CHAPTER 32
The aid of Edoras
"The queen of Romen, my lord." Helke's voice declared as the doors of the great hall creaked opened to reveal her. She stood dwarfed in the open doors, sunlight cascading in behind her, outlining her small figure as she stepped inside the dimmer hall. Poised as ever, she kept her eyes fixed at him as she strode across the stone floor, between the carved wooden columns. The only thing revealing what might stir within her, was the way she wrought her hands.
Éomer felt the familiar tug in his chest grow larger, as if swelling to the brink of bursting upon seeing her. Her humble, yet queenly ringlet, resting on her forehead, held in place by her unusually tamed curls. She carried her hardship with a dignity few could muster. The air in the hall suddenly grew thicker, seemingly lingering like a knot in his throat. He eyed Helke and the others who swiftly caught his wish and discreetly removed themselves.
Their gazes locked, none of them speaking. Aema turned her head slightly at the sound of the doors closing behind the men and so she stood for a brief moment, until he saw her heave a deep breath and looking back at him as she moved closer, her soft steps still managing to create a vague echo.
He had thought of this moment many times over the last few months, yet never had he imagined her rigid posture, or his own sense of awkwardness. She stopped in front of him, as she had gotten closer, he could more clearly make out the weariness that she was trying to conceal.
"Did you know I'd come to you?" she asked at last.
"No," he replied. "I hoped you would."
"Well here I am, standing at your door as a beggar." she said. "But either I do it now, or hunger will force my people to do so soon enough. So, on their behalf, I am here to ask for your help."
"On their behalf?" he said then leaving a silence for her to battle. She measured him, allowing the silence to settle rather than going to battle, as always stretching her neck in a vain attempt to make her petite stature more imposing. In the end it was he who gave in.
"Aema, you do not come to me as a beggar, but you stand before me as a stranger, and I cannot abide it."
He saw her nostrils flare slightly and allowed her more time to collect herself, their silence only interrupted by muddled noises from outside the thick doors.
"I understand my request requires no small sacrifice on Rohan's part, and whatever you can spare, I will gracefully accept."
Éomer eyed her where she stood, straight-backed with her gaze fixed on him. Nothing of her demeanor revealed what he dared assume her formality was hiding.
"Whatever I can spare, is yours. And whatever I may not have realized, you need only ask for. Rohan will honor your sacrifices; I sincerely hope you never harbored doubt about it."
Her gaze fell to the floor, and she began wringing her hands once more until she released them, straightened out her already straight skirts and faced him.
"I am deeply grateful." She said placing her hand in earnest atop her chest.
Again, they stood in silence, eyes locked, frozen a few paces apart. Her rigidity beginning to creep up on him.
"Aema…" his voice felt strangled. "If the since long promised aid is all that brought you here, I beseech you to tell me."
Under her garb, he could make out a perturbing circlet, something she wore on a chain around her neck, like she had once worn the locket that now rested around his own. He allowed the suspicion of his ring dangling at the end of the delicate chain to claim victory over the budding fear within.
"Quench the hope I am nurturing if it is so."
She would not look at him.
"Tell me you haven't laid awake in the night with only memories to keep you company?" he whispered. Encouraged by her seemingly increasing nervousness he continued as he slowly approached her, closing the distance between them.
"Tell me you haven't thought of this moment since we parted?" he continued.
Her eyes flickered, unable to steady themselves.
"Tell me you stand here solely on behalf of your people."
Her big gray eyes sought him out and finally, he recognized her. The way her bottom lip quivered as she fought to keep her emotions at bay, the way her eyes would trail his face and that faint, familiar note of lavender.
"Éomer…." She whispered, before her voice caught in her throat.
He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, his thumb stroking the quivering, soft lip.
"Did your heart not mend upon entering this hall?" he whispered. "For mine did upon seeing you, min'litha." He slid his hand around her neck ever so gently, pausing for a moment to offer her one last chance to refuse him but her eyes lingered on his lips before she simply closed them, anticipating him as he leaned in to steal the kiss he had been thinking of since last he saw her.
