PROMPT: "You've said you're going to leave, but I don't want you to go and if I don't say something now..."
No one seems to want to stop celebrating, though Eowyn and Faramir's wedding is two days past now, and surely wine and ale supplies must be running low.
Lothiriel doesn't feel much like celebrating, herself.
Oh, she's wonderfully, incandescently happy for Faramir and Eowyn-there has never been a couple so well-suited as them, no pair more deserving of their joy-but now that the wedding has come and gone, it will mark the end of having everyone she loves within arm's reach.
Merry and Pippin will return to the Shire, Eowyn will settle into her role of Princess of Ithilien with Faramir at her side, Erchirion will likely set off on some sort of trade endeavor for Ada, Gimli and Legolas have made their plans to visit a number of the Dwarven kingdoms known, and…
And there is one person it will pain her above all others to be separated from.
Not only because many of the others have expressed their intent to visit Dol Amroth already-Eowyn has never seen the sea, and Naneth has already extended a similar invitation to Aragorn and Arwen-and he has not, but also because somehow, over the past months, he has become her closest friend, someone she trusts, respects, likes, lov-
No. She will not let herself think that last, terrifying word. Admitting it, even to herself, will end in nothing but heartbreak.
"I thought I might find you here," comes a familiar voice.
Lothiriel jumps nearly a foot; it never fails to surprise her, how a man so impossibly tall can walk so softly.
"Hm," she says, willing herself to sound calmer than she feels, "you thought or were told?"
"Pippin is a notoriously bad secret keeper," Eomer answers, coming to stand beside her. "If you did not want to be found, you might have trusted someone else with your location."
She huffs a laugh. He's right, of course, which is part of the reason she had chosen Pippin in the first place. But she had not thought it would have been Eomer to notice her absence. He's had his hands full the past few days, between duties as the bride's brother and duties as king. Not to mention the overabundance of ladies-Gondorian and Rohirric alike-keen on claiming his attention.
Lothiriel had liked that less than she would care to admit.
"I wanted a break from the noise," she says instead. "You would think they would be tired of the same stories-"
"You have met Gimli," Eomer interjects, and even though she's kept her gaze on the mountains in front of them, she can hear his smile, can picture the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, "I think he only knows six stories."
Lothiriel elbows him, but without heat. Gimli does have a habit of repeating himself, especially after a few mugs of ale. They stand in companionable silence for a while, the faint strains of music just audible from the far-away ballroom.
"You return with your family to Dol Amroth soon," he says, something of a question in his voice.
She nods, throat abruptly tight. "Yes. It will be good to see the sea again. But I will admit, I will miss Edoras very much."
"Just Edoras?" He asks. "Eothain will be very offended to hear that-"
"Of course not just Edoras," Lothiriel says, finally turning to face him. It is both sweet and bitter, to have him so close, to tease like this. Sweet, because there is nothing she likes better than having a hand in making him happy, in seeing him drop the heavy mantle of leader and king for a moment to be a young man. Bitter, because he is to leave tomorrow, and she may never see him again, like this. It will be different when they are both wed to other people.
Eomer's smile is a little sharp now and he chuckles, though it's far from happy. "I am wary of returning myself."
She blinks in surprise. Eomer has fallen into his role as king so naturally, as if he was born to be so. His people adore him, his council respects him...and he has always been vocal in how much he loves the Riddermark. "Why?"
He shifts, turning his face back out towards the mountains. "No one is waiting for me there, Lothiriel. Eowyn will remain here, Legolas and Gimli will continue on their travels, you return to Dol Amroth-"
"Oh, that's not true," she interrupts, heart aching at the picture he paints. "Your people will be ecstatic to have you back. And soon enough you will have a Queen-"
"Will I?" He asks. "None of the council's suggestions have appealed to me and-" At this he stops, seemingly steeling himself before continuing. "And the woman I would choose will not have me."
Her surprise renders her speechless for a moment-what fool of a woman would not want to wed Eomer? But heartbreak lurks behind it, because of course he loves someone else. He is young, and handsome, and lord of a fell people. Why should he not?
"I am sorry," Eomer says, suddenly, "I should not trouble you with this. I would not have us part talking of such unhappy things."
"She must be a very great fool," she says, the reminder of their parting forcing the words from her throat. "Whoever your lady is. She must be-be blind, or dumb, to not realize how lucky she is, to have earned your regard-"
Abruptly, she finds herself being turned to face him. Eomer's hands are tight on her arms, his eyes hot and fierce in the dark. "Lothiriel, do not tease me-"
"Tease you?" She repeats, bewildered. "I have never felt something so strongly in my life-"
He gives a bark of laughter, his hands sliding from her arms-leaving goosebumps in their wake, oh, Valar-and coming to rest on either side of her face. "Lothiriel. Do you mean to insult yourself?"
She can only gape at him. "I-what?"
"I will not hear the woman I love slandered, even if she is the one saying such things," he says, thumb moving in a distracting swoop along her cheekbone.
"You-I-what?" Lothiriel says again. She must be dreaming. Or the last glass of wine has gone to her head, or Eomer himself has had too much to drink-
"I love you," he interrupts, "I have for…Bema, it seems as if I cannot remember a time before I did."
She can only tremble-he cannot be serious, this cannot-! But she knows him. She can see the sincerity in every line of his face. He...loves her. In truth.
"Oh, Valar," she whispers. "I have been blind."
Eomer chuckles, bending to press his forehead to hers. "So have I, it would seem. I will not ask you to say anything you do not-"
She kisses him before he can finish, love and happiness bubbling up wildly behind her breastbone. It is every bit as wonderful as she thought it would be, when she could not talk herself out of hoping.
"We are a well-matched pair, because I can scarcely remember a time I did not love you, either," Lothiriel murmurs fondly.
Eomer's smile is a beautiful thing, surpassed only by his wide grin when Ada gives them his blessing.