Title: Ties That Bind
Rating: K+ (for slight cursing)
Characters: Amrothos POV, mentions of most other characters
Reviews are loved!
oOo
To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.
~Clara Ortega
oOo
Look, I know I must come off a little…over-protective at times.
Alright, perhaps VERY over-protective.
But can you blame me?
My sister, my baby sister (oh, alright, she's only three years younger than me), has gone off and fallen in love.
In love!
With a King, no less, a warrior King who's got hair almost as long as hers and a scowl that could cause Sauron himself to cringe.
Hmm, perhaps we should've sent Eomer to Mordor years ago and the War would've ended sooner…
But that's beside the point.
The point is…my sister, little, precocious, stubborn Thiri is going to get married.
MARRIED!
I've been so horrified in all my life.
No, Eomer's not a bad man.
No, I don't hate him (I actually rather like him; he has a good sense of humor and is proving to be a damn good King)
No, I don't plan on brutally murdering him (though I admit I may have thought about it when I caught them kissing on the balcony; Thiri and I's balcony! The one where we used to dump buckets of sand onto Elphir's head from!)
But the thought of my sister, sweet, innocent, Lothiriel being someone's wife…
It's enough to make me throw up.
Yes, I know she's grown up now (as she constantly reminds me)
Yes, I know she could do far worse (just ask her about the stable boy incident when she was fifteen)
Yes, I know he'll make her happy ("Already does." Elphir said, smirking at me like the smug ass that he is)
But…
She's my sister.
I've been protecting her and watching out for her all our lives.
Granted, we've had our share of spats; once, she took Erchirion's heaviest book and beat me about the head with it for telling her boys were better than girls; I locked her in a closet one day and didn't tell anyone where she was for at least six hours.
But I love her. And she loves me. And we were always, always, a team against Erchirion and Elphir. Well, mostly Elphir, because Erchirion was never fun to tease, he'd just smile at us and say "If it makes you happy, continue to torture me." So, we'd feel guilty and go bother Elphir some more.
Now Elphir, he was fun to mess with.
If we touched one paper on his desk, jumped on his bed one time, or even creaked the door open while he was reading, he would blow up.
"How many times have I told you to stay out of my room?" He would yell. Sometimes, if we really irritated him, he'd chase us down the hallway and threaten to throw us from the highest tower, or have Boromir run us threw when he came back from Ithilien. Me, he beat up a few times.
But Lothiriel?
She had us all wrapped around her little finger and she knew it. She could push Elphir into the coldest sea water imaginable; if he started to yell, she would get the saddest look on her face and he would stop almost instantly and hug her instead. Even Boromir and Faramir were helpless when it came to her; if she yawned the tiniest bit, Boromir would just pick her up and carry her about the Citadel. Faramir would read to her for hours, from any book she wanted, even if he'd read it a thousand times before.
She was always different from the other girls we knew; bolder, more stubborn, always ready to speak her mind. But sweet too; if someone, anyone, was in trouble, she'd help.
Not that she didn't have her flaws, mind you. She has a temper (we all do) and if you set her off, one should avoid dark corners for a few days. She's quick to speaking and quick to hurt; not that she'll ever tell you, but if you hurt her, she'll let it bother her for days, weeks even.
But we all loved her and guarded her and taught her and watched her grow.
I suppose that's partially why I don't want her to get married; when she's married, she won't just be our Thiri anymore.
She'll be his Thiri, his wife, his Queen.
She won't even be Gondorian royalty anymore; she'll be a Rohirric Queen instead.
I know she's furious about how I reacted to Father telling us about their engagement; Elphir thinks it's because I reacted badly (and I did, I won't try to deny that) but I know the real reason.
She wants my approval.
She wants me to be okay with the fact that she is marrying Eomer, son of Eomund, former Third Marshall of the Mark and current King of Rohan.
She knows as well as I do that we were always the closest (though she loves Erchirion and Elphir just the same), and that's why she wants me to like him.
And I do.
Against all odds, against all my ingrained thoughts about men and my sister, I do like Eomer.
Why?
He's completely moony over her. All you have to do is say her name and it's like he's a different person. Something with his eyes; they "light up" as Artanis so poetically put it, his face softens, and he looks less like a veteran of the Ring War and more like a loves-truck youth. Which, I suppose on some level, he is.
More importantly, he'll protect her. That's clear in his face too; if ever there were trouble, I have no doubt he would lay down his life to save hers.
In that way, we're more similar than he knows.
Will I ever tell Lothiriel this?
Let me put it this way; there's more of a chance that I'm a virgin than that happening.
And let me assure you, that, I am not.
The point of my story, of all of this lovely rambling, is that I love my sister. And I'm happy for her. So happy that she's finally found a man, a good man, that loves her for how she is, and won't try to make her into something she's not; a simple housewife, a boring noble woman who paints on a mask of happy indifference every morning.
So I'll bite my tongue.
And give my blessing (despite Faramir and Elphir telling me how little it's needed)
And I'll go to the wedding. Watch her walk down the aisle with our father.
I'll probably drink a good bit of ale. And become friendly with the local girls.
But you can bet I'll be there when she starts to doubt herself, as all brides do on their wedding day, and tell her just how beautiful she is.
How strong.
How smart.
And how much her annoying brother loves her.
Because that's what brothers are made for.
To love their sisters.
And perhaps cause a bit a mischief on their wedding night.