Chapter 4

16th March. 3019

The morning came by uneventfully. The initial euphoria was gone and hard work was now in motion all throughout the city.

In the Houses of Healing, the flow of wounded soldiers and innocent bystanders was finally subsiding and the frantic rhythm was slowing down.

Faramir was recovering well and spend hours in the inner garden and helped the White Lady of Rohan take her first steps after confinement to her bed.

Everything seemed to be falling into place.

And for the first time in years, the sun seemed to shine without its usual cloud of darkness. It was a perfect day... To perfect to be spent behind four walls. So Lothíriel asked for some time off the Healing Houses and decided to take a ride. How she missed riding freely. Nothing but the wind on her hair and the sounds of nature around her... She gathered her riding gear and a couple of apples from the kitchen and headed for the stables.

"Hello, mellon nín..." she greeted her beautiful black stallion. "Have you missed me?"

The big horse snorted and came to greet his master.

"I've missed you... terribly! I've missed our outings!" she patted his neck and rubbed his favorite spot, behind his left ear. "Shall we dare to give it a go?"

Galath nudged her on the shoulder as if saying "What are you waiting for?"

As she prepared to mount she heard a familial voice.

"Planning on going somewhere?"

Imrahil.

"Ada, has your meeting ended? Already?" she asked casually. "I thought a gathering of the commanders would be longer..."

"Lothíriel..." he started but she cut him off.

"Oh... It's just for a ride..."

"Lothíriel, times are perilous... Darkness lurks at every corner. I can't just let you go for a ride!"

She knew that. She could see the damage of this dark hour. But she need the breath of fresh air.

"Ada, I know this may sound silly but I'm tired of being trapped inside these walls... It's will be as far as the Rohirrim encampment, I promise."

"Daughter..."

Lothiriel took a deep breath and uttered.

"Father, I know you are fearful and that you care for my protection but..." she sighed. "Honestly, this could well be the last time I get to ride in the open... We don't know what lies ahead..."

Father and daughter stood face to face in silence. Lothíriel awaited an answer.

"Only if you don't go alone."

Lothíriel through her arms around his neck.

"Ada... Thank you! Why won't you came with me? That would be even better!!"

"I wish I could, ninniach nîn, but I have things to do."

"Well, not an escort then, please! It will only draw more attention."

"Éomer, are you on your way to the encampment?"

Oh, no...

"I am." he answered.

"Can I ask you to take you my daughter along? If it is no trouble. She misses the rides outside."

Great! Now he will thing I'm a spoiled little princess! She thought Well, what do I care what he thinks?!

"Of course. It's no trouble at all."

"Thank you, milord." she felt obliged to said.

In reply, the King of Rohan only nodded.

Imrahil kissed his daughter's face and left the stables.

In silence, they mounted the horses and set out towards the field. She could help to noticed that he flinched as he did, probably because of a recent wound somewhere.

They exited the stables and headed for the gates. As they left the city, Lothíriel felt the need to increase the pace but her companion seemed to be stuck in trotting mode.

In the beginning, they were silent but eventually so words had to be exchanged. It was Lothíriel who initiated the conversation.

"He's beautiful." she said simply.

Éomer turned to her, his brows furrowed. He missed her point.

"Your horse." she explained.

"Thank you."

He didn't seem to be interested in carrying on a conservation but she wasn't about to give up.

"Galath here is the best. I couldn't even think to be parted from her." she said patting her neck. "She's very dear to me."

Again, silence.

"Do you feel the same? About your horse, I mean?" she tried.

"Firefoot is my best friend."

Why am I not surprised? she thought.

"I bet he's a terrific warhorse."

Éomer grinned. "He has saved my life more then once."

Finally, more then a mere reply.

An idea came to her mind.

"And is he fast?"

"Of course."

"Faster then my mare?"

"My lady..."

"I'll race you to the camp line." she said as she urged Galath in to gallop.

"Wait, it's too dangerous!" he yeld at her. "Dawn it, woman." she muttered under his breath as he began in her pursuit.

Lothíriel reached the camp line first but barely. She was out of breath.

Éomer came to her side within seconds. He dismounted and grabbed Gallath's bridle.

"Are you insane? Going at that speed? You could've hurt yourself or your mare."

"I know this field since I was a little girl!"

"But it has changed, my lady. War does that to a place!"

He was treating her like a child. She wanted to slap him. However, she was a lady and refrained from such.

He called Haggard, who was near by.

"Escort the Princess Lothíriel back to Minas Tirith."

"I don't need an escort, my lord. I thank you for the ride. As always, time with you was most pleasant." she said sarcastically as she turned Galath around and galloped back to the city.

"Who is she?"he heard Éothain say, as he came to be by his side.

"Imrahil's daughter."

"Well, well... Not the child I imagined..."

"Behave!" he admonished.

"You have to admit, she can ride." Éothain continued. "And she has courage. If I understand correctly, she challenged you. And won."

"Don't you have anything useful to do?" the King said as he watched Lothíriel ride away.

"And quite a looker too..."

Éomer shot his friend a threatening glance.

"On my way!"

*****

It was getting near sundown. Tonight, in the Royal House of the King upon the seventh level a feast would take place. Everyone was invited, royal and commom, an equal celebration amongst men. Nothing formal, just a a gathering to revive the spirits. Something simple. Of course, not for the women.

By now, all the ladies in the city were getting ready in their pretiest dresses in the hopes of catching a valourus Knight or Riders eye, a nobleman or even a King!

Lothíriel didn't wanted to be late, not for the same reasons for she couldn't care less of what everyone else, man or woman, thought of what she was wearing, but she wanted to enjoy the precious time she had with her family and friends. However, she had a responsibility towards her chores and her patients and that came first.

"Thíri?"

Lothíriel jumped on hearing her friend's voice.

"Oh, by the Valar, Meon, you scared me!"

"What are you still doing here? You should be getting ready for the feast!"

"I still have some things to do here..."

"Thíri, please! That can wait for morning, you know it. Everyone that is everyone will be attending tonight!"

"Well, then what are you still doing here? Go! I will leave in a minute, I promise!"

Gathering her belongings, and knowing it was impossible to change her friend's mind, Meon walked to the door.

"One minute! Don't be late! I'll see you at the party!"

Lothíriel gathered the last bandages and ointments and headed to the main treatment room. The door was open and a light was flickering inside.

And he was there. He had taken off his shirt and was trying to make a curative for a wound in his left midsection, below the arm pit. With his left arm raised above his head and using his right hand only, he was not making any progress.

Lothíriel sighed. The last thing she wanted was to find him there for she was sure another conflict would eventually ensue. She pondered in leaving him be and walk away. But, the healer in her couldn't help herself.

"You should clean that properly." She said, stepping into the room.

He looked at her, startled. He wasn't expecting to find anyone here at this hour, least of all her.

"I know how to treat my wounds, my lady. Unfortunately, as a Rider I've seen many wars and in the field we're don't have the luxury to have a healer." His tone was adamant. He didn't want her help.

"As you wish." Lothíriel said indifferently. She resumed her tasks, cleaning and storing her work tools, her back turned to him.

Suddenly, she heard him hiss and the sound of the cleaning basin falling with a loud crash. With it came, a curse in Rohirrim.

She turned to him, raising a brow and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What?" he asked rudely, looking at her.

"Would you stop being such a stubborn man and admit you need help with this?!" she said straightforwardly.

"I don't!!" he grunted.

"Oh, yes you do." She turned to the working bench and quickly gathered some items. Then she crossed the room towards him. Sitting near him, she ordered. "Stand still."

He didn't have time to argue. Whatever was on that cloth, it stinged! Badly! He hissed through is teeth.

"For Béma sake! Are you trying to kill me, woman!?"

Without raising her eyes, and working fast with skilled hands, her quick tongue replied. "The thought has crossed my mind! Several times I might add!"

"I don't doubt it! The thought has also crossed my mind, at least once. Ouch!"

His chest was a massive wall of muscle. Lothíriel couldn't help noticing.

Focus! She thought.

Éomer was having a hard time concentrating as well. The feel of her hand on his skin made it hard to think. And the view he was having of her neck line, down to her cleavage in her simple grey dress was making that task even harder.

Breathe, man... he thought. Just breathe.

The wound was a deep cut probably from a large blade or sword. It seemed clean enough but one could never be to careful. It was said that sometimes Orcs dipped their arms in poison. "There!" She said, as she finished applying the bandage. "All done! See? Was it that bad?"

As she raised her eyes at him, she realized it was a big mistake. Time seemed to slow as she gazed upon him. He was indeed a handsome man, she admitted. Beautiful features, strongly built and a kingly port. Like a Knight from some long lost tale. All she ever heard were praises to his honor and leadership. Alas, all she knew was his temper... And it was like the wind, unpredictable...It had the power to drive her insane!

He was looking back at her, with an intense gaze. She puzzled him like no other. The most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes upon. She seemed so peaceful and quiet at times, all ears and patience but then... A mood like the sea, he gathered... Treacherous but oh so tempting...

Distractingly, he let his left arm fall into position and his hand brushed her cheek as he whispered. "Where does that fire comes from?"

Her breathing was heavy now. How come he had this effect on her, simply by standing so close?

"You should leave now..." she whispered as she rose. He followed suit and, as she tried to go back to work, he got a hold of her wrist. Lothíriel gasped.

"Wait... You didn't answered my question, my lady..." he said, in a low voice, taking a step closer.

"I didn't realised there was one, my lord." She tried to release herself but his grip was harder. "Unhand me."

"What are you afraid of?" he asked drawing near.

Stepping back she said. "I fear nothing."

"Indeed?" a smile was tugged at his lips. It was too tempting not to tease her. "Not even that I try to steal a kiss...?"

Her hand was quick as it flew against his face but his was faster. She was stopped mid air.

"There it is... So much fire..." he whispered as he held both her wrists.

Her back hit a storage cabinet behind her. He secured her arms to the self on each side of her face, his own only inches away.

She was trapped. All she had were her words.

"You wouldn't dare..." she hissed at him.

"Really?" said moving slowly towards her.

Softly, he brushed his lips to hers, only a light brush but it made her shiver.

"Sweet..." he whispered.

He kissed the corners of her mouth. Left... then right... And then he brushed her bottom lip with his. Surprised, she parted her lips and taking advantage, his mouth took hers fully, in a passionated kiss.

She tried to fight it but when she felt his tongue seeking passage, her will was broken. She moaned into his lips and gave into the kiss.

Finding no more resistance from her, he release his grip and moved his hands to her waist to draw her near.

With a mind of their own, her hands moved to his hair, loosing themselves there.

The kiss was becoming more and more fierce and Éomer felt his body beginning to ache. But logic stroke in him... What am I doing?!! This is Imrahil's daughter...

It took all his strenght to slowly pull back from her warm embrace.

Breathing heavily, Lothíriels' mind was trying to find the logic in her actions. What happened just now?

Lust, my lady! She could hear that nagging inner voice of hers.That was pure lust! We are not so innocent, are we?

"You really are just a barbarian from the Northlands, aren't you?" she tossed at him, taking her hand to her bruised lips.

"Barbarian or not, you liked that..." he replied, his pride hurt.

"What!?" How dared he? "I did not!"

"Oh, come on!! You were kissing me back just now!!"

She laughed, trying to maintain her composure. "Clearly, you're delirious!!!"

"Deny it all you want, my lady, this truth cannot be hidden!" He said as he grabbed his tunic and moved to the door.

She blushed at his words. Raising her voice, she said. "It was nothing more than a simple reaction, a physical response of some sort..."

As he exited the room, he replied. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Healer."