Chapter 7

Lothíriel took great effort in arranging quite a feast. She still thought she had the right to feel angry but she was wise enough to know that her words had been rash. Whatever her personal feelings towards the Rohan King, she knew Minas Tirith still stood because of the bravery and allegiance of the men from the North.

Their house in the city wasn't as grand as their royal house in Dol Amroth but the great hall was big enough for a feast of friends.

They gathered in the library just before dinner as she made sure all the arrangements were been made.

Éomer stood by the fire place near the open door that led to the terrace. A thundering sound outside alerted his attention to the dark night.

"What the...?"

There it was again, a low rumble in the distance. He moved towards the sound and stepped outside to the grand balcony. Raining... It was raining.

The rain swept across the Pelennor Fields, dropping lightly. Suddenly a flash of light crisscrossed the sky and a loud thunder soon followed.

"It's a summer storm..." he uttered.

"They are not uncommon in this time of year..." a soft voice replied.

He turned to find Lothíriel leaning against the frame of the opened door.

"Milady..." he said, bowing elegantly to her.

So formal... she thought.

Well, what did you expect? Her inner voice replied. A warm welcome!? After what you said... ?

"Milord..." bowing in her stead.

Silence fell upon them.

A light breeze blew but the weather was warm. Éomer was used to the shift change of the weather. In the Mark, it was frequent. But such a dramatic change was unknown to him... nothing could have predicted this! It was so sunny in the afternoon.

Éomer couldn't think of anything to say. Her words were still ringing in his ears. It had been deep. But then there she was... So real, dressed in a simple white dress.... So beautiful... Was it possibly the same person?

He heard her inhale deeply and turned in gaze on her. She had come out to the rain, tilting her head upwards, feeling the drops upon her face, with her eyes closed. It wasn't raining hard but it was enough to get her wet.

"I love this weather..." she smiled in to the rain. " The rain has always been kind to us. It washes away all the wreckage...all the pain and sorrow..."

She inhaled again.

"And I love this smell... Do you feel it?" She didn't wait for his answer. "The smell of wet land... It gives me the sense of renewal..."

She finally gathered the courage to looked at him. He was looking straight back.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered.

"I said what I shouldn't have that night... Specially because it was not true. I didn't mean to be ungrateful... I apologize for it... We owe you so much... Our freedom, our homes, our families' safety... You came to our aid because it was the right thing... Simply out of honour and loyalty... And you knew there would be losses but still you came... And I had no right.... to say what I said. I know my apologies count for nothing... And that you probably lost all respect for me. Entirely justified, I might add ... but I am... I truly am sorry."

Again the silence.

He won't forgive me...

Sensing the tears piling up inside her and threatening to come out, she turned back to the room saying:

"I wish you a good night, My Lord..."

*****

She was gone before he could answer. She had that effect on him... the ability to render him speechless.

She had acknowledged her mistake but had he? Had he been able to say I'm sorry for the things he had done? Well, in truth he wasn't sorry... Hers were the sweetest lips he had ever tasted... More like devoured!

He had to make amends.

He returned to the hall and found her in deep conversation with Gandalf, as Pippin closely observed with a smugged look on his face.

"I think he has a crush on her!" Éomer heard someone say by his side.

Merry stood there watching the scene.

"Master Meriadoc, are you so unkind to your friend?" as he turned to Merry.

Aragorn, sitting by the fire, reading and scribbling something on a book, was listening to the words attentively.

"No, but I do know him well!!" After a short pause he concluded. "Yep,... He has a crush on her!"

They laughed.

"I'm better go get him before he makes a complete fool out of himself! Excuse me!"

Éomer took a seat by Aragorn's side.

"So...? Do you think he has a crush on her!?" Éomer asked, still regarding the scene.

"Yes. And I think he is not the only one..."

Éomer's head turned quickly towards Aragorn.

"Meaning..."

"Oh, I don't know... maybe she caught the eye of someone else?"

"You mean me?!!!"

"If the shoe fits..."

"You joke, for sure!"

"Hum...really, brother?" he dropped the book and looked deep into Éomers' eyes. "Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing when you gaze upon Lothíriel of Dol Amroth?"

Éomer felt his throat dry. No words came out.

With a sly grin and raising his book again, Aragorn resumed his reading with muttering a very audible "I didn't think so..."

"It's not like that..." he finally said. "She gets under my skin, somehow..."

Well, it was true and it was better than what he wanted to admit... She makes my blood boil...

Aragorn threw his head back and laughed heartily, almost like he had just read his mind.

A servant approach Lothíriel and whispered in her ear. She nodded and turned to Imrahil.

"Dinner is ready. Shall we move to the dinning hall, father?"

"Of course, lead the way. My friends, come, let us eat."

The table was set in an elegant but informal manner. Lothíriel sat by her family, her father on the right and Melian, her sister in law, on her left.

Éomer sat two seats aside, between Éothain and Aragorn.

The meal was simple but much appraised. And better than the food was the conversation and the mood.

After the meeting, her father had told her off the decision. They were set to go against the Dark Lord on the very heart of Mordor. Tomorrow... The thought made her shiver.

"What crazy idea is this father...?" She had asked. He told her of two halfings, sent on a quest to destroy the One Ring, the source of all evil. Gandalf had felt them close to their goal and now it was up to them to draw the eye of the enemy from it. I may sound a desperate measure, my child but it is the only way, he had said.

So Lothíriel had tried her best to make this a very agreeable night, to take away the very thought of tomorrow. And it looked like she had succeeded.

Occasionally, she dared a glance down the table to Éomer. He looked so at ease and friendly. One time, as she looked at him she found him looking back. Caught, she simply smiled at him and he returned a smile of his own. She took it as a peace sign.

Sweet Elbereth, he's so beautiful when he smiles...she thought. Oh, by the Valar, will you quit it!?

Éomer watched her blush. She looked beautiful this night. As she talked to the guests or her family, as she eat and laughed of the silly things Amrothros said to her, as she held little Alphos and sang low as he fell asleep in her arms... Through out the night, his gaze was drawn to her.

On his ear, Aragorn whispered.

"Can you still tell me she hasn't caught your eye...?"