The night's celebration had left with him a foul mood and a pounding headache. However, he was rather happy about Erchirion's little intrusion. All the socialising and his unfortunate confrontation with the princess had definitely made him wish for a moment or two alone.
The prince had not been lying when he had said the beach was beautiful at night. Indeed, everything was blue and silver, and the nearly full moon was riding high in the sky. It was almost dreamlike, and he wandered forward, losing his sense of time completely. Though there was no way Éomer would have traded his home for anything, he could see the beauty here, and understand why Imrahil's kin loved this land.
The air was warm for night, holding the promise of a long summer in it. Back in his home, it'd still be chilly after winter... how odd it would feel, to go back to Meduseld after this. But perhaps he was finally ready to move on.
Lost in his thoughts, Éomer walked on. He wasn't sure how far he was about to walk exactly, but he didn't mind. Walking was good, for when he concentrated on how the sand sank under his boots and how salty sea air expanded his lungs, it was a bit easier not to think of her.
Her, the mermaid, the Lady of the Sea...
And thought of her was painful somehow though he didn't know why, so he desperately tried to think of something else. Éomer stopped finally and in hoping her image out of his mind, he stared out to the endless expanse of waves. All of a sudden, he wanted to plunge into it, and without another thought, he began to undress. The ball could wait.
He left all of his clothes on the beach, and he didn't even stop to think of how they were there for the first person to pick up (it'd be quite the scandal should he get back to the palace naked) and people would no doubt wonder when he'd return the ball covered in sand, but after the flowers that didn't even seem so odd. Éomer fixed his eyes on the sea, suddenly impatient to feel the waves closing around himself.
The water was cold as he waded deeper, but he didn't find the sensation too unpleasant. Rather, it made his blood run faster and prickled curiously at his skin. The floor of the beach was steep and he was quickly enveloped in the waters, and he let the gentle waves take a hold of him. Éomer was not a seaman but he knew sea was treacherous, and so while he swam, he followed the shoreline rather than dared out to the open waters - the last thing Rohan needed was her king drowning here in the south. The cool water seemed to chase away his ill mood and his headache, and he decided it had been a good idea to come down here. It was so calm, so quiet...
After a while, he took a deep breath and dived under. The water was clear and moon provided some light, but somehow plunging into the darkness did not scare him. What really impressed him was the strange, vast quiet of underwater... he wasn't sure it was something he liked.
The young king was still diving when suddenly, a hand so strong grabbed him that for moment he thought some sea creature had come to take him and he almost panicked. But then he was pulled up into air, and as the suddenness of attack had surprised him and made him lose what breath he had left, he gasped for air.
Wiping salty water from his eyes, he looked about to see his attacker... only to see a very wet, very scared-looking Princess of Dol Amroth floating close to him. Of course it'd be her.
"What in the name of Béma do you think you're doing?" he barked in annoyance. "You nearly scared me to death!"
"I thought you were drowning – I saw you go under and I thought..." she mumbled, and obviously she had already realised her error.
"I was completely fine, my lady. In fact, your attack was what nearly had me drowning!" he growled. "Did you not stop and think that perhaps you should ask if I needed your help?"
It was her turn to growl.
"My lord, drowning people aren't usually able to answer any questions", she said brusquely.
"Well, you could have asked me before attacking me like some... some seawitch!" he informed her. But it was starting to be difficult to remain angry with her, because he could practically see her naked form now, and she could very well see his considering there was no stitch on him (her wet white gown did very little to hide her). But he had got here first, he had just been minding his own business, and he'd be damned if he got bashful now.
"I was just trying to help!" she argued, however. Either she hadn't noticed his state of undress or was deliberately ignoring it.
"So now you want to be kind and helpful! How very nice of you!" he growled. She looked at him in outrage.
"You unbearable man! First you appear on this shore staring and touching me in a way you have no right, then you appear in my family's breakfast table and confuse me to death... and then suddenly you decide to get angry at me just for playing the game in your own rules! Do tell me, O Lord of the Mark, is there one consistent cell in that body... that body of yours?" she exclaimed and seemed to look at him for the first time. Judging by the way her eyes widened, she hadn't even noticed earlier that he indeed was very naked. He stared at her sternly, and he was about to speak, but she was faster than him.
"Oh... my", Lothíriel breathed, and only now did he realise just how beautiful she looked in this light, how she was bathed in silver and her dark hair floated about her shoulders. She looked at him, her eyes large and sparkling and so alive, and it was all so stupid because he had no idea what was going in her head and there were still flowers in his hair and this wasn't how it was supposed to go at all...
"You may be a king but you're still an annoying and nonsensical oaf", she announced, lifting her chin and straightening her posture so that her breast rose too...
Damn.
"Oh, shut up, you", grunted the King of Rohan, scooped towards her, and grabbed her into a kiss.
It wasn't probably what your grand and wonderful first kiss ought to be, but it was everything else: her warm body against his, the waves lapping around them, her breasts pressing against his chest, her arms about his neck and her fingers in his hair, the feel of her hips and her round bottom as he grabbed her closer... and the sweet taste of her mouth, the eagerness of her tongue against his own, the perfect way their lips melded... and sweet merciful Valar, he wanted her...
Her legs wrapped about his own and he groaned, feeling himself getting harder by the second, and she must have felt it too – there was no way she could miss something like that when she was so close...
He lost his footing in water and fell back and she followed right after, apparently reluctant to let the kiss end quite yet. They fell under the waves and still she wouldn't let him go. And they were enveloped by the waters, the waves lulling them gently, and there was enough light to see how she looked at him, the endless blue of the sea and the silver light of moon breaking through the waters, how her hair floated about them... that moment just before air became necessary was the single most magical instance of his whole life.
Then he lifted up them both and he gasped for air. Lothíriel was breathing quickly, with her breast rising and falling fast, and her face was flushed. Just looking at her made him feel weak, and he desperately wanted to kiss her again.
"Lothíriel", he rasped, not really sure of what one should have said after something like that, and it was a wonder that he could speak at all.
"You are a complete scoundrel. I'm going home", she announced and tried to sound tough, but he could see she was just as shaken as he was. Then Lothíriel made a face at him and then she began swimming for the shore, and he was left staring after her.
What a woman.
