Chapter 11
Soft light of morning grew steadily, filling the air of small dusty room with warm hues. It was tremendously peaceful, even with the sounds of the city outside. Lothíriel thought of idle things like the blankets tangled around her feet, the fabric under her cheek, her hand against warm skin… when had she slipped her fingers inside the neck of Éomer's shirt? She wasn't sure, but it felt nice there. It was so comforting, the way his chest rose and fell, and how solid it was under her palm. He had such a way to make her feel secure. She didn't feel like she should be wary when she was with him… which Aunt would probably have said was a bad thing. Yes, Lady Ivriniel would tell her she was giving this man too much power over herself.
Perhaps he sensed the troubled turn her thoughts took then, for he stirred and sighed, and Lothíriel pulled back her hand in a guilty sort of movement. But her mind went blank when she looked up and met his eyes, warm and sleepy and so inviting…
"Morning", he murmured huskily. The sound of his voice sent a multitude of shivers down her spine. She felt like she was utterly under his spell.
"Morning", she replied. Even that one word was difficult to get out. She wondered what her aunt would say if she saw the two of them now, nestled in each others' arms like a pair of love birds. No doubt the woman would be amazed and furious… she'd probably think any moment now, Éomer would abandon his restraints and take full advantage of the foolish girl in the bed with him. Such was Aunt's understanding of males. However, he did not move and nothing about him betrayed dreadful intentions. In fact, Lothíriel thought he wore a kind of peace and relaxation she had not perceived before.
For a while neither of them spoke. There was something like quiet wonder in the air between them, uncertainty even. Where to go from what had happened last night? Backwards surely was not an option. For she knew what she had felt when they had kissed. It was overwhelming how real everything had become in that moment… how maybe for the first time, she had felt like the both sides of her had truly merged in his acceptance. He wasn't the first man she had kissed, and yet he may as well have been just that. For it hadn't been a kiss of deceit, used as a weapon to make him bend to her will and do whatever thing she wanted of him. It was, simply said, a kiss of desire.
Yet however much it had been of her desire, she didn't know what it had been for him.
Éomer watched her in silence. His arm was still about her and its warm weight was comforting. But what really shook her was the way he regarded her… he looked and saw all that she was, all the ways she was flawed and wrong, and yet he did not scorn her.
He looked at her as one who is glad to give her a chance.
"How do you feel?" he asked at last, breaking the tender silence between them.
"I'm fine. The wound hardly bothered me last night", she answered. She still felt a little ashamed about the whole affair. It had been such a stupid mistake, getting hurt when he needed her aid. But Éomer did not blame her. It was strange to have it dismissed so easily, because Aunt would have made sure she remembered her slip for the rest of her life.
"Let me take a look", he said and sat up, pulling his arm from around her. The loss of its warmth made her shiver and not just in cold.
Éomer pulled up the hem of her shirt and carefully opened the wrapping around the wound. She didn't pay much attention to the injury itself, but instead studied his features, solemn and strong. She knew he had not yet reached his thirtieth year, and yet there was such fortitude about his features as was rarely seen in one so young. But duty and toil would either break a man or harden him, and the only son of a great captain and a princess would have learned to know them from an early age. And yet… she didn't think these things had made him bitter in his heart of hearts. In that deep place, she felt, it was kindness that drove him.
She wondered: how could one such as him ever look upon her with love?
"It seems well enough. I don't think there's danger of infection. But you must be careful for a few days", he said at length, unaware of her thoughts that had taken something of a depressed turn. Éomer looked at her, "How much longer do you think it will be until your father's ships arrive?"
"I can't say. I insisted the tavern keeper to make haste, and for the fear of my aunt he may have done just that. And my family will be anxious to ensure your safety – as your men will be, I imagine", Lothíriel answered, glad to have something else to think about than the way she felt when he looked at her. Well, it was something they could still work as a team, even if there was this… thing growing between them.
"Hmm. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't be surprised if Éothain insisted on coming himself and bringing the whole guard, too. In any case, I would be glad to have this all over already. It has been enough of an adventure to last me for a few years", he muttered and pulled her shirt back down again. He flashed her a smile and got up, talking about going to get them some water to drink, but she hardly heard him.
She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. What did his words mean, except for the obvious? Was he eager to get rid of her as well, and go on about his life as ever before? She knew what Aunt would tell her. Lady Ivriniel would scoff and tell her that the man had just been having fun at her expense. He could not have taken it very seriously, and at any rate, it had been inevitable. What did she think would happen after they spent many days together, and alone? The princess could almost hear her aunt's voice in her head, scolding her for foolishly mooning over a handsome man who happened to be nice to her.
And she thought how it was, how it had to be. They would get back to Dol Amroth and this nonsense would be put behind them. Then Éomer would return to his own land, forgetting about her and the brief time they had been together... the strange few days a warrior and a spy had fought side by side.
So it must be. For what could such a great man possibly see in her? Granted, she knew much about the world and people. She knew how to get to Umbar and back, and she had nine and ninety ways to lead on those she encountered on her way. But beyond that, she was as experienced as a young girl. While she might know how to seduce a man and knock him out or kill him, she had as much heart as a child who knows nothing of love and trust and desire. And what would a man like Éomer want with a woman like that?
She was a fool and her spirit was weak. She knew that was what Aunt would tell her; it was so easy to imagine the old woman's disgust and disappointment. How many times had she told her niece that living as the Hidden Blade was far more important than one's private feelings? How clearly it was implied in all her teachings that love was not something one could not reconcile with this life, and that it was useless to even dream of doing so? She remembered the glimpse of him through the half open door, his strong arms and tanned skin and the long golden hair... he was someone who had somehow ensnared some sunlight into his very being, while she was but a creature of twilight and shadow, a spider forever lurking where light could not reach. Two such worlds could not meet or unite.
Her eyes stung and she rubbed them, though in her chest her heart ached so that she feared it might burst. It was clear as day: she was falling in love. And that unfortunate fact was already tearing her life apart.
Lothíriel hauled her up and into a sitting position. Tears were threatening to spill out; the pain in her side was nothing compared to the torment she felt in her breast. Never in her life had she felt so clueless, so very unsure of what she should do. Go home to Aunt, and forever feel the pain of his loss, or… or ask him to… to…
"What is it, Lothíriel? Does the wound pain you?" asked a gentle, concerned voice.
"No", she answered but did not look at him. A hand came to touch her own, warm and steady and strong.
"Then what is it? What troubles you?" Éomer wanted to know as he took seat next to her.
She couldn't lie – not even if she had the presence of mind to do so. The longer she was with him, the more resentful idea of being less than honest became. But what could she say when the answer would only put him in a difficult position? No doubt he'd think she was trying to make him feel like this was the thing he owed to her.
"Is it the last night? Was I… was I too forward with you?" he asked when she didn't answer. He sounded even more worried now and she wanted to shake him for being so silly as to think he had done something wrong.
"No! You were so wonderful. I was so happy last night. You did nothing that I didn't want you to", she mumbled, half in agony and half in embarrassment. Why did she have to be such a fool? If she were more like her aunt, none of this would have happened. If she could just close her heart and cool her thoughts… but that was a dreadful idea, too.
"Then why won't you tell me what is wrong?" he asked her a little more anxiously than before.
"I was just… thinking of what's going to happen when we get back to Dol Amroth", she uttered at last. It was not a lie, but neither was it the full truth. She tried to tell herself she was sparing him from it only because otherwise, he might feel obliged somehow. And she didn't want him doing or saying things that he did not truly feel… for that might break her heart even worse.
Éomer tilted his head and considered her for a minute, before he spoke again.
"What do you think will happen?" he inquired softly.
She lowered her eyes and stared at her lap.
"I imagine the rest of my family will be most pleased that you're safe and sound. They'll do everything in their power to make sure you won't be leaving with a sour taste in your mouth... King Elessar will want to see you as soon as possible of course. He probably has half of Gondor ready to march right now", she answered, and towards the end of her account, she became aware she was babbling. Despite herself, she peeked at his face as quickly as she could and was surprised to see how bewildered he seemed.
"Yes, I imagine that is about right. But I'm rather more interested to hear what you think will become of us", said the Rohir said, having mastered his surprise.
She fidgeted the hem of her shirt in her hands. Why did he have to speak like in this way! Why must he use that word, that promising, tempting little word! She had already convinced herself there could never be we as far as her and this wonderful man were considered.
"I don't suppose you are thinking of hiring a spy?" she tried weakly.
"Not right now", he said solemnly and lifted his hand. He placed it tentatively on her shoulder. Even its warm weight seemed like a torment to her. But he spoke, "I was hoping for a more permanent arrangement."
She must have looked at him like a complete idiot, for he frowned momentarily and drew a breath.
"Lothíriel, I want you to know I do not regret what happened last night. In fact it has been the only thing I've been able to think of ever since… I lay awake half the night because thoughts of you would not cease", he started slowly and stared straight at her, though she still had difficulty meeting his eyes. He went on, "I know you were pulled into this mess against your own plans and you had no obligation to come after me. But I am forever grateful to you for saving my life and all the efforts you have made for my sake. And because of you, this past week has not been a complete nightmare; I have grown to enjoy your company and how easy it is to be with you, be it in battle or friendship. Truth be told I want to take it further – much futher. Yet I know eventually this journey will end, and… and when we reach Dol Amroth, I do not wish to be parted from you again."
The princess stared at the Rohir in open-mouthed wonder. She had just reasoned this could never happen, and yet... there he sat next to her, telling her that he... that he wanted her? She felt unreal. He, the brilliant young king with gold like sunlight upon his brow, would look at a shadow-maiden and wish for her to remain with him? It sounded too good to be true. It sounded mad.
"Éomer, I..." she began, but her words failed her, and she slumped there opening and closing her mouth while his dark, flaming eyes held her bewitched. For all her training to be able to swiftly react to whatever impossible happenstance came her way, now she was entirely clueless.
She looked away, trying to get a hold of her thoughts, until at last she managed in a small voice, "You can't be serious."
He frowned.
"And what makes you think that?" he asked her sharply.
"Just... look at us! You're the famous King of Rohan, a celebrated war-hero and personal friend of King Elessar, and I... I'm just..." Lothíriel tried, but once more her voice died in the middle of it.
"You're just what?" Éomer asked and moved a little closer. He was still staring at her intently.
"I'm like some sort of spider that pulls its webs in the dark and goes stabbing people in the back at others' bidding! I'm the last person in the world you should give more than two thoughts!" she tried desperately, because surely this was some kind of a mistake, and she had to make him see that before he managed to convince her otherwise! For if she didn't, then she would just... she would be his completely and have her heart shattered because he was a brilliant flame and she had listened all her life to how something like that could not be hers.
"Lothíriel", he said gently, reaching to brush his fingers across her cheek and gently down her chin, "I see your darkness and it doesn't scare me. I know it is but a small thing to the light that shines through and would surely grow, given the chance. And you are the most unique woman I have ever met. I do not think there is anyone like you in the whole world, and... and I would regret it forever if I did not at least let you know how much..."
He hesitated then, searching her face that she was sure had grown even more incredulous now. The Rohir cupped her cheek in his hand and spoke very softly, "How much I care about you."
Oh, Elbereth! If there had been any doubt before, there was none now. This man already had her. And she knew what she hoped – against her reason she ached for it – but she had to make sure. So, with a trembling voice, she whispered, "What are you asking me?"
He seemed to sober a little, and he cleared his throat before he took her both hands in his own.
"Lothíriel, will you accept my hand in marriage?" he asked her softly, interlacing his fingers with her own.
"For the life of me I cannot tell why you would ask me to marry you", she said in a trembling little voice and let out a small, hysterical laugh, "but yes! A thousand times yes!"
He laughed softly as well when she jumped to hug him, and his arms readily received her, and then he kissed her. He was bold and assertive and it felt good to her – she liked that he would approach her so, not like she was a clueless maiden or a dangerous spider but a woman he knew well both in thought and body. With a delighted little squeal, she wrapped her arms around his neck and answered the kiss, and she did not do it in the way the woman in the house with red veils had taught her, but how she wanted to, how it felt good and natural to respond when a man kisses like he did.
The morning was bright and its light was pure gold on the face and hair of the King of Rohan, this man for whom she had put her own life in line; she was glad to have done it, for he deserved it more than anyone... and in him, she had found someone who saw and accepted her. He smiled at her and she thought he had never been more fair in her eyes. Dark was passing and he was her new sunrise.
"Thank you. For everything", he whispered as he cradled her to him. The heat of his hands seeped into her flesh like a branding mark: the shape of them, the firm strength of their grip, felt something like home.
"Glad to be of service", she replied, giddy with the sensation of being free unlike she had ever felt before. With her arms around his neck and her mouth against his, she forgot about everything her aunt had ever told her.
The ending of the Ring War had seen many joyous dawns, but Éomer was not sure even in any of the high days of triumph he had felt happier than he did in that golden morning. It seemed like he and Lothíriel were closed away in a small pocket of light and laughter, though he did not forget beyond it, a band of murderous pirates were hunting for them.
Last night, he had lain awake for a long time. Not to say it wouldn't have been sweet to sleep with her by his side, but the events of the evening had left him agitated and his mind was full of thoughts of her. And eventually, he had come to a sort of understanding with himself. He knew now where the madness had come from, and why, when he had seen her get hurt. With it, he had an inkling of how it would feel like to take his leave of her once this misadventure ended.
Éomer wanted none of that.
But what could he offer to a woman like her? She was not like most ladies he knew. What if she felt like he was a shackle to bind her, an end to her freedom? On the other hand, he had seen how alone she was in her shadow, even with her aunt there, and the way she yearned for someone to accept her as she was. What she had was freedom only in one sense, and she had bonds of her own that maybe he could help to lift. And with that, he knew he already had everything he needed – everything one could give to another. He could simply offer himself and hope it was enough. And it seemed that it was enough.
If that was true, then he could only thank the pirates for bringing him together with her. Well, that was one wonderfully absurd story to share with their children and grandchildren. The thought nearly made him giddy.
They enjoyed the morning in slow leisure. He prepared some breakfast for them and only briefly noted how their water and foodstuffs were dwindling. It was difficult to worry about anything right now, for Lothíriel was in such high spirits, they would surely have lifted his too if he had not already been just as glad. She was seated on the sofa, which place she had accepted only when he had insisted her to take some rest so that her wound could heal. When he turned to look at her and met her eyes, they glittered with good cheer and mischief that reminded him of Amrothos. To himself, Éomer wondered what would Lothíriel be like today if her aunt had never got to her. How very different would she be if she hadn't been raised to bear a duty that no one should have to carry?
Even so, he didn't think it was too late for her. It seemed that his questions and misgivings had remained with her and stirred something; she wouldn't have wondered about the right and wrong of her actions if she had moved past them to a state where only ruthless attempts to ensure Dol Amroth's gain directed her.
This thought also brought Éomer to the question that he made to her once they had breakfast before them.
"When you tell your family about your plans… do you think your father will show opposition to it, or your aunt?" he asked her and watched her face. Truth be told, he wasn't that worried about Imrahil. They were in good terms and he couldn't see any good reason the Prince would disallow their betrothal. But Lady Ivriniel? She may have a thing or two to say.
Lothíriel very much confirmed what he had already guessed.
"Father won't be a problem. Like I told you earlier, he'll be anxious to make up for your pains any way he can. If the thing you ask is my hand in marriage, fine. Our Houses are already allied, you and him are close friends, and it is a good match as far as politics go", she answered evenly, until a grimace twisted her face. "But Aunt? Oh, she won't be happy. She's going to tell me it's a horrible mistake, you are not worthy of me, and who knows what else. She'll think I'm letting all my potential go to waste… which is why I'd like to have you there when I talk with her. Aunt will have harder time using her tricks if you're around. And it will be easier for me to make my point."
Éomer nodded. It was as he thought: Lady Ivriniel was going to be the chief obstacle in this matter.
"I would be glad to accompany you", he said to her and smiled. He had a feeling the confrontation would not be very pleasant, which was all the more reason for him to go with her. Perhaps that way it would be easier. For the life Ivriniel had trained her for was really the only one Lothíriel had known since young age and breaking free of it might require his help.
Another thought occurred to him, and he asked: "What about this… tradition you have? The line you and your aunt represent?"
"Well, I'm not the only spy my father employs. Others will take my place. And maybe it's time for our kind to pass away. The world is changing and there is peace in the lands of Free Men", Lothíriel answered at length. She looked at him straight now and her face was serious. "You asked me before what I thought to achieve in my life. I hadn't thought it at the time, but now… I do believe the answer is 'something more'. I don't want this to be all there is in store for me, and if I can't dedicate myself fully to this way of mine and aunt's, then maybe I should give it up."
He couldn't say her answer didn't surprise him. She sounded hopeful when she spoke, not at all sad for the idea of seeking an end to the life she had known.
"I wondered…" she started at the sudden, looking at him with wary eyes. "You haven't said a single cross word about my… methods. Well, aside from when you pointed out that it might not be a good idea to just dump the captain in the river."
Éomer met her gaze gravely.
"You began all of this by helping me and promising to save my life. And you delivered your promise. That is not a matter I take lightly, Lothíriel. It seems dishonest to me, even hypocritical, to criticise your way of working when I'm benefiting from it so much", he answered slowly. Then he let out a sigh, "However it is true that I would have been very hard on you, were I younger. I used to be so adamant about many things. But since I became king, I have had to learn again much that I thought I knew. A ruler of people must accept a few ugly truths, if he means to be any good for his people… here in the mortal lands, very few get to be blissful kings in a realm where sun always shines."
His tone grew a little sharper when he continued, "I did see something ruthless in you back on the ship, and it chilled me. But since then I have deemed there is so much more to you than that. I rather feel it's the shade of your aunt I saw, not yourself."
She looked at him and was equally solemn.
"And that is something that troubles me, too. I've been thinking… I see now the ways I've gone crooked. I want to become more like you, Éomer. Be as good as you are", she said thoughtfully.
"Lothíriel", he said softly, gently, "I am flattered that you think so highly of me. But I am not a paragon of virtue, and you should not treat me as such. I am just a man, after all."
"I know that", she responded. "It's not like I'm trying to set you up as my sole guideline. It's just... you inspire me. You make me want to become a better person. I never thought much about these things before I met you, and I may need a little help sometimes, so... I suppose I'm asking for you to give me a hand."
Now Éomer smiled, and his heart felt lighter. It was somehow deeply relieving to know that his first instinct about her had been right. And he had found her before it was too late.
For a while, they ate in companionable silence as the morning grew outside. But soon enough a new question came to Éomer, and so he looked at the woman sitting opposite him again. Though she was still a little pale from the loss of blood, otherwise she seemed to be well and glad, with a peaceful glimmer in her grey eyes.
"Do you think you will miss it? Being this spiderly sort of thing?" he asked her. It was half awkward, half joking. But the question itself was quite valid.
Lothíriel shrugged as she chewed on a piece of bread.
"I don't know. It's not like I can yet compare it to what will be. And even if I did miss the sneaking and the scheming, there are… there are other things. And maybe they are more valuable. Time will tell", she said thoughtfully. Then she flashed him a smile. "Who knows? Maybe the King of Rohan will need a spy in the future."
He laughed. That would be quite something, sending his own wife to sneak around enemy lines! But laughter gave soon way to other things when a more solemn mood came to him.
His wife.
The idea had never seemed more attractive, or more real as it did in this moment. For the concept had a face now and it held possibilities that he desired. Lothíriel in the Golden Hall, laughing and chatting in Rohirric to the general amazement of his people, and standing by his side as he pored over maps and making comments here and there about distant lands… wielding politics and diplomacy as her blade rather than hidden knives, rolling into his arms in the bed of the royal chambers, and telling stories to a pair of golden-haired children about her adventures… it all came to him more easily than ever. Before he had thought of marriage as a duty, now it was a chance.
Lothíriel looked at him curiously.
"What is it? What are you thinking of?" she asked him softly.
He met her eyes and smiled.
"Just imagining the time when we are married", he stated in warm tones. A gentle blush covered her cheeks, and she smiled too, as she reached her hand over the table to cover his own.
"I think", she said softly, with a bright shine in her eyes, "We are going to be very happy."
Hours did not seem slow when they were so glad, and so a happy morrow rolled at last to a gentle twilight. They talked about many things – of what would happen when they got to Dol Amroth, how their news would be received among their friends and families, and imagining a future they would share together. Lothíriel knew much of the Riddermark thanks to her aunt's teachings, but she was eager to hear what he had to tell about his homeland. And so Éomer spent a long while describing his country and the people living there, their many songs and golden sunrises over the green fields and autumn's first frost, and the way of life that was dear to him. Her eyes sparkled and she goaded him to tell her more, as though she could hardly wait to see the land of the horselords.
This peace was only broken when Éomer went out to get them some water and food – he had insisted to do this, for she needed to rest and let her wound heal. He had been as swift as he could, and as careful. As far as they knew, their safe haven remained unknown to their enemies. He hoped this was enough to keep them safe.
Avoiding pirates was not the only reason for his haste, though. He was eager to get back to her, because who knew how soon Imrahil's Swan Knights would arrive to collect them and thus end this rare opportunity of being alone? Éomer wondered if he should feel guilty for feeling so much happiness while Éothain must be losing his mind. But then, there was nothing he could do presently to help the situation.
Lothíriel waited for him by the fire. It was getting dark already and dancing embers cast their soft light across her face. She smiled when he came, reaching her hands for him as soon as he had put down the bucket and a new bundle of food. And he took her hand in his own and returned to her side right away.
It was not long after that she suggested they go to bed. The invitation was clear on her features and he was glad to join her. So he lay himself down next to her, content to let her decide the level of intimacy there would be tonight. He couldn't say he wasn't pleased when she reached for him and her lips found his. Some restraint there still was, but there are other ways for lovers to be close to one another in the dark, and rise above the stars for a while.
His sleep was light and sweet that night, but Éomer woke up just before dawn. Lothíriel still slumbered, curled up against him on her good side. Her face was pressed against his throat and her arm rested heavily across his hip, while their feet were tangled under the blankets. It was a pity to move away from such a pleasant arrangement, but he felt quite sharp and awake. And last night he had thought about getting more water today so that they could both have a wash. So, perhaps he could go and take care of that task now, when the city still slept and hopefully pirates did too?
So he disentangled himself from her arms as carefully as he could. Lothíriel mumbled softly in her sleep and fitted her face against his pillow. Éomer smiled as he rearranged blankets over her. For a moment he just stood there, marvelling over how right this felt. The warmth of her body still lingered against his and now that he was up, he dearly wanted to return to her arms. But he reminded himself they would have all the nights in the world with one another.
Éomer grabbed his boots and exited the bedchamber as quietly as he could. He did not bother lighting a candle yet – he may as well fetch the water now and then return to her side. It was still some time till dawn. Idly he picked up the sword he had taken from the captain and girthed it on his side. It would be a foolish idea to go out, even to fetch water, without some protection.
He found the buckets next to the door and lifted up them both. They were heavy even as empty and crudely made. He grimaced to himself in the dark as he imagined her dragging these things, filled with water. It was high time he pulled his own weight.
The pre-dawn hour was quiet and still. The air smelled a little moist with a breath from the sea. Were Imrahil's men close now? Would the man send one of his sons here, and would Éothain be coming, too? At least, Éomer imagined his captain would insist on it. He held back a snort. Imrahil might just have to put the man behind bars to hold him back. But it would be good: with his own Riders and Swan Knights, it would be no trouble rounding up the corsairs. At least, he hoped this could be achieved before the villains realised the danger.
The Rohir shook his head and headed down the stairs. He owed his captain quite an apology. He would try to be more careful from now on, and perhaps it would please Éothain to know that he was planning on marrying soon. The idea made him smile.
The pleasant thought was short lived and his smile froze. Buckets fell from his hands and landed on the ground with a thud. For Éomer had not got far from the safe house when he saw in grey light of dawn seven men approaching him in a narrow corridor, and foremost came none else than Shanum himself.
To be continued.
A/N: *happy sigh* Yes, I do love my cliffhangers. Sometimes they just write themselves.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Lothíriel and Éomer were able to figure out a lot of things about their relationship and where to go from here, but we'll see how this new development will impact everything. I especially enjoyed writing the bit from Lothíriel's POV in the beginning of the chapter and her reasoning - and then him showing to her how wrong she had it. But it was also great to have a look at it through Éomer's eyes and then write that conversation between them. I imagine they both understand a little better what they feel for each other.
Thank you for reading and reviewing!
MissCallaLilly - I'm glad you liked it! :)
Nerdanel - Kisses are good indeed! ;) Too bad their enemies have come to interrupt all the fun, though. Anyway, I'm flattered you think so highly of my writing! Thank you very much!
Doranwen - One step forward, and then two backwards, as it seems now? :D These pirates are not blessed with a good sense of timing.
A - Thank you!
Luckylily - Thank you! Happy to hear you liked it. :)
Anon - I would say it's moderately easy for him to accept her as a partner (and hopefully this chapter explains it a bit, too). He's well aware that what chances he has of making it safely out of this are with her and as a keen judge of character, he deems that she is worthy of his trust. At every turn, she has been fighting and struggling to help him and he is not indifferent to this. He sees things about her that she herself has not yet realised. And it's clear to him that going berserk, distrusting her and showing her that she doesn't have his faith, are only going to hurt both their chances. Not to mention, she is Imrahil's family. He probably thinks that beneath all subterfuge, she is more her father's daughter than her aunt's niece. Or, this is what he wanted to believe when he learned her identity, and is finding more proof for as they go along.
Also the reason he doesn't immediately connect the battle rage between his love of Éowyn and growing love of Lothíriel, is because of his fear of it. He tries not to think of it because in his mind it makes him lesser as a leader than he had thought. As such, he also doesn't make the necessary connection. But this is such deep meta that it's very hard to write that open in the story itself without exposing it to Éomer himself as well, and as a character he has not yet reached that level of understanding. Plus, he's still trying to figure this all out, because before the moment she got hurt he didn't even know how much he wants her to stay with him. Perhaps there is also some denial, because even if he wants her and desires to sleep beside her (latter of which is in good part because the poor man just needs some reassurance and comfort), she's making him feel things he hasn't before, and that is weird and scary for a man who has been alone for so long. But more on that later on!
sai19 - I am glad if the story delivered in the hoped way! I imagine Éothain is indeed having some rough time, but I want to retain some suspense in that regard for certain reasons that will hopefully soon be revealed!
EStrunk - Yes, they truly have some major problems in their hands now! Some of which may not have become even apparent yet. ;) And we'll see what will go down now that they are separated and Éomer is faced with their enemies again!
Jo - I do my best! :)
Merakia - I'm glad if I could surprise you with those twists! Lothíriel's revelations were indeed fascinating to write for me as well. It's really interesting to explore this character that can be fierce in one situation and who still has all this doubt and vulnerability in them. Anyway, I'm glad you liked that little bit!
Boramir - Oh, they have sent a message to Dol Amroth - she did so the very night they arrived in Pelargir and they have been waiting for reinforcements since then. But I've chosen to omit showing what impact it had and what's going on there. Mostly because I want to keep up a bit of suspense as to what's going on there and if help is coming!
