A Forbidden Love

Scene 3

Humming the tune Éomer had been teaching her while they rode horses, Lothìriel began to descend the stairs. She stopped upon hearing raised voices in the kitchen.

"You have to tell her now." Degrin... What do I need to be told?

"We cannot. We told Denethor that we wouldn't inform her until her seventeenth birthday and that is still three months away. "

"Commander Eglarion." She heard Degrin's voice go cold, and grew cold herself at the realization that he thought this serious enough to argue against orders, "Would you rather have an incident between our countries over her becoming engaged with someone other than her betrothed or risk the slight possibility that Denethor would find out within the next three months that you told the princess early."

She heard Eglarion laugh, "She would not dare. Not yet seventeen and with no male relative around. You worry too much, Degrin."

"I tell you she is falling in love with him!"

"Pish, girls this age do not even know what they feel. She will do her duty, marry the prince, and not even remember this brief interlude." Lothìriel froze, feeling her heart drop, her hands began to shake, and she burst through the kitchen door.

"No! This cannot be!"

Degrin and Eglarion both turned to stare at her. Eglarion's face flushed red and he glared at Degrin.

"You fool. You bloody fool. On your head be it."

Lothìriel looked at Degrin, her eyes pleading, "Please, please say it isn't true."

Degrin gulped and his gaze dropped, his voice a sympathetic whisper, "I'm sorry, Princess, but it is true. You are betrothed to Prince Thèodred already and the announcement is to be made on your seventeenth birthday."

"Why?" her voice broke, "Why wasn't I told before?"

Commander Eglarion's supercilious voice grated through her, "Lord Denethor thought that secrecy at this point would lessen the chances of something happening to you. The reasons for coming here as a merchant's daughter were real, but he was also afraid of trickery from some in Rohan."

"But why wasn't I told?!" her voice rose.

"Lord Denethor did not trust you to keep it quiet." Bitterness swept through Lothìriel and she felt her shoulders slump.

"There…there is no changing this? Éomer is Third Marshal, the King's sister son, and descended from royalty on his-" her voice trailed off as Commander Eglarion shook his head violently.

"The contracts have been signed by Lord Denethor and Thèoden King. Lord Denethor would never allow you to lower yourself that much."

"What of my father? Surely-" She stopped as Commander Églarion again shook his head.

"Your father's only stipulation was that you were not betrothed before seventeen. It was a high concession from Denethor that the wedding has been put off this long." Tremors moved from her hands up to her shoulders and chest, and Lothìriel hugged herself as tears filled her eyes and panic swept through.

"Surely there is-" Again Commander Eglarion was shaking his head. Lothìriel felt like screaming, a tight band formed around her chest, she turned away to hide her tears and one thought came to her mind. Éomer. Without a glance back, she ran from the kitchen and out the front door, not even bothering to put shoes on her feet. Up the hill towards the hall she flew, up the steps and past astonished guards. Éomer. Straight to his study she ran, and without knocking flung the door open.