Fresh from his own bath, Eomer stepped from his sitting room into his study, unsurprised to see Imrahil there, waiting for him.
"I'm told the healer was with you. Are you injured?" the Prince asked, concern evident in his dark eyes.
Eomer shook his head. "A scratch from where Hunlaf's knife pierced my mail. Nothing serious."
The other man nodded, motioned to a tray of food on the desk. "I took the liberty of asking for your breakfast to be served in here. I hope you do not mind if I join you."
"Of course not." There was a long list of tasks awaiting his attention, but one of them was a discussion with the Prince, so breakfasting together made sense. He took his seat, watched while the other man did likewise. Then simply stared at the meal in front of him. Where to start?
"Faramir tells me that the man you pursued – Hunlaf? – was responsible for the orc attacks."
Eomer nodded. "Apparently, he was half Eorlingas and half Dunlending, and like many such men, harbored nothing but hatred and bitterness for both peoples. I'm still not sure whether he seriously thought to try to rule in my stead, or if his goal was simply to destroy the Riddermark. If he had succeeded in burning Edoras and killing me and Eowyn, chaos would have resulted regardless of whether he was trying to rule or not."
"What of his men?"
"Five men surrendered, all full-blood Dunlendings. Hunlaf promised them the choicest parts of our land in return for their help. They were fools to have trusted him." He shook his head. "For now, they are in the dungeons, where they will stay until Aragorn returns. I would know what he has discovered in the outlying villages before I decide what is to be done with them. I would also hear his counsel in the matter."
"You think to let them go?"
"With Hunlaf gone and the orcs defeated, I would like to believe a show of mercy at this point could contribute to a truce between the Riddermark and the Dunlendings." He reached for a mug of tea, started to drink, then sat it down untouched, and sighed. "I would very much like to secure true peace for my people."
"Understandable." Imrahil reached for a slice of bread, spread some soft cheese on it. "I had a lengthy conversation with your sister last night, after you and Faramir departed."
Eomer looked at him, knew the conversation was shifting from Hunlaf to Lisswyn.
"Tell me about her."
It was clear that Imrahil meant Lisswyn, and Eomer once again stared down into his mug. Eowyn had once asked him the same thing, and he'd struggled then to answer it. How much harder it was to answer the same question from the Prince. After a moment, he looked up, responded with a question of his own. "What is the source of love? Why does a man come to love one woman and not another?"
Imrahil looked puzzled.
Eomer continued, as much to himself as the Prince. "I met your daughter and thought her a lovely and accomplished woman. Would I have fallen in love with her if I'd spent more time with her?" He shook his head. "I don't know. I've never been in love before," he murmured. "I met Lisswyn under difficult circumstances, and found her to be courageous and admirable. She responded to me first as a man without ever forgetting that I am also a king, which I appreciated. But how did that come to be love to the point that I would have died for her? To the point that I can be furious with her, and yet still love her?" he finished ruefully.
The Prince looked thoughtful, but didn't speak, and Eomer said, "Imrahil, it was never my desire to dishonor Lothiriel or Dol Amroth in any way. Just the opposite, in fact. But if I sent Lisswyn away, breaking both her heart and mine, and married your daughter while loving someone else – would that not be a different kind of dishonor to her? I sincerely believe your daughter to be a lovely and compassionate woman who deserves better than a man whose heart is elsewhere."
Imrahil nodded, cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Eomer. From what your sister told me last night, this matter has caused you great anxiety at a time when you've had much else on your mind, and I've not reassured you as quickly as I probably ought to have done." His expression hinted at a smile. "The truth is that while I admire you and would have been pleased to see my daughter wed to you, I would have been less pleased to have her so far away from me," he admitted. "But even while confessing to some relief that she will not be moving to Rohan, as her father it mattered to me that you had not simply dismissed her from your mind."
Eomer shook his head. "Far from it. Until the situation arose with Hunlaf, I had determined not even to speak of my feelings to Lisswyn herself until I had spoken with you concerning your daughter."
Imrahil didn't speak for a long moment, then said, "Thank you for that."
Eomer hesitated. "I would know, Imrahil…what is likely to be Lothiriel's response? I would not wish to cause her any grief."
The Prince shook his head. "It is possible I may wind up owing you more than either of us can know at this point," he said slowly. "My daughter is a very serious young woman who thinks much of duty and trying to do the right thing – I believe it comes from the dark times she has been raised in. She said once that you seemed a good and honorable man, and asked me if marriage to you was the right thing for Dol Amroth. I believe she would wed you if I had said yes, regardless of her own heart." He looked sad. "The truth is, I think she cares quite deeply for a young Gondorian soldier she believes I won't approve of. So it is possible that by your actions, instead of dishonoring her in any way, you may have given her her best chance of true happiness, and I thank you for it."
"I take it you do not disapprove of the Gondorian soldier?"
Imrahil gave him a wry smile. "No more so than any man I considered for her, yourself included. He is the younger son of a noble family, and from what Elessar tells me, he is brave and honorable as well as being much respected, both by the other soldiers and the rest of Gondorian nobility." He shrugged. "Some of my advisers will complain that we are throwing away alliance opportunities, but I will not subject my daughter to a marriage that is not in her best interests. If the two of you had formed a bond, I would have given her to Rohan. But I do not trust some of the other rulers who've sent emissaries seeking her hand."
They both fell silent, then Imrahil asked with a smile, "Returning to your plans…when is the wedding?"
Eomer shook his head. "I do not know." It was his turn to grin wryly. "As a man, I would like very much for it to be this afternoon. But as a king," he sighed. "…my city is in need of repairs, many of my people without homes. By the time they're rebuilt, winter will be upon us, and people will find it difficult to travel, both from other parts of the Mark and from Gondor. And yet, waiting until spring will cause its own problems, not least in that Lisswyn herself is one of those without a home, but it will not look right if she spends the winter living in Meduseld when we're not wed."
Imrahil nodded. "I see your dilemma." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "But winter is not yet come. My men and I are here, as is Faramir, and Elessar will return. Not only is that a lot of hands to help you rebuild, unless I miss my guess, it includes some of those from Gondor you mentioned wishing to attend your wedding."
Hope nudged inside Eomer. "You think I should have the wedding soon, before winter?"
"It is your choice, of course, but a wedding would be a source of joy and celebration for your people. It is traditional to have a harvest festival here in the city, is it not?" At Eomer's nod, he continued, "Then why not have the wedding then? That is nearly six weeks away – plenty of time to rebuild the lost homes with our help, and many of your people travel to Edoras at that time of year anyway. It would even be sufficient time for others to travel from Gondor."
Eomer simply stared at him, wonder on his face. "I would owe you more than I could ever repay," he finally murmured.
Imrahil's expression turned grave, and he shook his head. "Elessar was right when he said there will never be debts owed nor kept between Rohan and Gondor, but if we did, your people's valor and losses on the Pelennor would still overset anything we might ever do for you." He cleared his throat. "So what do you say?"
Eomer simply grinned at him. "I need to discuss it with Lisswyn, but I would appreciate your help and that of your men, more than words can tell."
"Then go discuss it with her," Imrahil said, standing. "And I'll go consult with my men concerning sending another group to fell more trees."
Lisswyn eased down onto Eowyn's bed with a sigh. It did feel good to stretch out on the soft mattress. After the long and relaxing bath she'd taken, she no longer felt quite so in need of sleep, and had said so to Eowyn and Mylla, only to be completely overruled. Mylla had examined and bound her arm, and had given her salve and soft bandages for the other cuts before announcing that while she thought Lisswyn would recover completely, that a day in bed would be a good thing.
Lisswyn had no intention of spending the entire day in bed. There was simply too much to do. But it had seemed prudent to agree at least to take a nap.
"Do you need anything else?" Eowyn asked.
Curled on her side, Lisswyn shook her head. "No, thank you." She'd eaten the meal Hilde and Brynwyn had brought, and was dressed in a soft, warm nightgown of Eowyn's. On the table next to the bed was a potion Mylla had left, promising it would help reduce her soreness if she took some before she slept.
Eowyn started to respond, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. The door to Eomer's chamber. She glanced at Lisswyn, a half-smile on her face, as she went to answer it, and Lisswyn sat back up, tried to settle the nerves in her stomach.
Eomer entered the room and glanced at Eowyn rather pointedly before turning to look at Lisswyn. With a final, encouraging smile, Eowyn slipped out of the room, saying, "I'll be just outside."
Understanding that the other woman was acting as a discreet chaperone, Lisswyn blushed, then felt nerves return as her glance moved back to Eomer.
"How are you?" He was still on the other side of the room, his expression unreadable.
Tired of answering that question, she thought. "Embarrassed." She forced herself to look at him. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I'm sorry."
He simply stared at her, an impassive look on his face, and Lisswyn's heart sank. She dropped her head into her hands, tried to remember exactly what she'd said. Had it really been that bad?
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realize he'd moved until he settled next to her on the edge of the bed. Hesitantly, she looked up at him, tried to find the words that would put things right, but he spoke before she could.
"Was it really so unreasonable of me to want a healer to attend you?"
Relieved that his tone was puzzled rather than angry, she said, "Of course not. But was it unreasonable of me to want a few moments to myself – a chance to check my injuries myself?"
He slowly shook his head, then reached out, stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb. "I was worried."
"I should have understood that." She turned her face into his hand for a moment, then looked back at him, wondered how to show him what she was feeling. Deliberately, she mirrored his touch by sliding her hand up, along his cheek, then back behind his head. Drawing him down, she lightly brushed his lips with her own. He started, then parted his lips in invitation. Shivering a bit, she boldly deepened the kiss, enjoyed both the feel and the taste of him, the knowledge that he was truly hers. They were both out of breath when she released him, and it was a moment before she spoke again. "But I'm fine."
He gave a choked laugh before pulling her close to him and burying his face in her shoulder. "Point taken."
She sighed, rubbed her cheek against the softness of his tunic. "I still should not have spoken to you in such a manner."
"Why not?" He pulled back, tilted her face up so she could see a glint of humor in his eyes. "I've said worse to you." Laughter bubbled inside her at his tone, but faded as he continued more seriously. "I want you to always speak honestly to me," he said firmly. "I need that." Then the humor came back, and he gave her a mischievous grin. "Though perhaps not quite that honestly when all of Edoras is watching."
Blushing, laughter erupted from her as she once more leaned against him. "The people are going to think you've chosen a shrew for a queen," she muttered, and he joined her in her laughter.
Silence fell and they sat without speaking for a while, leaning against each other.
Content, she was nearly asleep, when he suddenly pulled away. "I have something for you."
Lisswyn looked up, watched as he reached over to the table, picked up a piece of folded material that he must have placed there when he came in. Wordlessly, he handed it to her.
It looked like a piece of his cloak. Puzzled, she unfolded it, then simply stared at the plants that lay there.
"Andric had mentioned that you'd been harvesting them when Hunlaf grabbed you. We found them when we were tracking you, and I thought you might still want them."
He'd taken the time to wrap them and carry them. Moved, she reached out and gently touched some of the leaves. There weren't many of them, as she'd been too upset to concentrate seriously on their harvest. But the fact that he'd thought to bring them for her brought tears to her eyes. She looked up at him, smiled. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He was plainly puzzled by the intensity of her response. "What's this?" He reached over, picked up the small goblet of potion Mylla had left.
Lisswyn shrugged. "She says it will help me sleep." As an explanation, it was better than telling him the drug's true purpose of reducing her soreness. She didn't want to see the worried scowl return to his face.
"Why haven't you taken it?" He was scowling anyway, and she sighed.
"I was going to take it right before trying to sleep. I was sort of hoping you'd come in before I did," she admitted.
The distraction worked. "Oh?"
"I thought I'd sleep better if I knew you weren't still angry over how I spoke to you on the steps."
His eyes glinted with humor. "I was hoping you weren't still angry with me over my insistence that you see a healer."
Lisswyn laughed, and he handed her the goblet. "Drink it."
It was her turn to scowl, but she took the drink from him, lifted it to her mouth, and nearly dropped it when he suddenly asked, "How would you feel about a harvest festival wedding?"
Lowering the drink, she stared at him. "So soon? How?"
"Imrahil suggested it. He has offered to help us rebuild the lost homes, and believes such a celebration would be good for our people. I know it would be good for me," he finished quietly.
Lisswyn smiled uncertainly, her mind scrambling with thoughts of preparing for a royal wedding in such a short amount of time. It was overwhelming, but Eowyn's presence would help.
Looking up, she saw Eomer's eyes, dark and gleaming with excitement and hope, and realized that he was right. Such a celebration would be good for all of them, and if the Gondorians were going to help rebuild the city, they could certainly arrange a wedding in the same amount of time. A thrill went through her at the thought of being his wife so soon.
Setting the goblet on the table, she said, "I must get up. There's too much to do to sleep."
He picked it up, handed it back to her. "Drink it," he said firmly. "The wedding plans can wait one more day, while you recover."
"But—"
"Drink it."
Torn between laughter and resentment, she drank the mixture, grimaced at the taste.
He took the goblet, set both it and the re-wrapped plants on the table, then moved so she could slide back down under the covers.
Lisswyn sighed, reached out for his hand. He linked his fingers with hers, leaned down to kiss her. "There will be plenty of time for wedding preparations," he said. "Get some rest."
Eomer sat next to Lisswyn until he was sure she was asleep. Carefully pulling his hand away from where it had still been linked with hers, he brushed her hair back, away from her bruised face. Though there was much to do, he was reluctant to move, would happily have spent the morning simply sitting with her, watching her sleep.
Or better yet, climbing into the bed and holding her, as he'd done in front of the fire on the trail. He doubted he'd even sleep – as was common post-battle, he wasn't particularly tired.
It still seemed nothing short of miraculous that she was safe, that, thanks to Faramir, they'd arrived in time. And for that miracle to have been followed by Imrahil's not only offering his blessing on their marriage but also his assistance in bringing it about before winter… Eomer grinned in spite of himself.
No, he wasn't free to climb into the bed with her, even simply to hold her. But in a few short weeks, he'd have that right, would have the right to love her in every possible way.
With a sigh, he leaned over, brushed her forehead with another kiss before standing, straightening the blankets. There was much to do, and the first thing on the list could be done by no one but him.
The kitchen was largely unfamiliar territory to him, would probably have been so even without Hunlaf's obsessive insistence on privacy. He hoped, however, that with breakfast just past, that the area might be mostly deserted. He'd considered asking Tille to come to his study, but thought she might be more comfortable in her own territory.
Even as he opened the door and walked in, he sensed the change from what the kitchen had been like under Hunlaf. The atmosphere was different. Warm and cheerful, with the smell of fresh baked bread and the chatter of feminine voices.
The sounds died when they saw him standing there, of course, and he bit back a sigh at the alarmed looks. In addition to Tille, Betta was chopping meat while Liffild, her son sleeping in a basket nearby, kneaded bread, and two other young women, barely out of their childhood, were washing dishes. They'd all stopped what they were doing, frozen in place at the sight of the king in the kitchen.
"Sire? Did you need something?" Distress was evident in Betta's voice. "Was there no one available to assist you?"
Did they think him completely incapable of helping himself should the need arise? "I'm fine, Betta." He turned his gaze to Tille. "I'd like to speak to Tille for a moment, though. Alone."
Curiosity, concern and surprise were all evident on the faces of the women as they quickly exited the room. Perhaps he should have had Tille come to his study, after all – it might have reduced the gossip that was sure to spread. Then he glanced back at Tille, her face frozen with nerves at being singled out by him, and shook his head. Maybe there was no way of doing this in way that wouldn't be anxiety producing for her. Best to get it over with, then.
"Hunlaf is dead," he said abruptly.
The unease on her face faded somewhat, replaced by caution and concern, but not by surprise. She'd already known of Hunlaf's death, of course. It was no doubt all over the city by now.
"He died knowing that you're now in charge of Meduseld's kitchens, are doing so completely capably, and with the support of the entire household." It wasn't enough, would never make up for what she'd suffered. But it was all he had to offer her.
As his meaning registered, he saw fierce satisfaction flash in her eyes, but her voice was quiet when she spoke. "Thank you, sire."
An uneasy silence fell between them. What now? He didn't know what else to say to her. Awkwardly, he turned to leave, then looked back at the self-possessed young woman. "You have everything you need? You have a sufficient number of assistants?" Even as he asked it, the question struck him as slightly ridiculous, coming from him. What would he do if she said no? Send in some of his riders to help?
She nodded, and he turned again to leave, when she spoke. "My lord?"
"Yes?"
"I know it's none of my business, but… how is Lisswyn? Was she—" her voice faltered. "Did he—" She stopped, picked up a towel, ran it nervously through her hands. "Forgive me. I have no right."
If not you, then who would have the right to ask such questions? he wondered, but then simply shook his head. "Please, do not apologize for being concerned. She's fine, just sleeping. Bruises and cuts, nothing more. We were in time," he said, and gratitude for that once more rushed through him.
Tille smiled. "I'm glad."
He returned the smile. "I'll tell her you asked about her."
A/N: I hope no one is disappointed that the tension on the steps didn't turn into a bigger quarrel. They will no doubt have much, er, stronger arguments in the future, but for now, while they're still finding their way and discovering what it's like not only to be in love, but to be allowed to be in love, this was sufficient as another step in their relationship, I think.
A/N 2: Some reviewers had expressed concern about Lothiriel. If any of you are still reading at this point, I hope you're satisfied with how I've taken care of her. No, she didn't get the Horselord, nor get to be queen of Rohan, but in this AU I've created, I envision her living a long and happy life near her family and the sea, cherished by a man who never ceases to be grateful he was given the opportunity to love her. :)
A/N 3: I've been notified that this has been nominated for an MPA. Utterly astonished and touched, I can't tell you what it means to me to know that someone enjoyed the story that much. Wow!