August 3020, Dol Amroth
Though she knew she was as ready as she was ever going to be, Lothíriel took one last opportunity to check everything was in place. Whirling about in the front of mirror, she made sure every last fold of her new green gown fell in its place and the eloquent work of braids that was her hair had not come undone. She wasn't usually the one to occupy the front of a mirror for long, but this night she wanted everything to be perfect. It was a very special evening and she wanted to look her best.
The green became her better than she'd have expected; it should be about the same shade she had seen him wearing. Still, small hints of her own colours were here and there in the silver embroideries and the tiny swans on her sleeves. She wondered how he'd look when he'd see her... he always seemed so happy to see her, especially now that he had been gone for months.
Only last week, a rider had come from Rohan to announce the arrival of Éomer King in about week's time. Father had immediately started to organise a ball, and Lothíriel had of course known why that was. The Prince wanted the news of their betrothal finally announced properly, though she knew the rumours of it had been on foot ever since the King's visit to the city by the sea. It had certainly changed the way people regarded her: she would see them staring at her in wonder, and no doubt they were asking each other what was it about her and if King Éomer even knew the truth about her. Lothíriel had returned the stares with serene smiles, for she had a new peace of mind since the abduction of her beloved horselord.
Éomer had ridden back to Dol Amroth yesterday. Originally Lothíriel hadn't expected him to return so soon, but she was happy that he had. The months after his departure had been long; in fact, the time had felt twice as long because of all the waiting. And she knew it was only going to get worse, for the wedding would take place next spring, and that seemed like worlds away.
To be honest, Lothíriel would rather have liked to have whole wedding thing done and settled already. She'd have wanted it that day they had ridden together to Edhellond and she had seen what scandalised faces people had worn when they had thought she didn't see. Of course, they'd have their ideas about what the two of them had been up to during their travel, but with the completely unaffected King of Rohan by her side, it had been easy to ignore the looks. As for her father, he hadn't seem to known whether to be angry or just shake his head in hopeless frustration. At first, he had tried to scold the King for abducting her – Father had actually thought it was Éomer's idea – but she had immediately stepped in and informed that she was the one to be blamed. Then she had continued by telling her poor father if he didn't stop berating her betrothed, she'd just steal him again and this time, she might not come home at all. And then Elphir had spoken up and told their father that this was just her way of saying yes to the King's proposal.
It all had worked out better than she had expected, but watching her Lion go had still been a hard thing to bear. He had made his way into her heart in ways unexpected and fathomless, and when he was gone, it was like he left behind a vast emptiness and no one else burned brilliantly enough to fill it. In many ways Éomer's absence was like the absence of sun.
Yes. He was the Sun.
But now he was back and there would be several precious days together before he'd have to return home, and Lothíriel would be damned to think of the long months that lay ahead.
Her thoughts were interrupted then as someone knocked at the door.
"Are you ready, sister? The ball is just about to start!" Amrothos called to her.
The ball. Tonight, it would finally be made official. Of course, the whole thing was more or less a common knowledge already, at least in Dol Amroth. You can't really abduct a king without getting some attention.
"Calm down, brother. It's just a ball!" she shouted back at her brother, who then opened door and stepped in.
"Really, sister. I think it's you who should calm down. Stop obsessing about how you look and come already! Father is waiting", he scolded, and she made a face at him.
"It's not your betrothal that will be announced tonight, so shut it", she told him and then checked her reflection one last time.
"You look fine, sister", he reassured her, trying not to sound too frustrated.
"Just fine?" Lothíriel asked. Then she looked at her brother worriedly. "What if he changes his mind? What if he-"
"Oh, stop that! You know the man loves you madly, and I don't think he could be persuaded to change his mind about you even if Manwë himself stepped down from his throne and came here to try and talk Éomer out of it", Amrothos said patiently. "Now, is our little panic attack done? We should get going before your husband-to-be thinks someone has stolen you, or worse: you have changed your mind about him."
It was strange to realise that Amrothos was probably right about that, and Éomer was somewhere being just as nervous as her.
As she followed her brother out, Lothíriel smiled to herself and she finally started to feel calmer.
I have you now, my king, and I do not think I will ever let you go.
That moment before her father placed her hand in Éomer's was one of the longest of her life.
Lothíriel could barely hear what Father was speaking, but she made out words like "friendship" and "alliance", which all were probably very important and agreeable, but she could hardly pay attention to that. Instead, what she was concerned with was standing before her: tall, regal, and watching her with such incredulous happiness that she almost turned around to see what he was looking at. Sometimes, the intensity and the unconstrained straightforwardness of his affection was hard to comprehend. He did not hold back, nor did he spare his emotion. It was something that would take a while to get used to, because in the courts of Gondor passionate love was not something that often occurred. Perhaps one day, it'd be as easy for her as it was him to show how much she cared about him.
And finally, when she was starting to think this thing would not move forwards or backwards or even sideways, her father gently picked up her hand and carefully placed it on Éomer's extended palm.
The King's hand was calloused and warm and large under her own, and though his grip was gentle when his fingers closed around hers, she could sense the strength there; she thought to herself she'd have to ask if he could crush rocks in his fists. But then that line of thought was disrupted, for she looked up at him again and for a moment she thought he might kiss her right there in the front of her father's court. His dark eyes were full of light and his look could have only been described as adoring, and she decided she wouldn't even have minded it much if he really had kissed her.
There was a sound of applause, but the King of Rohan was still watching her, and he brought her hand to his lips. His breath caressed her skin and the look he gave her filled the princess with sudden urge to jump him. Damned man! Did he have any idea of what he did to her?
In that light, it was probably good that family members approached them to wish them well and congratulate them, but Lothíriel did make a mental note of having to ask him to sneak out with her some time later. Some proper kissing was very much needed.
As it seemed that the most, or at least good part of the crowd was of the mind to exchange a word or two with the betrothed pair, there was no really time for private conversation. Éomer could very well be there at her side but at the same time he felt so far away, what with his formal behaviour that was so different from what she knew he could be. Nevertheless, she was happy: at least it was official now, and soon she'd break free from this place where she had felt so lost and alien sometimes. Perhaps with him she'd find her place in sun.
Those thoughts were abruptly stopped, however, when she spotted a face nearing... a face of someone she had not seen in years, and suddenly her blood felt like freezing.
Well, it wasn't like she had forgotten he existed... and anyway, she had acknowledged more or less there was a good chance she'd see him sometimes in her father's court. But after he had left Dol Amroth he had not made another appearance in Prince Imrahil's court. Rather, she had heard he was solely concentrating on his new wife and his future position as her father's vassal. The threat had always been there, and she had known that some day she might have to confront him. And now that day had come.
Lachol had got older; he was no longer that young man she had once so loved. Indeed, he looked older than his years, as if something had aged him prematurely, and he wasn't so dexterous as she remembered. But he was handsome still and Lothíriel could very well see just why she had been so infatuated with this man. He still had that special something in his eyes that had got to her when she had been younger.
By his side stood a woman who could only be his wife. Her long, elaborately braided hair was light brown and her eyes hazel; she was very pretty and had a face of someone who was easily befriended. She looked friendly and kind and her smiles were without pretension. She was obviously pregnant, probably expecting the couple's second child as Lothíriel had heard Lachol already had a daughter.
At the sight of her old sweetheart, the princess almost lost her composure and her voice. Especially at the slow widening of Lachol's smile she wanted to turn and run and never look upon this man again. The pointedness of it was not lost to her, nor was the sarcastic look in his eyes, as if he was enjoying some private joke... which probably was true.
"Princess Lothíriel. It has been too long", Lachol said, his voice the epitome of pleasantry. At the sound of his voice, she remembered how she had missed him, and then loathed him. Still the wish to run grew inside her, though she knew she could not give in to it – she couldn't let this man get to her anymore. She had to let go. And so Lothíriel held on tighter to Éomer's steady hand and there she found the strength she needed.
"Sire", she said at last when she recovered her voice and cast a look at the King of Rohan, who stood beside her, "allow me to introduce you Lord Lachol and Lady...?"
"Glireth, my lady", said the pregnant woman warmly. She nodded courteously at the King, "My lord. It is a great honour to finally meet you."
"The honour is all mine", said the Lord of the Mark, and at the sound of his voice, Lothíriel glanced at her betrothed again. She glanced, and then she turned to look at him properly, for Éomer who now stood there was the one she had never seen before.
Indeed, it appeared that he had changed completely, as if he were someone else entirely. He was not the gentle, caring man she had grown to love – instead, there beside her stood a king. Tall, commanding, and stern, it was as if he were larger than he actually was, and by the sheer power of his presence all else seemed to diminish. A frown had come to his face and it was the kind of look that made Lothíriel think she'd have been very worried if it had been directed at her. And it was Lachol that he fully gave that look, staring at the other man like he was planning how he'd disembowel the Gondorian lord.
"My lord, my lady", Lothíriel said at length, not sure what to think or feel, "As I expected, I do not really have to introduce you to the King of Rohan. My future husband."
At that, Lachol's smile froze and it became something like a grimace. She could even have sworn there was something worried about his eyes, as if he at least half-believed that the tall, imposing man on the front of him might attack him. Under Éomer's hard, unrelenting glare, Lachol somehow became smaller... he became just a man instead of a hurtful, ever-present memory that had ruled Lothíriel's regret and guilt and shame.
A slow smile spread on her face and she engaged Lady Glireth in a moderately pleasant conversation; Éomer would every now and then contribute, and when he'd look at the brown-haired woman, his glare would momentarily disappear and make way for a charming smile... but then he'd fall silent again and shoot yet another freezing glare at Lachol, and each time the other man would look a bit more nervous and nauseated. This went on for less than ten minutes, until Lachol's nerve finally gave in and he excused himself and his perplexed wife.
Quietly, Lothíriel looked up at the face of her betrothed. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and he looked around; it was a long and slow stare that almost seemed like a challenge. Here I am, and this is my Queen. I dare you to face me.
And though she said nothing, the Princess of Dol Amroth felt something she could only call peace, and she marvelled: just with the force of his glare and the power of his presence, her Lion had set her free. And hopefully she'd some day be able to tell him how much it meant to her.
The night had grown late when Lothíriel tiptoed and whispered into his ear that she'd retire soon... but that she hoped he'd later join her at the beach. He quietly told her that he would, and she smiled up at him. Her look was serene, even radiant. His bride, his future queen. Sometimes, it was still hard to understand that.
That he'd ride south, and find this mermaid princess who would welcome his love and return it...
Éomer was happy to see that for the rest of the evening, Lord Lachol did his best to avoid the two of them. Seeing what agony had come to her face at the sight of that man, he had known who he was even before she had said his name... and that this Lachol should still make her feel so almost had Éomer punching him right there. Had he been younger and more reckless, he might even have challenged the man, but that would have been poor behaviour here in Imrahil's court. Still, his glares seemed to have done their work, and he was fairly sure this Lachol would be telling no more tales about the Princess of Dol Amroth. Afterwards, Lothíriel looked peaceful again, which at least consoled the young king.
At last his princess retired, pleading to exhaustion. The look that she gave to him implied no weariness however, and he had to bite his tongue as to not grin at her. He decided it would probably be for the better if he waited a while before he'd sneak out too, so he busied himself by conversing with Amrothos.
Ever the helpful ally of amorous people in need, Amrothos loudly asked the King to join him in the garden... and once there, the prince grinned: "Go to her, my friend."
The night of August was warm as the heat of sun still lingered under the midnight moon. As Éomer made his way down towards the beach, he thought of past months: less than half a year ago he would no have guessed all things that would come to pass. It all seemed like a dream... finding his future on these shores. One day, he'd hopefully be able to tell his Princess what she had given him.
It was obvious that she'd be waiting for him that same place where they had first met each other. She stood there, gazing out to the sea as she waited him. Then as if sensing his presence, Lothíriel turned to look at him. She had changed into a thin gown and a robe and let her hair down, and she looked beautiful. She smiled at him as he approached her, and then he caught her in his arms and pulled her close.
Oh, Valar. The feel of her! Her familiar sweet scent, her body pressing against his, and her arms about his neck as she tiptoed to kiss him... her absence often left him restless and feeling like something essential was missing, but now his mermaid was with him and he briefly thought that had his horse been here now, he'd have grabbed his bride and sped towards north with her. If only he could wed her tonight!
When the kiss ended, she looked up at him with a smile.
"I've missed you, my king", she said softly.
"Likewise, min sæides", he answered, brushing a hand across her cheek. "Are you upset? I was worried you might be, what with that man being there..."
"Oh, it is fine. I didn't expect to see him, I grant you that, but... Lachol is past. I can't regret something like him when the future stands beside me", she said, and he was happy to see the light in her eyes. She let out a small laugh, "I almost thought you were about to bite his head off or something."
"I was tempted, yes", Éomer allowed and grinned.
She kissed him again and wound her arms about his waist. The kiss was long and passionate, and it left him breathless; when she pulled back, it took a moment for him to regain his composure.
"What was that for?" he asked. The smile on her face became wide. She looked flushed and excited and happy.
"For everything. For being you. For giving me light when I did not know I needed it", she murmured softly. He gave her another little kiss.
"If I have given you light, it is only because you have ignited it in my heart", he told her, his voice thick with the love he had for her... and in her sea-grey eyes, he saw his love answered.
"I am also very thankful for your gift", she said then, stroking his bearded cheek with the back of her fingers. "The mare you sent to me is all I dreamt and more... and my brothers are so jealous! For once, they are the ones to ask to borrow my horse."
"I seem to recall one very excited and only half-coherent letter", he said lightly. "But you're welcome. I am glad to have made you so happy."
The Princess giggled and then she placed her head on his chest, and he held her close. She groaned: "How are we to wait until next spring? I want you now."
"Oh, I know. I'm presently contemplating the benefits and the disadvantages of abducting you this very night and you're not making it any easier to say no to that impulse", he muttered into her hair. "You know, I never really believed in the idea of love at first sight. Well, I'm not sure I believe it even now. But the moment I saw you for the first time... I knew."
"Knew what, my Lion?" she asked.
"That you are the one. That it would be you or no one else", he said and lifted her face gently. She smiled up at him.
"I... I suppose I didn't realise it then but now I know it was the same for me", Lothíriel said softly. "At least as soon as I became convinced that you weren't some errant ray of sun. Don't look so confused, dearest. I don't know if you've noticed but you're golden. Everything about you is – even your voice."
He wasn't sure how to feel about her words, so he lifted his eyebrows, and he asked: "Does that you make you the moon to my sun, then?"
"That, my dearest king, would be a privilege", she told him softly. Then, slowly, her face turned into a smile again and a mischievous sparkle was lit in her eyes.
"You're wearing that look again", he said, wondering what it was she had come up with now.
"What look?" Lothíriel asked, effusively innocent.
"That look. The one which means you're up to something – like abductions and sneaking up on people in baths", he said. The princess laughed and her face was not unlike that of a self-satisfied cat.
"Sire, how would you feel about a midnight swim?" she asked.
Éomer grinned.
"What do you think, my dear?"
A/N: A bit of a timeleap this time. I thought about writing several more chapters but at this point I'm thinking the next chapter will be the last one. I wanted to write something of a conclusion to whole Lachol thing and I think it turned out pretty good... at least for Lothíriel. She's finally moved on.
Thanks for reading and for reviewing!
