July 2, Dol Amroth
Whether the maidservant thought it odd that the Queen of Rohan would ask for wine, strawberries and chocolate, it did not show on her face when she took the order from her. Even the Queen's appearance did not make the maid's very carefully controlled face falter: that her hair was tousled and she was in her robes in the middle of day apparently was not strange at all.
Maybe she was around before and heard us. He wasn't too silent, after all. Then again, nor was I.
Smiling to herself, Lothíriel returned to the bedchamber. It was the same room that had belonged to her before her marriage, as it did not seem to make much sense to change lodgings even though she did not live in Dol Amroth anymore. On the first night of their stay in Dol Amroth, it had certainly been strange to share her old bed with her husband, and especially to realise that the last time she had slept there had been as an unmarried maiden. When she had said that out loud, a wicked glint had appeared in her husband's dark eyes, and very interesting things had followed.
At the door of bedchamber she stopped, for a vision of dream was laying on her bed and she had to halt and take time to just look.
Of course she should have known he'd take the first chance he got to do something like this. Yet when she had retired in her chambers to go through some of her old things to see if they could be any use to her in Rohan and perhaps prepare for the dinner of later that evening (some high profile nobility had been invited, and with the presence of King Elessar, Queen Arwen, and Faramir and Éowyn it was certainly going to be a grand occasion), she had not expected anything. Indeed, when she had heard the knock at her window, she had lifted her eyes in complete surprise and vague sense of disbelief.
She had hurried off to open her window, and there, dangling by the vines, was her husband. The oaf had produced yet another garland of flowers and was grinning like an idiot. Exasperated outcry had been all she had been able to give, and then he had climbed in.
"Oh, why did I ever marry you?!" she had exclaimed and thrown her hands in the air, but then he had caught her and pulled her close. His eyes dark, he had whispered: "Because no one provides you with excitement and wonder like I do."
Well, that was actually true, but she had not said that out loud... and anyway, there had not really been chance for conversation anyway – at least not until much later, once he had made up for startling her.
And now Éomer lay there on their bed, leaning his head on one arm and staring out of window off to distance: a picture of lazy relaxation. The day outside was warm and sunny, and he was covered by nothing but the golden light of afternoon. His hair was spread open about his face, like a lion's mane. The long hours under the sun had given him a bronze tan that made his naked skin glow – something she envied and hoped their children would inherit rather than her tendency to be burned by the summer sun. Lothíriel remembered telling him that he was golden, but it had never been more true than it was now as he lay there in the light of sun of most beautiful July anyone could remember. He was golden, just as the sun pictured in the banners of the Riddermark. Yes, he was the sun of his people, rising new and young and glorious after a long cold night.
The thought came to her almost as if from nowhere: he was beautiful. In a strange, foreign, bearded way, Éomer was more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen – including the elves she had met after the war. And he was all hers.
A smile made its way to her face as she thought of that. Perhaps her husband wasn't beautiful because he of how he looked like... but because of what he made her feel, and what he had done for her. What he still did, every day.
He turned his face to look at her then and he smiled, that particular smile that made his eyes dance with light and warmed the very bottom of her heart.
"What are you standing about, my Seawoman? Are you planning my demise again?" he asked. The Queen snorted.
"Oh yes, I am", she said, but couldn't hold back a smile.
"Might you be willing to tell me what it will be this time?" he asked. Her scoundrel of a husband was looking a lot like a big, self-satisfied cat. And she ached to be in his arms again.
"You will see", she told him, answering his inviting look with one of her own, "but I can tell you that it will include strawberries and chocolate."
It was one of the brightest summers Éomer had ever witnessed.
But perhaps he felt that way because of what a prosperous year it had been for the Mark. The harvest was promising to be plentiful, and the foaling season could not have gone better. The news from newly established farms from the Wold were very encouraging as well, and Marshal Héan, whom Éomer had tasked with protecting that part of his kingdom, had reported only very few orc sightings. It was the first time in many, many years that such words were brought from a wild place like the Wold.
And, on the top of all these good tidings, there was at last a Queen in Rohan and the halls of Meduseld were once again filling with laughter... as was the life of King of the Mark.
When things were going so well in the realm, Éomer had felt they could very well afford a bit of leisure, and as Lothíriel had been talking of visiting her home, the royal entourage had departed for Dol Amroth. Aragorn and Arwen had joined them as well, as had Éowyn and Faramir. What was a gathering of lords of the west felt more like a family meeting to Éomer.
Who would have thought that after all the darkness of those years before the Great War, life could become so sweet?
The golden, relaxed days in Dol Amroth did come to a need, though. Life at Edoras was still as filled with work as ever, for there were many things to be fixed and to be made right. But ever since his marriage Éomer had found a new stock of energy in himself, and his mind was brimming with ideas and plans. The Mark had much to be thankful for her new Queen.
The thought of her made him smile to himself and he stretched, hoping she'd come back to bed soon. Where was his wife, anyway?
The King of Rohan looked around, and there she was at the doorway, watching him. Dressed in nothing but her robe and a nightgown and her hair a wild tangled mass, she was still a vision.
Oh, he loved her.
"Strawberries and chocolate", he repeated her words as he rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "You and your vicious schemes."
His wife let out a silvery laugh as she dropped down her robe, wandering towards the bed in a tormentingly slow pace. The way she moved was starting to look most tempting... he wondered whether they could just spend the rest of the day in bed and send word to Imrahil that the King and Queen of Rohan would not join the others on this night's supper.
"Vicious? Me?" she asked with feigned astonishment, stopping just beyond arm's reach from the bed.
"Yes, you", he told her, moving to the edge of the bed. He was starting to feel a bit frustrated now. Sometimes, he was still half-convinced she must have been a mermaid, to constantly tempt him so. "Now come here, wife, or there won't be any strawberries afterwards."
"If my King commands", she said with a smile and wide eyes and took a step towards him.
"He does", Éomer affirmed, and finally, she was next to the bed. He sat up and pulled her in his lap, and she settled there as she lowered her face to kiss him. Seeking the lines of her body through her thin nightgown, he idly thought to himself if he'd ever have enough of her... but his thought was disrupted by her demanding mouth and even more ardent hands.
Probably not.
He rolled them around, so that she was under him, and instantly her legs locked about his hips. Her breath came as a hiss and he could feel her tremble. But her eyes revealed it was a sign of something entirely else than being uncomfortable.
"Again, Sire?" she asked, her fingers weaving their way through his hair.
"Again", he confirmed and sought at the hem of her nightgown to pull it up. "And then some more."
"They will think us wanton", she breathed, though he could see her eyes darkening with desire, and he ached to be with her. Sometimes he wondered just how he had endured those months before their wedding. Had he been asked to be without her like that again, he wasn't so sure he could have done it.
"I don't give a damn what they think", he growled as he pulled her nightgown from way. "People may say what they will, but at the end of the day I'll still be the man who has you in his bed."
He thrust, and they were one; she gasped and he could feel her nails digging into his back.
"You're quite right", she moaned and her kiss was a bite as it was a caress of lips on his own. Oh, yes. There would be no suppers tonight.
"I usually am", growled the King of Rohan as he pulled back and then pushed again, bringing their hips together once more. She chortled, yet that sound ended as a moan.
"But let me tell you one thing, Sire", she breathed across his cheek.
"And what is that, my Queen?" he asked. It was hard to think straight with her so close and feeling her warmth, but he pulled back so that he could see her eyes, and the stormy grey of them sparkled.
Lothíriel smiled. That moment, when she lay there under him, trembling and breathing heavily, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And she was all his. Just like he was hers.
"You, my lord, are the first and only person ever to wear flowers in your hair and still retain your ability to look fierce."
He laughed, and he kissed her; after that, talking became most unnecessary.
It was in that golden afternoon their son Elfwine was conceived, and nine months later Éomer King of Rohan held his son and heir in his arms; and to himself he thought the greatest blessing of his life had come to him the day he had met his Lady of the Sea.
Couple of years back, if someone had asked Lothíriel where she thought she'd end up with her life, she wouldn't have known what to answer. Most likely she'd have fallen silent and looked down at her feet. Then she'd have shrugged and tried to change the topic.
To herself, she'd have thought she'd probably become like her aunt who had never married. Doting on her brothers' children, never moving forward... until one day she'd look in the mirror and realise her life had gone by and she was left asking what it all was for.
But that was not what came to be, for she never expected him. And if someone had told her that it would be him who would change it all, she wouldn't have believed. For the thing was, Lothíriel would never have thought she'd win the love of a man like Éomer of Rohan. There were times when she was acutely, painfull aware it all had been for chance: if Prince Théodred lived this day, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth might never have met the man she married.
Yet he had come, from the great plains of the Mark to the shores of her childhood home. Éomer was the glorious sun of a bright new morning and when he left, it was with her heart... but it was a gift she gave willingly, for he had given her his in turn. And in his heart she was welcomed wholly and sincerely as the person she was.
He had set her free.
Of course it was easy to think like that in retrospect, but somehow Éomer felt he had always known it would have to be someone like her.
During the years of his youth, he had his share of romances and dalliances, but the love of his heart was given to no one. Perhaps it was because he was so busy with his duties as a Marshal... in all that uncertainty, he was not able to find a place to rest his heart. Or maybe it was just because she had not come yet.
Since his parents had died, Éomer never really felt like belonging. Suddenly the town of his birth had become alien, and in Edoras he felt even more out of place. And though the years had gone by, he had not found anything that would have made him feel like home. Oh, it did not mean that he had no love for his land. Rather, Éomer had thought that while he might be homeless, he was not without a foundation. Rohan was where his roots were growing. The Mark was what would remain after him... the Riddermark, he thought, was his one love.
But then he rode to the fair city of Dol Amroth, and there by the seaside he met the woman he first took for a mermaid... and the day Éomer King of Rohan wed Princess Lothíriel, he finally felt belonging. When she walked in the halls of Meduseld and graced it with her laughter, he knew he had found his place.
She had given him home.
THE END.
A/N: It has been a wonderful ride with this one, but I fear I must end this story here. Everything is now more or less settled and I do not feel I can continue this any longer. Nevertheless, I've enjoyed writing this story, and I hope you have enjoyed it as well. It has certainly been very fun and in many ways this piece has given much-needed balance and contrast to "Heart's Desire". I must confess, a part of me would have wanted to continue this story, but I also knew I did not really have it in me to continue it any longer that it already was.
Anyway, thousand hanks for all who took time to read and comment on this story of mine! Hopefully we'll spend many more pleasant moments with Éomer and Lothíriel!
