. Delighted, he returned the touches, then tumbled her onto the bed, began to love her in earnest. Their pleasure increased, his heartbeat a hard rap inside his chest –
And suddenly there was a crash, and the world erupted around them.
He had locked the door. He had. He knew he had. But it flew open with a crash, and the dark figure of a man stormed in, followed by others. Some had candles, and the room was suddenly bright as day.
He froze, too shocked to move for a long, frantic moment. His mind was desperately trying to catch up, to transition from the pursuit of intense pleasure in Lisswyn's arms to the threat now surrounding them.
She whimpered, squirmed against him. But it was no longer in pleasure, but distress. He rolled off her, automatically placed his arms around her protectively.
"Rohan! What's the meaning of this?" Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, was livid.
"I'll tell you what it is." Faramir snarled. "He has rejected Lothiriel, and gone back on his word."
As shock gave way, he realized that Lisswyn was trying to hide in him, trying to crawl away from the men, from her nakedness. He did his best to shelter her, looked up to defend himself.
And realized to his horror that the room was now completely full of people. Lothiriel was standing behind her father, Aragorn was over against the wall, Eowyn was behind Faramir, Elfhelm was next to Imrahil…it seemed as if half his guard was in the room, not to mention most of his household. Frantically, he scrabbled around on the bed for something to cover them with.
But it was too late.
Imrahil reached over and roughly grabbed Lisswyn, pulled her from his arms, hauled her to her feet. "I'll tell you what it is," repeating Faramir's words, he answered his own question, shaking her. "He chose to join himself with this –" words failed him, and he settled for shaking her again. Lisswyn's face was devastated. She gave Eomer a wild, desperate, terrified glance as she attempted to use her one free arm to cover herself.
"NO!"
NO! He sat up, shaking, looked around. His room. His empty room. No Lisswyn, no angry crowd. A dream. Nightmare. Whatever. That's all it was. Heart still pounding, he looked around, tried to get his breath back. The first part had actually been a very nice dream, he thought, shaking himself again. But then…he shuddered, his stomach twisting with nausea. The second part had seemed all too realistic, at least at the time.
He wiped the sweat from his face and stood on trembling legs. He pulled on his robe, then moved to the sitting room, poured a mug of water. Drank deep. He was still shaking. A dream. It had all just been a dream.
But he could still see Lisswyn's face as Imrahil pulled her up. The fact that he could not imagine the Prince of Dol Amroth doing such a thing, no matter how angry he was at Eomer, was beside the point. The man's innate chivalry aside, Eomer hadn't been able to protect her.
Uneasily, he remembered Eowyn's comments earlier about the damage he might already have done to Lisswyn's reputation and shuddered. His sister was right. He would take no more chances, could not bear the idea of Lisswyn being hurt in such a manner, even if it was only gossip, and not the humiliation he'd just dreamed.
He finished the water and dressed. There was no point in pretending he would sleep again, he might as well get some work done.
In his study, he started to pull out some of the paperwork he'd been avoiding, then instead, pulled a leather-bound volume from a shelf behind him, began flipping through it. It contained a list of all the members of various eoreds – at least those known to Meduseld, as the exact number and membership of some rural eoreds could be somewhat flexible – as well as details on the members of his household.
Perhaps he would find something, some hint or clue to who was working against him.
"I've been over every name, every family, every list. Of the people we have records of, I can not find any who would gain from my death." Eomer looked at Aragorn and Elfhelm, rubbed his eyes, weary.
"But as you said, there are many in Edoras you don't know, that you have no record of," Aragorn commented.
"What else would you have me do?" Eomer's voice was sharp with exhaustion and frustration. His sleepless night was catching up with him.
"Riders – both Eorlingas and a few from Gondor – left early this morning to search for any signs of the orcs," Elfhelm said. "Once they're back, perhaps we'll have a better idea of what's going on."
Eomer looked at him, nodded, then turned back to Aragorn. "Have you seen anything new in the seeing stone since coming north?" He heard the desperation in his voice, and grimaced. "Do we even have any idea how many escaped from the battle in front of the caves?
Aragorn shook his head. "No. But beyond those who escaped that battle, I believe there are others, from both Mordor and Moria, along with a few Uruks mixed in."
"But why are they coming here? To what purpose do they attack the Mark?"
For a long moment, there was no reply. Then Aragorn said quietly, "Rohan was instrumental in the defense of Minas Tirith, and even now, guards Gondor's borders to the north."
Understanding set in. "You think they mean to destroy us in order to better attack you?"
"I believe they know that we must both be destroyed in order for all threat to them and their ways to be removed, and have decided to focus on you first. Gondor is weaker without your friendship, Eomer, and that of your riders."
"That wouldn't be the case if you'd work faster to build up your cavalry as I keep suggesting," Eomer replied absent-mindedly. It made a certain amount of sense. Except… "But my death would not guarantee the destruction of the Mark. My sister would be a quite capable ruler."
"But your death would weaken Rohan, and make it easier to attack."
Eomer nodded slowly, then looked at Elfhelm, a troubled look on his face. "Have there been any reports of attacks on the herds?"
"No. At least no more than usual."
The horses were yet safe, then. That was one small relief.
"Send word to set extra guard over the herds. If the goal is to weaken the Riddermark, the horses will be targeted at some point."
Something was wrong. Lisswyn had not wanted to admit it earlier, but it was becoming harder to do so. She and the other women from the caves had spent the last two days in Meduseld's gardens, weeding. Other women from Edoras were there, as well, but were working in other areas, so there hadn't been much opportunity for conversation with them. But that evening, she'd sat down by a group of the women who were taking their evening meal in the hall, only to have them one by one get up and leave, mostly without speaking to her.
She'd thought nothing of it, as that was the way meals happened in the hall – people came and went as time allowed.
But then something similar had happened the next day as well. She'd come into the hall with Hilde and Brynwyn, and settled at a table where some of the other women from the caves were sitting with women from Edoras…only to watch the latter group all get up and leave, one and two at a time.
She wasn't paranoid or overly sensitive. But something was wrong. Moments ago, when she'd sat down at a table for the noon meal, there'd been several other women there. Now she was alone. And at least one of them had not been done with her meal, either. Alfild had gotten up and moved to another table, to sit by herself, rather than eat with Lisswyn.
Hurt wanted to come, but it had to fight its way through layers of bafflement. What could she possibly have done to have so alienated the women of Edoras? How had she managed to offend them – apparently all of them – in such a short period of time?
She finally pushed the food away, no longer hungry, and stood. She would go see how the boys were faring at the stables. The King had never made good on his promise to introduce her to the stable master, but surely the man wouldn't mind if she just stopped by to greet the boys. She would not keep them from their tasks. But she missed them. She missed their mother. She turned her thoughts away from that direction, and started toward the front of the hall, conscious that Alfild was watching her go.
As she reached the doors, they were suddenly flung open by the door-wardens, and she looked up to see the tall form of the King coming toward her. Just the sight of him eased her depression a little. She hadn't seen him since the night of the celebration, when he'd kissed her. She knew he was busy, could only imagine all the tasks he had in front of him, and she also knew they shouldn't spend time together. But it was still good to see him, and she felt her face crease in a smile as she watched him walk toward her.
…which faded as he walked by her without speaking. Without smiling. Without acknowledging her in any way, his eyes as distant as if they'd never met. She froze for a long moment, then turned, watched him walk away from her. Too stunned even to begin to process it, she simply stood there, only gradually becoming aware that Alfild was watching her, a gleam in her eyes.
Lisswyn turned, walked out of the hall, down the steps, momentum keeping her going. She paused outside the door to the stables, still bewildered by what had just happened.
She hadn't expected him to stop, not when his days must hold more to do than one man could easily manage, especially now. But not to acknowledge her in any way? To act as if he had never seen her before?
The stable doors were open, but no one seemed to be around. Taking their own noon meal, perhaps, though they'd not been in the hall. She slipped inside, wandered down the center aisle. Many of the stalls were empty, the horses no doubt out with their riders. But a noise caught her attention, and turning, she spied Firefoot looking at her over the gate of the end stall, a particularly fine one. Appropriate for the king's mount, she mused, as she wandered over to him.
The horse whuffed at her, then leaned out and nuzzled her cheek. She stroked him, felt her heart ease a little. It was probably a bad thing that the man's horse remembered her when the man himself was acting as if he didn't. She sighed, looked around, wishing she had a treat of some sort to offer.
Leaning against the gate, she looked at him. "I don't understand what just happened," she murmured. Firefoot nuzzled her again, and she gave a weak laugh. First the women of the court, and now the king himself. What had happened? What had she done?
Nothing. Things had been fine the day of the celebration, when the women had shared their clothing with them. And they had been fine that night. The women had been kind and welcoming, and the king had kissed her. Somehow, something had changed since then, but she could think of nothing she'd done to cause it.
Gradually, the shock wore off and the hurt set in. She would cope, one way or the other, with the women's response to her. Presumably, soon she and the other refugees would be relocated out of Meduseld and into cottages. Perhaps that would help. At least she wouldn't have to eat in the hall every day. And she still had the women from the caves. Their friendship mattered more to her than that of the women of Edoras, anyway.
But the King…was this what she'd been expecting would come? Had been warning herself about all along? Maybe. He wasn't angry with her – she was too familiar with his anger to allow that as a possibility. She grimaced, remembering. If she'd done something, he would have told her. Loudly. But this cold rebuff…
If this was what the future held, it was much worse than she'd imagined. It was one thing for him gradually to realize that she had no real place in his life, to be too busy to talk to her. That would have hurt, but she could have borne it. But for him to act as if he'd never laid eyes on her before…that had cut deep.
And the worst of it was that she could make no sense of it. Was he afraid she would have tried to detain him if he had spoken to her? Even just nodded his head to her? Or maybe he really just hadn't seen her. Maybe he had so much on his mind that he hadn't realized she was right in front of him?
No. Whatever else he was, he wasn't blind. It had been a deliberate snub. And even if there were some other reason for it, it was still a good reminder that she had no business thinking foolish thoughts about him. He was the king. She was a refugee. That was it. Best accept that now, before it led to more pain.
She straightened with a sigh and moved away from Firefoot's stall. A refugee, that was all she was. There was weeding, and in few weeks, the harvest. And hopefully, after that, there would be wool to spin, dresses to make. That was her life now, and one she would be grateful for.