A Forbidden Love

Scene 7

Thèodred stepped into their room, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Glancing up he saw Lothìriel sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightshift. Her silver hairbrush lay idle in her lap as she gave him a small smile. She is so beautiful. He felt an ache in his chest and swallowed hard, moving away from her and towards his wardrobe. Quickly disrobing he put on a pair of loose trousers leaving his chest bare, for even as fall was upon them, it was yet warm these days, even in the drafty stone hall of Hornburg. Turning he caught her eyes still on him, so he returned her a half smile before moving over to sit behind her, letting her rest between his legs. He reached around for the brush and began to brush out her hair with long smooth strokes. As the tangles gave way and with the feeling of silk in his hands, his chest tightened again.

"Lothìriel," he began and halted.

"Yes, Thèodred?"

He swallowed again, before climbing out of the bed to set the brush on the dresser by the wash basin. With his back towards her, he began again, "Lothìriel, we have been married over a year and a half now," he could feel his shoulder tighten, could feel his stomach writhing, " do you think…do you think you will ever be happy with me?" He heard a whisper of fabric rustling and froze as he felt her come close, felt her hand run over his shoulders. His skin prickled and he slowly turned to face her. She reached up to frame his face with her hands. Her eyes were serious, and he could still see the fragment of sorrow that tormented him deep within.

"Thèodred, you are a good man. And I am content with you," he watched her blink rapidly as tears filled her eyes, "I would have ease between us. This feeling, this uncertainty, it pains us both. And I am tired of having it always here." She took a breath, "Perhaps it is time it was just said. I did…I did love Éomer, and perhaps a part of me always shall." She looked up into his eyes and he fought to keep them on her, to not retreat like the coward he felt he was at hearing this from her lips. "But you are my husband," she continued softly, " and you do bring love and rest to my soul." Her arms slipped around him and she leaned into him.

"Lothìriel…" he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss upon her brow. Keeping her close, keeping his eyes closed he continued, "When we are…together," his voice became pained as he finally dared to speak his greatest fear, "do you ever think of him? Wish it to be him?" She froze for a moment and his heart plummeted, he began to pull away, to turn away, but she resisted.

"Thèodred, wait!" He stopped, but would not turn his eyes to look at her. "I would not," her voice broke, and she began again, "I would not dishonor you so. It would be a mockery of our vows. There is only you, Thèodred."

He had thought that if he was able to hear those words, which he had hardly dared hope could be true, that he would feel relief, if not joy. But in this moment there was only a detached numbness, as if his senses had been so battered by these past years that this evening finally broke him.

He felt her gentle hands on his cheeks again and allowed her to turn his face towards hers, his eyes searched her very soul, and he could still see sorrow, but it felt different this time. "You thought, O Elbereth, you were thinking that I thought of him," and now her tears did fall, "Thèodred, I-" And it was as if her tears for him unlocked something in himself, and he softly stroked her hair, before placing a gentle finger on her lips.

"Shhh. It's alright." He pulled her in to a tight embrace, "We will be alright."

And as they lay together that night, and she sighed his name, his heart was comforted, and the love that he had for her, that had been a lonely and cold weight on his chest was warmed. And in the embers of that fire, a new life was begun.