Foul Play
Compared to the draped, airy tents of the Mark, the stuffy, wooden boxes from where the royal entourage watched the spectacle were an added burden in this sweltering heat. Lazily, Lothiriel fanned herself but soon found her efforts to be fruitless. She sighed in annoyance which ended in a high-pitched gasp as a cold hand touched her arm.
"Sweet Elbereth, Eowyn! How are your hands still cold?"
Her sister-in-law gave a humourless smile, never taking her eyes off the two knights jousting ferociously.
"Honestly, there is nothing much that could stir my blood with this - Parry, damn it!" As swiftly as the cool hand had descended on hers in one moment, it was gone with the next - much to her dismay.
Eowyn's brow furrowed in anger as she continued to watch the match closely, her hands clenched into fists on either side of her chair. A small smile grazed Lothiriel's features as she remembered someone else who frowned the exact same way. When she bent towards her sister-in-law with her intent, she paused midway, overhearing muffled chit chat from the higher seats.
"I must admit, there is something feral about him. Do you think his prowess reaches beyond the arena?"
Their giggling almost swallowed the next part of the conversation: "Most certainly, Prioreth, look at these hands. I bet he leaves no one wanting."
"At least not in the bedroom, but in other realms, he would fall flat ladies. I mean, look at his new queen, she should know."
A stinging sensation spread in her guts as Lothiriel watched the two knights circling each other. Not everyone looked favourably upon their match, yet she hadn't expected to be witnessing their spiteful words in broad daylight. Before she could entertain another brooding thought, a soft hand came to rest on her arm.
"Do not for a moment think of their idle talk, meldenya. They do not see what is past their noses." She turned to see clear blue eyes fixing on her. Queen Arwen, the epitome of Elvish beauty, gave her an ominous smile.
Lothiriel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to prevent heat creeping into her cheeks. Arwen's eyes sparkled with mirth: "What? Do you not think I have been discussed in such a fashion?"
Lothiriel swallowed slightly: "To be fair, never while in your presence..."
"Ha!", the Evening Star's pearling laughter was almost inaudible next to the shouts and battle screams sounding through the arena.
"If you are privy to each sordid thought that pops into someone's head, it can be quite an education." The young woman didn't know where to look, then decided to fix on a crinkle near the hem of her dress, careful not to think anything in particular.
Arwen's silvery laughter made her blush even harder. "Do not take everything so seriously, meldenya. It is what I have come to learn in my many years wandering this earth. It will do you no good."
The queen went silent for a little while, pondering before she continued: "That is not to say that we shan't have a little fun in the process, don't you think?" She winked mischievously, reminding Lothiriel of a cheeky youth.
"Agh! Never mind those gaggling geese! If I weren't with child, I'd use them as hunting bait!" Eowyn turned to eye the bad-mouthing miscreants but was held back by her queen.
"I'm sure you would, arimelda, but there is no need to exhaust yourself." The Princess of Ithilien gave her companions a deadly look which caused them both to laugh.
Arwen, in turn, reassuringly patted her arm. "Let me take care of it, trust me, there are more effective powers beyond heaven and earth than physical strength." Eowyn and Lothiriel looked incredulously at the Gondorean Queen. "Goodness, you won't make them disappear, will you?"
The ethereal elven-princess only gave an ominous smile before leaning back in her chair to watch the tournament which gave Lothiriel full view of Eowyn mouthing an incredulous: "Bema!"
Suddenly, the crowds erupted in loud cheer as the knight dressed in a leather hauberk and helmet draped with a horse tail was called out as the final victor.
Rohirric soldiers who were lined up next to a throng of Swan knights behind the fence, roared in approval as their king embraced his opponent, the High King of Gondor.
"That was a close one.", Lothiriel mused as the three women raised to applaud them. "Yes, it almost made me forget that he defeated an octogenarian by a narrow margin.", Eowyn sneered which caused Lothiriel to roll her eyes at her.
It was then that she noticed her husband's hand gesture to meet him, so she excused herself from her entourage. Heading down the wooden stairs, her mind swirled with the new found revelations about elven revenge. Secretly, she pleaded to high heavens that she would never be on the receiving end of queen Arwen's wrath.
When she finally stepped onto the platform, she saw him waiting for her. His hair dishevelled and shiny with sweat, he smiled up to her with smug satisfaction.
"Haven't I earned some sort of token?", he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
She grinned, slowly leaning closer over the balustrade yet still too far for him to try anything.
"And what exactly would that be?"
He inched closer, grasping the rails of the balustrade: "Methinks a passionate kiss and a promise for early an retirement are in order."
She laughed softly and stroked his whiskers in a tender fashion.
"Gondorean etiquette states that a lady's handkerchief is the sole", she stroked his lower lip with her thumb for emphasis, " and perfectly adequate token to show appreciation."
Eomer clicked his tongue disapprovingly, catching her hand from off the balustrade. " Thanks be to Béma that we are a simple people." His kiss was lingering, making her head swirl and her toes curl.
"You are in luck. Your sister insisted on a thorough beating if you were to lose." He laughed wholeheartedly and finally climbed up the balustrade, closing the space between them. "I'm sure she did. Just my luck she is currently indisposed."
She pulled him down so their faces almost touched. "You bet."
Albeit it having been a friendly match between the two sovereigns, a couple of Gondorean nobles found themselves to be quite sore losers with considerably lighter purses, as the Rohirric king and his entourage were the celebrated guests of tonight's banquet.
Clad in rich velvets, the king of the Mark and his wife, the queen who herself was dressed in a burgundy gown, looked positively dashing. Lothiriel herself heard and saw nothing more from said spiteful gossipers and she had an inkling that Arwen had kept her word. Although she never dared to ask how the queen had put her plan into action, she caught a glimpse of that graceful yet eerie smile and she just knew not to inquire anything more.
As the royal couple of Rohan and Gondor as well as the prince and the princess of Ithilien, famously known as the royal trio, took to the floor. A Rohirric tune allowed for a more intimate talk, so Lothiriel soon felt Eomer's prickly beard against her ear shell.
"So how about a quick getaway, say after four dances?"
She smiled up to him while secretly tracing the curve of his spine - luckily shielded by his green woollen cloak.
"Hm, I am told the king of Rohan leaves no one wanting. And I believe I like to see if he can live up to that promise."
His forehead touched hers, his low rumble made her stomach clench in excitement as his large hands came to grasp her waist. "Then let us waste no time then." She smiled broadly and moved closer to him as he swirled them around the dance floor.