AUTHOR'S NOTE:

At length they came to the Prince Imrahil, and Legolas looked at him and bowed low; for he saw that here indeed was one who had elven-blood in his veins. 'Hail, lord!' he said. 'It is long since the people of Nimrodel left the woodlands of Lórien, and yet still one may see that not all sailed from Amroth's haven west over water.'

JRR TOLKIEN, ROTK

Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I'm quite busy but still willing to keep writing this story. I hope you like this chapter. BTW, the title is related to a poem I wrote when I was a little girl…

THE JEWEL OF DOL AMROTH

VIII

INNOCENCE OR IN-NO-SENSE?

"I am asking you, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, to become Queen of Rohan, and my wife".

To become what? It made no sense at all. They were talking about politics, not marriage. Perhaps, Lothíriel thought, she had not heard well.

"I must beg your pardon, my lord, I mean, Eomer" she said. "Either I must have misunderstood your words or they were not clear enough. Could you repeat your question again?"

Eomer raised an eyebrow and seemed suddenly uncomfortable, but still answered:

"I have just asked you to become my wife. I fear that is the clearest way I can imagine for a man to ask for the hand of a woman. Or perhaps there is a way in Dol Amroth of which the people of the Mark have not heard yet?"

Lothíriel could not still understand the question.

"Resigning the rights to the throne of Dol Amroth to become Queen of Rohan does not make much sense to me. If I do what you ask of me, I will be refusing to face the real problem, which is the refusal of my brother to his duty. Moreover, I will be repeating his mistake."

While she spoke, she did not notice the unbelieving look in Eomer's face.

"I really thank you for your offer, but I fear that my problem needs a deeper solution. It is my brother that needs to be changed, not me. But, tell me" and there was mirth in her eyes "why would you care to ask me to become your wife?"

Suddenly Lothíriel looked into Eomer's eyes and found anger and disappointment, and became confused. Why? What had happened? What did she said that made him feel that way?

"A prince once asked me to let her youngest daughter visit my kingdom" was his reply. "I did not know what to expect from her. I had never met a princess, you see. I'm not sure if all princesses are the same, but the woman I met was the most compassionate and clever woman I have ever known. She earned my respect and my friendship. And when she left, I realized she had stolen my heart."

"Many women have I met, Lothíriel. Some of them, I wished they could have been mine, but for many reasons they could not. Some of them broke my heart."

Eomer lifted his eyes and his right hand touched lightly her cheek.

"Now you have become one of them. Good night."

He took the reigns of Firefoot, and waved her to follow him. Their walk was over.

A tear escaped of Lothíriel's eyes. Then another, and another, and another, and a river of salty water flowed freely over her face. She found that she did not want it to stop. Her cheeks were burning, her heart was aching, and her hearts were trembling. The freshness of her tears would suffocate her cheeks, but what about of her heart? And what about of Eomer's?

Not for the first time in her life, she wished to turn back the time and change her words. Truly, she had never taught about the matters of the heart. However, are they something to be taught like a subject, like history or mathematics? If she had known, she could have had a better answer for Eomer, a sensible one.

Bloody sense! The river of tears kept running. She did not have a clue about what was going on. She only knew she had broken Eomer's heart. What was the meaning of that? He was sad, she knew that much, but what was she expected to say? To ask forgiveness? To cry? To…

"Why do you cry, Lothi?" It was Eowyn, who had opened the door of Lothíriel's room.

"Because I'm stupid" was her answer. "Because I've just broken someone's heart."

"How come, dear?" said the Princess of Ithilien. "Pray, tell me…"

While she embraced her, Lothíriel told her everything.

"Eomer must really care about you, Lothíriel, to speak to you the way he did. In some ways, he is different from many men you have met. While other soldiers do not slip any chance to find someone to warm their beds, Eomer just sees women as beings that need to be protected. The only woman I have ever known he showed a sign of interest in was Fegel Rochíriel, whom perhaps you have met…"

"I have not" said Lothíriel. "Would you tell me about her?"

"She is the only daughter of Frogast, lord of Aldburg. The old man found them kissing in a stable, about six years ago, and almost beheads my poor brother. Eomer swears until today that they had a bet about who was the best kisser. Anyways…" Eowyn sighed "There are many problems to solve in here. One is Elphir's decision, which I still do not understand, but perhaps Faramir could help us to reason with him. The other is… I fear, Lothi, you are too innocent in many ways."

"I am not innocent, I am blind. So much for my advisor abilities. They aren't helpful at all, since they made me treat the man who loves me as if we were discussing a contract."

The moon shone brightly through the window. Eowyn kissed the top of Lothíriel's head.

"Go to sleep now. Let's see what news brings the morning to us."

Lothíriel did not see Eomer the entire morning. Eowyn told her that Faramir had took him to the Elven settlement in the deep of Ithilien. Thus, Lothíriel spent the day sewing some blankets with her cousin's wife and reading a book that Queen Arwen had given to her. The women were also discussing names for the baby.

"I believe that Galadhwen would be a wonderful name for a baby girl born in Ithilien" said Lothíriel.

"Nay, dear sister, my heart tells me the baby is a boy" Eowyn answered, undoing her sewing for the third time. "He will be the pride and joy of his father. Faramir has told me that he would like to name the baby Elboron."

"Elboron? It seems a very interesting choice. Faithful star…"

They had lunch, and Lothíriel was amused as she saw Eowyn devouring a whole bowl with strawberries. Her cousin had mentioned in his letters that his wife had cravings for sour things, not sweets as it was common in women with child, and was eating twice the amount she used to eat before she was pregnant. Anyone could think she had fattened a bit. But apart from her rounded belly, Eowyn looked as svelte as Lothíriel had met her. What a lucky woman, she thought to herself.

The housekeeper came and the women were reminded that there was a feast to prepare. About an hour later, Faramir and Eomer came back. Lothíriel saw only a glimpse of the King of Rohan, who mumbled something about being over exhausted.

"Your brother raced one of the Elven Lords" Faramir told his wife. "And yes, he won. But it seems that a Horse Lord cannot compare himself to a First Born. This one rode so fast that he seemed a Vala to me."

"Is he going to attend the feast?" asked a curious Lothíriel.

"Yes, my dear. His name is Talagan, nephew to the king Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen."

Lothíriel wondered if Eomer was going to attend it, too. She reminded herself later that the feast was in honor of Eomer. And now what on Middle Earth was she supposed to do?

Eowyn must have sensed her troubled thoughts, because she gave her a reassuring smile and told her to have a bath and get dressed. Right away, three maids hurried Lothíriel past the stairs and took her to her room.

"What dress shall you wear, my lady?" asked one of the maids.

Her best dress was, believe it or not, a green one, of a rich velvet and golden embroidery. Fate can be cruel sometimes, Lothíriel thought. Her best dress was of the same colors of the land that the man she had hurt ruled. She would consider herself lucky if it could bring out a smile of Eomer's face.

The maids dressed her, combed her hair and arranged it in loose tresses that would bring out its midnight color. Her only accessories would be the golden pendant Eomer had gifted her and a thin golden headband. And, much to her dismay, the maids insisted on applying some powder to her cheeks and a few touches of Lothíriel's confessed vanity, a Haradric perfume.

She had been to feasts like these, hundreds of times in her short life. However, she had been never to one where she had offended the one to be honored in it. Silently, she prayed to Elbereth to remain graceful, hide her nerves and, perhaps, gain some forgiveness. Carefully, she began to go down the stairs.

Faramir and Eowyn were hand in hand, both on their best clothes. Some steps away from them, Eomer was talking to a man taller than him. When the man turned around, however, she noticed his pointed ears, and realized that he was one of the Elven Lords.

"Lothíriel, there you are at last" Faramir said. He offered his arm and both cousins entered the hall. Where was Faramir leading her? Not to Eomer, she pleaded in her mind, not to him…

"Lord Talagan, may I present Princess Lothíriel, daughter to Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and dear cousin of mine."

Lothíriel bowed deeply and when she lifted her eyes, she found herself lost in the eyes of a First Born. To her surprise, the elf bowed too.

"My kin was not mistaken. Elven blood flows deep in your veins as in those of your father, my lady."

She could do nothing more than smile. The elf took his leave and Lothíriel found in the situation she had been dreading all that day, alone with Eomer.

"It is a pleasure to meet you tonight, lady Lothíriel."

Well, at least he was being polite. His stare was cold, so unlike the enthusiastic ones he used to give her whenever he could manage to convince his advisors of any changes in the rules of Rohan. How funny, she had come to like them. Perhaps, with time, she could learn to like all of him.

"The pleasure is mine, my lord king."

Lothíriel desired to speak now to him, but the dances began and the music interrupted her. Her desperate mind started to think until she noticed that Eomer was speaking to her.

"Even thought we had a disagreement last night, and I was very rude to you, I still think we can come to an understanding."

He was rude? No, not at all! She replied, managing not to blush:

"It is me who must ask your forgiveness. It takes little sense of someone to notice when a proposal comes from the heart…"

"Say no more, princess" was his answer. "I believe you owe me a dance?"

A dance! This time, Lothíriel blushed and Eomer could not help grinning.

"Where is Elphir when he is needed?" she said at last. Eomer didn't seem to understand, and she laughed.

"It is my little charade. You see, I'm a terrible dancer. When anyone asks me to dance, Elphir always says I'm tired, and then I retire, and no one notices my lack of dancing skills. He is not here now, and I'm lost and must dance. Therefore I ask forgiveness of you if I stomp on your foot…"

Eomer laughed softly, mirth now in his eyes. Lothíriel felt relieved, he seemed amused by her outburst and, at least, he was in good terms with her now.

"My uncle insisted I had to learn to dance. Eowyn bests me, but I still believe I'm quite good. May I have your hand?"

Here I am, Lothíriel thought. All of my so called elven blood has gone to my head. I must look like a tomato. Now, how was it? One two three, one two three…

Faramir could not suppress a surprised look when he saw Eomer leading her cousin to the dance floor.

"I will lead you, and you only have to follow" Eomer told her. "If you make a mistake, we will continue, no one will notice, trust me…"

The trick is to enjoy the dance, not to be the best in it, he told her. She started to enjoy the rhythm of the music, the smile of Eomer, the scent of Eomer…

They completed not one, but three dances.

"This day is historical, indeed" said Faramir. "May I have a dance, Lothíriel? I have wanted to do it for a while…"

Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed. Eomer was so right, so bloody right. He had helped her to overcome one of her fears. Perhaps, after all, he could help her to overcome all of them.

Her fifth and last dance was a lively one from Rohan, which seemed to Lothíriel easier than the Gondorian ones. After it finished, Eomer and her were both out of breath. She was so tired that did not notice when he took her outside the hall, holding her hand.

"Do you forgive me for what I told you yesterday, Lothíriel?" Eomer said.

"I will forgive you and I ask you to forgive me" was her reply.

"I've been thinking…" he said, letting go of her hand. "Perhaps I expected too much from you, that you returned my feelings, and I forgot that this is not a simple thing to do. How can I expect you to love me, if I have never showed a sign that I love you?"

Before Lothíriel could answer, he continued.

"It was rude of me to mention other women; those memories should be buried in my past. If there is something I expect from a woman now, is to be supportive, understanding and caring enough for me and my country. And I find that in you, Lothíriel. I just hope that, with time, you may find the things you expect from a man in me."

He lifted his hand, his fingers trembling, until they found her cheek. He caressed it tentatively, and Lothíriel was tempted to close her eyes. The light touch of his hand was truly distracting.

"I really want to conquer your heart." He said at last. "I'm not a man of poetry, like your cousin, but I meant what I'm saying. Would you let me? Would you give me the chance?"

Go on, her heart told her. Say yes.

"Yes" she said "I will give you the chance, Eomer, and I hope that, with time I will learn to love you."

"I pray for that" he answered, kissing her hand.

Eowyn and Faramir were enjoying a slow dance, quietly listening to each other's heartbeat.

"Do you think she has realized it?" Eowyn said "She is too much innocent…"

"That does not worry me. I really hope she has found enough sense to understand what Eomer finds so appealing in her." Was her husband's reply.

"That reminds me of a couple that met once at the Houses of Healing…"