Give me silence, water, hope
- "The Poetess"
Chapter 32
Pelargir. There it stood on the banks of Anduin, bathed in the light of setting sun and unchanged in its comings and goings, just as Lothíriel remembered it. But then, she had not expected to see the city altered. Perhaps she was just looking at it differently – with different eyes.
Perhaps she had left it behind a different person than she was now.
"There it is at last", she said softly to the man standing beside her by the railing. He had pulled up his hood, which shadowed his face. One would have needed Elven eyes to spot him this far, but Éomer of now was nothing if not mistrustful.
He hemmed under his breath, his eyes fixed on the port that guarded the mouth of Anduin.
"I have half a mind to ask you to kick me. Surely I am still in that damned cage and am just dreaming this?" Éomer said quietly. He still had these moments when he'd look about himself in wonder as though he couldn't bring himself to believe it was real.
"Hopefully not. If I had to make that journey again, I might just scream", she told him and leaned over to pat his hand gently. When she was about to pull back her hand again he suddenly turned his fingers and caught hers in his for a moment, holding on to her... it was encouraging, that he was starting to initiate touches. Perhaps it meant soon she could even kiss him again.
He was looking at her now and she saw a brief softening in his eyes, at which she smiled. That was a look she knew.
"I know I should have trusted you", he murmured, the hold of his fingers about hers turning tighter, "and know that you would not give up on me."
She met his gaze, hoping that he might see what she felt on her face, and reached to him with her other hand as well.
"I believe in you, my dear man", she told him. Under the shadow of his hood the corners of his mouth lifted, and they fell into a soft companionable silence as Wrath of Sea glided towards the harbour of Pelargir.
Éowyn came to stand with them after a while. She looked ahead with a determined little frown on her face, as though her will could bring the ship faster to the port.
"I can't tell how happy I am to see the city. Once we get to Minas Tirith, I will not be stepping into another ship for a year at least", she announced. At her words, Éomer grunted in what could only be fierce agreement. Lothíriel supposed that feeling was understandable after the tumultuous voyage - she was not going to forget it any time soon, either.
Erchirion came then, smiling at his sister. For the first days after their reunion he had scarcely let her out of his sight. He did not say it out loud, but she knew her brother and was well aware he didn't approve of the way she had willfully left to look for Éomer. But since the quest had been successful, he had not reproached her in any way. Not to mention, she guessed Erchirion felt it might have sent the wrong message to her betrothed and Éowyn.
"We will be arriving to the port soon. You needn't stay behind to wait for me – I'll find you at Aunt's house later", he said and reached over to hug his sister. Hugs were another thing that had been in abundance lately.
"Relax, brother. It's not like we're leaving for Minas Tirith tomorrow", she told him. As the doors of Aunt Ivriniel's house in Pelargir were always open to her family members even if she wasn't in residence herself, they had decided to make a stop there for a couple of days before heading upriver to Minas Tirith. For one, Erchirion had said food supplies had to be purchased, and he wanted to make sure the ship had not suffered any damage during the wayward journeys in south. And a fairly big reason was that they were trying to take things slow and give time to Éomer to adjust to the idea of going home. That was, after all, so much more tangible now that the sea and the lands of south were behind, and they were about to step on Gondorian soil.
Erchirion gave her a quick smile and then he went to oversee to the landing, and the travellers stood in silence by the railing. Aragorn came as well and between them there seemed to be a quiet companionship. But in addition to that there was something else too.
"Do you feel that?" Lothíriel asked. "It's like something big is about to end."
"Now you're being dramatic. There are still long ways to go before any of us really are home", Éowyn pointed out, leaning her elbows on the railing.
"Well, it is an end of one thing", said the princess. "First of all I'm expecting no more delays and setbacks, and if anyone hopes tomorrow I'll be up any earlier than mid-morning, I can assure you it's not going to happen."
"Hmm. That sounds like a good plan. I haven't slept very well since the night I last saw Faramir", her friend replied.
Lothíriel glanced at Éomer then and saw him looking not towards the city but down into the waters, his knuckles white for the tightness of his grip on the railing. She touched his arm gently and asked softly: "Everything all right?"
"Aye. Don't worry about me", he murmured, letting out a deep breath. His arm eventually relaxed when she rubbed it gently with her hand.
"It's going to be fine. We'll go slowly, and in your terms. You only need to say so if you want to slow down. I am here for you", she said so that only he heard. He merely nodded as an answer.
At last the ship glided into the port. As the sun was setting the harbour was not so busy as it was during the bright hours of the day, and when Lothíriel considered it, she thought perhaps it was good they were not surrounded by so many people. Her beloved was on the edge and she had already learned this mood was not improved by large gatherings. The sooner they got to Aunt's house, the better.
When the ship had docked and the men were in the process of fastening the ropes to the pier, Erchirion came to the four travellers before they started for Aunt Ivriniel's house.
"Here we are. It feels good, doesn't it?" he asked.
"Oh yes, it does", Lothíriel heartily agreed. She regarded her brother and a wave of affection for him went over her. "Thank you, Erchirion. Hadn't you been there..."
"But I was, and now we're almost home. And we'll see Father and others soon", he told her gently. He reached over to give her a hug and she held him tight for a moment.
Erchirion smiled, "Now, go ahead. I will see you later."
Aragorn went ahead before them, to take a look around – he didn't say it out loud but Lothíriel knew it was because he wanted to make sure they could take the quietest way to Aunt's house. This too pertained to the idea of taking things slow and letting Éomer adjust to things on his own time. And one of those things was people, which worried her in the quiet of her thoughts. She was sure Aragorn had noticed it as well and was similarly concerned. If her beloved was having hard time dealing with other people... how was he to face all the formalities and ceremonies that were surely waiting for them once they reached Minas Tirith?
It felt slightly unreal to step on the brow and then walk it down to the pier. She let out a small breath when she felt the solid ground under her feet, as though she had come to the end of some circle. They had made it. The princess glanced about the faces of her companions: here they were at last and the reason for their journey was there by her arm's reach.
Had she pictured this event then, on that night they had left Pelargir and turned their eyes towards the city of Umbar, she'd probably have thought that Éomer would walk side by side with her, perhaps clasping her hand in his own, and regard the city with wonder and hopefulness. The reality was different: he walked with his hood on, so that what might pass on his face was unknown to her, and the only thing he was grasping to was the hilt of his sword. Though they had Gondorian soil under their feet now and dangers were past, he was not at peace.
She considered him and so didn't notice where she was walking – suddenly, she ran right into a man whose looks betrayed he could only be a sailor. He was slightly taller than average and of wide shoulder as well, dressed in a motley garb that looked like each piece of it had been picked up at a different harbour.
"Hello there, lassie, where you dashing like that?" he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Excuse me", Lothíriel muttered and tried to step past him, but the sailor's grip turned tighter.
"What's the hurry? Don't run like that, lass!" he said and smiled at her in a way that was probably supposed to be charming.
"Let me go", she told him and yanked at his hold, trying to get herself free and wondering if she should hit him over the head with her bow. Then suddenly there was a growl, and he came like some great beast charging. Lothíriel had time to see the terror on the face of the man who had caught her shoulder... and then the sailor was dealt a blow of fist enough to drop him on his knees. A strong arm grabbed her so fast that breath was knocked out of her – she let out an ungraceful "unf" – and was pulled behind the tall and utterly dangerous figure of Éomer of Rohan.
"Don't you dare touch her", he snarled and was all but grabbing his sword, out of control in a way she had never seen him before, and quickly she latched on his arm.
"No! He didn't do anything – there's no reason for you to -" she quickly spoke, when suddenly there came a new voice.
"You there! What do you think you're doing!" called another sailor, apparently a friend to the one who had stopped her. With him came three more of the same kind.
"Is this your friend here?" Éomer asked in a low voice, which she recognised as being terribly unsafe. Silently she prayed the sailors would realise that too, and get gone before this turned out bad.
"Yes, and what is your business hitting him like so?" demanded the first sailor's friend. The punched man was holding on to his nose, which was bleeding.
"He needs to learn his boundaries", said her horselord curtly, his hand still on the hilt of his sword, and she had no doubt he wouldn't draw it if she let go of him.
"Brother, please, we don't have time for this", hissed Éowyn – she had dashed back as well and looked similarly ready to jump between her brother and the sailors as Lothíriel.
"Little lady, your brother just did make time", said one of the sailors, at which words Éowyn's eyes flashed dangerously towards them. "Little lady" was indeed perhaps the most absurd thing Lothíriel had ever heard in relation to her friend. And it was also about the worst thing these men could have called her.
"You get gone, or this little lady is going to hand your behinds to you", said the Slayer of the Witch-king, straightening in a way that seemed to make her grow seven feet tall, and Lothíriel was reminded just how intimidating these two siblings could be. Between them, the mariners did not stand a chance. There in both their gazes was a challenge, and the princess exchanged a startled glance with Aragorn, who had just returned to the docks. His expression implied he was ready to announce himself to calm down the situation.
It all could have turned out bad had Erchirion not interrupted the scene that very moment
"Is there a problem here?" he called in a strong voice from the railing of his ship. Thankfully, the company had not yet departed far from the vessel, and so him or one of his men had noticed the makings of a fight on the pier. Around him hovered several of his crew-members, and more appeared.
The sailor, the one who had called to Éomer when he had punched the first one, quickly re-evaluated the scene.
"Not at all, my lord", he said quickly.
"That is good. Now get you gone, all of you, and don't let me catch you brawling here again", Erchirion ordered like he owned the pier, but at any rate it did seem to do the trick. The sailors picked up their friend and Lothíriel linked her arm with that of Éomer; she felt he was still tense, but he let her lead him away.
When they started at last for Aunt's house, she glanced back over her shoulder to her brother's ship. He remained by the railing, gazing quietly after them... or, to be precise, after the tall Rohir by her side.
The rest of the way to the house was made without further conflicts. No words were spoken either and the silence was uneasy as they walked. The scene back at the docks had rattled them all, though in different ways.
By the time they got to Aunt's house the sun had already set. The sight of the familiar building had never been more welcome, and seeing it Lothíriel breathed again as though letting go of another burden. She glanced about her companions, "Maybe I should go first. I don't think they're expecting anyone at this late hour, so I think I should announce myself first lest they are startled."
As far as she knew, the house should be empty except for the two household members who maintained it. If this motley crowd appeared at the gate, they might even take her company for some miscreants looking to pillage Aunt's house.
"Go ahead. We will wait here", Aragorn said quietly. She touched quickly her beloved's arm and then moved forward.
The gate to the small courtyard of the house was closed, and when she knocked at it Lothíriel wondered if she would have to engage in some feat of acrobatics and climbing to get inside. After all, both Medliel and her father were gaining on years, so they might not hear her knocking at the gate. She was not left guessing for long, as suddenly a smaller hatch in the door was opened.
"Who's there?" asked the guard, peering into the shadows of the evening.
"Is Lady Ivriniel in residence?" she asked back carefully. Suddenly she felt worried: what if this guard wouldn't believe her? She didn't this guard's face and he could very well take her for a thief or a madwoman.
"No. Now state your business or get gone", he replied.
"I'm her niece. Princess Lothíriel. I've returned and I need shelter", she said. It sounded foolish even to her own ears, and granted, the guard threw close the hatch before her eyes. But even as disappointment fell down on her and she tried to come up with something, the gate was opened.
"Welcome back, my lady Princess", said the guard, bowing at her as she stared at him in surprise. She certainly hadn't thought it would go so easily.
"I beg your pardon, but aren't you supposed to tell me I'm a liar and a thief, or something of the sort?" she asked dubiously. That brought a faint smile to his face.
"I would have, my lady, but when he sent me and my partner here, your father the Prince said you might come here looking for shelter upon your return", he said. "Moreover, after serving as a guard in Dol Amroth for many years I do recognise the faces of all the members of Prince Imrahil's family."
Powerful relief washed over her and she grinned at the guard. Trust her father take care of everything, even things she hadn't even thought!
"That makes me so glad I could jump and kiss you", she said, which did seem to take him by surprise. "At any rate I take this to mean none of my family are here?"
"No, my lady. The house is empty except for one guard in addition to me and the household keepers", he replied.
"And Captain Éothain? He has gone too?" she asked, though she knew it was a wild hope.
"Indeed he has, Lady Princess. He travelled to his own realm after he had recovered enough", said the guard. That was somewhat disappointing as she had hoped Éomer might reunite with his faithful captain here, or maybe at least in Minas Tirith, but obviously that would have to wait.
"Very well then", she said, rubbing her forehead. "I did not come here all alone, though. Would you mind keeping the gate open while I go and get my friends?"
"Of course not, my lady", he answered.
It took only a few moments for her to get back to the shadowy corner where the others were waiting, and then lead them back to the gate and the house. If such a company came as a surprise to the guard it did not show on his face – perhaps Father had told him to expect this as well.
Still, when they were making for the house, Éomer leaned towards her and asked quietly: "Can these people be trusted?"
"Of course. The only people they are likely tell of our presence are my aunt and father, and I think we can agree they at least know to keep quiet as long as it's needed", she consoled him gently, and he seemed satisfied with that answer.
The old house was quiet and dark, but the noises from the courtyard had alarmed Medliel, the woman who acted as something of a chatelaine here; either she had not yet gone to bed or was a light sleeper. She came to the hall carrying a candle.
"Who is there? Who comes at this hour?" she asked cautiously. Lothíriel stepped forward so that the candlelight might illuminate her face.
"It's me, Medliel. We have returned", she said, which brought a large smile to the woman's face.
"Lady Lothíriel! Oh, what a delight!" Medliel exclaimed and reached to give her a one-armed hug, mindful of the candle. Her smile only grew when she pulled back to regard the princess. "Your lord father said you might come here, though I must admit I did not dare to be so hopeful. But what have done to your hair?"
"I sort of cut it", Lothíriel said sheepishly.
"Hm! Mistress is going to give you an earful when she sees", said the chatelaine and shook her head. Then she looked over to the other three shadowy figures. "Is it the King Elessar and Lady Éowyn I see here with you?"
"Oh, it is them indeed. And we found what we went to look for", the princess answered, glancing to Éomer who stood furthest back, half-shrouded in shadow but unmistakable with his height and bearing.
"Sweet Elbereth! You, my lady, are something else – though I suppose I should have known to expect you'd do such a thing and even succeed... still, I'm afraid our humble home is not quite ready for a gathering so high", Medliel said, shaking her head.
"It's all right. After our journey a homestead would seem like a palace", Lothíriel said. "Though we don't really need a palace. We're trying not to raise attention."
"Of course. All the city would come swarming at our doors if your presence became the common knowledge..." Medliel agreed. "What a night! Now my lords and ladies, please come in! I'll go wake up my father, and he shall prepare something to eat for you while I make sure chambers are ready. Like I said, we are quite unprepared but we will do our best..."
The late night supper was indeed not very grand but after simple and rationed food on Erchirion's ship it seemed like a feast. For the comfort's sake they took it in the kitchens, which had probably never seen such a high and travel-worn gathering. Lothíriel thought it was nice actually: the place was cosy and the embers in the stoves brought warm light to the shadows. Not to mention, past month she had usually taken her supper in much less comfortable conditions. Getting used to the great halls and five course dinners would take some time.
That calm atmosphere did not last long, however, as Aragorn eventually looked up from his supper and regarded his fellow king.
"My friend, what happened back in the port? Why did you lash out in such a way?" he asked. Lothíriel quickly turned to look at Éomer and saw just the slightest tightening about his expression. The shift was minimal but she knew his face well enough to notice it, and understand its meaning.
"I am sorry for my behaviour. I don't know what overcame me", he muttered and looked away.
"It's fine. We're all tired and the journey has been long. It's understandable if our nerves were a bit tight there", Lothíriel hurried to put in, glancing from her beloved to her liege-lord, who was still frowning.
"Of course. It's merely that we ought to be more careful, lest we expose ourselves before it is the right time", Aragorn said softly. "We do not need that kind of attention just yet."
Éomer grunted half-audibly in agreement and spoke no more, and his sister and Elessar appeared to understand now was perhaps not the best moment for the conversation at hand. Then thankfully Erchirion arrived and though the brief frown on his face revealed he sensed the tenseness of the atmosphere, he skilfully engaged Aragorn in a conversation about their journey up Anduin. But Lothíriel noticed Éomer putting his half-eaten portion away, and he did not touch it again that night. Though he was staring somewhere into the darkness and she couldn't see his eyes, she knew enough from reading the set of his shoulders.
Her beloved did not speak much more than that as the night grew. But when Medliel came to say chambers were ready and it was agreed sleep was what they all needed, he quietly came to Lothíriel. She didn't at first understand what was on his mind and the look on his face was not easily read, but suddenly it occurred to her: each night since they had found him she had given him a hug before she went to sleep. And he had grown accustomed to expect it.
So she wrapped arms about him and held him tight for a moment.
"We're here now", she murmured. "It's going to be all right."
Her beloved made a soft noise at the back of his throat as an answer, and she couldn't really tell if that was in agreement or not. He held on to her for a long while and she began to wonder if it was because he didn't want to let go. Whatever it was, she let him stay there.
Eventually, Éomer pulled back slightly and kissed her forehead. One instance there was, when he was looking down at her and she thought she saw something beyond the shadow in his eyes, that she thought he might even properly kiss her. But that instance passed and he moved away.
"Good night, Lothíriel", he told her softly, and then he was gone.
She had thought perhaps she would not be able to fall asleep – that her mind would be too restless and full of noise, not to mention concern for her beloved. However, the moment Lothíriel had placed her head on her pillow, she had drifted into a dreamless sleep that continued undisturbed all the way to morning.
Light of the new day tickled her face as she awakened. One drowsy moment she spent wondering when had been the last she had even seen a proper bed. Then she thought of a long hot bath she'd take after a breakfast, which thought did bring her pleasure. It truly felt good to be back in the world she knew.
After a quick wash she dressed and tried to comb some order into the catastrophe that was her hair, but those attempts were mostly in vain - it was still stubbornly sticking to every direction. Medliel had been right: Aunt Ivriniel would be most displeased to see what she had done to her hair.
Soon her thoughts turned away from that, though. She took note of how tanned she looked, how her face had become narrower. Just one look to her appearance confirmed where she had been.
I wonder if any of us returned unchanged from that journey.
Lothíriel pushed aside those thoughts and decided to go and hunt for some breakfast. Others were not up yet as far as she could see, which she guessed was because they were all catching some rest the stress and uncertainty of their journey had not allowed before now.
As she wandered through the house she came to the hall, and from the window she saw Éomer in the courtyard, sparring with one of the two guards her father had sent here. This morning routine apparently remained important as ever, though she also wondered if he had slept at all. While she could understand why it was difficult for him to sleep, it also troubled her.
A thought came to her then and Lothíriel made a quick raid to the kitchens. When she was supplied with some breakfast, she returned to the hall and stepped outside into the fresh air of late August. Instead of announcing herself right away she stopped to quietly watch the two men spar in the courtyard. It was hardly ideal for that activity, especially considering how small it was, but this did not hinder the two. The guard had to work rather hard to keep up with his opponent, but that did not come as a surprise to her. For one, being posted here probably offered little to no opportunities for keeping up one's swordsmanship, and the man he was sparring with was a master of that skill.
When they finished their session, Lothíriel stepped forward.
"Good morning. Care to have some breakfast?" she asked Éomer, smiling as she lifted up the basket she had filled with food. An expression briefly touched his face that she had already learned to interpret as a smile.
"Gladly", he replied and came to sit with her on the stairs. She uncovered the basket and offered him with bits and pieces of her bounty, all of which he accepted quietly.
After a while, she turned to regard him.
"Did you sleep well?" Lothíriel asked, though the real question in her mind was did you sleep at all.
The way he shrugged was telling indeed.
"For a couple of hours", he said, keeping his eyes on his food. Somehow he was able to make it sound like it was nothing, and she frowned.
"You know, if you have trouble sleeping... I could stay up with you, if you wanted", she told him softly. Now he turned his eyes to consider her.
"You shouldn't lose sleep because of me", Éomer replied and then looked away again. More often than not these days it felt like he didn't really want to look at her. She didn't know why that was, but it worried her. He continued, "And you shouldn't worry for me so much."
"How do you suggest I do that? You can't ask me to stop caring about you", Lothíriel said and there was a sharp edge in her voice she had not intended to convey, and quickly he looked at her again. He seemed startled, much to her dismay - she had not wanted to make him feel uneasy.
Tension dissolved, however, when she leaned closer to touch his arm. She rubbed it gently and spoke: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Maybe I am not giving you enough space... you're allowed to be angry and hurt and unwell, and I don't expect you to instantly get better. Just remember you don't have to be alone. We are here for you, and you only have to ask if you need anything. You can lean on me, beloved."
Her dear horselord did not say anything right away. Quietly he put aside his food, pulled her into the circle of his arms and rested his cheek against her head. When after a while she shifted so that she could look at his face, she saw he had lowered his guard... if only a little bit.
"You are a precious woman", Éomer told her quietly. "I don't tell you that nearly enough."
As an answer she smiled to him and reached over to kiss his cheek.
"What would you say about some more sparring after we've eaten? I think I could use some practice", she said hopefully. He nodded.
"That would be nice."
The day was spent quietly for the most parts. After the long journey some peace was welcome, and Aragorn still maintained the necessity of moving slow. What had happened back in the harbour at least seemed to prove that, and so not they did not talk much about travelling to Minas Tirith.
"Actually I thought perhaps it'd be better if we called those closest to us here. Arwen, Faramir, Imrahil... they must be anxiously hoping for tidings of us, and I think we should reunite with our families here while we have some privacy. There will be very little peace once we get to Minas Tirith", said the King of Gondor and Arnor, at which others had nothing to say against. For one, it would give them more time here in Pelargir.
On the other hand Lothíriel did wonder quietly to herself if more time could help now, especially when she spied her beloved pacing anxiously in the hall, looking a bit like a great beast looking for a way out. She frowned to herself and considered perhaps leisure was not so good either. But what was, she had to ask, if moving forward was equally uncertain? If only she had known how to make him feel better!
It was probably these troubled thoughts which kept her awake that night, and eventually she exited the bed and put on some clothes. Then she tiptoed out of her room.
The night had brought rain to Pelargir; there was a quiet pattering sound against the windows as she silently made way down the hall. The air felt like it was breathing in time with the rain, as though lapping over the city in cool, moist waves. It was very different than the dry, dusty air of the south.
Her arrival to Éomer's door chased away thoughts of rain, though. It was slightly ajar and a quick peek inside confirmed he was not there. This did not surprise her and so she went on, wondering where he might have gone at this late hour. Disconcerting alternatives occurred to her, but she told herself he'd not just disappear from the house without saying anything.
In the hall she saw one of the twin doors of the main entrance half-way open. Breath of moist air came inside, whispering of autumn. It made her shiver and she went to close the door, but when she looked out, she saw her beloved.
He stood outside in the pouring rain. He had cast his face upwards and stood there as still as if he were a statue.
"Éomer! Come inside!" she called him but he didn't seem to hear her. But as she hurried to his side she saw his shoulders were relaxed, and so she dared to touch him unannounced.
Reaching for his hand, she asked: "Please come inside."
It almost looked like he didn't hear her, for he did not move or answer at first. Her hold of his hand became tighter, and it was as though her touch finally called him back from whatever strange paths his mind had travelled on. Even so, he didn't open his eyes when he spoke, "I have missed the rain."
"But you're soaking wet now. Please come back inside with me – you can't catch cold just before we are meant to leave for Minas Tirith. Believe me, I know these autumn rains here on the coast", Lothíriel told him and pulled at his hand, and he let her lead him inside. A small pool of water quickly formed by his feet.
"Your skin feels so cold!" she bemoaned when she felt the skin of his hand. "Go and get changed into something dry. I'll make you some tea to warm you up."
Her order brought a shadow of a smile to Éomer's face but he complied, heading to his chamber to get rid of his wet clothes. Meanwhile, she made for the kitchens, which were quiet and empty at this late hour.
As soon as she had a fire going, she looked for a kettle, which she found from one of the cupboards. Lothíriel was not particularly knowledgeable in the kitchens, though her games with her brothers had equipped her with some basic skills, and during the long journey to south and back she had learned more about cooking than she had ever thought she would.
With the hot water in the making she searched about the cupboards some more in the hopes of finding ingredients for a late night meal. If he was up so late, she didn't think Éomer was about to go to bed any time soon, and she might as well keep him company. It would just as hard for her to get sleep when she was worrying about him.
Lothíriel had just about gathered ingredients for an omelette, as eggs were one of the few things she had been able to find, when Éomer joined her in the kitchen. He had changed into dry clothes and she evaluated he looked to be feeling slightly better tonight. Maybe there had been some healing enchantment in the rain, after all.
"Hello there. I was just starting to make us an omelette. Would that suit you?" she asked, smiling when she saw him.
"Of course", he replied. A slight frown appeared on his face and firmly he spoke: "Let me do that for you."
She decided it was for the better to let him win this argument. So she moved away from the counter and took a seat nearby, so that she could watch him work. Otherwise, she would probably just be on his way.
"I didn't know you can cook", she commented as she watched him prepare the food. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"All riders are required to know how to fix a supper", he said nonchalantly. "In an éored, all men have their tasks, but everyone is also expected to handle a set of some basic skills, such as cooking, making fires, tracking, fixing things... you never know when a man might fall in a battle, and the survival and functioning of the rest of the éored cannot depend on him. So yes, I know how to cook. It was my duty for a while when I was a young rider."
Lothíriel nodded thoughtfully and regarded him silently, trying to imagine his earliest days as a Rider. Somehow, it wasn't possible to picture him doing anything else. Éomer lifted his eyebrows.
"What?" he asked.
"I was just thinking... there's still so many things about you and your world I don't know. Like this – I wouldn't have guessed you know your way around in a kitchen", she explained. A frown touched her face, "Do you often miss that life? When you were a young rider?"
He kept his eyes on the task at hand and replied only after a moment of silence.
"I do. Sometimes I miss it. Everything was so much simpler back then..." he murmured. But then he looked up and turned his gaze toward her, and a small smile was there on his features, "But the present has some things so overwhelmingly wonderful that I would not go back in time, even if I could."
Éomer approached her then, and he leaned down to kiss her brow. When he pulled back and was still hovering close to her, he said quietly, "A fairly large part of those wonderful things are you."
She pulled him closer into that space between her thighs and sneaked her arms about him.
"You do know how to talk to a woman", she said, not quite able to tone down the invitation in her voice. The food could wait...
But then she saw something troubled move in his eyes, and she knew she had to let him go. So she let her arms drop and he retreated from her embrace. Stinging disappointment was left in the place of desire. But then Lothíriel shook herself. She had to give him time; it was a wonder that he was letting her touch him at all.
She turned to see the water for tea was boiling, and for a while there was a companionable silence while they prepared this late meal. Lothíriel found she rather liked that, how easily they fell into collaboration. Even then, as she busied herself with tea, the princess could not help the question that was turning all the more real.
What if his refusal meant not that he needed time, but that he simply did not see or want her in that way anymore? Granted, there had been those little moments that had given her hope so far, but were they really a guarantee of anything? Thinking of that night spent in the fisher village in the south did not console her either. That she had seen desire in his eyes might not mean anything – she had just been the only woman around, and maybe...
The more she thought of it the more it scared her.
What if he doesn't love me anymore?
That thought made her feel more insecure than anything had in a while. He was so withdrawn, so quiet... maybe he was only tolerating her because he didn't want to hurt her feelings? Maybe he thought he owed it to her to stay and pretend he still loved her?
Tears blurred her vision and Lothíriel nearly spilled the boiling hot water, but then Éomer was there and he steadied her hand.
"Careful!" he said, taking the kettle from her hands. She attempted to look away so that he wouldn't see she was trying not to cry, although she knew it was a futile attempt. Ever so gently, he turned her face back towards himself and asked in concern: "What is it? Did you burn yourself?"
"No... no", she mumbled, trying to blink away her tears.
"Then what is wrong?" he asked, his voice worried as he regarded her.
"It's just..." she started, trying fast to come up with the least painful way of speaking out loud her fears. "I was wondering if..."
"Please, Lothíriel. Tell me what this is about", he coaxed her softly, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I just want you to know that you don't owe me anything, and... you don't have to bear me if it's somehow... I mean, I do love you still. But it's all right if you don't feel the same anymore. I would understand", she muttered. The tears threatened to spill out again and she felt terrified – surely he'd confirm that was true, that this part of him had died in south. The mere idea was nearly enough to strike her down where she stood: he was the first and the only man who had made her feel like she could open her heart, be truly herself and receive his love anyway, and she had let herself believe in a life and a future with him by her side. How was she supposed to let go of that?
Lothíriel dared to spy a glance of Éomer's face, and she saw him staring at her in bewilderment. It took a moment for him to process what she had just said, and when he had he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Of course I still love you. How could I ever not adore you, Lothíriel? I am sorry for having acted in a way that makes you think that I don't... it is just that I had to be cold and hard in order to make it through my captivity alive and sane, and I suppose it has not really sunk in yet that it's not necessary anymore... and you are so brave and strong that sometimes I forget..." he muttered softly into her hair, but eventually words failed him and he sighed heavily. As for her, relief so powerful came to her that she did not know if she wanted to cry or laugh or do both. What an idiot she was, doubting him so foolishly when she should know that he was the one thing she never ought to question!
"It's all right. I understand. I was just being silly", Lothíriel said gently when she had regained her voice. She pulled back to see him smiling ever so slightly.
"You foolish thing. I should be the one worrying whether you have any love left for me after having to bear all this..." he murmured until his voice died and he looked down.
"Don't be troubled, beloved. I just worry too much sometimes", Lothíriel said, and he looked sharply at her.
"But you shouldn't, Lothíriel", Éomer said, though it came out as more of a bark than anything else. Realising his harsh tone, he attempted for a softer approach, "I am wrong to treat you like this – there are no excuses to it. You should not have such a burden to carry."
"I can carry a lot, you know", she told him gently. Suddenly, there was something sad in his eyes. He ran the tips of his fingers over her cheek.
"You can", he agreed, "but it doesn't mean you should."
"Then I should just give up on you? I told you before you can't ask me do that", she reminded him. He sighed and tried to look away, but before he could she caught his face between her hands. She held his eyes with her own, trying to reach beyond the walls he had built around himself - trying to find that man who had so sincerely shared his innermost thoughts with her. She whispered, "Please. Let me in."
He hesitated at first, but then he spoke, so quietly that she almost didn't hear: "I... I will try to."
As an answer, Lothíriel just smiled - she knew when to stop, and she felt they had already made some significant progress tonight.
But then he proved they had advanced even more than she had guessed at first, for he let out a soft little sigh, and then... then he leaned close to her.
It was very careful at first, as though he had forgotten how to kiss. He closed his eyes, and she did too, and for a moment she just rested her cheek against his... slowly then, gently as if she was kissing someone who had never kissed anyone before, she touched her lips to his.
The feel of them was the same as she remembered, yet it was different as well... different, because he didn't seem to know what to do at first. It was odd when compared to the surety and confidence he had always shown before. But as she guided his hands around her, he added pressure. And so it became deeper, and he claimed her lips in a full kiss – the first real kiss since she had sent him on his way to south.
Locked in that kiss they remained for a long while, until they both had to pull back and just breathe. Her hands were tangled in his hair and in her chest there was a bursting feeling, an intoxicating mixture of joy and relief and love for him. And he...
From Éomer's features their kiss had smoothed away all that spoke of times of torment. Instead, she saw there true happiness for the very first time in months. Trembling as he did so he pulled her against himself, holding her tight as though letting go meant she'd disappear.
Into her hair he murmured, those words that echoed in her own heart as well: "I love you. I love you."
A/N: Here's an update for Saturday! Hopefully you, my dear readers, are having a pleasant weekend.
This is another slow chapter where I attend more to Lothíriel and Éomer re-establising their relationship and growing closer again. Though things don't move very speedily here, perhaps the next chapter will see more of that sort! And anyway, it seems to me that some tenderness was needed, and perhaps you wanted to see our hero and heroine "finding" each other again. That should be important now and in future too.
I have this idea (though not supported by anything in the canon) that Éomer isn't actually too bad a cook - I think he'd have learned some of cooking skills during his time as a rider and also found out he has some talent in that, though at this point of his life it's not something he does often. I suppose this idea originates from a scene in Extended Edition of Two Towers movie by Peter Jackson, where Éowyn serves Aragorn some hideous soup. To me it was amusing to imagine that she'd be a horrible cook but that her brother would actually pretty good at it. :D
Hope you liked the chapter, and thanks for reading and reviewing!
Quote on the beginning originally by Pablo Neruda.
Inspiration for the chapter: Vaughan Williams - Fantasia on Greensleeves
UntilNeverDawns - We have ways to go yet before we can get everyone home, but now we're in Pelargir at least. :) It's slow for now, but we are moving!
MairaElleth - That I'm glad to hear! To me it means you've taken these characters and their journey to your heart, and as a writer I'm happy for that!
Maybe in the next chapter we'll see a bit more of Rohan. :)
Talia119 - Oh, he may be starting to, but I'm not sure it's going to be an easy or a quick road. The changes in environment may have unexpected effects as well, but we'll see how that goes! As to how Elfhelm will react will have to wait for a bit, but I do have a pretty good idea what he's up to now.
The Moonlily is just my new pen name. I suppose it's the spring - I just was in the need of something new!
brandibuckeye - Here's a new chapter, hope you like it! :)
Wondereye - Yes, Erchirion certainly is a more trustworthy ally than any smugglers.
As to what will happen in Rohan now, wait and see. :)