Chapter 7
It was over an hour later that Éomer finally returned to his rooms, wet from the rain but elated of mood. His guards looked puzzled to see him grinning at them, and probably wondered what sort of a midnight walk had he been having. But he told them good night and closed the door behind himself. He undressed, letting his wet clothes fall on the floor, and then he collapsed in the bed with a faint chuckle. He knew he was still too giddy to fall asleep, but the lady had gone and Éothain would not appreciate him charging in the middle of night, even if it was with news of this kind.
With a deep sigh, he turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling. It was clear now, as few things had ever been. There was only one way this could go. He was going to ask for her hand in marriage. In his heart of hearts he knew it: this strange maiden was the one and Éomer would have none other.
Yes, there was the issue of her father. The young king had not forgotten the conversation between Imrahil and Elphir and their apparent opposition of her marrying him. It did not discourage Éomer, because it seemed the choice hang on her, not her kinsmen. They expected she would tell him no if he were bold enough to ask her to be his wife. But tonight she had started to kiss him back, and even if nothing else was clear about Lady Lothíriel, at least Éomer knew she wanted him, too. What else could it mean when she said that she lost her caution when he was close?
The thought made him so eager once more, he had to get up and take a turn around the room. Restless energy coursed through him like a heartbeat. While the sensation itself was not unfamiliar to him, this time it was light and glad and hopeful. For so many months the thought of picking up his life and doing the things required of him had been so dreadful, but now he wanted to race to meet his future head on.
After a few rounds in the guest rooms, he went back to the bed again. Only yesterday, he would not have doubted the words of Imrahil and his first-born. However after his late meeting with the lady, Éomer had a strong feeling she might just say yes. Would Imrahil still refuse the proposal? Moreover, why did the prince think it was so impossible for his daughter to wed the King of the Mark? As far politics went, it was an excellent match. It would strengthen the alliance between Rohan and Gondor and forge new ties. So close to the Ring War, it would be easier to present this choice of a bride to his own people and he would be spared from squabbling factions demanding to know why their preferred candidate was not to be queen. His family and hers were already friendly and close. Lady Lothíriel was foremost among the noble ladies of the land, she was kind and wise, and his heart had already turned to her. With all the other ladies he had considered over the course of this past year, the idea of affection had been but a lame hope for some distant day in future.
All in all, he could not think of a more suitable woman. With her in his sight, he cared not for any other option. And for better or for worse, he knew he was going to measure all other ladies against her and find them wanting.
These were the thoughts in his mind as Éomer finally drifted off to dreams.
The new morning was as fair as Éomer had guessed. Rain had washed the city clean, or so it felt like; the very air had a fresh, clean smell to it. Had leaves of grass and tree ever looked so green, or flowers so fair? And the sky was bright as the Sun began her climb, first blushing at her arrival and then growing into a soft, gentle blue.
Éomer was up before dawn, though he had stayed awake late. This time he spared the poor, long-suffering Éothain and actually took a couple of guards along for his morning ride. But they did not go very far from the castle, as he meant to join Imrahil and his family for breakfast. Still, a fast, vigorous gallop along the shore should take off Firefoot's edge for a bit. Perhaps his own, too.
His own mood was high and hopeful. For she was still with him, a sweet burning against his lips and his hand. Éomer did not yet know what his next step would be, but it did not worry him too much. He would figure it out as he went along.
The ride was a very good one and he returned with his guards to the castle, feeling energetic and eager. Dawn had passed and the morning sun burned bright in the busy courtyard. There he also saw a familiar maiden with her basket.
Their eyes locked and she halted. Then colour spread across her cheeks and she lowered her eyes – embarrassed or shy, he wasn't sure, but he was very much endeared.
Éomer dismounted in a quick motion and with a few long strides, he was before her.
"Good morning, my lady. I hope you are well today?" he asked her, quiet and friendly. He didn't want to make her feel cornered, although now that they were face to face again, he very much desired to kiss her, and carry on from where they had left last night.
The colour on her cheeks deepened.
"Good morning, Sire", she replied and curtsied, maintaining her grace even in the middle of her dazed state. "I am fine, thank you. As I hope you are as well."
"Indeed, lady. I hardly recall when I last felt so excellent. Last night was... it was like a dream", he said and studied her face keenly. But her eyes were fixed on the ground and he couldn't really see her expression.
"... it was lovely, yes", she uttered at length, when he had already started to think she might not say anything. At her words, his heart leapt. She had liked the kiss, too!
"Is it too bold of me to hope something like it might happen again before I leave?" Éomer asked, aching to reach for her. He fought the urge and pressed his hands together behind his back. They were too exposed. If he touched Lady Lothíriel, Imrahil would know of it before half an hour had passed.
Finally she looked up. Her sea-grey eyes, previously so calm and sure, were wide and hesitant. He gazed back and smiled, hoping it might encourage her.
"No. It's not too bold", she whispered.
His smile grew and he bowed at her. How he was able to maintain such a proper front while his entire being was singing with joy and happiness, and all he wanted was to show her just how it felt like, he was not sure.
"Then I hope to speak to you again soon, my lady", Éomer said and allowed himself a small transgression: he picked up her hand and pressed a slow kiss against her knuckles. Even Imrahil could not blame him of being disrespectful. Before he let her hand go, he took a deep breath in, savouring the inviting smell of her skin.
Fingertips briefly pressed against his own. Then the lady curtsied, muttered something that sounded like "gooddaym'lord", and then hurried away much like she had last night.
For a bit he stood there, basking in the sensation of joy and success.
This was going much, much better than he would have expected only at this time yesterday.
Lady Lothíriel did not approach Éomer for the rest of the day, at least not before the dinner. She conversed with him and the rest of the company as normally as ever, warm towards her family and pleasant if a bit distant with the young king However, before she took her leave, her hand pressed briefly against his own – so quick and stealthy that her family did not notice. He felt her put a small piece of parchment into his hand, ad when he thought he could read it without alarming Imrahil and his sons, Éomer quickly scanned its contents. There in a graceful hand read: Meet me tonight in the garden.
He had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from grinning.
It was not easy to maintain a straight face while he was so impatient for the night. So he retired early and tried to distract himself by writing a letter to Éowyn, but even that task was difficult. Often he got up from the writing desk and walked around in the rooms, and then halting at one of the windows or the balcony to peer out, anxious for the night to come.
It was strange, this burning feeling that only seemed to grow every time he saw her. He thought of all the times he had been snappy and short-tempered with his friends and advisers, and even that conversation with Éothain shortly before the journey to Dol Amroth. It was quite amusing in retrospect, especially his conviction that he was somehow immune to these feelings. No doubt, once Éothain found out, the captain would take great pleasure in reminding him at every possible chance.
But that was getting ahead of himself. He did not even know yet what was to come out of this. Imrahil himself apparently thought his daughter was going to refuse advances if such were made. However, Éomer did not think she would be inviting him to meet her in the middle of the night if she was going to turn him down. At least his experience with women and clandestine encounters in the dark suggested a very different motivation.
At last night fell. It was a fair night, the air was warm and the moon shone brightly in the sky. It was both exciting and dangerous. In such a light, it would not be easy to keep their meeting secret. Yet he could no more stop himself from going as he could stop breathing.
His guards were less surprised, but still troubled to let him go. Éomer tried not to hurry. It would seem odd and raise questions if he came across other late wanderers. But it was not easy to keep his pace calm and even, for his heart raced anxiously and there was a beat in his very bones, a desire so old and yet so new that he could barely contain it.
Somehow he got to the stone pavilion quietly and unseen. And there in its shadow he saw her waiting, a still dark figure that only moved when he approached. She started to curtsy, but Éomer was past such formalities, especially now that they were alone. So, just like he had ached to do since this morning, he reached his arms to her and pulled her close. Lady Lothíriel gasped softly and then she fell against him, warm and trembling – a sensation so sublime it was enough to bring a man to his knees.
"My lady", he muttered into her dark hair. It was soft and fragrant against his cheek and it made him tremble, too.
"We've got to stop meeting like this, Sire", she whispered back, and her voice was shaky even as she tried to make light of it.
"Must we, really? If you refuse me a glimpse of you, then I will come looking for you", he told her and pulled back slightly, so that he could see her face. There was a lovely blush on her cheeks and her eyes glimmered like stars.
"You make a powerful argument. But then, I am not as strong as you might think, my lord", she said and pulled at his hands. He followed her to sit down on one of the stone benches. His heart still beat fast, and he could not take his eyes off of her face, or his hand from her own.
Béma, he really was quite hopelessly in love with this girl, wasn't he?
And so he leant closer to her, breathing in her scent and savouring the moment just before, and then... her mouth was just as soft and supple as he remembered. It was a wonder. She was all things soft and delicate, and yet she let him, a savage warlord of the North, kiss her so! How odd he must feel to her, with his hard hands and weather-beaten skin and beard, trimmed as it was. And yet she did now cower or pull back, or look at him in disgust when it ended. She remained close, one hand against his chest, and other clasped inside his own. Her eyes were wide and bright as she regarded him.
"My father would kill us both if he knew", she whispered.
"Well, I'm not scared. I'd gladly take a thrashing from him if it means I get to see you", he told her and stole another kiss from her lips. Doubtless he would receive more than just a thrashing, should Imrahil become aware of this, but he was not really able to worry about it.
"You are a reckless fool, Sire, and you have infected me with your madness", she replied, but kissed him back nonetheless.
It was delightful, and had it depended on him, they would stay there the whole night – even risking discovery.
"You like it and you know it", he muttered hoarsely against her mouth, and would have deepened the kiss, if she had not pressed him back gently.
"Even if I did, I do not wish my father to thrash you – or lock me inside some villa until I'm an old maid", she told him sternly and got up on her feet, though he was loath to let her go.
"Must you go already?" he asked her and held her hand tightly inside his own. She tugged at it gently.
"Yes, and you must let me. If the guards find us..." she uttered, not finishing the sentence. But it was not necessary. He could very well imagine the repercussions. With a sigh, he let go of her hand.
"Will you at least come again tomorrow?" Éomer asked, eyes fixed on her, to drink in this last glimpse before another long and lonely night.
"... yes", she said softly and briefly brushed her fingers across his cheek. "Yes, I will come."
And with that, she took her leave again, and Éomer let out a deep breath. He closed his eyes and touched the spot where her fingers had whispered, as though he could press the memory of that touch into his very flesh.
It was a long time before he sought his own bed.
"Say, Amrothos, what's something your ladies here in Belfalas would like to receive as a gift?"
Éomer made his question the next morning when the company was dispersing from breakfast. His friend scratched his head and cast him a narrow look.
"What's this talk about ladies? You've got some sweetheart back home you'd like to bribe?" he asked back.
Éomer just shrugged and smiled. He did not get the sense that Amrothos was on to him and Lothíriel, and as long as that was true, the young lord was probably not going to be overly interested in the subject. Which, of course, made him an ideal source of advice in Éomer's current task.
Amrothos was a peculiar one among his siblings. It seemed all Imrahil's children had the gift of keen sight and seeing to the core of things, but Amrothos only cared to use this gift when his interest was provoked, and most men would probably judge it was by the most trivial things. Yet perhaps that was the lot of a third son, who could not expect to inherit riches or power. Then again, under Aragorn's rule, this too might change.
"Well, Dol Amroth is famous for its pearls. You can never go wrong with them, or so I am told. I'd imagine your northern maidens have never seen the like of our pearls", said Amrothos with a slight smile. No doubt he was thinking of some lewd joke.
"What of your sister? Does she like pearls?" Éomer asked and hoped he sounded nonchalant.
"I suppose. She wears them often enough", Amrothos said with a shrug, seemingly unaware of what his friend was thinking of.
"Right", said the young king and directed a slight smile at his friend, "I think I would like to purchase some, but I have no idea of where to go look for pearls in this city. Would you mind acting as a guide?"
"Not at all. I could use a walk", Amrothos said and stretched himself before casting a keen look at the Rohir, "In exchange, I hope you will agree to spar with me once we get back. I can't let you leave this city without disarming you in the training ring at least once."
Éomer cast a superior smile at his friend.
"Keep trying, Amrothos."
"So, what's going on in that head of yours today? You look so chipper these days, I'm starting to get worried."
The question was spoken by Éothain lounging in a chair nearby. He and his king were in Éomer's rooms, preparing for a great ball Imrahil had prepared for his honour tonight. It was something of a farewell party, though the young king would not be departing until the day after tomorrow. He had been in Dol Amroth for nearly two weeks now, and while he would gladly have stayed for two more, duty was calling. His absence from the Mark would already be felt in Edoras.
The young king cast a smile at his friend and pulled on his ceremonial tunic after making sure it was unwrinkled. How could he not be glad? For three nights now, he had been sneaking out into the garden. There in the pavilion, he had been meeting a fair maiden with sea-grey eyes and loveliest smile. During daytime, their interactions were perfectly normal and proper, but there in the shadows he would pull her in his arms, hold her to himself as they whispered in the dark, and then at last kiss her like he ached to do for all those long, agonising hours of the day.
She never stayed for very long, knowing full well what an uproar would rise if they were found like so, and perhaps partly because she still had not lost all caution. However, Éomer knew it was a tremendous thing that she came at all.
No wonder he had betrayed himself to Éothain.
"You should be glad to hear this, old man", he said lightly as he picked up his belt. "I'm going to propose to a lady tonight."
Èothain, who had been drinking some wine, spluttered and nearly choked. Éomer was quick to go and beat his back until he could clear his throat. Blinking tears from his eyes, the captain stared up at him.
"Seriously? You aren't jesting?" he asked in a voice that was still thin from nearly suffocating.
"Would I dare, knowing the repercussions I would face?" Éomer asked back.
Éothain blinked some more, studied him and sat back once again.
"Let me guess. Imrahil's daughter?" he asked eventually.
"Aye. Am I that transparent?"
"Hmph. I knew it. You've been aflutter over that one ever since she made an appearance. I seem to recall certain somebody saying such a thing would never happen", Éothain said and smiled. "So, you and her have made up after your, hmm, disagreement the other day? I expect you wouldn't be having these plans otherwise."
Éomer could not help but grin.
"We have indeed. Turns out you had the right idea about what she really was scared of in the end", he answered.
"Of course I did. Who do you think I am?" Éothain asked and looked insufferably self-satisfied. "I can't imagine it's easy for these well-bred maidens of the South to admit they fancy a wild Northman like yourself."
"I wouldn't say it's that. She's… I think she's very solid. She knows what she wants and she's not fragile – not in the way you would think. I rather believe it's some sense of duty to her home, and her love for it, that held her back", said the young king and took a sip of wine from his own cup, which sat on a table nearby.
"I will take your word for it. Have you asked Imrahil for her hand yet?" Éothain asked and leant back in his chair, idly fingering his cup between his hands.
"No", Éomer said and for the first time, he felt somehow reluctant. He had not uttered a word to the man and he had to admit it didn't feel right. He didn't like to be scheming in this way behind his friend's back. On the other hand, what else could he do? Imrahil would say no. And when he thought of saying goodbye to her and knowing he could never have her... well, the idea just terrified him.
He swallowed hard against a bitter taste that had suddenly filled his mouth. He glanced at Éothain, who looked dubious, and continued to speak, "It's not like that. All will be revealed to him in due time. I just want to speak with her first."
"You know, he might not like it. Things are done differently here in Gondor. Are you sure he won't take offence?" Éothain wanted to know.
"I don't think he would. He knows I mean no disrespect. I just... Éothain, I want that woman more than I've ever wanted anything. No, don't look at me like that – I don't mean it like she's some common wench. I respect and admire her, I want her to be my wife, and I can't stand the idea of being parted from her", Éomer said fiercely, combing back his hair with more force and vigour than was necessary.
"Béma, you really have fallen head over heels", Éothain marvelled and shook his head.
"Aren't you happy?" Éomer asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course I am! At the best, I thought, you would find some noble maiden of a good family and upbringing. That you have also taken a liking to her is beyond what I dared to hope", said the captain with a wave of his hand. Then a grin dawned on his good-natured face, "Éowyn is going to love this, you know."
"Yes, I'm sure you will be eager to settle whatever bets you made with her, but please, at least let me be the one to tell her. And that is only if the lady will say yes, and if her father will comply", Éomer said sternly and sat down to pull on his boots.
"Well, if Imrahil gives you trouble, let me know. If you need to plot an elopement, I'm game", Éothain said and shrugged. He gave the young king a keen stare, "So, what's the plan for the evening?"
"I'm not sure yet. Try to get her some place private, then ask for her hand... I'll figure it out. Don't enjoy yourself too well, Éothain. I may need some help", said Éomer and he rose up on his feet.
"Of course. Always happy to help a brother in arms", said the captain. He got up as well, put aside his wine, and came to adjust his friend's collar as though a man sending his son to fight an important battle. Then he took a step back and gave a critical eye to his liege-lord.
"Excellent. The lass will not know what hit her. If she is able to say no, then I am no judge of women!" he said and grinned.
"Is that supposed to console me?"
"Shut up and go get her."
Tonight there were no tables in the Hall of Feasts, for the floor had been cleared for the ball. Only the highest-ranking guests had seats at the other end of the hall, where Imrahil awaited with his family and the nobles who served him. The space was lit with many lamps and candles and great doors that lead outside into the garden were open, letting inside the gentle, fragrant air of evening.
Many guests there were, lords of Gondor with their families – and with a fair number of eager daughters at their arms. Not a few of them had come here hoping that this was to be the enchanted night when one of them would catch the eye of a king. Little did they know his eye was already caught, and there was only one lady he meant to pursue.
He was quick to spot her in the crowd. She stood next to her father, dressed in the blue and silver of her House. The gown bared her shoulders and dipped dangerously low at her bosom. But her face and shoulders were framed by the soft veil of her raven hair, and on her brow and her throat glimmered pale, bright jewels amidst pearls. She was conversing with Erchirion and smiling slightly, and the light of her eyes rivalled the glitter of precious stones that she carried. Éomer had to swallow hard when he perceived this vision, and it was all he could do from striding straight to the woman and kissing her senseless right there while her father was watching.
"She is beautiful indeed. If she will agree and Imrahil gives his blessing, all the Mark will be crowding at Edoras to get a glimpse of your Swan-lady", Éothain said quietly, standing at Éomer's elbow – although the young king had momentarily forgotten about him.
Éomer grunted as an answer and took a deep breath. She was painfully lovely tonight, which meant a very grave danger of betraying himself to Imrahil. Well, it might be too late to worry for that. But if the man decided to interfere and whisked his daughter away before Éomer could ask for her hand... that would be a grief indeed.
"Be quiet. I need to get a grip", he muttered and briefly wished he could dump his head in cold water. This was going to be more difficult than he had imagined.
"You'll do fine", Éothain reassured him and patted his shoulder. Then, with a grin that was quite audible in his voice, he added, "Should I go and make ready the horses? In case you and the lady need a quick getaway?"
Éomer did not dignify his captain with other answer than a scoff. He began to move, fixing his eyes in the back wall instead of her.
It was incredibly difficult. His hands burned for the lady, and yet he knew he could not obey this desire – this need – when her father was watching.
"Imrahil", he greeted the Prince, and then his company, "My lords."
And then her.
"My lady", he said, bowing as a man would to a noble maiden. A pair of sea-grey eyes glanced at him through long, thick eyelashes.
"Sire", she responded and curtsied. Her manner was even more natural than his. Nothing betrayed the fact that only last night, she had pressed herself into his arms...
He stopped that thought before it could advance. Béma, this was going to be next to impossible.
Thankfully, Imrahil had no issue with distracting him. The man was smiling, so perhaps he was yet ignorant of his friend and daughter's little game, as he gestured at the small company of lords and ladies near him.
"Come, my lord, and meet a few of my trusted advisers and liegemen", he said pleasantly.
"With pleasure, Prince Imrahil", Éomer replied smoothly. Somehow he was able to keep his eyes in the party before himself and not glance at Lady Lothíriel even once, though he was keenly aware of the fact she was standing so near. But he was not here just for her. The role of a royal guest needed to be played as well.
So he focused and listened to Imrahil's introductions, sparing a pleasant word to every lord and lady that was named, and asking about whatever part of the realm they hailed from. Next to himself, he could almost feel Éothain's silent approval for such kingly, courteous conduct. Whatever may be said about him, Éomer had learnt a few things about being a sovereign lord over the past year.
Drinks were brought by servants and many voices speaking filled the hall. At the background, musicians were tuning their instruments, trying out the first soft tunes before the dancing began. A faint shiver went down Éomer's spine. He had to fight himself as to not glance around and look for Lady Lothíriel with his eyes. What if she slipped out before he could ask for a dance?
So he briefly leant towards his captain and whispered in Rohirric, "Keep an eye on the lady, will you? I don't want her to vanish before the dancing begins."
"No worries, lad. I'll watch her like a hawk", Éothain promised. His face was stony, but his blue eyes danced with mirth and excitement for his friend.
Around them, few of the lords Éomer had been chatting with peered at him and his captain curiously, but he met their looks with a charming smile and a dismissive gesture of his hand.
The wine and light talk soon loosened the mood in the hall. Here and there, small bursts of laughter could be heard. A couple of times, Éomer gave a discreet glance to Lady Lothíriel and was relieved to see she was still present. Erchirion was with her and a company of other young nobles of the southern fiefs of Gondor, talking and laughing. She had a lively look and her eyes sparkled like bright stars. He was not surprised, though he surely was aggravated, when he saw a couple of young lordlings gazing at her with clear interest. Something grim and jealous threatened to grow in his breast, but then he reminded himself of who she had been sneaking to meet in the garden at night, and it surely wasn't any of those young men. Even so, he had to suppress the urge of striding to her and putting his arm around her shoulders – letting these Gondorian boys know what was what.
It was not long that Imrahil called the attention to himself. He raised his drink to the crowd, who mirrored the gesture with cheering and applause.
"I welcome you all tonight! It is good to see so many friendly faces around me tonight. I should think our honoured guest, King Éomer of Rohan and his fine warriors, will feel warmly admitted into our company", Imrahil began, beaming at his audience. The Prince surely knew how to make his guests feel appreciated.
He went on for a while about the friendship that had blossomed between Rohan and Dol Amroth since the Ring War, how good it was to renew these ties, and how much stronger both their peoples became when they stood together side by side. Éomer smiled and nodded here and there in agreement.
But eventually Imrahil paused and turned to look at his Rohirric friend. The Prince of Dol Amroth was smiling brightly.
"My lord, it would be a great honour if you would open the first dance. As you can see, there are many young ladies here who would be delighted to join you", he said and gestured at the crowd of nobles. Indeed, Éomer felt like a countless eager eyes were fixed on him, all hoping to catch his attention. But he kept his calm and directed a pleasant smile at his friend.
"With pleasure, Prince Imrahil. Truly the maidens of this land are so proud and fair, their radiance rivals even the court of King Elessar himself. Yet I think the lady of the house should always come first, especially when she is the daughter of a good friend and ally", he said and turned to look at Lady Lothíriel once more. She gazed straight back to him, but though her face was perfectly calm, he thought he could see a fervent light in her eyes.
Imrahil's smile was perhaps a little strained, but he nodded and took a step back.
"Very well. I am honoured, and I'm sure my daughter is as well", he said and glanced at her.
"Indeed I am, Father", Lady Lothíriel spoke, smiling as she did.
Éomer felt like every eye in the hall was on them as he approached the lady and reached his hand to her. She took it, her fingers pressing lightly against his, and followed him to the centre of the floor. He felt like he could scarcely breathe, for she was so painfully lovely to look at and he wanted her more than anything else in the world. Her eyes met his gently, as though she knew what he was thinking of, and saw no wrong in it.
Other couples joined them as well and the lines of dancers formed. The young king glanced at this side and wondered how on earth was he going to focus on dancing with this woman next to him.
"You look beautiful", he said quietly as they waited for the music to begin. "You don't know how difficult it has been not to stare at you whole night."
There was slight blush on her cheeks, though she kept her eyes forward. The music began and they moved forward.
"You are impossible, Sire, although I am surprised you managed to hold back for this long", she whispered back.
"It was not easy, I shall grant you that", he replied and lifted his hands, so that she may twirl around under them.
"I can imagine", she said wryly, but smiled at him nonetheless.
"My captain tells me I'm 'aflutter' over you. I wonder if he's right, or just teasing me", Éomer commented, and she snorted under her breath in laughter.
"Are all Rohirrim so bold and blunt? Even with their king?" she asked as she claimed his arm again for another turn.
"Bold and blunt they are, but Éothain is one of the few who dares to abuse the right so rampantly", he replied. She laughed again.
"You must introduce me to him some time. He sounds delightful", Lady Lothíriel said lightly.
"He'll love it when he hears you said that", Éomer commented, and couldn't help but grin at the idea of introducing her to all his friends. "But I suppose he's correct. I have not been myself since I met you again. And since I saw you tonight, all I've wanted is just to kiss you again."
"All my father's court is watching and you won't stop sweet-talking to me!" she chortled, though he spied a soft blush on her cheeks.
"Let them see. Let them know there's only one lady here I will dance with tonight", he informed her. Lady Lothíriel looked quickly at him, with some unsaid question in her eyes, and perhaps some wonder as well.
"Other ladies will be disappointed", she said at length as they turned around to follow the rest of the dancers.
"Well, I don't care", Éomer said firmly, turning to face her as the dance required. He cast her a bright smile.
The colour on her cheeks deepened, but even so, she did not look away.
"What am I going to do with you?" she whispered, half exasperated and half amused. And because she was looking so irresistible, her eyes sparkling and her smile lighting up the whole hall, he could not stop himself or his big mouth.
"You could marry me, for example", Éomer blurted out, like the coarsest fool in the whole world. Immediately he regretted it. Not because it wasn't true, but because he had meant to be well-spoken and eloquent, romance her a bit before making the actual proposal. Yet perhaps that was exactly where he had erred.
He could not perform before her. She had seen him, through him, from that very first night in the Houses of Healing, and even now it was impossible to hide what was topmost in his heart and mind.
Lady Lothíriel halted in the middle of a twirl. She went absolutely still, but her eyes grew very wide as she stared at him. Her mouth fell slightly open, though no sound came out.
Éomer stopped as well and around them other dancers manoeuvred the best they could, even though not a few curious and displeased looks were given to the King and the lady. He barely noticed any of them, for his mind was suddenly consumed by dread and doubt. Why had he said that? What sort of an idiot was he to speak his dearest desire in this way, as though it was a matter decided already, and the only thing expected of her was to simply agree? She was a young, well-bred lady of a noble line. If she had ever imagined a lord asking for her hand, this was probably the furthest thing from it. He should have courted her more, put his hopes and sentiment into charming words, and let her know how highly he thought of her!
She did not say a word and in growing horror he watched all colour leave her face. Then suddenly she let out a small gasp, her hand slipped from his own, and she turned away. She fled through the dancing crowd as though he had slapped her.
He bit his tongue to keep from cursing as he followed suit. With his bigger body-mass, he wasn't quite so quick or agile in avoiding the dancing couples. So, by the time Éomer got to the twin doors of the great hall, she had already vanished outside.
Éothain caught up with him.
"You know, I think you may have noticed the lady has left the hall", he said wryly, though also with a hint of anxiety. "What's going on?"
"I may have accidentally proposed to her", Éomer said, burning to go straight after the woman. However, he would need his captain to make some excuses because he did not think for one minute that Imrahil had not witnessed what had just taken place.
"Congratulations, you oaf. That's rich even for you", Éothain snorted.
"I know, but please spare me the smart comments. Can you go and distract Imrahil? Maybe hold him back for a moment? I need to talk to her – explain myself – and do it quickly", said the young king anxiously.
"Fine. But you better be fast. I saw him only moments ago and he doesn't look happy", Éothain warned him, much to Éomer's dismay. Béma, if he managed to botch this visit in such a way, angering and offending both the daughter and the father – well, that would be even richer.
He would worry about that later. Now he needed to find her, and so after simply groaning as an answer to his friend, he hurried outside. However, in the long hallway he realised his problem. Where had she gone? How could he, an outsider, hope to find her in this veritable maze of long hallways and corridors?
Think, you fool, he told himself and took a couple of deep, calming breaths. Where would she go to seek for a refuge?
Her own rooms? There he could not obviously follow. If he did such a thing, Imrahil would be more than just unhappy. Perhaps she would go outside, but the castle grounds were too large for a single desperate Rohir to search. Perhaps there was some space in the fortress itself...
Her workshop. That was where she would go, wasn't it? At least Éomer had this feeling, and generally his instinct was very good. At least the workshop was more easily searched.
He began to walk quickly away from the hall, never minding what was happening inside, or if his and Lady Lothíriel's antics had caused much of a stir.
Éomer passed by a couple of guards on his way, but he paid them no heed. Otherwise, he didn't meet other people on his way, which was a relief; he did not need to be held back or otherwise distracted from his current goal. The need to see her was almost an ache and just beyond it throbbed the dread that with a single careless comment, he had ruined everything.
The spiral staircase that lead to her workshop was dark and he put his hand against the wall for support, not wanting to fall and break his neck. But down below he could see a soft light and his heart leapt. She wouldn't leave candles or lamps burning by themselves, would she?
His instinct proved right. There, before the hearth, sat the slumped figure of Lady Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Her face was in her hands and her elbows rested on her knees; unladylike vision, but his heart melted at the sight of her. What a brutish thing he was, to have caused her this trepidation!
"My lady", he spoke carefully as he stepped inside. "Forgive me for disturbing you."
She startled on the low stool she had been sitting on. Her eyes were broad and wild as she raised them. More than standing up, she jumped.
Éomer lifted his hands in a disarming gesture and tried to smile.
"Sorry. I really didn't mean to startle you. Just... may I speak to you?" he asked tentatively, keeping his distance still as though she was a scared but dangerous animal.
"You shouldn't have followed me, Sire", she said in a small, unhappy voice.
"But I offended you, my lady – quite severely, it seems to me, considering the way you fled from the ball. And I wanted to tell you I am sorry. It was no way to speak to you, no matter how... friendly we have been as of late", he said and watched her fair, beloved face in regret. What a turn of events it would be, if he succeeded in driving her away by his own wretched behaviour!
"No, it's not like that, my lord. I'm not offended. You were simply lovely, and I... I..." she stammered, while something fiercely anxious appeared on her features.
"Then what is it, my lady? Why do you push back when I try to get closer to you?" he asked her and took a step forward.
She shook her head and looked at him in frustration, as though he was grossly misunderstanding every word that came from her mouth.
"Sire, please do not think the fault lies with you. These past few days have been more than I could ever hope for, but both my land and yours have a thousand maidens more suited to being your bride. You could do so much better than settle for me", she told him, but her voice was choked and weak. That same painful look he had first seen in this very workshop had returned to her face, and he could tell the dreadful effort it took to be able to speak these words.
He took another step closer to her.
"I don't agree", he said gently, "For the one who stands before me now outshines all others."
She sobbed out loud and covered her mouth, not even attempting to argue back anymore. But Éomer came to stand before her and his heart was racing, for no matter how crude and blunt his proposal had been, it was not a mistake.
"I meant what I said before", he told her firmly. "I do wish to marry you. Of course, I didn't mean to ask you in such a stupid and graceless manner. But I seem to forget myself whenever you are nearby. Please, allow me to try again."
The lady said nothing, perhaps because at this point she was simply too beside herself, or maybe she wanted to hear him out. Either way, he cleared his throat and tried to bring forth such words as he had meant to use all along.
"You have been with me ever since we first met. Even when I believed I would never see you again, the memory of you, of the things you said to me, frequently came back. Your words helped to get me through some of the most difficult days I have lived. And I think it's why I refused to pay heed to my advisers... why I could not bring myself to look for a wife in Rohan. All my thought was already given to you, Lady Lothíriel, and it is so now more than ever. Each moment I spend in your presence makes me more sure of it", he spoke, words tumbling out quickly at first, and then more slowly, and with more care. It felt good to finally say this out loud.
He took a deep breath, gathered her hands in his own, and said one more thing: "So here it comes. Will you be my wife?"
She stared at him in speechless stun, her mouth slightly agape; and the idea nearly overpowered Éomer of how good it would feel to kiss again those lips. But he redirected that urge, and instead he planted kisses on the backs of her hands. Unable to hold himself back, he breathed in the scent of her skin. Somehow it was both sweet and spicy at the same time, and something greedy and eager shifted in the bottom of his stomach. And then, all he could see in his mind's eye was how he would trace that skin with his mouth and seek the sensitive bend of her elbow, and then her arm, and the hollow of her throat...
"My lord..." she whispered in a barely audible voice. She looked so torn, so indecisive, that Éomer had no idea of what her answer would be. But still her hands pressed against his very tightly, as if she was afraid of her own response.
"I know I'm a crude and graceless man, and I have more than a few rough edges. A wise fool, my captain Éothain calls me. You could do better, too. Yet for whatever it's worth, you have made me feel more truly and deeply than I ever have before. Life is a little less dreary and woeful when you are in it, Lady Lothíriel. Please do not take that light away", he told her and was even a bit surprised to hear something quite desperate in his own voice.
She closed her eyes and momentarily pressed her forehead against their joined hands. He could feel her trembling and for a moment he was sure she was going to say no.
But then Lady Lothíriel lifted her eyes. In them was a strange, fierce light as she gripped his hands tight.
"Yes. For better or for worse, I will marry you!", she exclaimed in sudden eagerness. And then, before he could wonder about it, she kissed him.
Something new stirred awake in his chest. There was a tenderness too deep and sublime to be put in words, and yet there was fierce protectiveness and a need for her safety and comfort. It felt like an entire new world opened up in her and through her, a dimension of possibilities he had not considered until this moment. And he wanted it as he wanted air to breathe and water to drink. If Imrahil said no, well, then he might really just steal this woman even at the risk of starting a war.
After some time – minutes or years, he couldn't say – Éomer finally pulled back a little bit so that he could regard her face. She was flushed and her eyes burned bright as she stared back.
"What are we going to tell your father, though? He will say no, if I ask him for your hand", he wondered, already half-seriously considering a three separate plans of smuggling her out of the city.
She gave him a keen look and then tiptoed to kiss him briefly.
"Let me worry about him, my king. He will listen to me... and give his blessing if I ask him for it", she said in soft tones.
"Still", he uttered, though he was tempted to kiss her again, long and deep, "Why is he so reluctant?"
"Because... because until tonight, he has had no reason to think I would say yes to any man", she said, and while her voice was quiet and soft, it still shook him in ways that were just as deep and powerful as his earlier desire to keep and guard her. And her sea-grey eyes were wide and bright and feverish as she stared up at him, and in that moment Éomer felt something fateful beat between them – in this promise they had made to one another.
"Then what changed your mind?" he asked her quietly, hands still entangled in her long, thick hair. It felt even softer than he had imagined.
She didn't answer right away. Something troubled seemed to appear in her eyes once more, and he sought them in earnest for a hint. Until the last moment, she had been hesitating. What had he said to change her mind?
But Éomer did not get his answer. Somewhere in the staircase, a voice was calling for her.
"Lothíriel! Are you down there?"
It was Imrahil. A shudder ran down Éomer's spine, thinking of the trouble he was in now. Quickly he tried to think of how to explain himself to the man.
"I'm coming, Father!" she called out suddenly. Then she moved from his arms, towards the entry. As she went, she was hissing, "Stay here for a bit and be quiet! I'll talk to him. You must let me do it alone."
It was not easy for Éomer to stand back and do nothing. His instinct was to go with her and face her father together. However, what could he say to Imrahil? If the Prince's mind was made, then Éomer surely could not change it. But she might. Lady Lothíriel might be a young, well-bred maiden, but she was a daughter of a proud line and beneath her bright smiles and sweet kisses was a will at least as strong as his own. And whatever this thing was between the lady and her father, that Imrahil would thwart any proposals she might get, Éomer surely had no good idea of how to compel the Prince to reconsider.
But she smiled and touched his hand briefly before she went, and he let out a deep breath. She had said yes. Only that mattered.
Only that she wanted to be his wife.
To be continued.
A/N: I had a good time writing this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed reading it, too!
Éomer was being a very delightful character to write for this chapter, but so was Lothíriel - and so was Éothain. I hope I have shown Éomer's hoApefulness in wooing her, and Lothíriel's wonder at the power of his charm and affection for her. But what will Imrahil say about this all will remain to be seen!
I hope you all will stay safe and healthy, and not suffer too much under physical isolation or quarantine! As ever, you're free to contact me either here at or tumblr, to talk about what it's like in your country, or just ramble about Éomer and Lothíriel!
Thank you all for your lovely comments. They are always appreciated and treasured more than you know!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - I do think it has long been Amrothos' fate, but maybe Aragorn has other ideas for him!
pzacharatos - Well, here comes!
Guest - Thank you for your lovely comment! I did enjoy writing that part in the pavilion very much. :)
I think Lothíriel will not yet reveal her secrets, and why she would react so remains to be seen!
Cricklewood16 - Thank you! I am glad to hear you like the story! And somehow for this story, it has been my particular delight to take care in describing the scenes. I do hope you shall continue to enjoy the story!
Megingjoro/aryaputra - I'm delighted to hear I was able to bring a little bit of delight to your circumstances! Let us hope it will get better soon! And I do love writing Éomer in this story, too. :)
EStrunk - I have had such a clear image of her workshop for such a long time, I had to take my time describing it. Glad to hear you were glad to read about it! I think Éomer's reaction may seem extreme, but I hope it showed his growing feelings for her, and the sense of dismay he felt at this first time when he dared to approach a woman. But I'm glad it made sense to you!
It's been wonderful writing Éothain in this one!
SwanKnightoftheNorth - I write as much as I can, but creative work always takes it own time! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
Katia0203 - Thank you for your comment! It was interesting to read. :) But I can't comment too much, because I don't want to reveal things about story too soon. Yet I think the kiss had a grave impact on her indeed!
I have a very clear image of her in my own mind, and you can either search pictures of her in my tumblr blog under the tag "Moondaughter's Promise", or in the internet with the name Marina Aleksandrova, particularly at the set of "Catherine the Great". Whether she is Elvish in her beauty, I'll leave to your judgement!
Jo - :)
sai19 - Yeah, I felt a little bit uncomfortable writing that! But as a writer one must go to such areas sometimes. I am glad you liked the chapter!
Melissa Black13 - I must say, I have enjoyed as well Éomer and Éothain's relationship in this chapter! I think the latter worries for the former a great deal, though he doesn't say it. Glad you're liking the story!
Wondereye - Yeah, it was too much for her to take!
meldisil - Glad to hear it! I hope you'll continue to like this story! And I hope you'll stay safe and healthy, too!
