Chapter 39
Dol Amroth
April 3020
Imrahil sat at his desk, staring absent-mindedly at a report he had received earlier that morning. Although he knew he should be paying attention, he couldn't help but stare out of the window. From where he was sitting, he could only see the sky but he didn't need to stand to imagine Dol Amroth's busy port. It was from that port he had sent Elphir and Erchirion along with several of his best knights to investigate the possibility of Lothíriel being alive. He had been quite surprised when King Éomer had pledged to accompany them as well. It gave Imrahil a small amount of comfort to know that his daughter had someone like Éomer wishing to court her. There were few men of Éomer's quality among the Gondorian gentry, Imrahil was sad to think. He sighed, and pulled his attention away from the window and instead rallied himself to focus on the report.
No more than a few moments after he began to read the report in earnest, there was a knock on the door. Imrahil chuckled to himself before speaking clearly, "Enter." The door opened and revealed Amrothos.
"Father, there is a party flying the banner of King Aragorn. Among his party there is Faramir and Lady Éowyn along with a heavy contingent of Rohirrim."
Imrahil nodded, putting the paper down. "Send out a group of knights to escort them to the gates, and have the Mistress Kilfreth report to me immediately."
"That is not the only news I have for you," Amrothos pointed to the window, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "There is a ship on the horizon to the south. It bears our ensign. I believe that it should arrive soon if the wind holds."
"That is good news," Imrahil smiled as he clapped his youngest son in the shoulder, "we will see to our guests and then wait in eager anticipation of the arrival of your elder brothers, the King of Rohan, and hopefully good news."
Éomer stood on the deck of the ship, watching, as the city grew closer with each wave. According to Elphir, the wind was behaving as if it wanted their ship to dock before midday. Further forward on the deck stood Lothíriel. The wind pushed against her back, causing her hair to whip around her face. As Éomer approached her, he saw that she was shivering slightly. Without a word, he pulled off his cloak and draped it around her. She turned to look up at him. Feeling the weight of the cloak, she turned slightly to face him. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, but there was unease in her eyes.
"What is it, love?" Éomer questioned. As he spoke, he pulled her loose hair back and braided it, tying the end with a leather thong.
"I have put my family through so much pain and heartache, I wonder if they'll really even want me back after everything." She sighed, staring at the castle in the distance.
"After your father sent not only a ship with many knights and even two of your three brothers to find you, you still doubt that they want you to return to them?"
"There is a part of me that feels that way." Lothíriel shrugged, "though saying it out loud makes it sound a bit silly."
"Do not worry," Éomer placed both of his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her, anchoring her. "I have no doubt that they are waiting intently for your return." He gently kissed the top of her head. "But even if they were to turn you out, I promise you will always have a place at my hearth and table as my wife and queen."
Lothíriel turned away from the city and fully faced Éomer. She reached up and met his welcome embrace before burying herself into a soft, intimate kiss.
Éowyn stood on the dock, pacing. She had been grumbling ever since she had received the letter from her brother a few days before. Why it had taken the messenger that long to deliver the news of her brother's departure from sanity, she didn't know. Thankfully Faramir had been in with her in Minas Tirith when it arrived. He had made sure the messenger was able to find the nearest kitchens, before she could bite his head off. Faramir had tried to talk with her, calm her, but she would not have any of it. She glared at the ship that would supposedly be returning her senseless brother.
"You know you can't make it come any faster by glaring at it." Faramir's even voice was quiet, but Éowyn could hear it as clearly among the noise of the docks as if they were in a meadow.
"Just watch me." She harrumphed, crossing her arms. Behind her she heard Faramir stifle a laugh.
"You've had a few days to fret over this now, perhaps it is time to calm yourself." At this, Éowyn turned to Faramir, bringing some of her anger along with her.
"I will calm myself with my harebrained brother sets foot on dry land and I've had a chance to expel my ire onto him for making such a rash decision to leave, chasing dead women." She pointed up to the cliff where the monument to Lothíriel was. "He said he was coming here to say goodbye to her and move on, but instead he decided to leave on the whim that she would still be alive."
"The letter," Faramir looked down at her, "said that there was some magic afoot and that most likely she had been stolen away while we were chasing naught but an image."
"Well whatever the case, he shouldn't have gone himself without proper preparations." Éowyn crossed her arms over her chest, huffing slightly.
"I have no doubt that you would have done the same thing had you been in his shoes." Faramir rubbed her back gently and Éowyn's stance began to soften.
"I am not the last living son of Eorl. I could go with the knowledge that I would not leave Rohan behind without a ruler should anything happen to me."
"Well I suspect that he is returning on that ship, so all is well in the end."
As soon as the gangplank was placed on the docks, Éomer took Lothíriel's hand and helped her down from the ship. As their feet touched solid ground, Lothíriel heard footsteps against the planks. Éomer turned, pulling Lothíriel alongside him as they saw not only Lothíriel's family approaching but also King Aragorn, Éowyn and Faramir. At the sight of the two of them together everyone slowed aside from Éowyn who faltered only for a moment before rushing ahead. Lothíriel couldn't tell but thought she had seen a look of irritation meant for Éomer that had faded immediately after seeing Lothíriel, and was replaced by tears and a smile as she threw her arms around both Éomer and Lothíriel.
Lothíriel laughed at the sudden embrace but returned it. Éomer hugged both women tightly before letting them go. As Éowyn was released the rest of the crowd pushed forward, all talking at once. Among everyone who was chattering about, there was one voice that Lothíriel didn't hear. Instead, she saw her father, standing behind everyone, tears pooling in his eyes. As soon as their eyes met, Imrahil opened his arms and Lothíriel pushed through and ran into them.
"I'm so sorry, Father." Lothíriel allowed herself to weep after holding herself together for the journey back.
"Oh, my daughter." Imrahil rubber her back gently, "welcome home."
Lothíriel's eyes opened to the sounds of crashing waves and seagulls. She could smell the sea air, though it wasn't as strong as it had been when they had sailed from Harad. She had been home for nearly a week now, and had spent that time in ecstasy, walking the gardens with her brothers, taking long rides along the beach with Éomer or Éowyn. Each day was ended with what seemed to be a feast. Her father's minstrels would play and Éomer would dance with her until she was breathless. Sometimes he would perform a gondorian promenade, but most of the time they would dance and twirl in each other's arms in the rohirric fashion.
As she pulled off the covers and stood in her shift, she looked out the window. It would be another clear day. She opened her wardrobe and quickly decided to wear a simple, teal dress. After pulling it over her head, she took a seat in front of her mirror and began brushing her long, black hair. She had only just finished that task and was searching for her shoes when she heard a knock at the door.
She opened it and saw in the hall were three rohir. She had already known there would be two in front of her door, for as soon as they had landed in Dol Amroth, Éomer had declared that she would never be without an escort of Rohirric guards, and had set two of his best warriors to the task. The other was none other than Éowyn. Lothíriel smiled.
"Good morrow, Éowyn." She held the door open, inviting the woman into her chamber.
"Good morrow," the woman returned her smile before stepping past the threshold and entering the room. "I hope you slept well last night."
"Well enough," Lothíriel laughed as she continued the search for her shoes. "I'm surprised – and delighted, of course – that you have sought me out so early in the morning. Éomer has told me that you prefer to spend most of your mornings either training or in the company of Faramir."
Éowyn nodded, "He is right, that is what I usually choose to do, but I had something I wanted to speak to you about." Lothíriel straightened, giving Éowyn her full attention. "I'm sure you're aware that Éomer will have to depart soon for Rohan." Lothíriel nodded, a frown pulling at her slightly. "Éomer will be very busy performing his duties as king and Faramir and I don't know when he'll be able to leave Rohan for a wedding ceremony." With each word, Éowyn seemed to get more and more excited. "So Faramir and I settled the matter and have decided that we will be married in a month in Minas Tirith."
Lothíriel stepped forward and hugged Éowyn tightly. "That is wonderful." Lothíriel took a half step back after a moment, "but you said you needed to ask me something?"
"Yes," Éowyn clapped her hands, "I would like you to be my maid for the ceremony."
Lothíriel looked shocked. "You want me?" She smiled, "I would be honored, but wouldn't it be better to choose someone who you know better from Rohan?"
Éowyn shook her head, "I can think of no one better, for we are not only friends, but soon to be sisters. If that is not enough to convince you, Éomer has agreed to be Faramir's squire."
Lothíriel nodded, "Very well, if that is your wish, I shall be your maid."
Minas Tirith
May 3020
The banquet after Faramir and Éowyn's wedding was something spectacular. The newlywed couple sat at the high table within the palace of Minas Tirith as well wishers lined before them, presenting gifts and congratulations. Not only was the elite of Gondor and Rohan present, but Zwendi, Fa'essana and Hind had managed to arrive in time. Some more of Sha'ana's group had also come, though they had taken a place among the other minstrels instead of sitting with the other guests. Seeing all of them, after having been through so much together made Lothíriel feel content. As she was in the midst of her thoughts, she felt a hand touch her back, and she turned, smiling up to face Éomer.
"I can hardly believe that more than a year ago, we all were facing absolute death." He looked throughout the whole room. "And now there is almost nothing but happiness to be had."
"Perhaps I am biased, but I think we deserve some happiness after the events we've had to live though." Lothíriel answered. As she spoke, she saw one of the riders from Rohan approach Hind nervously. She didn't hear them speaking, but when she nodded, he smiled brightly and took her hand, leading her to the dance floor as lively music began. Turning her attention back to Éomer she saw that he was watching Éowyn and Faramir.
"I almost envy them right now." He said under his breath.
"Why is that?" Lothíriel asked, following his gaze.
"If I were still just the Third Marshal, or even the crown prince, we could be wed almost as quickly as the two of them were, but instead I am the King of Rohan and thus we must to wait until the night of Yule to follow tradition."
"If you'll remember," Lothíriel lightly kissed Éomer's hand, drawing his attention to her, "because Faramir is a prince of Gondor they had to follow Gondorian rules of engagement and wait nearly a year for the wedding to take place, if I have it right."
"It doesn't matter," Éomer said gruffly, "I'm an impatient man."
"The time will pass quickly." Lothíriel smiled.
Ithilien
November 3020
Lothíriel sighed to herself as she walked down the garden path. Although autumn had fully gripped the garden, the trees that surrounded the garden were bright in the reds and yellows of the season. The air in the garden that in spring of summer would most likely smell sweet, now held a different scent on the air. To her side, Éowyn glanced at her. Her friend had taken it upon her to tutor Lothíriel in Rohirric behavior from common etiquette to running a rohirric household and even the occasional knife or bow training. Once, she had tried to make Lothíriel wield a sword, but that was when she had drawn the limit.
She had also been the one to teach Lothíriel about the numerous – and rather tedious – traditions that a king, and thereby his queen, must follow. As she thought more about them, they weren't really that bad, considering what kind of foolish things some of the Gondorian gentry considered proper behavior. And yet, something had been left unanswered for a while.
"Why does the wedding have to wait until Yule?" Lothíriel stopped. "In the rest of Rohan, the longest a couple has to wait is six months," she crossed her arms over her chest, "and that's if there is anyone who takes issue with the marriage. But for the king to marry, it must be on Yule, no matter how soon, or far away that is from the engagement."
Éowyn turned, a playful expression on her face."Do you really want to know?"
"Yes." Lothíriel nodded. "It really can't be that bad," she paused, "can it?"
Éowyn chuckled, "Well, none of this is known for certain since the tradition has been around for so long, but everyone believes that it's because the winters are so cold in Rohan."
"What does the weather have to do with anything?" At Lothíriel's words Éowyn's grin grew wider.
"Think of it this way," Éowyn stepped a little closer and her voice grew quieter, "when it is cold, and you're with the one you love, there are several ways to warm up." She looked at Lothíriel knowingly for a few moments. Lothíriel's face began to burn with a blush.
"You're not saying," Lothíriel began, whispering.
"It's important to the people of Rohan that their King has an heir." Éowyn stated in a very matter-of-fact tone. "Don't worry too much though, from one married woman to one who isn't wed, it's not such a bad thing to imagine being with the man you love, and having him keep you warm."
