Thanks a lot for all your encouragement. You certainly have been very kind to me, so here comes the next chapter one day early! ;-) Enjoy reading.

Chapter 6

Sitting on one of the boulders near the water, her shoes lying beside her, she was holding the grill between her bare feet, scrubbing it with the help of wet sand and the cloth. He awkwardly sat down on one of the lower rocks, not knowing how to proceed. Finally he decided on a direct approach, cleared his throat and said: "I'm most sorry for the embarrassment, my lady."

Shooting him a short side glance, she just shrugged. "You needn't be. It was nothing of your doing. Amrothos is just a git. But then, not even he really meant to embarrass me. He was just thoughtless … as was I."

That was not the answer he had expected. But then, what had he expected? He at least would try to make her feel better. "Well, as far as I guess it would not have been like that if I had not been present." With an inward cringe he realised that there was little chance to phrase anything like that more woodenly.

She gave a kind of coughing laugh. "I don't think you could help that, my lord. We just should have been more careful, as to keep you out of mortifying situations."

He felt awfully tired of beating about the bush. Wasn't he at least entitled to know the reason behind all this? Stubbornly he persisted: "As a matter of fact I don't even understand, why everyone took it that serious … unless the explanation your brothers gave me was somewhat incomplete."

Again this quick, appraising glance. "And what did they tell you?"

"That eating too many figs, especially when not used to it, could result in certain unwanted activities of the bowls."

"Cowards!" One of her typical snorts accompanied the statement.

"Well?" Looking at her enquiringly, he waited.

She did not avert her eyes, though blushing profoundly. He watched her, feeling strangely captivated. How could she be that contradicting? Strong and bold like a warrior and utterly vulnerable at the same time.

Clearing her throat, she bluntly stated: "They did not lie to you, but figs are also believed to be an aphrodisiac, and along the Falas, saying about a man and a woman eating figs together is a euphemism for..." Now her eyes slid to her hands and she determinedly focussed on scrubbing the grill, though nevertheless continued speaking with an even and steady voice. "Well... for doing it."

He should have punched Amrothos there and then! How could that idiot blurt out something like that in front of his sister, with a stranger's present?

The princess gave a resigned shrug. "That meaning was certainly not on my mind, when I chided Amrothos, and he just jumped at the chance to get the better of me without thinking."

Looking up, she gave him a wry smile. " Don't thrash him, my lord, though he certainly deserves it. He may be an idiot, a nuisance and a real pain in the neck, but he still is my brother and I love him."

He frowned. "What makes you think I would beat him?"

Now she smiled openly : "Your face looks like a storm cloud, and I somehow have the impression you are not angry with me."

"No, I'm certainly not." He could not help feeling amazed at how fast his mood was changing.

Bema, this smile warmed his innards like a cup of mead! "I thank you for your outspokenness. You certainly are a warrior's daughter."

"That's at least what I've always been told." The smile was about to definitely turn into a grin. "How's your foot."

Glad for the change of the topic, Éomer hastened to answer. "Quite well, as far as I can tell. Anyway much better that with the spikes still inside."

She looked at him doubtfully. "No throbbing?"

With a shrug he affirmed:" Nothing to talk about."

"Men!" Rolling her eyes mockingly, she turned back to her work.

"Let me do that," he said, taking the grill. Placing it in front of him, he stretched out a hand, demanding the cloth.

Laughingly she slapped it into his hand. "I can't say that cleaning grills is one of my favourite occupations, but I doubt it's a fitting task for Rohan's King."

He grinned. "If you think it a fitting task for Dol Amroth's Princess..."

She shook her head. "It's rather a matter of dividing chores. The men already caught and roasted the lobsters."

"Besides the urchin that was rather a pleasure." Scooping a handful of wet sand he started to give the grill a thorough scrub.

"So you enjoyed the trip?" Her head slightly tilted, she looked at him enquiringly.

"Much more than I ever expected in the morning," he assured her.

She nodded solemnly. "I was worried a bit. You seemed very tense at breakfast, and I found it hard to believe you so totally averted to sailing, especially as Erchirion had told me that you were looking forward to the trip."

Éomer felt caught under her scrutinizing gaze and emphatically busied himself scrubbing the bars of the grill. She had been frank to him, though it must have cost her quite some effort. Did not one truth deserve an other? And anyway, he did not want to hide the incident from Erchirion. Having made up his mind, he raised his head. "I was not worried about the sea or about the sailing trip at all, I really had been looking forward to it until this very morning."

"Then why..." Her face bore such an open and puzzled expression that he felt deeply ashamed about what he was going to admit.

"I overheard a conversation between you and Erchirion in the garden, and I jumped at the wrong conclusions."

"What?" Her incomprehension seemed even to deepen.

With a deep sigh he plodded on. "I was in the gardenshed this morning, when you and Erchirion came to cut flowers, and you didn't see me."

A deep furrow appeared on her brow. "Why were you in the shed? And why didn't you speak up to make your presence known?"

Now it was Éomer's turn to blush, and cursing himself inwardly, he felt the treacherous heat reach his ears. "I went in to free a bird that had got entangled, and I was about to address you, when I heard what you said about some..., well, some Gondorean noble, you obviously don't estimate very much, and as you never mentioned his name, I thought you were talking about me."

"What? Éomer..." Her hand shot out, catching his wrist, her face a mirror of profound shock. "How could you..." Suddenly realising her behaviour, she removed her hand. "Please excuse my misdemeanour, my lord, but..."

"Never mind, you claimed family not long ago, didn't you? And my parents certainly didn't name me Lord."

She was too agitated to join in his attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "How could you imagine us to say such abominable things about you?"

Éomer felt like a complete idiot. "For one I didn't know you. All I had seen of you was the perfectly cool and distant Gondorean hostess the night before. And what you uttered was exactly what I believe a lot of Gondor's nobles do think about me."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I see, but how could you expect Erchirion to say, nay even to think anything like that?"

"I couldn't and it simply paralysed me. I felt like my heart had stopped." The mere thought of it caused him to draw a ragged breath. Suddenly he felt her hand on his arm.

"My Lord Éomer."

He looked up into her troubled mien.

"Please, don't tell Erchirion about this." Seeing his surprise she explained: "I don't mean you shouldn't tell him at all, but please, not right now."

She avoided his gaze now, and seemed focused on her bare toes, digging little holes into the wet sand, but continued after a while. "For Erchirion you are someone very special, and I could not bear to think how much he would hurt, learning that you believed him capable of such a betrayal. He... " The sentence petered out into an oppressive silence.

How could he ever have believed anything like that? He felt a strange mingle of guilt and amazement. Was that sorrowful young woman the same as the aloof hostess of the previous night, the bratty girl, giving her brothers a tongue lashing, the caring comrade, digging the urchin-spikes out of his feet, the proud and foul-mouthed sailor, without any mercy for her foes, the dutiful daughter at breakfast? He wondered how many more layers there were in her personality. She puzzled him in a most disturbing way, but he knew for sure, he did not want her to be sad.

Gently he took her hand. "I will do as you deem right, Lady Lothíriel, though I feel I'll have to tell him one day, nevertheless."

She nodded. "Yes, I know, it is just..."

Feeling her fingers fidgeting uneasily, Éomer let go of her hand and took up cleaning the grill again. "He's your favourite brother?"

"No, well yes, somehow I do care most for him, but that is because the others seem to have found their role, their place and position in life, while Erchirion..." She sighed and somehow helplessly shrugged her shoulders. Feeling her hesitation, he waited patiently, and finally she started to talk, serious and calm.

"If you want to judge my brothers, you just have to watch them at their sparring. All three of them are skilled swordsmen, but each of them has his very characteristic style. Elphir is fighting like he is playing chess: cool, calculating his opponent's actions and reactions, while Amrothos is more a dancer than a fighter. Mind you, he is fearless and deft, but still I have the impression that even in the middle of a fight he thinks about what he looks like." She paused again, as if pondering her words.

"And Erchirion?" Though not looking up from his work, he felt her shifting uneasily.

"I don't know how to put it, he... looses himself in the fight. He is an accomplished warrior, that to be sure, but what somehow frightens me is that once the fight is up, he is ruthless against himself, and there is nothing for him but his opponent and his will to win."

Surprised Éomer looked up. Wasn't that the way a skilled and devoted swordsman was to act? She was not looking at him, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her tabard. What was worrying her that much?

With a sigh she continued: "And he's like that not only when fighting. He plunges into all kinds of situations with all he has to give, not holding back anything for himself." With a shrug and a lopsided smile she added: "I'm even convinced he really opens his heart to any tavern wench the moment he beds her; he can't do anything without his heart being involved."

Indecisively she looked at her hands in her lap before lifting her eyes to Éomer. "It would kill him if he knew. Tell him one day, when he has found someone to anchor him in life, tell him as something long past and long overcome, some error in the disturbances of times gone, and he will be able to cope with it, not now."

Contemplating what she had said, Éomer nodded. "I suppose you are right. He himself told me something very similar. Somehow he never really seemed to me like a man from Gondor. We often joked about him going to the Mark, but I never thought it more that a joke up to now."

"He might even try to convince himself that it is a joke, yet I think in his heart of hearts he is more than serious about it." Her eyes still on her hands, she continued haltingly: "What he saw of Rohan, when he went to Edoras for King Théoden's funeral, impressed him greatly, and I can well imagine that it would do him good to go to Rohan again, at least for a while."

Having nearly finished his work, Éomer now concentrated on the welded joints of the bars. "He has quite a knack with horses," he offered.

Seizing his proposition, she overcame her misgivings. "He certainly has. And perhaps that could provide a position for him. Father will be moving to Minas Tirith, as King Elessar would appreciate his council at court, so Elphir will be managing Dol Amroth. Amrothos wants to employ himself rebuilding Gondor's Navy, and I could well imagine Erchirion to introduce Rohirric techniques and skills into Gondor's Army, or something the like." She spoke with eloquence and ease now, reminding Éomer of a rider, having reached solid ground after plodding through boggy terrain.

"And what about yourself?"

"We'll see. As there is little choice for a Gondorean noblewoman, most probably I will end up in marriage to some important lord, but I hope that may still be some time ahead."

"You are adverse to marriage?" He was quite astonished. All Gondorean noblewomen he had met up to now had eagerly aimed at that.

"No, not necessarily to marriage itself. Rather to the kind of marriage that very likely is in store for me." Shrugging her shoulders, she continued: "I hate the idea of being married off for political reasons, though I know I'll have to accept it in the end out of duty to my country." Her eyes held a resigned expression.

Being married off... how could she think of herself like that? Surely Imrahil would not do anything like that. But then... this was Gondor, and customs differed. And duty to one's country was not easily set aside. Éomer could not help feeling a strange kind of concern.

"Ah well, I should not spoil your day with my whining." With a wry smile she brushed a strand of hair that had escaped her braid out of her face. "It is not that arranged marriages necessarily remain loveless. Things can develop, as long as there is a basic regard for one another."

She rose from the boulder, facing the glistening waters of the bay. "My parents' marriage was arranged, and yet they love each other dearly."

Having finished his task, Éomer put the grill on top of the boulder. The sound of metal on rock made her turn. Her face was composed now, and all traces of sadness and fatigue was gone."And I do want children," she said with emphasis.

At least that was something he could perfectly comprehend. Did not every woman want children? Was it not a woman's right? But then something like horror crept over him: What about those children's health? Was the wish for conception enough to make a woman enjoy lying with a man? But perhaps they had found a solution for this in Gondor? Their knowledge in healing was that profound … Perhaps they had a treatment for their infants that made passion redundant. Somehow this thought did not ease his misgivings.

"You would agree to a political marriage for the sake of having children?"

"It sounds weird, doesn't it?" Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Yet, rather than staying childless... yes, I suppose I would."

Turning to him, her eyes lit up. "I was present at Alphros' birth. Believe me, the birth of a child is a miracle."

"Yes, it certainly is,"he agreed, wondering were their conversation had taken them.

Her face became thoughtful, but she did not seem to see him, being lost in memories. "Poor Sídhril laboured so long and suffered so much pain, yet the moment she held her son in her arms, she obviously had forgotten everything. She was so utterly exhausted but she seemed to glow from within."

She hesitated, but then, looking straight into his face, she added firmly: "And, yes, I do want to experience this miracle myself." Her cheeks were slightly flushed with excitement.

Béma, how very much alive she was!

With a soft chuckle she continued: "And newborn babies are so ..." She seemed to be searching for a fitting word.

Intrigued by her agitation, Éomer suggested: "Beautiful?"

To his surprise she gave one of her typical snorts. "Beautiful? For Uinen's mercy! Certainly not!" She laughed. "Tell me my lord, have you ever seen a newborn child?"

"Yes, I certainly have." He felt rebuked and vexed by her mirth.

"And it was beautiful?" Her inquisitorial eyes, sparkling with laughter, made him frown.

Was that woman mad? How could there be anything more beautiful than a a tiny baby? But perhaps they looked different in Gondor, begotten without the life-ensuring joy? What a mess had he got himself in!

Sensing his ill humour, she shook her head and insisted: "My Lord Éomer, please tell me, how many hours was that child you saw?"

"Hours?" he asked baffled. Hours... He had arrived in the Wold the second day after Gytha's birth. "I don't know exactly, though surely not more than two days."

"Two days!" Now she laughed merrily. "My lord, that explains everything. Already after some hours they are all pink and fluffy, but the moment they are born..." She wrinkled her nose. "They are tiny and dear, but they start rather ugly, all greyish and wizened."

Seeing his disbelief she added: "You wouldn't call a foal beautiful, before it is dry and standing, would you?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again. She was doubtlessly right; he had never thought of the very moment of birth.

Tilting her head she said teasingly: "Well, as a compensation for my rudeness, let me describe a two days-old healthy child to you: pink, chubby, with a swirl of dark downs on a little round head... No, in your case it was most likely blond..."

Blond … almost white it had been, a few soft hairs on a rosy head, that few that it had nearly looked bald ... and that tiny face ... that little stubby nose, a bit scratched at one nostril ... that sweet little mouth, making soft sucking noises in sleep and those eyes, big behind closed eyelids ... a miracle ... beautiful ... those tiny hands ... that tiny, but complete, totally perfect ... tiny fingers around his forefinger ... tiny fingers with minute fingernails,shining like freshly bloomed petals ...

"My lord?" Her voice and a soft touch at his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. He blinked. She was standing in front of him, bending down, searching his face with concerned eyes.

"It's nothing," he stated lamely, feeling utterly embarrassed.

"Finished that grill?" Amrothos' voice nearly made them jump. Totally unabashed Imrahil's youngest son stepped up beside them. Dumping the bags he was carrying on the beach, he busied himself with the line that held his boat and pulled it closer to the shore. "We should get going. Elphir and Erchirion are already breaking up camp."

Rising an eyebrow he addressed Éomer: "So what have you decided? Go back with Erchirion or dare some real sailing with Lothíriel and me?" He threw his bags on board and went to take the grill.

"And what makes you think I am sailing with you?" The princess' voice cut like a whip.

"Loth, please!" Amrothos' face showed a mixture of guilt and eagerness. "I know I've been a moron, but with none of our brothers I would get her sail the way she could with the stiff breeze we might get. Just imagine Elphir sailing with me!"

She didn't answer but averted her head with an angry jerk. Having thrown the grill on deck, her brother walked with ostentation around her, till she was facing him again.

"Loth," Amrothos pleaded, "look, you wouldn't let a chance like this slip away unused, would you?"

When she did not answer, he seemed to take it for an affirmation. His usual grin reappearing, he turned back to Éomer. "It would be of great avail if you came, too. You see, the boat is a bit over-rigged and any kind of ballast would help keep her straight." Chuckling he continued: "You don't have to worry though. As you are quite a hunk of a man, that may well keep us from capsizing."

"King Éomer is our guest and not a dead weight!" With bristling eyes Lothíriel positioned herself between the two men.

Amrothos raised his hands in defence. "I wasn't thinking about dead weight, Loth."

Éomer felt his fists clench. Seemingly unaware of any danger, the young prince grinned at him. "Anyway, you can swim, can't you? And if things go wrong, we can still use you as an anchor."

"Just put a cork in it, will you?" Lothíriel seemed ready to go for her brother's throat.

"As long as you promise to sail with me, I'll do anything you demand, Sister." With a mock bow Amrothos took his leave and made to return to their camp. Looking back over his shoulder, he shot Éomer a broad grin: "Don't you worry, Horseking, between the two of us, we'll make a dashing pirate of you!"

Lothíriel shook her head and gave a resigned sigh. "Amrothos is a blithering idiot, but he's right. Your weight could really make a difference."

Éomer looked at her sceptically. "Would you like to sail with him?"

She shrugged. "Yes and no. I would surely like to punish him, not sailing with him, for Elphir will never agree with Amothos' way of sailing, but it won't change Roth's manners at all, and then I would deprive myself of the thrill of a really exciting ride. We'll see."

Pointing towards the western side of the little bay she said: " I'd like to climb up the ridge to have a last look at the open sea. Would you like to accompany me? The place will look much different now with the incoming tide."