-A Forbidden Love-
Scene 6
Éomer stepped out of his room and towards Thèodred's study. With his head tucked and running through a list of what he and Thèodred needed to discuss, he didn't see the figure before him until he ran right into her.
"Oh, excuse me," he began, looking up quickly. He stopped abruptly. Lothìriel stood before him, eyes wide, hand pressed over her heart.
"Lothìriel," he breathed out, "I. I didn't see you."
He could feel his heart starting to race, she looked lovely, the deep green of her gown setting off the color of her eyes. A vision that will never be yours. Remember your cousin. He backed up a step and ran a finger around his shirt collar.
"Éo-Éomer," Lothìriel backed up a step also, "I was just headed to the great hall for dinner…" her eyes studied him wistfully, "You are…you are well?"
He shrugged and with difficulty pried his eyes off her looking to a tapestry on the wall instead, "As well as can be expected," he swallowed, "might I walk you to the great hall?" He offered her his arm and she hesitantly took it. They walked in silence almost the length of the corridor. "How fare you?" Éomer finally asked.
Her step faltered a bit, "I, I am content." She glanced up at him, caught his eye, and time stood still for a moment. Longing and sorrow warred through him, and he dropped his gaze just as she did as well.
"I will leave you here," Éomer said thickly, "I see my sister is awaiting your company and I have business to discuss with Thèodred." He briefly waved at Éowyn and bowed to Lothìriel before turning with a heavy heart to meet Thèodred.
He entered without knocking, and found Thèodred leaning up against the window casing, back towards the door. Thèodred spoke first.
"I saw you with my wife." The words were cold.
Éomer's heart twisted, "I accidentally ran into her in the corridor. I escorted her to the great hall. That was all."
"I saw the look she gave you, like she would memorize your very essence for fear of forgetting it."
"Thèodred, I swear, we didn't plan…we didn't do anything."
Thèodred turned then, his eyes rimmed faintly red, "Do anything," he snarled, "You have already done it. My wife loves another, and I…I love her." He pounded his fist on his desk, "Do you know what I would give, Éomer, to see her look at me as she looks at you?" His voice rose, "Still, over a year later, she looks at you. Will you never stop tormenting me?"
Éomer's shoulders slumped and he rubbed a hand wearily through his hair. "I am sorry, cousin. I never wished for this either. And I would to Bèma that I could turn back time and change it so we could all have peace."
There was a long moment of silence, then Thèodred pulled out his chair and dropped into it, "No." He sighed, resting his head in his hand briefly, before sitting up again, "No, I am sorry for speaking so harshly. I know this is not of your doing." He pulled a piece of paper towards him, and fiddled with the edges of it as silence reigned again. Éomer stood uneasily by the door, until with a wave, Thèodred motioned him into a chair.
"Éomer, orc movements have been increasing near the Fords of Isen and Hornburg. My visits to Edoras will be fewer and hastier after this. I don't think that I will be bringing Lothìriel with anymore."
Éomer sat for a moment, taking it in, to not see her at all? His heart ached. But he said, "That would probably be for the better," he ran his hand through his hair, "Éowyn will miss her. But I'd be glad to see one of them staying out of Wormtongue's view-if not mind."
Thèodred nodded, "Yes. Grima is disconcerting," his face twisted, "He reeks of something foul, and with father becoming more ill, well, I wish he had another councilor that he would turn to instead." Éomer looked up as Thèodred paused,
"You have something more to say?"
"Yes. It is just…hard…to bring it up. I never told you that Grìma was in the room when I asked father of the betrothal." Éomer flinched, his mind replaying the agonizing wait at Aldburg after he had sent the missive to Thèodred.
"Éomer?"
Éomer looked up and nodded, "No, you hadn't mentioned that before."
"Grìma hadn't heard of the betrothal before, Éomer, and he was furious in that quiet thin-lipped way of his."
Éomer startled, "Uncle kept it secret from Grìma even? No wonder he has been so testy since, I bet that was quite the blow to the worm."
"Aye, but Hama and Elfhelm both knew of it. It makes me wonder what has changed that he is now the only one privy to the King's secrets and the only one allowed to speak for him when he is feeling unwell again. And this bring me to my point, Cousin. Grìma is gaining in power, and I fear he is also putting spies among us. There have been times in council lately that he has seemed to have prior knowledge of my plans and used that to circumvent them."
Éomer nodded, "It is curious, and I have noticed the same thing. Clever wording has been needed to ensure that while we follow the king's law, we also do what is right for the people." He ran his hand through his hair again and sat back, "I wish we knew what he intended. Do you have a hint of it?"
Thèodred shrugged, "As of yet, I am unsure. But it looks deeper than just some game to gain power with the council. I fear though," he leaned forward speaking lower, "I fear he is in league with Saruman. Orcs with the white hand have begun rampaging in the West Mark."
Éomer's eyes hardened, "I heard rumours of this, but hoped for them to be idle tales. This is ill news."
A knock sounded at the door, and Éomer abruptly stopped talking. Thèodred shot him a warning glance before calling out, "Enter!"
A young maid entered carrying a tray, "My Lords, the ladies Éowyn and Lothìriel thought you might prefer to keep dinner here and, as it's almost over in the great hall, sent me with a meal for you."
Éomer relaxed back into the chair again as Thèodred smiled at the maid, "That was a happy thought. Thank you, Gilda." The girl set up the tray on Thèodred's desk and curtseyed her way out of the room as the men continued talking.
