He got the idea the moment he saw where her chamber window was located. It was during one walk through the garden with Imrahil (they were speaking of improvements for the Dimholt Road and apparently the Prince "thought better" out in the fresh air) when she opened her window and shouted to her father that some man named Lord Gelir had again sent her a love letter and that she needed the Prince to get this fellow off her back. Then she threw her window shut with considerable frustration, and Imrahil chuckled.
"Lord Gelir has been asking for her hand in marriage ever since she turned fourteen", the Prince explained when he saw Éomer's confused face. "Poor man is gaining on years, but he is as convinced as ever she'd make a fine wife for him."
"You don't plan to comply?" the young king asked, though he didn't think there was anything for him to be worried about; he was fairly certain even Imrahil was not willing to brave her wrath if her hand was promised to someone she didn't want.
"Oh, not at all. I'm afraid my daughter is much too spirited for the old lord... it would only result in early widowhood. And she is very dear to me - I would like her to marry someone she truly loves", Imrahil said and shook his head. "My sons love to tease her about it, though."
They returned to their earlier topic then, but Éomer cast a glance at the window again and took note of the sturdy looking ivy that grew all the way up to her window and past it. After parting ways with Imrahil he even returned to inspect it more closely, and as he felt the vines that snaked up on the stone surface of the wall, he smiled.
Now, if ever, was a time for more flowers.
The opportunity rose later on the same day as he heard couple of servants talking and from their words understood that Lothíriel had requested bath water; the two servants probably thought him mad as he suddenly dashed away.
There was no really time for him to run down to the city for some flowers, but that was not a problem: the palace's gardens had enough flora for all sorts of flower arrangements. There should be enough time for what he was planning anyway, if she was going to take a bath (it took some strength of character not to think of her in that bath).
Raiding some of the well-cared plantings and flowerbeds proved most productive, and after finding a nice shadowy corner he sat down and began to work. He had picked a corner where he hopefully would not be noticed by any potential passer-bys or gardeners, because what he was doing was not something a warrior king from the north would be proud to admit being capable of. Well, unless it was her he was confessing this skill of his, like he was about to do. After all that had happened so far, this was actually kind of small, but not even slightly less foolish.
When he was ready, he studied his handiwork. Perfect.
It had also taken enough time that, he hoped, she would already have finished her bath.
The garden was helpfully empty when he sneaked under her window. Not only would it be a strange thing indeed what he was about to do, but he didn't think Imrahil would be too impressed either.
He tried the vine once again and it was just as sturdy and strong as it had been on his first inspection. Slowly, he started climbing and sought for edges to support his feet and his hands. Back when he had been a child he had taken much pride in knowing that he was the best climber in Aldburg, perhaps in all of Rohan even. In fact, he had been such a good climber that Éowyn had started to call him the Mountain Goat when she had wanted to annoy him. These days he did not do that so often anymore (not only was it difficult with all the armour he had to wear), but he was delighted to notice that his old talent was not gone.
Actual physical exertion felt good after loitering about in the palace (he made a mental note for having to ask if Erchirion or Amrothos would fancy some sparring later), and soon he was just below her window. He knocked at the glass, but carefully kept his head down; Éomer did not particularly want a window frame knocking his head.
She opened the window quickly enough and looked about in confusion, until she lowered her gaze and saw him: the King of Rohan, dangling from the vines under her window, wearing a flower garland on his head. It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever done and yet he was still grinning like a madman. And just like he had hoped, her eyes widened in shock and amazement.
"What do you think you are doing, you bloody idiot?" she exclaimed and her voice rose up couple octaves.
"Bringing you flowers, of course. Isn't it obvious?" he asked jovially.
"Isn't it obv- oh, what did I ever do to deserve this?" she wailed and then grimaced at him. "Get inside, before you fall and break your neck! Do you have any idea of what would happen if you got yourself killed here?"
"Your lack of faith in my skills of self-preservation disturbs me", he informed her, but nevertheless climbed up and through her window. Once there, he took a look around him. It was nothing less than her very bedchamber, and there would be so much trouble if it was discovered he had entered it. The furniture had been made of light-coloured wood, but the craftsmanship didn't seem quite as elaborate to him as it was back in his home. Cushions and covers on her bed were blue and purple – a combination which seemed to be a favourite of hers, if anything could be judged by the colourful curtains, tapestries and carpets.
His attention, however, was quickly brought back to her, for she was staring at him and the look on her face was that of displeasure. Then he remembered the flowers and took the garland from his hair.
"Here. These are for you. I meant to bring a bouquet but as you probably may have guessed, I needed my hands for other things while getting here", he said and offered the garland to her. She frowned but still accepted his gift. Then she gave him a sour look.
"You know, if you truly wanted to give me flowers, there would have been easier ways to do that. And you could have used the door instead of endangering yourself in such an inane way", she said and inspected the garland. "I see the flowers are from the gardens, you shameless bandit. Who did you bully into making this?"
"I could not just walk into your personal chambers, could I? Not to mention it would have not been much of a surprise", he said, and gave her a smug little smile, "For your information, I did not need to bully anyone. I made that myself."
She looked surprised when she heard those words.
"Really? I wouldn't have thought you would know how to weave a garland", she said and though she tried hard to suppress the impressed note in her voice, she didn't quite succeed.
"My sister taught me. Or, you could rather say that she forced me to learn", Éomer said, smiling as he spoke. "I never thought that particular skill would come in handy..."
"Really? I must talk with her, then. I need to know how does one force the King of Rohan into doing things", Lothíriel commented and set the garland on her bedside table, so that it sat in upright position.
"Princess, I don't think you need my sister's help in that. You seem to be naturally gifted in making me do things I wouldn't do otherwise", he said, wondering how he should proceed. She saved him the effort, though, as she smiled and turned to look at him.
"Would brushing my hair be one of those things you wouldn't do otherwise? I wouldn't have to call a maid to do that like I meant to do just before you decided to show up, and besides it gives me a moment to think of how I will smuggle you out of my chambers without anyone noticing", she said, tilting her head thoughtfully.
"Only if you promise you'll never tell anyone", he said, though truthfully he rather liked the idea of getting to touch her hair. "Otherwise my men would never let me hear the end of it. Soon they would be asking me to brush their hair."
"Oh, I'll keep it a secret... unless I need to blackmail you", she said sweetly as she sat by a dressing table. She offered him a silver-handled brush, decorated with waterstones and pearls.
"Blackmail me? To do what?" he inquired as he took handful of her hair and began brushing. She had very soft, almost silky hair – nothing like his own rough mane.
"I can think of few things", Lothíriel said lightly, "but it wouldn't be much of a surprise later if I tell you now, would it?"
"You are a cruel woman, Princess", Éomer told her. And bloody divine, smiling like that through the mirror at him.
"Of course I am. I was brought up by the sea, and the sea is cruel", she said nonchalantly. He harrumphed at that and decided to keep his thoughts to himself.
"My maid told me the most entertaining thing today", she said after a moment. "Apparently one Lord Himmion was seen wearing flowers in his hair yesterday. The gossip even tells he gave a flower from his hair to Lady Limwen, whom he has fancied for some time now."
"He did?" Éomer asnwered in non-committal tone.
"Oh yes. I believe you have succeeded in starting a new fashion here in Dol Amroth, my good king... if you ask me, the florists of the city will have run out of anything to sell before the week has ended", the princess said; it sounded like she was very amused by this.
"Hmph. Your citizens will be most confused when they hear that wearing flowers in your hair is in fact not a Rohirric custom..." he said, not lifting his eyes from his task.
"Admit it. You would enjoy the reputation of an eccentric", she sniggered.
"If it spares me from dealing with bothersome people, then yes", he commented. As he brushed her hair, his hand came in contact with her bare shoulder; her light blue robe, which was obviously meant for wearing when the lady was alone without any male company, showed ample amounts of her shoulders. She shivered just slightly and let out a trembling breath before she could mask her reaction.
He lowered himself so that his face was on the same level as hers, but slightly behind so that his mouth was beside her ear. He spoke: "You did not answer that question of mine, though."
"What question, O Lord of the Mark?" she asked, staring hard at him through the mirror.
"If you would mind me taking liberties with your person again", he asked, lowering his voice so that it was smooth and deep. He eagerly watched for her reaction and indeed, a faint blush coloured her cheeks. Then she frowned and turned her head... and there was really no way he could pass that chance. So when she turned, she found her mouth on his.
Lothíriel made a noise at the back of her throat but she didn't push him away. Rather, she jumped up and practically threw her arms around his neck. He grabbed her and held her tight against himself, liking how her shape settled on his own... the fire of his desire roared and it was kind of chaotic, with teeth clashing and mouths seeking one another and she held him so tightly that he even momentarily feared she might crush his neck.
Perhaps it was only inevitable that he fell back on her bed, with her on his lap, and her body so devastatingly soft and perfect under his hands...
After a moment, she pulled back. The hair that he had so neatly brushed only just before was now something of a mess, but he dazedly thought she had never looked more beautiful.
"You know we shouldn't be doing this", she said breathlessly, though she made no move to leave his embrace.
"I do", he admitted and rested his hands on her hips. This setting reminded him of the first time he had seen her... only, back then he wouldn't have guessed what direction things would take.
He then took a firmer grasp of her and rolled over, so that for change she was under him, and he whispered: "But we are doing it anyway."
"Contain yourself, Your most enthusiastic Majesty", she said, placing a hand on his chest. "I did not tell you yes."
Well, that much was true. Supporting himself on his arms, he looked down at her and a powerful need for her, not physical one but something that seemed to echo through his very soul, started to fill him.
"Marry me", he blurted out before he could stop himself. Then again, he did not regret those words once they were out in the open. She did not seem too surprised either. The princess just slightly lifted her eyebrows, as if to ask: it took you this long?
"No", she answered – she still allowed him to kiss her, though. Truthfully speaking it wasn't like he had expected her to consent right away... and he very much intended to give her the chase of her life.
"Please, marry me, Lothíriel", he asked again. His face was so close to hers that his lips almost touched hers.
"I won't", she said. He kissed her once more and still she did nothing to push him away.
"I can be awfully persistent, you know", he told her.
"So can I, dearest Lion", she answered.
"Lion?" he asked and lifted his eyebrows.
"That's what they call you, isn't it? And honestly, your hair does remind me of a lion's mane... not to mention you seem to have a temper of one..." Lothíriel said and there was a good-humoured glint in her grey eyes.
"Then become my Lioness", he whispered, again in that low and smooth tone that had her blushing before.
"You need more than that to convince me", she breathed. He rolled them around again, and now she was on the top of him.
"What does it take to convince you, then?" he asked, and his question made her smile.
"It wouldn't be very fun if I told you, would it?" she asked sweetly.
"As a matter of fact, it would be very fun if you just answered the question", he said and wrapped his arms about her so that her delightful little body was completely pressed against his own.
"Your Majesty, I don't know what the customs are in your country, but here you don't just propose to a girl like that. You haven't even courted me!" she pointed out and her voice was that of someone scandalised, but he wasn't too convinced. That might have had something to do with the fact that her face was just inches away from his and she looked like it took most of her willpower not to kiss him – no, not kiss him, but ravish him.
"I haven't courted you?" he asked with some confusion. "Then what on earth has this been?"
"It's... I don't know", she said and looked suddenly perplexed. "What is it, Sire?"
"In our land, things are done more straightforwardly. If you don't understand by now what my intentions are towards you, then I do not know what more I should do to make you understand", he said and kissed her yet again. Then he asked, just out of spite, "Marry me?"
"I told you no already", she moaned and sat up. "And I really should try and get you out before someone comes and I need to hide you in my closet."
"What if I want to be hidden in your closet?"
"Oh, shut up!"
A/N: I'm having way too much fun with this piece. :D What can I say? I just have no control over this anymore - Lothíriel and Éomer have started to live a life of their own... Well, I suppose it's a necessary counterbalance for all the angst that is currently taking place in Heart's Desire.
As always, thanks for comments and for reading this!
