Part 2: Lost
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson
Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity. - Fíriel of Lebennin
Chapter 11
March 3021, Third Age of the Sun, Minas Tirith
"Éomer? Éomer! Are you in there? Open the window before I fall!"
The King of the Riddermark had been in the middle of making sure his things were all ready for the morrow, when the familiar and beloved voice of Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth called him from behind the window of his chamber. Smiling to himself, he was not terribly surprised that she was there, waiting for him to let her in. After all, the sly little smiles she had been giving him before had very much suggested he should probably expect a late night visit.
And there she was when he opened the window, dangling from a rope she had used to climb from the terrace above, and smiling at him like this was the most brilliant thing anyone had ever done. Dressed in midnight blue, she appeared to have been able to sneak all the way from her father's house, into palace, and then climb down without anyone seeing. Well, it was late and she was a sneaky, light-footed thing. And this wasn't the first time she had tiptoed into his room in the middle of night.
It was a good thing they were soon getting married. He didn't know how many more times they could have these late night rendezvouses without conceiving a child on her.
"My lady", he greeted her with feigned solemnity as he offered her his hand to help her in; she pulled at the rope and the knots gave out (he wondered where she had acquired Elvish rope, though probably Legolas was somehow involved), and she gathered it in a neat hank.
"Sire", she grinned as an answer, and as soon as she was in the room, she threw her arms about his neck and kissed him hard and long. The first time they had kissed, the way she responded had come as a surprise – though perhaps he should have known to expect it, considering it was her. It wasn't tender and gentle kind of thing one would have expected of a well-bred princess, though his bride was capable of that as well... when she wanted.
Needless to say, he loved it.
Yet when she pulled back, her smile was gone, which one would not expect after such a kiss. But he got an explanation soon enough.
"I still think we should marry now, tonight. I'm sick and tired of waiting", she grumbled, curling his hair about her fingers.
"Oh, don't I know that", he agreed and captured her lips for another kiss. "But perhaps it is for the better to wait a little bit more. The campaign shouldn't take very long – it's a month or two at the most. We'll be married as soon as I've returned."
"But in truth it's because half of Rohan would never forgive you if you got married in Minas Tirith and denied them the opportunity to drink themselves silly in our honour", she commented dryly, which made him laugh softly.
"That, my dear Princess, is not entirely untrue", he answered and kissed her again.
The summons had come one morning of late February. A rider from Mundburg had arrived to bring word from King Elessar to his good and trusted friend King Éomer, asking for his help and for the strength of his famed cavalry. The pirate activity had become more aggressive as of late, and even Pelargir was receiving attacks. Their assaults had fallen especially hard on the coasts, killing many and sending even more to flight; Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth were already brimming with refugees. The situation was unbearable and Aragorn had decided to purge the coasts while Imrahil's ships hunted on the seas. In all honesty, Éomer wasn't overjoyed about having to ride for war, as it forced them to postpone the wedding, but Aragorn was his friend, and he'd be damned if he ever denied Gondor in her need. Moreover, celebrating the wedding seemed all the more appropriate after the deeds of war were done.
So he had mustered the Rohirrim, and once again the Riders of Rohan had travelled east. They had made a stop at Mundburg to finish the plans for the campaign; Lothíriel had come from Dol Amroth as well, and apparently she had shared many arguments with her father, insisting she wanted to ride for war too. But according to Imrahil that would have been too much, and anyway she still had preparations to make before the wedding. To say she had been displeased to hear not only would the wedding be postponed but also that she would have to stay behind was an understatement, but even she didn't have the gall to argue with King Elessar, who had gently pleaded her to stay behind. Well, not much at least. During the dinner tonight, she had given the man a long and sharp look and informed him that if something ever happened to her husband-to-be, she'd consider Aragorn personally responsible.
At her words, Aragorn had smiled, and said: "Fear not, Princess. Your betrothed has survived worse dangers than the one we are facing."
"Hmph. My words still stand, though", Lothíriel had announced briskly and skewered a piece of chicken on her plate in a rather violent fashion.
When the kiss ended, the look on her face had become soft again... and there, deep in her grey eyes, Éomer could see something he had not seen there before. It was fear. Most of the time, he would forget this lioness of a woman was even capable of such emotion. Ever so gently, he brushed a hand across her cheek, and then settled it on her neck.
"Don't look so sad, beloved. I'll be back soon", he told her in warm tones. "There is no power strong enough in this world to prevent me from returning to you, if there is one breath of life left in me."
"I know", she murmured. "You never give up, my dear stubborn King."
He smiled at that.
"Indeed I don't", he said lightly. "And that is why I won your consent, did I not?"
Lothíriel made a sound between a chuckle and a snort.
"Oh, yes. Right from the moment you first saw me, you never stopped chasing after me", she said, and fear in her eyes was replaced with mirth. Now looking back, especially at that time she had tried to flee from him, merely seemed amusing. It was a topic for many funny tales to tell their children, to say the very least.
"Well, what is a man supposed to do when a beautiful woman rides from the shadows of the evening, shooting arrows as she goes, and then proceeds to take down an orc right behind the said man?" Éomer asked, reminiscing that evening when he had first seen her.
"I thought you deemed me mad. I didn't realise I actually left a positive impression on you", she commented, grinning at him.
"Of course I deemed you mad. To be honest, I still don't believe I was wrong to think so", Éomer said and gave her a charming smile, which made her punch his shoulder. He kissed her nevertheless, and then rested his forehead against hers. "You may be deranged, dear madwoman of mine, but that doesn't make me love you any less."
His beloved bride chortled at his words. Her clever fingers found their way to the fastening of his coat, and she began to work over it.
"They do say that madness attracts more of its kind", she told him nonchalantly, pulling the fastening undone.
"That sounds something like you only just came up with from the top of your head", he answered, shrugging his coat from his shoulders.
"But it's true, Sire, as far as you're concerned", Lothíriel answered, grinning at him again. "Everyone keeps telling me you're mental. Éowyn says so too, and she's never wrong. And if half of the things I hear you did in the Battle of Pelennor Fields is true, then I can but contend you indeed are quite mad."
"Nonsense. Éowyn is a biased source of information anyway", said Éomer as he unfastened the brooch of her dark cloak.
"Then how do you explain that time you blindfolded me and made love to me in the stables of Dol Amroth while everyone – my brothers included – were outside looking for you?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows.
"You seem to forget that we had been parted for months. I just missed you a lot", he said innocently.
"That you did, beloved. I think I still have your fingerprints instilled to my bottom", she muttered, undoing the lacing on the front of his linen shirt. "What of the insane feats you performed to make me agree to marry you?"
"It's a lovely bottom, but you know that already... as for my actions when I wooed you, Lady Archer, that was dedication", he answered. "Do you think your father would appreciate yet another serenade under your window in the middle of night?"
"Your singing voice is very beautiful, but I'm afraid Father might throw his boots at you if you sneak into his garden to conjure more music", Lothíriel said. She giggled then, "and you're lucky that my family doesn't know Rohirric to realise what you actually sang to me last time."
"It's your own fault for daring me", he murmured into her hair as he sought her earlobe with his lips. "You know very well that I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to you."
"Oh, I do", Lothíriel moaned. She had finally undone the lacing of his shirt, which he pulled over his head and threw away. Meanwhile she was concentrating on his breeches. His bride nibbled at his lower lip, and smiled: "Your lack of self-control is one of the many things I truly adore in you, Sire."
"You ought to, considering how eagerly you provoke it", he growled, seeking for the hems of her gown.
"Don't pretend you don't like it", she said. "Though I still wonder how little provocation it took to make you kiss me for the third time."
"We were alone in the garden, it was a lovely night, and you were very beautiful", he answered. Finally, her gown pooled about her feet – she hadn't even bothered to put on an underskirt, the wanton thing – she was uncovered at last.
"And you had drunk a fair amount of wine", she reminded him. "You tasted like south that night."
"Of course I had lots of wine. Otherwise I might have grabbed you in the middle of a dance floor and Béma knows what I'd have done then", he told her. "And what horrifying behaviour that would have been, with Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond watching."
"Horrifying indeed", she breathed, looking up at him with eyes darkened by desire, "but I'm not sure I'd have minded."
He growled as an answer to that; conversing was starting to become bothersome. He wanted her, now.
She appeared to share his sentiment, for she pushed him to the bed and followed behind, settling to straddle his hips... and for the longest time, no more words were exchanged.
Apparently, he had dozed off for a bit, for which he scolded himself as he returned to waking world. It was the last night he'd have with his wife-to-be in some time, and here he was wasting it by snoring away! Lothíriel was awake, however. When he stirred, she looked up at him... and a wave of tenderness washed over him as he looked at her. She was safely nestled in the crook of his arm, and her warm body was pressed against his own.
He remembered the first time they had lain together like a husband a wife. It had taken place almost a year ago now, in the woods of Cormallen... he had ridden from Rohan to participate in the celebrations for the fall of Sauron, as had many other veterans of the War of the Ring. There, on one night of summer, she had lead him into the forest... and under the moon and the stars, she had asked to have him. Though they had taken their chances whenever they had been able after that, he still considered that night in the woods the happiest of his life. He knew it was not at all the Gondorian way of betrothal, and intimacy was something for only married couples... but then, Lothíriel did not often follow the way things usually were done. She had decided to marry him, and he suspected that in her eyes the mere decision was as abiding as the vows of marriage. In other words, it didn't matter whether they waited until the wedding night or not, for he was already hers.
During their courtship and betrothal, he had watched her flourish and grow. Gone was that incomprehensible girl who was a bizarre mixture of confidence and insecurity... replaced by this fierce Lioness he loved more with each day that passed. Indeed she had learned the steadfastness of her heart and will, and he knew she'd make a wonderful queen when the blessed day came that they were husband and wife. Sometimes, it was overwhelming to understand it was his entrance to her life that had helped her to find this place where she shined. And even more he was grateful that she had let him in her heart and showed him what strength and light she carried inside.
"I thought you had fallen asleep already", Lothíriel said, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"I did visit the realm of dreams for a bit... but decided it was better here than there", Éomer answered. He rolled to lay on his side, pulling her closer. Limbs entangling, they rested in each other's arms. Idly he considered the possibility of stealing her and wedding her right away. Maybe he'd be able to ride after Aragorn in about a week? But then she kissed him, and he thought: make that two weeks.
"I need to go soon", she said after a moment, though he could see just how much she wanted to stay.
"Aye", he agreed nonetheless. Though they were betrothed to be married, he still knew his bed was not the place for her to be found in when the morning came. Gondorians could be so uptight about things like that.
"You'll be careful?" Lothíriel asked quietly, worry shining in her eyes.
"Of course. I always am", Éomer reassured her. "And when I do come back, I'll marry you."
She smiled at that and rested a hand on his cheek.
"May that day come soon", said the Princess softly. "I love you, Éomer."
"I love you too, Lothíriel."
Soon afterwards, she left... and for the longest time, he stood by the window, watching her shadowy figure climb down, hurry through the garden below, and then disappear.
On the morrow, he'd ride for war.
A/N: And here's a quick-ish update, as I promised! I treat you, my dear readers, with a bit of romance before we plunge properly into this part of the story. I have a feeling it will be very much needed, and it will perhaps make more sense when you read ahead. I present this chapter as a separate from the last and the next, because honestly I don't think this amorous encounter would have fit in with either of the chapters around it. Anyway, we'll return to the usual length in the next chapter.
Our lovers have indeed taken that next step in their relationship, but when I considered this matter I quickly decided it was something they would do. After all, their courtship was hardly the traditional sort, and Lothíriel at least is the kind of person when she has set her heart on something, that's the course she'll follow in fierce determination. Like Éomer muses, in her eyes just the agreement to marriage is as valid as the actual vows. I would also imagine that the scene by the river in the beginning of their story would have mostly stripped them of the kind of modesty that lovers might feel before their first time together. And anyway, they have been so straightforward with each other all the time, that from their point of view including the physical aspect to their relationship doesn't seem very dramatic change anyway (though I'm sure they've taken precautions to make sure there's no accidental pregnancies. That would be difficult to explain).
As usual, thanks for the comments! Hope you liked this chapter!
Inspiration for the chapter: Hans Zimmer - And Then I Kissed Him
Quote in the beginning originally by Henry van Dyke.
Sandy-wmd - Ominous certainly was my intention! :)
solar1 - Yeah, I realised it might come as a disappointment that I didn't write that scene into the story. I'll consider writing it as an aside, but I'll make no promises!
Le Pleiade - As a writer I am pleased to hear I was able to move you so! Hopefully this chapter cheers you up at least. :)
Elealyon - Thanks for your comments! I'm glad to see you continue to enjoy the story! :) Also I'm happy to hear you appreciate the writing choice I made by not including the actual scene of proposal/agreement. But if more people are so anxious to see it, I may just have to consider writing it after all. As to how Éomer reacted to the scene, he did react exactly as you said - with amazement and admiration. I believe the crowd present shared the sentiment, because I see Rohirrim as people who appreciate that kind of boldness, and this kind of scene was probably more than welcome anyway after the heavy times of war.
I would really love to answer to your comments about "what comes next", but I don't want to spoil anything. Nevertheless, your remarks are very interesting and I appreciate it very much. Only thing I can say is that I must let the story itself answer to your thoughts!
Wondereye - I thought so as well. She's the kind of person who, if she decides to agree to marriage, would do it just in such a way.
I'm not sure if Éothain noticed her - he was probably close to his king and was likely busy supervising the crowd, so probably he didn't have time to see Lothíriel in the crowd. As for how long it was since Éomer's last visit, I'm thinking maybe month or two.