Scene 2
Éomer grinned down at Idril as he pulled her in a little closer for a spin. "I'm glad your uncle finally agreed to let you come to the great hall for a supper." She smiled back, her clear grey eyes shining in the torchlight, "Me too. Although, to be honest I've only asked twice. With uncle, if I show too much interest the answer is sure to be 'no'. I just happened to catch him in a good mood today."
"At least he's not curtailing your visits to the market."
He felt Idril falter a bit and steadied her.
"That may be because I have not told him that I am meeting anyone there."
"Well, and you are not. We just happen to run into each other there with increasing frequency."
Idril laughed, "That is what I keep telling myself. At what point does this shade into dishonesty?"
"When I begin asking to meet you instead of just informing you of my possible whereabouts?"
They spun again, and Éomer caught sight of Idril's fairly constant shadow. "So that is your…cousin?" he asked for clarification.
She smiled back up at him, her hair flaring out to wrap around her waist, the silky feeling of it brushed his hand, entrancing him. "Distant relative would be more honest. But he watches over me like a brother."
Éomer raised an eyebrow at that, "Hmm…I'd say not. Not like a brother…" his voice trailed off and he looked puzzled for a moment. The music ended with a flourish, and they were jostled closer together in the crush of dancers switching partners.
Éothain swung up beside them, "'lo Éomer, mind if I take the lady off your hands?"
Éomer kept his hand on her waist. "Sorry, Éothain, but I think the lady and I could use a drink." He winked at Éothain and good naturedly clapped him on the back.
"I'm sure you're parched from all your dancing. What's this make it? Three with Idril alone?"
Éomer shrugged, "She's a fine dancer, and I hadn't had the pleasure yet." The first part of his statement was more than true, and yet another thing that niggled in the back of his mind. Where did a shopkeeper's daughter learn to dance like an elvish maiden?
Keeping his hand at her waist, he guided her around Éothain throwing a grin back to him as he did so, "I'm sure you can find another comely lass to swing around."
With practiced ease, he led Idril back to the table with the drinks on it, "What is your wish, my Lady, ale or mead?"
Idril scrunched up her nose, "Mead, please, I'm having a hard time getting used to ale instead of wine."
"Ah, then I will have to have the housekeeper bring up a couple bottles the next time you sup with us." He grinned, "Usually I keep it for visiting dignitaries, but I will make an exception for a lovely lady." Idril blushed and sipped at her mead effectively hiding her face.
"Are you overheated, my Lady?" Éomer said, purposefully misconstruing her flushed cheeks.
Idril nodded, "Perhaps the dancing was more intense than I realized."
"Shall we step outside for a moment then? There is a bit of a breeze blowing, I'm sure it will be refreshing."
"When is there not a bit of breeze blowing here in the Riddermark?" She laughed lightly and Éomer joined in.
"Only when it is a gale instead," he rejoined. Slipping his hand onto the small of her back, he again guided her through the dancing throng and out a side door, noticing as he did that Idril's 'distant relative' was keeping them in easy following distance. "Don't look now, but I think mayhap your relation doesn't trust me." He murmured as he led her to a corner of the wide porch, and, keeping his hand at her waist, he turned to face her.
"Would you trust a handsome man such as yourself with your sister?" She blushed again as soon as the words left her mouth, realizing too late the unwitting compliment.
Éomer grinned down at her and cupped her cheek in his hand, "No," he said simply as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. She froze for a moment. He brought his other hand up to frame her jaw and slid his tongue lightly along her lower lip, fire ran through him as he heard her small moan and felt her respond with pure innocence. Time seemed suspended as he tasted the honey of the mead off her lips and breathed in her light floral fragrance, hazily, his mind added in the question of what scent she wore to the puzzles that seemed to multiply around her. A loud cough broke through the haze and they both pulled back.
"Well," Éomer swallowed hard, "I guess we saw how far we can push your guard." The words were out without thought, yet as soon as he said them, he felt the rightness of it, knew it to be true.
Idril's eyes widened and she blinked rapidly, "How did you, please you can't-" words began tumbling out of her mouth so fast that no sense could be made of them. He held up a hand to stop her and spoke low.
"I didn't know that he was a guard. It slipped out. But it fits too well-" Their conversation was interrupted by the guard walking up. "'Scuse me, Idril, but we should really be getting back. Uncle will be waiting up for us." He cast a hard look at Éomer but moved away again immediately.
"Of course, Degrin." Idril began to step away, but Éomer caught her hand.
"I'll be at the market tomorrow. Perhaps I shall run into you there?" He kept his voice quiet, his tone light, even though he felt an undercurrent of uneasiness running through him.
She looked back, nodding as she caught up to the guard and took his arm.
"Goodnight, my Lord." She curtseyed briefly to him in farewell.
"Goodnight then, my Lady," Éomer sketched a short bow in return as she turned, and they faded into the night.
