Spoils of War
Chapter 6
As always, Eomer was up at the crack of dawn, but this day was different. Today he was going to ask a woman to marry him, and that would likely change his life forever. For the good, he hoped, but one could never be sure. Haldor was able to procure a breakfast for him which he ate in his room, before heading to the stables. Eowyn would be busy most of the day with wedding preparations, so he could avoid her discovering his intention, but he did not want to arrive at Imrahil's home too early. As he needed to occupy some time, a ride down to the encampment should do the trick. And perhaps he would stop at Snowmane's grave to pay homage.
His plan worked well. By the time he had thoroughly brushed and readied Firefoot, with the Gondorian stable lads anxiously watching and wondering why a king would do such things himself, he had used nearly an hour. A bakery along the road had some cinnamon buns cooling near the window and the smell drew him close. Dismounting he called into the shop, and the clerk came out to speak with him, agreeing to wrap up several of the rolls for him to take with him. Eomer knew Eothain had a particular weakness for such things, and it would be nice to surprise his friend.
He found the big man hunkered over a bowl of his usual morning porridge, but his eyes brightened at the sight of the rolls Eomer handed him. A squire quickly took the remaining porridge to feed to Firefoot while the two men talked and downed the delectable rolls.
They ended up talking far longer than he had intended, both about matters at hand and casual personal chatter. Already it was nearly mid-morning, and Eomer thought he ought to get back if he was to see Lothiriel. As he rose, Eothain glanced speculatively up at him and asked, "Eomer, is something the matter? You seem…" His words trailed off and he looked down, giving a shrug.
"Seem what?" Eomer queried, drawing on his gloves.
"I don't know…uneasy, perhaps. Maybe it is just my imagination, or has to do with Eowyn's wedding," Eothain offered, trying to dismiss the impression he had gotten of the king.
Eomer glanced away, not willing to admit what it was that Eothain had noticed – the nervousness of a man about to propose marriage. "All is well, my friend," he said at length. "Once we get this wedding out of the way, likely all will be as it should."
His response was somewhat vague, but enough to satisfy Eothain, who rose and gave him a grin. "If it works out well for Eowyn, perhaps I will have to give this marriage thing a try! A nice round woman to come home to, supper already prepared and then a snug bed awaiting. Quite an improvement over a camp full of men and eating questionable cooking!"
Eomer shook his head in amusement. "I should like to meet the woman who would be willing to tolerate the likes of you! But, then, there is a shortage of men since the War – you might have a chance. Surely someone is willing to settle for whatever she can get!"
Eothain took a swing at Eomer, who easily dodged it. "Assaulting your king is not likely to make you popular with the ladies! It will be hard to woo them from a cell!" Eothain's laughter followed him as he strode over to collect Firefoot from the squire standing waiting. With a wave, he rode back toward the City. At least the banter with Eothain had calmed the twitching in his stomach – well, somewhat anyway.
Deeming it wise to have a quick wash before presenting himself to a lady, he retired to his room and made himself tidier in his appearance. Taking a deep breath, he glanced in the mirror one final time before striding firmly on his way. He was grateful not to encounter anyone who might inquire where he was going, and he arrived at Imrahil's door unimpeded.
It had occurred to him on the walk that he could not even be sure Lothiriel would be there when he called, but decided he might as well check since he was on his way. If not, he could leave word and ask to meet with her at another time convenient to her schedule.
Imrahil's butler led him to a small sitting room that was brightened by the morning sun. He left Eomer to announce himself as he had requested, but the king paused by the open door. His presence went unnoticed by the women as he gazed upon the scene inside. The making of sachets was not an unusual task for women, being necessary to keep pests out of the clothing and bedding, but he was surprised to see his grandmother helping with it. He had not thought she would engage in such an activity. Lothiriel was doing the cutting, tying and sewing parts, while Morwen filled each packet with the appropriate herbs and flowers for the various uses.
Though he was sure he had made no sound, Lothiriel suddenly looked up and met his gaze. An eyebrow raised questioningly at him as he stepped into the room, asking, "Lady Lothiriel, may we speak privately?"
Morwen made no comment as Lothiriel rose, but she eyed Eomer speculatively. He kept his expression impassive, unwilling to tip his hand as to his intent.
"Of course, my lord. We will not be long?" she said.
"No, it should not take a great deal of time. No more than half an hour at the most, if that," he acknowledged, understanding she did not want to leave Morwen waiting for her return. He gestured toward the door, and she preceded him out into the hall. "I thought we might talk in the garden," he suggested, to guide her steps, and she nodded agreeably.
As they stepped out into the sunlight, he searched for a topic of conversation with which to ease into the subject foremost in his mind. "You…seem to spend a great deal of time with Lady Morwen," he observed, as they seated themselves on a garden bench.
"Yes," she replied, "I very much enjoy her company." There was the slightest pause and then she added, "You and your sister might also, if you gave it a chance."
He shrugged, looking away. This was not something he was presently willing to discuss, though he was somewhat surprised by her temerity in mentioning it yet again. Deciding directness was likely his best option, he turned back to look at her. "You may wonder at my purpose for requesting this audience with you. It has been suggested that now I am king, I need to seek a wife as soon as possible, and your name has been mentioned. I cannot deny that you have all the qualities that might be desired in a queen, and I find you quite amiable. That said, I do not have a great deal of time to spend on searching further for someone more appropriate, and so I have come to ask for your hand. Will you be my wife, Lothiriel?"
She went very still as he spoke, and she could not miss the utter lack of emotion in his voice as he made his proposal – he might just as well be commenting on the weather. All her life, she had dreaded the possibility of a political marriage, though most of society deemed them normal and right. While Denethor lived, she had feared being forced into a union of alliance, though she suspected her father might be more malleable on the subject if she objected. When Denethor died and a king took the throne, she had hoped it signaled greater freedom – freedom of choice. By all rights, she should be greatly honored by such an offer from such a man. He had everything to recommend him, including her own good opinion of him, but it was clear that he did not have feelings for her. And that detail alone made her pause. Had there been even a hint of attraction or desire, she did not think she would have hesitated for an instant, but his calm, expressionless proposal left her cold.
Her response was likely to cause an uproar, but she could only answer honestly. "Forgive me, my lord, but I do not wish to be someone for whom you merely settle. I have seen many ladies eager to catch your notice, and I am sure that one of them will be pleased to accommodate you in this," Lothiriel told him, all stiff politeness.
Eomer blinked in surprise, not expecting this reply. "You…you are refusing me?" he asked in confusion.
"With all due respect, my lord, I am. I must. To be sure, it would be an honor to be queen of Rohan, but I cannot consider a marriage of convenience as acceptable. Though such is not uncommon in Gondor, I have always desired to marry for love. I choose to wait a while longer for that to happen, before necessity drives me to consider another course." She rose and offered him a curtsy. "If you will excuse me."
She was gone before he could recover his voice. While he was not a vain man, and did not expect women to fall at his feet, he certainly had not anticipated such rejection of his offer. By all he knew of Gondorian society, she should have readily leapt at the opportunity to make such an alliance, and be made queen. Though he could not fault her desire to marry for love – he wished for that also – he'd had every reason to think such would be esteemed lower than other considerations by the nobility of this land.
He raked a frustrated hand through his hair. Her response posed more than one problem, though to his mind the greatest was that he was no better off than before he made the offer. He was still unmarried and unbetrothed, and now he no longer had a likely prospect in mind. He could not say that any other lady had appealed to him, either at home or here in Gondor. He was back to the starting point of trying to find someone he could feel comfortable taking as a bride and thought acceptable to be queen.
In irritation, he stood quickly and strode out the gate to the road. A good hard gallop over the Pelennor might help relax him. He was nearly to the stables before he recalled he had already ridden out today and his doing so again might raise questions – questions he did not care to answer. Altering his course, he strode off down the road. Hiking down and then back up the hill might be sufficient, and if he found a tankard of ale along the way, all the better.
Morwen made no comment when Lothiriel returned so quickly to her chair, and resumed making sachets. Lothiriel thought she had done well in concealing her roiling emotions from the older woman, until at length Morwen asked quietly, "What did my grandson say to upset you so?"
She should have known Morwen was far too perceptive not to notice. Little escaped her observant eye. Knowing she could not avoid answering, Lothiriel tried to shrug nonchalantly as she said, "He…asked me to marry him." Keeping her gaze fixed on the ribbon she was tying helped her maintain an outward appearance of calm that she did not truly feel.
"Indeed?" was all Morwen said, though Lothiriel heard the further question in that single word.
"I told him no," she added, deciding she might as well be forthright about it rather than wait for it to be discovered in other ways.
"You do not wish to be queen, then?" Morwen questioned, pouring out a measure of herbs into one of the cut squares.
"He does not love me, and I consider that essential to marriage," she replied decisively, causing Morwen to glance sharply at her, though she did not look up to see it.
"A desirable goal, to be sure," Morwen acknowledged, "though not one always achieved amongst Gondor's nobility. What will your father say about your refusal?"
Lothiriel sighed, wondering that herself. She knew her father greatly liked and admired Eomer, and there was the matter of political alliances – her refusal might be considered an affront to a valued ally. Still, Imrahil had loved in his own marriage, so she hoped he would be understanding of her position. "I do not know, but I feel I must hold to my decision in the matter," she replied.
Morwen was not fooled by the benign answer. Depending on her father's view of the situation, arguments might well ensue as a result of this, though she did not think Lothiriel would be forced to comply against her will. She pursed her lips, then said firmly, "You have my support in the matter, dear, and you may tell him so. A marriage of convenience might work well among the nobility of Gondor, but it would not do well in the royal court of Rohan. A queen there is far more than a figurehead, and my grandson shows poor judgement in attempting a hasty solution to this problem. When he marries, as he must, it should be to the right woman – one for whom he cares deeply. That is what the Riddermark needs more than anything else. If he achieves that, all the rest will fall into place on its own."
They continued working in silence for several minutes, and then Morwen announced, "I see I shall have to speak to Eomer and help him think more clearly on this matter. I would not have him make another ill-advised offer that might be accepted for the wrong reasons. You were wise to refuse, dear girl."
Lothiriel was grateful for her remark, though she said nothing more. They returned to their companionable silence, working quickly to finish the task at hand. As Lothiriel was tying the last few bundles, some slight sound drew her notice and she glanced at Morwen. The woman's face had paled and her breathing had grown shallow. Instantly she was on her feet and moving to Morwen's side. "Lady Morwen, are you unwell?"
"I…feel a bit shaky, my dear. Would you fetch help to get to my bed, and perhaps it might be wise to send for a Healer." Morwen's eyes were closed as she rested her head against the back of the chair while Lothiriel hurried off to do her bidding.
In moments, Elphir and Erchirion were assisting Morwen to her room as a servant dashed to the Houses for a Healer to attend the woman. An hour later, the alarm had passed and Morwen was resting comfortably. "Merely a brief swooning. Perhaps she overdid things in her day's activities," the Healer remarked. "At her age, it is not unusual. She should keep to her bed for the next few days until we are certain she is steady again."
Lothiriel nodded her understanding. "Thank you for coming. I will alert you if she has any further difficulties."
Imrahil tapped at the open door as the Healer was leaving, drawing his daughter's notice. She moved to join him in the hall. "I have just heard. Is Morwen well?"
"Unsteady, but she will recover. Just a moment's alarm that requires rest to set to rights," Lothiriel assured him. "Halgeth will be with her through the night, and I will check in periodically to see how she is doing."
Imrahil sighed. "Perhaps this trip was not a good idea. I thought she would enjoy coming to the City for the celebrations, but maybe they are too much for her."
"Do not blame yourself, Father. She wanted to be here, and there would be no stopping her if that was her choice. Whether you had invited her or not, she could just as easily have ordered her own carriage and servants to bring her. At least this way, we can watch over her."
Imrahil smiled warmly at his daughter. "Yes, I suppose you are right. And I think part of this has to do with her desire to know more of her grandchildren, whether they want to reciprocate or not. Things are tense there, but I hope in time they may all make peace with the past."
"Lady Morwen is willing in that regard, but I am not so sure that Eomer and Eowyn will give in. We shall have to see how things play out," Lothiriel replied with a sigh.
A sound from the room drew their notice, and Halgeth appeared at the doorway. "She is asking for you, my lady." With a nod to her father, Lothiriel entered as he moved away down the hall.
Morwen reached for her hand as she drew near the bed. "Lothiriel, child, I would ask that you not discuss my situation with others. I had a moment of lightheadedness – that is all they need know. Shall you keep my concerns private for me?"
"But of course, my lady. I would not dream of gossiping about you, or revealing anything you wished kept undisclosed." She paused, then asked, "Does this request include your grandchildren? They may ask and expect an explicit response."
"I doubt very much that they will ask, but if they do, I would have you keep my confidence. Anything they wish to know about me and my situation, they can ask of me directly, not go behind my back to ask others," Morwen said firmly.
She had closed her eyes in weariness, prompting Lothiriel to suggest, "You should rest now. You have my word." Morwen gave her a wan smile as she departed.
The promise was to be tested sooner than expected. Word had spread of the Healer's visit, and only a few hours later, Eomer appeared in the doorway of the library where she was selecting a book to read.
"What has happened with my grandmother?" he asked without preamble.
"She felt unwell, but she is resting now and should be fine," Lothiriel said, without turning to look at him. After the proposal this morning, she was no longer entirely comfortable in his presence. She wondered if anyone else knew of his offer, or whether it had been overshadowed by Morwen's sudden illness.
"What is wrong with her?" Eomer persisted, moving into the room. Her answer was too vague to satisfy him.
"I am not at liberty to say," she replied, still avoiding his gaze and feigning great interest in the book in her hands.
Eomer was not a man used to people not giving him what he wanted, and he found her response completely unacceptable. "I am the King of Rohan, and Lady Morwen's nearest living relative! I demand to know her situation!" he roared, more belligerently than he had intended.
To his surprise, Lothiriel was unfazed. She drew herself up to her full height and retorted, "Whereas I am the daughter of Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, and friend to Lady Morwen. I shall keep her confidence, regardless of who is doing the asking!"
For several long minutes, Eomer merely stared at her in astonishment. There was a fire in her eyes that was magnificent, and he had no doubt that she would not yield to any further arguments he might offer. Turning on his heel, he strode away, not attempting to disguise his annoyance, but coupled with that he was surprised to note a welling of respect within him. There were not many who could face him down, or would dare to attempt it, and he certainly had never expected Lothiriel to be one of them. It would seem that he had greatly underestimated the girl. Twice now she had refused to do as he bid.
Due to Morwen's illness, Imrahil's family ate at home that evening. Aragorn had come by to inquire after Queen Morwen, but left with no more information than Eomer had received, though his knowledge of healing allowed him to accept that the lady was not in any immediate danger. He had seen Eomer's distress, which seemed to go well beyond concern for his grandmother's health, and he suspected there was something more at work that was not readily known. Further, Lothiriel seemed on edge also. She smiled pleasantly, and was everything cordial, but he sensed a great turmoil in her that he was not sure could merely be attributed to Morwen's illness. Still, until more details came to light, he could make no guesses as to why several of his friends seemed out of sorts all of a sudden.
Eowyn, though somewhat concerned when she learned of Morwen's illness, refused to allow it to play on her sympathies. Morwen had never cared to have her attention before this; she should not expect it now. Faramir sent his best wishes, but refrained from comments that might upset his betrothed further, and the couple dined at the Steward's house, as Faramir hosted Eomer, Aragorn and Arwen.
The supper in this setting distracted Eowyn sufficiently as she got a taste for what it would soon be like when she was mistress of the home. Earlier in the day, Faramir had shown her through the house and they had discussed possible changes to it. He had agreed with her assessment that the place was rather cold and forbidding, and he assured her that he wanted her to feel free to make her presence known.
"You will tell me if there is something you wish unchanged, will you not?" she had asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he meant to give her such free rein.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he gazed into her eyes. "It has been unchanged for too long, and offers only bitter memories for me. I want this to be a home again, where our children can play freely and happily. Boromir and I once did that here, until our mother died. I…would only ask that for the time being you do not disturb Boromir's room. I will deal with it eventually, but I am not yet ready to…"
His words had trailed off, as he felt inadequate to explain what he was feeling, but Eowyn had understood and nodded. Gently stroking his cheek, she told him, "When the time is right, you will know it, my love. Until then, that room will remain closed to all but you and any others you would have enter it."
All during the tour of the house, Eowyn had felt the servants' eyes upon her, quietly assessing their new mistress. As she sensed no animosity toward her, she had to assume that she had managed to pass muster, and she was determined not to have that good opinion change for the worse. She had always tried to be fair in her dealings with the staff and that would not change now.
After supper, they had also showed Eomer around. Aragorn and Arwen joined them, though they had already seen some parts of the house on previous visits, and Arwen offered a few suggestions to brighten the interior and help lift the somewhat oppressive atmosphere of the place. Eomer gave his distracted approval, though his sister did not think he had really paid much attention to any of it. Attributing it to disinterest in such things in general, she did not question him on it, nor notice the shadow behind his eyes although Aragorn did.
Meanwhile, supper at Imrahil's was a quiet affair, but as they prepared to leave the table, Amrothos asked his sister, "Lothiriel, does something trouble you? You have been very solemn this evening."
She blinked in confusion, as though she had not been listening to him, but after a moment she merely said, "I am fine. Do not be concerned. I am sure Lady Morwen will be up and around soon and all will be well."
Somehow Amrothos did not believe that Morwen's health was the source of his sister's disquiet, but he allowed her to excuse herself to go and check on their guest. Watching her walk away, Erchirion observed, "She was very quiet tonight, and she has been more reserved than usual."
After just a brief moment, the brothers looked at one another and said in unison, "She is troubled by something." They knew her too well to think otherwise.
"Of course she is," Imrahil said firmly. "Lady Morwen is a dear friend and her concern is natural. Why would that surprise you?"
"Because I do not think that is what is on her mind. In fact, she seems almost unconcerned with that, as though she fully expects Morwen to be mended on the morrow. No, there is something else. She was fine at breakfast, so something happened during the day, something other than Morwen's swoon," Amrothos stubbornly insisted, as Erchirion nodded his agreement.
"Well, whatever it is, we must leave it for her to tell us when she is ready," Imrahil told them. "You know Lothiriel does not care to be pressed on private matters."
"Could you not speak with her, ask her?" Erchirion questioned. "She might tell you."
"No," Imrahil said firmly. "I will not attempt to force her confidence. If she wishes to discuss it, she knows I am always willing to listen. Beyond that, you will have to be patient."
xxxxx
A good night's sleep improved everyone's mood, even though it did little to alleviate the underlying causes. Eomer had always been pragmatic about things he could not change, and he did not intend to allow Lothiriel's refusal of him to impinge on the joy of Eowyn's wedding. As for Morwen, Lothiriel had indicated her illness was not serious and she would quickly recover – he would take the girl at her word.
Eowyn had already largely put concern for Morwen out of her thoughts, determined not to be drawn into the situation. She would much have preferred that her grandmother remain in Lossarnach rather than come to the City and create this tension on what was supposed to be a happy occasion. She could do nothing about Morwen's presence, but she was not going to let it deprive her of any enjoyment in her coming nuptials.
Lothiriel was the one finding it the most difficult not to be encumbered by distress at this time. She was truly concerned for Morwen's well-being, but believed her illness would be brief. No, the greatest encroachment on her peace of mind was the matter of that marriage proposal. Her father had not spoken of it, so she felt reasonably sure that Eomer had not told him about the offer. At least that was a blessing – she did not really wish to talk about it with Imrahil, though she was convinced he would be understanding of her stance and not attempt to force her to reconsider.
No, the issue that distressed her most were her own deepest feelings. That Eomer had chosen her was highly flattering, and for just an instant she had allowed herself to believe he harbored feelings for her that she had not previously discerned. But then she had looked at his eyes and realized the truth of it – she was a solution to a problem, nothing more. She had been crushed, although part of her had wanted to accept his offer regardless of that tiny detail. But she could not do it. She had come to love this man, even knowing of his stubborn pride and, despite the differences in their ages and cultures, had hoped something might develop between them over time. His unemotional, well-planned proposal had dashed such illusions, and made her feel silly and childish.
Regardless of all that, however, there was no escaping the connection. With his sister marrying her cousin, renewed relations between Rohan and Gondor, and most of all the great friendship that had formed between the king and her male family members, she would find herself in his company far too often. At least he did not strike her as the vindictive sort, who would seek to embarrass or humiliate her; indeed, she rather hoped his stubborn pride would play to her advantage and he would be as desirous as she to keep the whole matter concealed.
She had rather expected that Morwen would suspect something was amiss, and even guess what it might be, so she had not hesitated to speak to the older woman of it. It would not benefit her in any way if Morwen really did speak to Eomer about his folly, and counsel him to act differently in any future proposals, but caring for him as Lothiriel did, she hoped he would listen. If things were not meant to be between the two of them, she at least did not wish to see him unhappily married because he chose his bride poorly and for the wrong reasons.
Her refusal to tell Eomer much of Morwen's health concerns only added to her trepidation in seeing him again. The lady herself was much improved the morning after her episode, and even insisted on getting up to eat her meals sitting at the dressing table rather than lying in bed. She felt the need to rest more than usual, but her improvement was so marked that Aragorn went ahead with the plans for a bridal supper that evening, even though Morwen had declined attending.
Luckily for Lothiriel, she was seated some distance from Eomer, though she caught his gaze upon her more than once. She got the impression he was evaluating her behavior to determine what she had told anyone of their encounter, and he seemed satisfied with the conclusions that he drew. Her brothers, too, were watching her more than she wanted, but she knew she had been quite out of sorts the previous day, and likely they had discerned it was not entirely about Morwen. In order to assuage their concerns, she made a greater effort to give the appearance that nothing was amiss, and by the time the meal was half over they seemed to have accepted her pretense as fact.
The following day, Eomer was to meet with Imrahil to discuss trade between their two lands, though upon his arrival at the townhouse, he was informed that Imrahil had been called away briefly, but would return within the hour.
"May I wait in the garden?" Eomer inquired. "I have nowhere I need to be and it is both pleasant and secluded."
"Of course, my lord," the steward told him with a bow. "Shall I have refreshment brought to you there?"
"Yes, I would like that. I know the way on my own," Eomer answered, starting to turn away.
"My lord, would you prefer wine, or we have some freshly-pressed, chilled apple juice that is very refreshing," the man offered before he could go.
Without hesitation, Eomer told him with a grin, "The apple juice sounds good. It brings back memories of my childhood!"
The man smiled in returned, bowed again and moved off to the kitchen as Eomer made his way outside. The garden was even more lush than he recalled and it immediately eased the perpetual tension that seemed to plague him lately. He sauntered over to lean against a tree, allowing his thoughts to drift far from the landscape around him.
He had been relieved that Lothiriel had not spoken of his proposal to others – he had not relished the idea of answering questions, or worse, listening to arguments. Even Imrahil did not seem aware of it, though he would not be surprised if the girl had told his grandmother. He wasn't sure why the two of them were so close, but Lothiriel's championing of Morwen and efforts to prevail upon him and Eowyn to make peace, proved that it was so. If Lothiriel was in Morwen's confidence as to the former queen's health, then he felt sure Morwen knew of the proposal.
"I gave you more credit, boy." Morwen's voice broke into Eomer's reverie.
He did not bother to look at her. "To what are you referring, Grandmother?" he asked with a sigh. He was not particularly in the mood to suffer her less-than-subtle chastisements just now.
"Oh, do not tax my patience! You know very well what I mean!" Morwen snapped, shuffling to a bench and seating herself with great care.
Her demeanor irritated him for no reason that he could identify, and he retorted, "If you refer to my dealings with Lady Lothiriel, then I do not see that it is any of your concern. My life has not held your attention in the past; there is no reason that it should do so now!" He had not planned the rebuke, but upon voicing it he realized that despite his seeming disinterest he had been hurt, just as Eowyn was, by their grandmother's chosen absence all those years. Her interference now struck him as very presumptuous.
Morwen was silent for several long minutes, studying him, then said quietly, "No, and that is clearly something you and Eowyn do not intend to let me forget, or make amends. Still, though you think me not entitled to know of your concerns, I notice that did not stop you inquiring into mine."
She raised a challenging eyebrow at him, making him go still. Lothiriel must have told her of his questions. There was no reason that she shouldn't but he hadn't expected it. Less belligerently he explained, "I was worried about you. It is my duty."
"Indeed?" she said tersely, making no other comment, but turning away to gaze over the gardens. At length, she looked back to meet his eyes directly. "I am an old woman, Eomer. My health…well, to say it is failing is not precisely accurate, but I feel the years more and more as time goes on. My steps have slowed and my hands falter. There is no way of knowing how much time remains to me. My heritage suggests that I might yet live twenty or more years, though I am not sure that I wish for that. I am…tired."
He could not hold her gaze at the frank confession, and lowered his eyes to stare at a patch of grass near her feet. Finally he asked, "Why did you not mention this to me before now? Without my asking?"
She raised that annoying eyebrow again. "I did not get the impression that you cared to know of such things," she replied pointedly.
He wheeled away from her and strode a few feet off, irritated by the guilt coursing through him. What right did she have to act as though he had somehow failed her, when the reverse was true? Without conscious thought, he moved to the offensive in the conversation rather than simply parry her blows. "I do not know what you have heard, but I did nothing amiss in my dealings with Lady Lothiriel."
"Nothing amiss…" Morwen repeated quietly and pointedly.
Now he did turn to face her fully. "You know perfectly well that such marriages are usual among the Gondorian nobility. It was to be expected that she would be honored to accept the offer of being made queen of Rohan, sealing a pact between our two lands through marriage! If not me, she will merely marry someone else for such advantageous reasons!"
Morwen sighed and closed her eyes. "How little you know of women, my dear." Her eyes came open and pinned him in place as she elaborated. "No woman, even those of the Gondorian nobility, wishes to marry without love, or at least some affection. They may have little choice in doing so, but all hope for something more."
"Lothiriel is a lovely girl, I grant you, but did you expect me to lie about my feelings and pretend more than I did?" he demanded.
"Lothiriel is a woman, Eomer. A very fine and accomplished woman. As I am sure you know, she has had to grow up more quickly than most, not having a mother to raise her. At a very young age she took over responsibility for her father's household, and did the job admirably. Later, Elphir's wife assisted her, it is true, but for the most part she did it all on her own. Yes, she is young, especially by Numenorean standards, but she is a woman full grown."
She paused, studying him thoughtfully, then asked, "I am sure you settled upon Lothiriel to be queen of the Eorlingas for very practical reasons – her suitability as Imrahil's daughter, her charming manner and her exceptional looks – but did you give any consideration to the qualities you wished for in a wife? Marriage and heirs are an expediency that no king can avoid, but understand this, Eomer – the Mark will never prosper as you wish if it is not led by a king and queen united by love. Love will bind the Mark together in a way that nothing else can, and if you merely seek a wife for her 'suitability' as queen, then you will be failing your people from the outset."
Before he could react to assist her, Morwen heaved herself to her feet. "I am tired and will lie down for a while before supper. Do think about what I have said. I am an old woman, it is true, but I have seen and learned much in my many years. Do not make a foolish mistake that you must live with for the rest of your life, my dearest boy." Her eyes softened briefly as she gazed at him a moment, before turning to shuffle inside the house.
He watched her go, too astonished by the conversation to act. Despite their arguing, her words held every evidence of concern for his well-being and happiness. Moreover, she was right. He could not dispute anything she had counseled. He had let everyone else's urging him to marry to cause him to act irrationally. It had been wrong to expect Lothiriel to marry him without even the merest hint of affection on his part. Why would anyone – man or woman – choose such an arrangement? Just because it was typical in Gondorian society did not mean he needed to support it with his own participation. That would be doing no one, least of all himself, any favors.
Sighing heavily, he settled on the bench that Morwen had vacated. He owed Lothiriel an apology, though he wasn't entirely sure she wished him to approach her even with that. Her behavior at supper the previous night made her wariness of him quite clear. Even so, he must attempt it. He would not have her think him completely callous and unfeeling. His gaze strayed to where Morwen had entered the house. And now, more than ever, he wanted to know the full story of why Morwen was in Gondor rather than the Mark. He still might not approve of her reasons, but he was determined to know what they were.
TBC
Spoils of war - Any profits extracted as the result of winning a war or other military activity.
Halgeth – "tall woman" – maidservant to Morwen
Zimran – "adorned man" – Forlong's heir (Tolkien never named him so I did)
Minleoth - "my song" - name given to 1st dau of Thengel & Morwen
Ethelwyn – noble joy - name given to 2nd dau of Thengel & Morwen
Tamleoth – "gentle song" - name given to 3rd dau of Thengel & Morwen
Morlach – "black fire" - Morwen's dog
Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg (also used in previous stories, ie. Juxtaposition)
Haldor - "sound door" – Eomer's manservant
Ungaphel – "daughter of shadow" – backbiting Dol Amroth noblewoman
Pethraen – "wandering words" – airheaded girl flirting with Eomer
Gaermith – "grey sea" - Lothiriel's horse that pulled a stifle
Frame of reference (details from Tolkien with gapfiller by me):
Aglahad, Prince of Dol Amroth, had two sons: Angelimir (the heir and grandfather to Imrahil) and a younger brother who was the father of Morwen. Morwen was born about 2922 and married Thengel in 2943. They had Minleoth (b 2945, m 2975, d 2989 – no children); Theoden (b 2948, m Elfhild 2976, d 3019 – one son, Theodred, b 2978, d 3019); Ethelwyn (b 2951, m 2982, d 2994 – one daughter, b 2986, died 2994); Tamleoth (b 2956, never married, d 2992); and Theodwyn (b 2963, married Eomund 2989, d 3002). Thengel became king in 2953 whereupon he and his family moved to Rohan, where he died in 2980.