Lothíriel of Rohan looked up from her books and scrolls, biting the tip of her quill. It was still quite early in the day, but with so many tasks ahead of her, the queen mostly had to get an early start. The king usually took an early morning ride before breakfast, and Lothíriel had not seen her husband this morning. Consequently, she had decided that she would get the household affairs out of the way before he got back and while Meduseld was still fairly quiet. Upon his return they could have breakfast together.
True, it was more quiet around Meduseld these days, the queen thought. Their youngest Théodred was now a rider; he was often away and this left only the youngest daughter, Bronwen, Éomer and herself. Usually Meduseld was also the home of the Crown Prince of Rohan, his wife and their children, but they were presently visiting Celebrian's family and Elfwine's sister in Minas Tirith. Ciera and her husband, Halthaín, one of Éomer's young marshals now resided at the Aldburg with their young family.
Good Béma, I am already a grandmother several times over! Lothíriel laughed to herself as she gazed at her scribbles and figures. "I should count myself lucky that I get periods of tranquillity these days. I am fairly certain, though, that the peace and quiet will be interrupted, it has always been that way," she mused to herself. She did not get to finish this line of thinking as the door to her chamber was flung open and shut again with a bang as a lion with greying mane burst in.
Now why did I have to evoke this? The queen managed to think before the roar of the lion filled the room.
"Are you aware of the whereabouts – and the doings - of your youngest daughter, Madam?" Éomer of Rohan growled angrily.
"I suppose that at this time of day she is probably at the stables - and a good morning to you, too, husband," Lothíriel replied calmly. "And as far as I am concerned, she is very much your daughter, too!" she added.
She put down her quill, leaned back in her high backed chair and looked calmly up at her husband, mirth threatening to break through in her eyes and settling in a wide smile around her lips.
Caught by surprise by her remark, Éomer of Rohan stopped in his angry pacing and now stared incredulously at his wife, still steaming with fury.
"Of course she is my daughter, too – but ….." Éomer interrupted himself, obviously now realising that his wife found him a tad ridiculous. "And good morning to you, too, love." He could not help grinning slightly as he bent to kiss his wife.
She reached up to caress his cheek.
"And what, may I ask, caused this roar at this time of the day. I thought that you were out riding?" Lothíriel looked up at her husband, one eyebrow quizzically raised.
"It certainly was my intention, but as I walked into the stables, I found our daughter there, kissing the eldest son of my First Marshal, the Captain of my guard!" Éomer was practically fuming.
"I see. And what did you do about it?" Lothíriel inquired.
"What I did about it? Well, nothing – except for shouting at the cad to get his hands off my daughter – and at Bronwen to come with me, which she obviously did not. I suppose that I was too shocked to do anything – and I just stormed out of the door!"
No, obviously not. Lothíriel could not help laughing – at which her husband sent her a glare, which would have stopped larger adversaries.
His wife ignored the danger. She had seen it before. Living with Éomer was like living with a volcano, which erupted at intervals, and she had been the subject of his glares long enough to ignore them.
"Béma's Balls, Lothy; he is ten years older than her!" Éomer's temper was rapidly rising again, and his usually hazel eyes were darkening with anger.
"Nine years actually, he is one month older than Elfwine as well you know – and --- what of it?" Lothíriel turned a questioning, blue-green gaze at her husband. "What is so wrong about that?"
"Wrong? I will tell you what is wrong! He is a full-grown man --- and she, she is only a child!" Éomer growled angrily. "And he was kissing her as if ---- as if it was not the first time!"
"Well, it probably is not. Éomer, she is twenty years old, the same age that I was when we met; she is no longer a child; she is a young woman!" Lothíriel argued.
"Even so – he is so much older than her – and ……"
"In fact only one year older than you were when we met; you were a grown man by then – the King of Rohan - and you have never considered me a child, have you? And if so, it certainly never stopped you, my Lord and Master. And - if you want another example, Faramir is actually more than ten years older than Éowyn – and what if your sister had considered Aragorn for a potential husband?"
Lothíriel looked inquisitively at her husband who deliberately sought to avoid answering the question and shot his wife an angry glance in stead.
"Entirely beside the point, Lothy. Hama is a grown man, a soldier! You know perfectly well what soldiers are like – and you know Hama! He and Elfwine have been scurrying the territory, houses of ill repute and mead halls since they were barely eighteen. By Béma, woman, you would not throw your youngest daughter into the arms of a man like that, now would you?"
"I do not recall, Éomer, that you reacted this strongly when Eldarion asked for Théodwyn's hand in marriage," Lothíriel inquired, one of her dark eyebrows elegantly arched, "so now why this frantic reaction?"
"I – well, oh damn it! You know very well that Aragorn and I had agreed a long time before this actually happened that it would be a splendid idea if Gondor and Rohan thus again tied bonds through marriage … besides they were more compatible in age – and Eldarion is Aragorn's son!"
"And this bodes for what exactly? As I recall Théodwyn was not even as old as Bronwen is now, when Eldarion first laid hands on her – and I do not seem to recall the same kind of resistance or rage on your part when you found out, husband!"
"Perhaps so, of course I did not like the idea of anybody pawing a daughter of mine – then Eldarion was not as old as Hama is now compared to our daughter!" Éomer shot back.
"Aha, I see – and you think that would have prompted that he was more of an innocent? As you said, he is Aragorn's son!"
"He is, indeed, but Eldarion was not as much of a …., a womaniser as Hama is ….. or others are." Éomer argued.
As he spoke, Éomer had turned his back to his wife, looking out of the windows over the plains.
Lothíriel narrowed her eyes. "And how exactly do you know that? Others? You? You were not exactly innocent when you bedded me on our wedding night, were you? And my father obviously had no qualms about throwing me into your arms, so he was wrong, was he?"
At this Éomer turned back towards her. "No, I was not, but …."
His wife interrupted him. "If you are going to say that it was different for us I am going to trash you, Éomer Éomundsson!" The queen got up from behind her desk and stood in front of her husband, raising her chin defiantly.
"No, of course it is not different, and of course your father was not wrong, but …." Éomer sounded hesitating, almost as if he was on the retreat, and Lothíriel decided to keep up the pace of the argument before he could set in a strike again. She was not the wife of a skilled warrior for nothing.
Éomer opened his mouth to say something more, but Lothíriel beat him skilfully to it.
"No, of course you cannot argue that it is different; how could it be? How would it be all right for you, your sons – and the rest of the male population of Middle Earth to gain experience before they married and not for the son of Éothain because the woman he loves, happens to be your daughter? Even our youngest son, my Lord – he is just seventeen, and I believe that there is not a wench in all of Edoras who has not at one time been the subject of his advances! And you would think him a lesser son of Éomer of Rohan, if indeed he has not succeeded with some of the wenches! Which I strongly suspect that he has, by the way! I have heard him sneaking into his room several mornings around the break of dawn – and I have heard the gossip around here!"
"Of course it is all right for Hama as well …….., but ……" Éomer began.
"As long as it is not your youngest daughter that he lusts for and wants to marry, you mean?"
Lothíriel stood before her tall, sturdy husband, both hands on her hips.
"If Hama had not sown his wild oats – or been entirely untouched by women at this point, then he would most certainly be the first male Rohirrim for a long, long time. I cannot recall any that I know of!"
"I suppose not," Éomer grunted.
Lothíriel continued: "And as for Eldarion, I would imagine that also our oldest daughter has profited from the knowledge that her husband has gained from Gondorian courtesans. My dear husband, thirty years have gone by and nothing, nothing has changed, oh Mighty King of Rohan. Women are still supposed to be virgins when they go to their conjugal bed and men can still do as they please!" Lothíriel stomped her foot to emphasise her words and her sea-green eyes glinted dangerously.
"And you know that better than anybody – and you would hold it against one of your men?"
Éomer knew when he was beaten; over the years he had only seldom won an argument with his feisty queen. Lothíriel of Rohan had always been a shrewd negotiator and vigorous opponent during these arguments – which had also proven valuable when she held council during the periods when he had been absent.
Suddenly he burst into a gigantic roar of a laugh. "Oh, I can hardly do that, now can I. I seem to recall a conversation that we had on our wedding night," he said, "when I had to confess all my prior sins to my very newly wed wife."
Éomer reached over and pulled his wife into his arms, still chuckling.
"I surrender, my Lady – and I am forever reminded that no shrew will ever be thoroughly tamed – at least not you. Although I have certainly tried."
"The effort is probably what keeps you on your toes and fit for fight, my Lord," Lothíriel retorted.
He bent his head and kissed her warmly.
"Of course you are right; why should it be different for Hama than for all men in all of Arda? He is a good man, I know that better than anybody; I have known him since he was born and I know and value his parents; he is, of course, worthy of our daughter. I am still a bit worried but as Bronwen is very much your daughter, Lothy – and she is very much like her aunt; perhaps an older man is what she needs to match her; her aunt certainly did! So I should probably not worry so much. Although, perhaps I should have been a couple of more years your senior to keep you at bay, my Lady!" He chuckled as he looked into her eyes.
Lothíriel put her arms around her husband's neck, tangling her hands in his thick, still blonde mane. She sent him an enticing smile: "Bronwen is most certainly my daughter – and with so many older siblings she is quite old for her age and is used to fighting for what she wants."
She pulled at one of his tresses. "And I have very much confidence in my daughter and her ability to make her own choices. She is your daughter as well, Éomer, and in some ways she would probably have made an even better warrior – aye, even king one day – than Elfwine. She is determined, shrewd – and she has purpose in most of the things she does, like her father. And if she loves Hama, then she knows what she is doing; she will not settle for a mere boy, she wants a man – like I did."
"You are probably right – in that, too." The king chuckled. "I suppose that I cannot really find arguments against their bonding. I have, however, one small concern remaining, Lothy. I am not sure that Bronwen will remain a virgin much longer – deeming from the quality of the kiss I saw them exchanging – and where he had his hands."
Lothíriel slapped his shoulder. "Look who's talking! You certainly did not keep your hands to yourself, I seem to recall. Not everybody has to be like you – and your sons for that matter! My love, if they have their way, they will be married soon – and then the outcome is inevitable. He is an honourable man, and he respects her."
"And how do you know that?" Éomer held out his wife at arm's length and looked questioningly at her.
"Because our daughter took me into her confidence some time ago. I have known for quite some time in which direction her affections lay." Lothíriel replied.
"Ah, I might have known – and all the time I have worried that some young pup among my men may have had her affections, it was really the more mature captain of my guard --- and my wife knew all along?" Éomer tried to sound severe, but failed miserably and a big, devilish grin made his way to his face.
"It constitutes high treason, my Lady, as well you know to conspire behind your king's back! And it may be that you will have to pay a high price for your actions!" He growled. "My revenge will come swiftly and it will be merciless!"
His wife looked at him through demurely lowered lashes. "I will take whatever punishment you deem me worthy of, my Lord," she purred.
Éomer held on to her. "Actually, I should not be surprised; I have known Éothain for a lifetime – and Hama is very much like his father in that respect, too," Éomer said. "Mélia and Éothain have been in love forever – she was a mere fifteen the first time that he laid eyes - and hands, as far as I remember - on her. Come to think of it, Halfred was not totally amused when he found out who her suitor was. He, too, had his concerns about the suitability of his future son-in-law." Éomer smiled at the memory.
"It must have been grave then," Lothíriel laughed, "considering that he had no qualms about accepting Amrothos as Leia's suitor."
"He knew both Éothain and me better than he knew Amrothos. Obviously no one had bothered telling him about your brother's escapades," Éomer quipped.
"When we were merely riders, we were not exactly top of everybody's list as worthy suitors, not even when I became marshal. I suspect that the rumours of our behaviour may have proceeded us." He grinned self-consciously as he pressed his wife against him. "It, of course, changed when I became king."
"I might have suspected that. Ha, and here you are talking about concerns, you git. How old was it you were when you got really interested in wenches?" Lothíriel poked a finger teasingly in Éomer's chest.
"You know very well how old I was, I did tell you ---- I may be an old fool, Lothy, but she is my youngest daughter. It is difficult for a father to accept that even his youngest has grown up – and especially if it is a daughter – and to imagine her in the arms of a man, who – well – is very similar to oneself, is almost unbearable. If she marries, she will move --- and then the two of us will be left alone, now that Théodred is a rider and is away most of the time." Éomer held his wife a little tighter.
"Good I say – we have been surrounded by children for what seems to be decades now and we deserve having some time to ourselves. Then we can travel to Belfalas, Minas Tirith and Ithilien on our own and visit our friends and family, as we have always talked about. Elfwine is old enough to take on the responsibilities of ruling – he has to one day anyway. We are not too old to enjoy what is remaining of our lives! And it is not as if they will be moving to the far corner of Middle Earth, probably only a few yards down the hill." Lothíriel laughed.
"And if we need children around us," she added with a grin, "I am sure that Elfwine and Celebrian will not mind lending us our grandchildren for a while. What say you?"
"I say that as long as it is only for a short while, I agree to it. I suspect that I will easily be content," Éomer grunted and kissed his wife.
When he let her go, she smiled tenderly at him. "See what I mean, you old lug? I knew that you would see sense. Now I believe that we should send for them and have Hama declare his intentions. Provided that you have not scared him off - and you must indeed be scary, oh great King since he has not declared himself a long time ago; usually Hama is one of your most fierce riders and bravest men."
"Well, yes. I probably am. Let us get some breakfast and then send for Mélia and Éothain, we might as well get this over with. But first, wife, I believe that I mentioned that you would be subject to some punishment for your behaviour. And we might as well start now!" Éomer sat down in the chair which his wife had previously vacated and pulled her into his lap. Lothíriel giggled, as his lips found her exposed neck. Her husband might be older and greying, but certainly not that old!
---ooo000ooo---
Hama leaned against the stable wall. When he had heard Éomer yelling, he had instantly let go of Bronwen and was still recovering from the shock. He groaned.
"Béma, Bron – that was your father. He saw us – and he looked furious when he stomped out of the stable. Any minute now I can expect his summons! He will probably banish me from Rohan for the rest of my life. I should have spoken long ago, we should have told him, like we told my parents – and your mother. The king hates when he is kept in the dark about anything – and when he is lied to!"
He pulled her into his arms again and Bronwen flung her arms around his neck, tangling her hands into his thick, reddish-tinged mane of hair. She pulled him down for another kiss.
"You worry too much, my love. It is not that we have exactly lied to him. But you are right, it is high time that we spoke to father; it is true he values the truth. Mother is on our side, she will be no problem – and your parents are behind us, too. You know father; he roars but he does not bite. He will see reason." The tall, blue eyed princess caressed the bearded cheek of her love, trying to reassure him.
"That may be, but he will probably still feel that I am not right for you. As you well know, Bron, I have argued this as well. I am your brother's best friend, I am a warrior – a soldier – and your father will probably resent my behaviour in the past." He hesitated.
"I have got three brothers, who are soldiers, too, you twit – and I am not a complete fool; I know what you and Elfwine were up to before he married Celebrian, but I do not care. I love you, Hama – and if my father will not consent that we marry, I shall elope with you and marry you anyway!"
"Ah, and have Éomer of Rohan hunt me for the rest of my life? Not such a good idea, my love – and why couldn't you just have fallen in love with someone your own age? Géorf for instance?" He almost growled from despair.
Bronwen slapped him playfully. "Because Géorf means nothing to me; I do not want a lad, I want a man! I want you!" She shut him up with a kiss, and with a deep throaty growl Hama gave into it, letting his hands roam down her body again. He wanted her so badly – and had for a long, long time.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips, as he felt her mould against him.
The guard that Éomer had sent to find his daughter and her beau, in fact Gamling's youngest son, Aefwine – a friend of Bronwen's brothers and Hama, was leaning against the door post and made his presence known by coughing loudly.
"I sincerely regret to interrupt a so obviously tender moment, but I was sent to announce that the king wants the presence of both of you in his study – now," Aefwine said with a smirk.
Hama let go of Bronwen and turned towards his friend, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. "Dry that smirk of your face – or I shall do it for you. Remember all the times I covered for you when your mum was not supposed to know what you were up to, laddie! And I still outrank you, you know!"
"Easy, Captain. I am on your side, I just carry out the orders that I received from our sovereign, you know - Bron's father?" Aefwine grinned.
"What mood is he in?" Bronwen asked.
"What mood do you think?" Aefwine inquired with a wicked grin. "You know our supreme commander better than I do; I would find my armour and bring my sword, if I were Hama. The lion is furious and he is roaring mightily."
Hama's brow furrowed slightly and Bronwen squeezed his hand. "He does not scare me. He will just have to get over it. I am not budging – and with mother's help we shall succeed." She looked determined and Hama could not help grinning.
"Indeed, even the mighty King of Rohan may have to surrender to the combined forces of the queen and you, my love. I do know that if there is someone he cannot outstare, it is you. Come on, we shall face this together." He intertwined his fingers with Bronwen's and together they walked up the path to Meduseld and ascended the stairs leading up to the Golden Hall. Aefwine followed them, the corners of his mouth curling up in a grin.
The three of them stopped outside the door to the king's study. Aefwine grinned. "I will leave you two lovebirds to it, I have another errand to run. Good luck – you'll need it, Captain!" He disappeared down the corridor, humming an old Rohirric love song.
Hama gave Bronwen a light kiss, smiled into her eyes and knocked on the door. He did not let go of her hand as they entered Éomer's study. A fact that did not escape Éomer, and his brow furrowed.
The king was sitting behind his desk, and the queen was standing by the window. She turned towards the young couple and sent them an encouraging smile and a wink. Éomer noticed that, too, and turned his gaze to his daughter.
"Go with your mother, Bronwen; I want to talk to Hama alone," he growled.
"But, father, I ….." Bronwen began but was interrupted by her father.
"Go, I said! I will call for you when I want to talk to you!" Éomer sent his daughter a glare, which Bronwen reciprocated. Indeed she is a match for Elfwine when it comes to glaring. Éomer could not help thinking.
Hama whispered reassuringly. "Go, my love. Obviously we are going to have a man to man talk first." He kissed the palm of her hand, and she acquiesced, following her mother out of the door. At the door she turned and sent Hama a look of encouragement. He smiled back and then faced the king, looking straight into his eyes without flinching. The king's eyes narrowed dangerously. The nerve of that boy!
Éomer chuckled silently to himself. His father's son, indeed. He had seen the reckless courage of his best friend's son so many times in battle and under other circumstances. How many times had he not stood before him – mostly together with Elfwine – waiting for what punishment the king would impose on him, or arguing some matter that was on his mind and which he felt strongly about.
He looked at the younger man. Indeed, an impressive sight; he almost understood his daughter. Hama was Éothain's son, no doubt about that, body and soul. He was as tall as his father and Éomer and broad shouldered. His looks, however, were inherited from his beautiful mother - the reddish-tinged, slightly curled hair and the distinctive blue eyes, and Éomer knew that he had a brain to match; he was no simpleton, his captain of the guard. Oh, yes he understood his daughter, but he was not going to let that on – yet!
Éomer had never been the epitome of a diplomat, and he still preferred directness so he rushed right into it.
"Captain of my guard, I would like to know by which right you are taking advantage of my youngest daughter? Who do you think you are, taking liberties with a princess of the realm, my daughter – kissing her in the stables, in almost full public view?" he inquired brusquely.
"By which right, Sire? I love her," the younger man said, looking directly into the king's eyes.
"Young man, the fact that you say that you are in love with her, does not necessarily grant you the right to ….. well, fondle my daughter in that way." Éomer growled. "I want an explanation!"
"I know that I should probably not have chosen the stables, where everybody could come in, but I am a man in love, Sire. I did not know that she was going to be there. As you know, I have just come back from Aldburg; I was grooming my horse – and she came to get her horse for a morning ride. And …. well. I was so happy to see her, it had been a while, so ….." Hama's face lit up in a tender smile at the thought.
"Sire, if you will grant me your consent, I will happily marry Bronwen tomorrow, if need be," he continued.
"Not so hasty, Captain. Answer me, is it necessary that you wed?" Éomer raised one eyebrow quizzically and glared at the younger man. "I swear to you, if you have taken advantage of my daughter…….." Any other man than Hama would have frozen by the frost in the king's voice, but Hama looked straight into the king's flaring eyes.
"No, no – of course not, Sire, you must believe me. I would not dream of taking advantage of Bronwen in this way," Hama replied ardently. Liar, he thought to himself, I have often dreamt of it. And he knows that.
"Well, yes – I believe that I have to trust you on that. How long has this been going on? You certainly both looked very comfortable with what you were doing," Éomer inquired in a severe tone.
Hama set his shoulders straight. "Only this past year, my Lord. I have been in love with Bronwen since she turned seventeen – I mean that this was the first time I realised that I was in love, but I held back. I am older than her – and I thought that it was only a crush on her part, and I would therefore not pursue it, but when I found that it was not …., that she was truly in love with me ….. and I realised that I love her like I have loved no one else." He stopped and looked at the king, who just nodded and glared back.
Hama continued, his voice trembling from his emotions. "Last year, at Haldred's wedding, I was seated beside her; I asked her to dance and before I knew it, we ended up outside on the patio – and we were kissing as naturally as if it was meant to be. I have never felt anything like it when I held her in my arms."
He straightened and controlled his voice. "You must believe me, Sire, I am utterly and truly in love with Bronwen – and it is love, not just attraction!"
"Hm, and you must be able to judge. As far as I know, you are not exactly inexperienced when it comes to women, now are you?" Éomer smiled sarcastically.
Hama sent him a dark glance. "No, my Lord I am not. As you well know, Elfwine and I have had our fair share of diversions – but nothing will ever compare to what I feel for Bronwen. You must believe that, Sire."
"Oh, I do. But I also need to know - how many tumbles have you counted since you fell in love with my daughter? Do not for one minute try to make me believe that you have stayed celibate for several years. I must know that I can trust that you will stay faithful to my daughter."
Hama's full lips became a straight line and he raised his glance to look straight into the king's eyes. "I will not lie to you, my King. During the time when I thought it just a crush – and when I fought my own feelings, I lived my life almost as I have always done – since I came of age, as a bachelor – and a soldier, but since I realised that I love Bronwen, I have not touched another woman, nor have I had the inclination to."
Éomer nodded darkly. He remembered how he had reacted when he had met Lothíriel. Before her, he had bedded most of the women that came his way, but he also knew that it was possible to stay true to one woman and he saw no cause to question Hama on this point.
Hama was the first to speak. "Sire, I wish for nothing else than to marry Bronwen. And I will do so, with or without your consent. I love her."
"I believe you. But – she is still very young. You do realise that?"
"I know that she is young, but not on the inside. In her mind and in her actions she is older than me. And you know what I can offer her; I may only be a captain in your guard, Sire, but she will never want for anything as long as I live."
Éomer stood for a while, as if contemplating his words. Then he went to the door, opened it and roared into the hallway. "Lothíriel, bring your daughter to me!"
Lothíriel and Bronwen, who had been waiting anxiously next door, came into the study. Bronwen walked up to Hama and took his hand. He sent her an encouraging smile.
"So, Bronwen. This young man tells me that you are in love and that you want to marry, is that so?"
"Of course, it is true, father. Isn't it obvious to you that it is so? And we shall, with or without your consent!" Bronwen raised her chin and looked straight into her father's eyes.
Éomer looked at his daughter and wondered at what he saw. Was this really his youngest tomboy of a daughter, who stood before him? Only a few years she had been a little wildcat, very much like his sister, always getting into trouble, living and breathing in the stables and hanging around the training grounds, pestering her brothers and their friends to teach her or begging him to bring her with him when he went for a ride; with unruly hair in different shades of blond and the most beautiful almond shaped blue eyes, and now: a young woman, taller than most women, with straight shoulders and a slim waist, the unruly blond hair tamed in a braid down her back and the blue eyes glinting with love for her man and willingness to fight for what she wanted.
He sighed slightly. I must be getting old; she has grown up before my eyes, and I did not even notice. Luckily her observant mother sees such things and keeps track when I cannot. He dismissed his thoughts and looked at the couple. Then he made up his mind and addressed them brusquely.
"Well, then, Captain of my Guard, if it is really so, should you not now ask formally for my daughter's hand – in her presence and in the presence of her mother? And what about your parents?"
Hama looked surprised, but quickly pulled himself together. "They know of my intentions, and they will not stand in my way although father have also had his reservations, but they love Bronwen as I do." He turned towards Bronwen and took both of her hands in his. "Bronwen, what say you? Will you marry me and live with me, as I now ask you to? And Sire, will you grant me your daughter's hand in marriage?"
Bronwen laughed, flung her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. "Of course I will. How could you be in doubt." Then she let him go and sent her father a questioning look. "That is, if my father will now give his consent."
"I have to, now haven't I," Éomer growled. "Of course I will give my consent. As if I really had a say in the matter; your mother has given her consent a long time ago – and then my opinion counts for nothing!"
"So true," Lothíriel laughed, "I am glad that you realise that, my Lord."
Bronwen let go of Hama for a while and embraced her father. "Thank you, papa," she whispered and Lothíriel smiled as she saw the look on her husband's face. Her youngest daughter had always known how she could get the roaring lion to purr like a cat. Éomer saw the look in his wife's eyes and smiled embarrassedly at her.
There was a knock on the door and through it came Éothain, First Marshal of Rohan, and his wife Mélia, the queen's companion. Éothain cast one look at his son and at the king, and then said dryly. "So he consented, the old cad. Well, it takes a while sometimes, but eventually he is liable to see sense."
"And you treat your king with the usual respect, I can tell," Éomer retorted.
"Well, get in here, you two – and, find the goblets and my best Gondorian wine, wife – and let us drink to the young couple to seal the betrothal so that Mélia and you can start planning the wedding – and Éothain and I can get time to drink and plan our next hunting trip." He grinned at his friend. "He is just about as cunning as you, did you know that?"
"Oh, yes I had an inkling," Éothain grunted. "And you are as slow as ever, old man."
The queen had brought goblets and the wine and poured. As she handed her husband a goblet, she inquired. "And when should the wedding be? Have you any thoughts on this, husband?"
"Oh, quite soon I think. Elfwine and his family will be back in a fortnight or so – and we need to summon the rest of the flock as well. I believe that their sisters and brothers will be cross if not they get to attend – as will Merry and an elf and a dwarf – not to speak of my sister and her family. I shall have to send despatch riders out at once – unless, of course, you have already done so, my love?" He grinned cheekily at his wife.
"Oh, I had thought about it, but I decided to leave it up to you," his wife said calmly.
"Thank you, Lothy, I am grateful that you leave me a little power," Éomer said sarcastically.
"On the other hand – I don't want the groom to wait too long, I believe that he has put restraints on himself for long enough." Éomer looked distinctly at his new son-in-law, who blushed violently – which made the two fathers grin impishly.
Lothíriel shared a look with Mélia. "When will they ever change; by Béma they are almost sixty years old," she exclaimed. Mélia smiled back at her friend.
"Probably never; I for one have waited these many years for them to grow up," she said dryly.
Bronwen seized the opportunity to pull her betrothed out into the corridor and into a dark corner. He kissed her zealously. "You do know that we do not have to find the darkest corners anymore, we are allowed now?" he asked when he let go of her.
Bronwen slapped him. "I do know – but not really until father has officially announced the betrothal – which will probably be tonight. Still, there are not many in Edoras who do not know by now, if I know Aefwine right he will probably have spread the rumours by now." Hama nodded; he knew his friend well. He put his arms around Bronwen's waist and held her close for a while, breathing in sharply as it began to sink in that he had actually achieved what he had wanted for so long.
Bronwen looked up at him. She knew what he was thinking. After having to keep their relationship a secret from her father for so long she, too, felt relieved that they were actually now allowed to think of their future together. However, she was Éomer's daughter and was in possession of no small portion of his preference for mischief and therefore she tilted her head and looked inquisitively at Hama.
"But Son of Éothain, there is something that we need to talk about before we go any further. The restraints on you my father mentioned. I am curious to know what he meant by that. Although I might have an idea, but I believe that you should enlighten me, don't you?" The mirth threatened to spill over in her eyes.
Hama stiffened slightly as he took in the question, but then he looked at her and saw the mischief in her eyes. Oh, yes – daughter of Éomer and sister of Elfwine, you are so much like them. He sighed mockingly. "We shall, my sweet, but not now. In time I shall tell you everything – at least the part that you do not already know. I do, however, trust is quite a lot, if I do not misjudge you. Come, we had better get back before that they start missing us."
He led his betrothed back into the king's study where only a raised eyebrow from the part of the king reminded him that they were still under surveillance and that he was not at all in doubt as to what they had been doing. He grinned to himself as he accepted a goblet of wine from the queen and toasted his betrothed.
"Your father and I have decided that a betrothal period of three months will suffice," Éomer informed Hama. "That is – he wanted a shorter period according to our traditions, but we are to gather the entire family, and so we shall need more time – and besides if you have waited this long, three months are nothing. I had to wait for Lothíriel for almost a year."
And I remember what that did to me …. It should not come too easy to you, young friend!
"That is why I wanted to cut it short for you; contrary to my friend, the illustrious King of Rohan, I do remember what it was like to be young," Éothain grinned as he poured himself another goblet of wine.
Éomer raised his brows as he looked at his marshal. "Look who is talking now ……!"
"We shall need the time," Lothíriel interrupted their banter and Mélia nodded. "Certainly, and so will you to make arrangements for living quarters."
Bronwen looked questioningly at her mother – and her mother-in-law. "You had not thought of that, have you?" Mélia laughed. "Did you for one minute think that you would be able to live in Hama's bachelor quarters in the barracks after the wedding – or in your room for that matter?"
"No – but then we did not think that we would be allowed to marry," Bronwen retorted, "and when would we have had the time to contemplate such arrangements in the meantime?"
Lothíriel smiled at her daughter. "And I suppose that you would also like a wedding dress?"
"Of course, mother, but I could wear any dress if need be," Bronwen smiled happily. "Even my riding outfit would probably do fine for me."
Hama took her hand. "I do not care what you are wearing – you could wear a flour sack for all I care – or what you are wearing now." He smiled lovingly at her and she reciprocated the smile with a loving smile of her own. For a moment it was obvious that there was nobody but them in the room.
"Starry-eyed youth," Lothíriel quipped.
"I agree; she will probably not be wearing it for long anyway," Éomer murmured to Éothain.
"I heard that. You seem to recover quickly from shock." Lothíriel shot her husband a glance and shook her head. "Now I will go talk to Béordlin about arranging a small feast for tonight to celebrate this happy occasion. Mélia, will you join me?"
---ooo000ooo---
Later that evening after the feast and after she had said good night to her betrothed, Bronwen entered her parents' bed chamber. Lothíriel was getting ready for bed, brushing out her still dark hair. Éomer had not yet joined his wife.
Lothíriel smiled at her daughter. "Are you happy now, Bron?" she inquired.
"Yes, mama. I am. I am glad that father gave his consent – and I can hardly wait until our wedding day, but …..," she said hesitatingly.
Lothíriel looked inquisitively at her daughter. "You are not having second thoughts already, sweetie?" she asked with a smile.
"No, mama, of course not – but as I was saying good night to Hama, it suddenly occurred to me that father is right; I am just a girl – and Hama is a grown man. How can I ever meet his needs," the young woman said, her voice trembling.
"Whoa, sweetie; of course we are going to have this conversation before your wedding – but I had not thought that it was going to be tonight." Lothíriel could not help smiling. "Don't worry, darling, I will tell you all that you need to know – and which you do not know already or otherwise your sisters will, I am sure – but not tonight."
"But, mama …."
"No buts, Bron. Everything will turn out all right. Go to bed, little one – and dream sweet dreams of your man."
Lothíriel embraced her daughter. "Don't worry. He loves you."
"I know, mama. Thank you," Bronwen embraced her mother. Lothíriel kissed her daughter and Bronwen bid her mother goodnight.
Éomer entered the room as his daughter was leaving. He kissed her. "Go to bed, daughter, and give your parents some rest. Go dream about your man! Now you are allowed," he growled.
"Yes, mother said that, too," Bronwen grinned and closed the door behind her.
The King of Rohan started undressing. "What did our daughter want? Second thoughts already?" he asked.
Lothíriel went up to her husband and helped him unfastening the laces of his shirt. "No – but she suddenly worried that she would not be able to live up to Hama – to meet his needs, if you must know."
Éomer grinned as he wrapped his arms round his wife's waist. "Oh, I remember somebody who had exactly the same worries and wanted me to tell her, how she compared to the other women in my life."
Lothíriel helped her husband remove his shirt and put her hands on his chest, which was as muscled as in his youth.
"You cannot blame a young, innocent woman that she should harbour such thoughts when entering into the marriage bed with a man, who probably has bedded a myriad of women in his time," she argued.
"Long sentence, Lothy. What are you getting at? I seem to have heard this argument before, just earlier today," Éomer said as he pressed his wife against his chest, feeling her soft breasts against his chest through her robe. He felt a certain movement in his male parts and he could not help smiling at the feeling.
"Oh, I was just pointing out why I asked you for that comparison," she smiled breathless as she felt him against her.
"And?" he whispered in her ear.
"And I just want to know how did I actually compare?"
"In all honesty, woman. You do not expect me to remember that thirty years later?" Éomer quipped.
"Oh, yes, I most certainly do."
"As I told you then, and as I have told you several times since, you are the most passionate, beguiling, demanding and utterly desirable woman that I have ever had in my bed and in my life – and did I mention the most insatiable?" Éomer grinned cheekily.
"I love you, you know," he whispered huskily as he bent his head to kiss her. "Now, will you be coming to bed with me?"
Lothíriel gave into his kiss. "Yes, husband, I will – since you think so much of me. Insatiable, really – well, do your best, then." She grinned and slid out of his arms.
Éomer removed his breeches and jumped into their bed. Then he lay back in the pillows and watched his wife as she blew out most of the candles. She moved over to the hearth to stir the fire and started removing her robe. In the dim light of the fire, she turned against him and he held his breath.
Six children had not left her body unscarred. There were fine lines in her face, which were mementoes of their life together and fine silver had begun to show in her dark hair. She was not as slim as she was in her youth, and her breasts were perhaps not as firm as they had been, but Éomer only saw the young woman, with whom he had fallen in love so many years before – and with whom he had shared some of the most fantastic and breathtaking moments of his life.
She jumped into bed with him and he swept her into his embrace, rolling her over on her back. "I love you, Lothíriel of Rohan," he whispered hoarsely into her ear as he lowered his mouth on hers and covered her with his body. She laughed breathlessly and gave into his embrace; her final thought being that if her youngest daughter was very, very lucky, her chosen one would prove to be as good a man as her father.
--- Curtain ----
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