I'm sorry for not having updated sooner… This chapter was very difficult to write! When I started the story, I promised to myself I'd try to stick to canon as much as possible. Now, after many days of research, I'm sure that canon-worshipers (and others, too) will be satisfied with my work. I also noticed that there is a mistake in 1st chapter. Eomer's and Eowyn's eyes are grey, not blue. That fact is very important to the story, so the mistake will be corrected soon.
Another thing: Thanks to Frigg for her idea of Théodred taking Eomer to a brothel when he was sixteen (only that idea). I thought it was perfect and have not modified it, and all the credit goes to her.
THE JEWEL OF DOL AMROTH
X
FAMILY HEIRLOOMS
One of the most valuable possessions that Faramir brought from Minas Tirith to Ithilien was his book collection. He enjoyed especially those books concerning the story of the Three Houses of the Edain and the fall of Númenor. He had granted Lothíriel permission to read some of them, and she had asked Eowyn to give her some spare time after lunch.
The princess sat in the Library, trying not to crease her new lavender dress, and began to read a huge volume about Tar-Aldarion, King of Númenor, and his wife Erendis. It was one of her father's favorite tales.
Aldarion was the sixth king of Númenor. He loved his Queen, but his love for the sea was stronger, and often he went sailing for long terms of time; with time, they became estranged. Erendis then returned to their homeland, and raised alone their daughter, Ancalimë, who became the first Ruling Queen. It was said that Ancalimë disliked the notion of marriage, because of the strife that she had seen between her parents. Lothíriel could not imagine what she would do if she ever found herself in Erendis's situation. Suddenly some dreadful thoughts began to surface in her mind.
She could be in Erendis's situation. If she accepted Eomer's offer, knowing that she bore no love for him, they would be tied for eternity in a loveless marriage. On the other hand, if she grew to love him, but he spend too much time devoted to his lands and his people, neglecting his duties as a husband… One way or another, her days would be full of sorrow, if she became Queen of Rohan.
Sometimes, Lothíriel felt that her Numenorean blood whispered pessimistic thoughts in her mind, and the Elvish side countered those thoughts. Well, it did not happen all the time, but it was the only explanation she could manage for these sudden annoying ideas. Luckily, her Elvish blood did counter them, because she realized that she did not know Eomer that good to infer what would be his behavior if they married.
Lothíriel was sure that she did want to know him better. The problem was, they resided from distant lands (even thought letters were excellent allies, it was better to interact with someone), he was a King and had a whole nation to manage, and besides, yesterday she had become really scared when Eomer had almost strangled her… Not that he did it on purpose, it was just a reflex, but still… that was scary and the situation had had a negative impact on her determination on getting to know him.
Best to leave Aldarion and Erendis, she thought. It makes me sad.
She took another volume, and the title made her smile. Her father had told her it was one of her mother's favorite books. No wonder, Lothíriel thought.
"Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth", she said out loud. "Just what I need, one of my mother's favorite tales" she added, in Sindarin.
"That is not a tale", a deep male voice said out of nowhere. "It is a dialogue between an elf and a mortal woman."
Eomer came into her sight. He had been absent all day, probably discussing trade agreements with some Ithilien lords. Lothíriel's eyes were fascinated by his clothes, a fine burgundy tunic and a brown vest with golden embroidery. It still amazed her that the Rohirrim had a liking for the color of gold. In Dol Amroth, the finest embroideries had silver details.
"Satisfied with your inspection?" Eomer said, and a furious blush crept into Lothíriel's cheeks.
"I'm just trying to understand why the color of gold is so important to your people…" she answered, recovering her composure. "Are you sure that Dwarves are not your forefathers?"
Eomer laughed, and placed himself in a chair, next to the princess.
"It is gold, because of the sun. The sun and the horse are our symbols as a nation, just as the swans to your knights, my lady"
"I see" Lothíriel said. "I did not know you were not only versed in Sindarin, but knew some of the stories of old." It seems you and I have so much to learn from the other, she added to herself.
"The descendants of Morwen Steelsheen are fluent in Sindarin, or so it is said among the people of Mundburg. Théodred, Eowyn and I learnt this language from a man that you have already met, Eadburg son of Eadwine, Chief Librarian of Edoras. I can assure you, Lothíriel" and he looked straight at her eyes "that had I known that I would have been required, in the future, to have dealings with the people of Gondor, I would have paid much more attention to my lessons, and cursed them less"
Lothíriel smiled.
"Whatever you say, you have proved me that you are quite competent in these dealings. Now, what were you saying about the tale?"
"It is not a tale" Eomer continued "But a dialogue between Andreth, a mortal woman, and Finrod Felagund, who, if I am correct, was king of… oh, the names are so confusing…" He looked funny, his forehead wrinkled because of his efforts to remember. Lothíriel came to his rescue.
"It is Nargothrond. There is no need for you to remember that, unless you are one of the scholars working at the Library of Minas Tirith. But it is good to know that you are not that illiterate as many of my people think"
She tried in vain to hold back her laughter, as Eomer made a pout of mock resentment.
"You hurt me, princess! Your words are sharper than swords"
They both laughed, until Eomer became serious.
"I have come to… to seek your forgiveness, Lothíriel. What I did yesterday, even tough it was in self defense, was definitively not the way to treat a lady of your status and dear friend of mine. I…" his eyes were set hi his hands now "I promise to control myself and act less like a warrior and more like a lord and a king. Would you accept my apologies"
She was petrified. It was very considerate of him to come and apologize, but it was also a reminder that he was a warrior and he was a man with enough strength to kill an orc with his very own hands, let alone a petite maiden. Moments ago, she thought that she was speaking to one of the scholars of Minas Tirith. Now, with the realization, came the fear and the weakness. Still, he was a friend, and he deserved her sincerity.
"You really gave me a fright, yesterday" Lothíriel said, trying to appear calm.
"Yes, I did notice" answered Eomer. He buried his face into his hands, and she looked through the window, as if looking for an answer.
An awkward silence invaded the room, until Lothíriel said:
"I do not blame you for what happened. It just made me think that I still know little of you"
Eomer did not seem to listen, his face still buried into his hands. She could not help to lift her trembling hand and caress his hair. Her touch was light, but she flinched when she noticed that some strands of his hair were damp.
He was weeping silently.
"No, please Eomer, don't cry…" she whispered as she managed to pull him closer and held him into her arms. He put his arms around her, and rested his head on her bosom. Lothíriel was slightly taken aback by the intimacy of their posture, but she did not care if someone came to the room and saw them. Here was a man that was suffering and needed to be comforted.
After some silent moments, Eomer pulled his tousled hair away from his hair and tried to dry his eyes with his sleeve.
"Take this" said Lothíriel, offering him a white handkerchief. He looked it as he feared to ruin it, so instead she took it and wiped away his tears and rearranged his hair.
"There" she said finally, and smiled. "You look great now"
He looked great, indeed, but embarrassed, all the same.
"It is the first time that this happens to me. Weeping in front of a beautiful lady…" he muttered.
"There is nothing to be sorry of, Eomer. Except from my hard words, I believe. And I am sorry for them"
He laughed bitterly.
"We have both apologized to each other this afternoon, but have we accepted the apologies"
"I do" replied Lothíriel. Eomer just nodded. Then his eyes narrowed a little.
"I have just ruined your dress"
"Not at all, I will change for the night and it will be just fine. It will be dry by tomorrow" she answered.
They both stared into each other, and Eomer rose and made a move to leave.
"I fear that dinner will be ready in no time. Before I leave, would you tell me what were you saying about your mother"
Lothíriel smiled.
"The… dialogue is very dear to me, since my mother's name was Andreth, Andreth daughter of Hírvegil and sister of Angbor, lord of Lamedon"
"Angbor the Fearless?" asked Eomer, surprised. He had never imagined a connection between that stern faced man and this sweet faced princess. Then he remembered Faramir's words.
"The very one, my lord. One day, perhaps, you will hear the story of a man of the sea and a woman of the mountains that joined their lives together"
"It could be the other way round" he replied, and left.
He wanted to be out of the library as soon as possible. It had be a most dishonorable act to treat Imrahil's daughter, as friendly as she was, as a common tavern wench, crying his sorrow like a drunk. Just as dishonorable as the incident of the day before. He had expected Eowyn to yell at him after she found out, but when he realized that Lothíriel had told no one about her being almost strangled by him, it dawned on him that he did not deserve not to be punished for such a crime against a woman. He had sought her, then, to ask forgiveness, and then he had lost his self control and wept in her shoulder, ruining her dress and his reputation! Truly, he had to be out of there.
"Eomer!" a familiar voice exclaimed. It was Lothíriel. Her dress was still damp.
"Eomer, do you know the way to the small garden on the second floor? The one that looks to the west"
"I do. It is very close to my rooms. Why do you ask?" he replied, not looking at her.
"I beg you to meet me at that garden, after Eowyn falls asleep. Would you?" she said.
"My pardon, but it is not…" Eomer began.
"Proper, I know" Lothíriel answered "Let us forget the notion of property for today. I won't bite, I promise"
He doubted. What if anyone found out? However, he knew Lothíriel enough to know that she was a proper lady and, even forgetting the notion of property, as she put it, she would never behave like a tavern wench. He nodded and was rewarded with a smile.
What on Middle Earth have you done, Lothíriel? She could hear the voice of her aunt Ivriniel, whom she did not see very much, in her head. The old widow deemed herself an authority in good manners and propriety.
Another voice rang in her head, this time from Amrothos. You'd better be preparing your wedding after this "encounter" of yours, Lothi, he would say, his smile as mischievous as ever.
"Silence, the both of you!" she said to the air of her room.
Dinner had been very quiet. Eowyn had finished the first, wishing to retire early. Faramir had followed her, and had shut himself on his study. It seemed that there were some reports of orc gangs to the south of Ithilien, and the menace worried him. Eomer and Lothíriel had finished their meals, smiled to themselves and went to their respective rooms, waiting for the moment to come.
And now Lothíriel was adjusting her blue dress, the one who had replaced the damp lavender, and brushing her hair for the fifth time. She looked into the mirror and tried to make a sensual gesture with her lips, with the only result of a childish pout. Truly, she was not like those ladies from the Gondorian Court, irresistible for all the men. She wondered if Eomer had succumbed to their charms… she would find out this evening. Because if Lothíriel had a lack in sensuality, she had a surplus in shrewdness. And she would use it tonight.
Eowyn's room went dark, and Lothíriel knew that the time had come.
It was all dark outside, so dark that she had to be careful not to bump into something and alert the rest of the house. When she reached to the garden, she noticed that Eomer was already sitting on one of the stone benches. Lothíriel put a finger to her mouth, and tapped his shoulder lightly.
"Come, sit with me" Eomer whispered. He was wearing the same tunic, but his hair was well combed. Lothíriel was suddenly disarmed by his smile, and her voice faltered for a moment, but she managed to speak:
"I thought you were not going to come"
"If I need to come to a garden in the middle of the night to be forgiven by a lady, I will do it" he stated. Suddenly, his eyes went to her neck.
"You are wearing it" he said, pointing to the necklace he had given to her, some months ago in Edoras. Lothíriel smiled and, to her displeasure, blushed.
He seemed to notice, and taking one of her hands, asked her:
"Would you like to know the story of your necklace?"
She nodded as an answer. In truth, she seemed to have lost herself for a while into his grey eyes.
"My father was Eomund, Marshall of Aldburg. As a soldier, his fortune was very little in comparison to the King's wealth. When he fell in love with the sister of the King, though, he spent all of his savings in a simple necklace, with a sun and a horse. This was his wedding gift to her, and she wore it with pride, being a token from a man that bore an everlasting love for her. However, she told me once that the necklace also represented the love for the Mark. And that is why I gave it to you"
His calloused hands caressed her palm, and she shivered lightly.
"When Eowyn told me that you were so eager to know my country, I knew that the necklace was perfect for you"
"It was your mother's, then…" Lothíriel whispered "I will treasure it, now that I know its story"
Eomer's hands were suddenly on her neck, near the brooch of the necklace, to be precise.
"May I?" he said.
She did not understand, but, as she turned around, she silently enjoyed his touch, as he undid the necklace and showed to her. Suddenly, she realized that they were very close, her back almost touching his chest. But there was no point of return for them.
"See the runes around the sun? You may not notice, but these are the names of my parents" Eomer murmured. She picked up the jewel and tried to distinguish the names.
"Lothíriel" he said suddenly. "There is something that makes me curious. Why does your father calls you 'jewel"
"'The Jewel of Dol Amroth'", he says" answered Lothíriel "It has to do with my mother's nickname. His father called her 'The Jewel of Lamedon', not because of her beauty but because of her sharp mind, that helped to uncover a conspiracy against her future husband. My father believes I am of the same sort"
"Aye, you have lived up to your name, Lothíriel"
She turned around to face him, and said "Do you have any nickname, Eomer King?"
"Not that I know, although I would not be surprised if I found out that my men have come up with any"
"I know one" she laughed, and Eomer took her both hands.
"You do? Pray, tell me, so I can punch the one who came up with it" he replied, laughing as well.
"All right, then. Amrothos calls you 'Elphir's twin'. Not very creative, actually. But he laughs at it as it was the best joke ever"
"I will not punch him, then, since I believe it is the worst nickname ever" Eomer said, scratching his head. "Could you turn around again? It is the first time that I am so close to your hair and I do not want to waste any second of this chance."
She did as she was told; Eomer began to caress his tresses, in an amazingly gently way, knowing that he was a warrior. As he did, he began to hum a song. Lothíriel could not help looking to the skies, and her smile grew bigger when she noticed the stars. The night as perfect, and she was being pampered. Her ears were soothed by his humming; her eyes were full of the brightness of the stars; in her nose lingered the musky scent of Eomer, and his touch in her hair and her shoulders was relaxing. She had a sudden desire to turn around and tell him she was grateful for this wonderful experience, and she did, only to find herself into Eomer's arms.
Their faces were only inches away, and the closeness made her feel dizzy. She wanted to run and hide from those piercing grey eyes, which attracted her as magnet attracts steel. Eomer seemed to have sensed that, because he closed the distance and pressed his lips against hers.
And in that moment, Lothíriel understood that she had loved him since she had first seen him in the Houses of Healing, almost a year ago.
He was not experienced in women. Well, he had been with a woman once, when Théodred had taken him to a brothel, many years ago; but, after that, there was little time for him to get acquainted with women, let alone love one. And, besides, loving a woman was too risky in those times of war.
However, there had been a woman that he could consider in his memories. Her name was Fegel daughter of Fromgast, lord of Aldburg. Fegel Rochíriel, people called her. Besides that weary woman who sold her body for money, Fegel was the only woman that had allowed him to taste her lips, and only because of a bet. Anyways, she had married after he had been appointed Marshall of the Mark, and his husband had died in the Pelennor Fields, leaving her a widow with two small children.
She belonged to the past, indeed. In his present was only this dark haired beauty, named Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, and if he did the right things, she could belong to his future.
It was obvious to him, despite his short experience, that he was the first man to kiss her. After their first kiss, she hid her face in the crook of his neck. He lifted her face, only to find again that blush that often seemed to invade her skin.
"You took me by surprise" she said, and her childlike voice amused him.
"I did, dearest, and I can do it again" he replied.
And without further comment, he kissed her again. This time, he allowed himself to part slightly his lips, feeling the softness of hers, the sweetness of her mouth. It took a lot of effort to him not to surrender to his male desires, well hidden with the worries of war, and scare her with his passion.
When the kiss ended, she smiled timidly. He kissed her forehead.
"We have lingered here too long, Lothíriel. Next time we can meet at daylight, but not this way. It is not proper"
"It is not, right. But it has been very pleasant" she answered.
He pressed her small hand into his chest, where his heart was leaping.
"More than pleasant, I deem. This is what you make me feel, dearest one, and with your help, I can make you feel this way also"
As an answer, she brushed his lips with hers softly, and left.
She is a quick learner, Eomer thought, humming that song again and walking to his room. Truly a jewel…