Chapter 22
They sat up late that night. Much of it was spent talking, though at some point it became talking while cuddling, and eventually there was even kissing. Éomer was very considerate, though, and while Lothíriel could tell he would have been ready to take it further, he never did. But now that they had agreed on taking it slowly, she thought it was not a bad situation at all. Curling up against his side and resting her head on his shoulder was something she very much liked, and being free to touch and kiss him was delightful indeed. She tried to be mindful of his comfort, too, because she didn't want to make this too difficult for him. But if he ever felt discomfort, he didn't show it. Sometimes he pulled her closer to himself, and he would absentmindedly caress her arm or interlace their fingers, and press light kisses against her brow. She felt something in these touches not quite like uncertainty, but perhaps a sense of newness. And considering what she knew of his life before now, the loneliness he had felt, she guessed casual tenderness was not something he often got to experience. Lothíriel began to think physical love entailed much more than carnal relations with one's spouse, and maybe they both had something to learn in just being close to and touching another human being. It might do them good and strengthen their bond before they became lovers.
Eventually, she drifted off to sleep, curled up against Éomer's side, and no dreams bothered her that night.
Lothíriel woke as light was slowly growing in their bedchamber. She felt rested in a way that she hadn't really since... well, the accident and its aftermath. And the reason for that sense of tranquillity still slept next to her, his arm resting loosely around her shoulders.
His robe had opened at the chest during the night, and her hand now lay upon warm, bare skin. She felt the light hair that dusted his chest, the steady rise and fall of it with slow and even breaths, the solid muscles of a seasoned warrior. A warm shiver went through her, and fought the sudden temptation to examine him further. But it would not be a good thing to do, not after he had agreed to wait. So she began to move her hand away, because this contact was starting to make her reconsider a lot of what had seemed so clear last night, but was stopped when he suddenly sighed and clasped her hand in his own free one. Still only half awake, he turned to face her, his body pressed entirely against hers, and muttered something in his own language as his lips clumsily sought for hers. Dazed, she succumbed to the kiss. If this was how their mornings would always start, taking it slow would not last very long!
But then he seemed to finally come to his senses, and pulled back to take a deep breath.
"Morning, wife", he said, low and husky.
"Morning, husband", she replied, her voice shaking just a little bit. She was suddenly very keenly aware of how there were only few, thin layers between her bare skin and his, and their limbs were a warm and intimate tangle. Éomer appeared to notice this too, for he gave her cheek one more clumsy kiss, and then rolled away. His form was tense and taut and she knew he must be suppressing some very difficult temptations.
He rose to a half sitting position, supporting himself with one hand and rubbing his face with the other. Seeing he maybe needed a minute, Lothíriel made her way to the washing basin and splashed her face with some water. A bundle of heat still throbbed in her belly, but it began to subside and her heartbeat evened, too. But she still felt strangely awkward, although she knew there was no reason to be.
She heard him getting up, too.
"Would you like to have some breakfast?" he asked her.
"Yes please", she said, letting out a small breath. Breakfast would be good, indeed. The familiarity of sharing a meal would help them both to relax and regain the easy closeness of last night.
Lothíriel heard him talking to the guards posted at the door of their chambers. She busied herself looking for her brush, and then combing it through her hair. The distraction was welcome, while her new husband went through his morning routine. But then as he moved past her, he paused quickly to plant a kiss on the top of her head, and suddenly all tension melted from her body. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling awkward even for a minute, because her husband was a darling and she was a fool if she ever forgot it.
Breakfast arrived quickly and they sat down by a tall window to enjoy it. Food was every bit as delicious as could be expected, and Éomer ate with a good appetite. Lothíriel was rather more interested in watching him.
"Are we expected to make an appearance today?" she asked him. She was sure this had been talked about, but so much had happened last few days that even she could not keep it all straight in her head.
He flashed a crooked smile.
"No, unless you wish to. I made it clear that if a few days is all we are going to get before I have to ride to war, I'm not going to waste it on royal functions", he told her, and she quite agreed. Not only was she as eager to spend what time remained with him, there was another reason she did not want to face the society right now. If there was even the slightest chance that she would have to hear more unpleasant gossip about the reasons for this marriage, she'd rather avoid it.
"So I was wondering", he continued, unaware of her thoughts, "Perhaps we could go out riding today? It seems to be a nice day outside."
She smiled.
"I would like that very much", said Lothíriel.
"Good. I don't know about you, but I don't want to make a fuss or take a whole entourage with us. A few guards should suffice", Éomer said.
"Yes, that would be good. I don't want to make it a parade, either", she commented, which made him snort in laughter.
"I don't have a horse here, though", she pointed out, but he smiled.
"Am I not the King of Rohan? It will be taken care of, love", he said. "We will still have to get to the stables, and I expect the whole Citadel is crowded. Do you know any discreet ways or shortcuts?"
"No, unfortunately. I'm sure those exist but I have no knowledge of them. Faramir might know; I should have asked him."
"Well, then we just need to be quick – if you're fine with giving up propriety and running through the Citadel."
"We are newly married, and I suppose it's all right for people to see I'm so madly in love with you that I let you tempt me with your shenanigans", Lothíriel said. And apparently, in gossip worse things were already being said; no matter how proper she behaved, it would not change a thing. She valued time spent with her husband much more.
He grinned.
"Very good. I will tell the guards to send somebody to saddle the horses. And perhaps we should take our lunch outside, too?" he suggested, and she approved of this idea as well.
After breakfast, he went to speak to the guards again and give them the instructions. Meanwhile, Lothíriel dug through her travel chest. Luckily, her maid had packed her riding gown and boots – although it would have been quite short-sighted not to have done so. It was a more complicated array than Éomer's trousers and green tunic – his favourite, she guessed, because she had often seen him wearing it in Emyn Arnen – which he shiftly pulled on while she was fumbling with the gown. In truth, at least part of her fumbling was because she was keenly aware of him changing clothes behind her back, and knowing that at certain points he was almost nude. A part of her was tempted to steal a quick glance, but she kept her eyes down, even though her face felt quite warm.
She couldn't do the laces behind her back, however.
"Would you mind helping me?" she asked him, not daring to glance back quite yet. Carefully she shifted her hair to rest on her shoulder.
"Not at all", he replied, and she heard him moving through the room. Then he was gently tugging at the laces of her gown. Lothíriel closed her eyes for a moment. She could get used to this easy, comfortable intimacy.
Having tied the laces, he pressed a quick kiss to the spot where her neck joined her shoulder. Unladylike, she let out a squeal at the sudden warm contact against her skin and threw him a glance over her shoulder.
"Sir! I beg your pardon", she exclaimed.
The scoundrel just grinned.
Shaking her head, and fighting her smile Lothíriel sat down to braid her hair. It would be more manageable that way, in case it was windy – or if he persuaded her to race with him, which he probably would. Éomer too sat down to wait for her, lounging lazily on the bed.
When her hair was in a neat braid and she had fastened it around her head in a kind of crown, she noticed he had been watching her with a faint smile on his bearded face.
"What is it?" Lothíriel asked.
He shrugged.
"Nothing. I just like watching you. Especially now that I can do so without your father or brothers swatting me."
She couldn't help but smile at that.
"I like watching you, too. Everything you do, you make it look so easy", she told him.
"That's just swagger. A lot of things are hard, but you can't let anyone know it. The people who look up to you and trust you to make them feel safe – they never would, if they knew how much you doubt yourself."
"I don't think it would change the way people feel about you. At least I admire and love you even more", said Lothíriel softly.
He said nothing, but met her eyes with that keen openness that cut her like a knife. Before meeting him, she hadn't known she was capable of such tenderness, something so vast that mere words did not encompass it adequately. She understood how much he must trust her to admit these things out loud. For so many young men and women, both in Gondor and Rohan, he was the archetype of a bold and fierce warrior who laughed at the face of death; in their eyes, he could not be anything else. And he was those things, but it was only a part of the truth and Lothíriel had known it from their first conversation.
There was a peculiar tension in the air, a pull nearly as compelling as the forces of nature that kept the stars alight and guided the Sun each day from east to west. She would have gone straight into his arms then, if not for the loud knock on the door, and the guard's voice: "My lord, the horses are ready."
They both startled and glanced around themselves, as if surprised to find themselves in this room. Éomer recovered first and got up on his feet. With a lopsided smile on his face, he offered his hand to her. Not trusting her voice, she quietly put her hand in his own and followed him out.
But once they had left the pressing closeness of the bedchamber, she recalled they would need to move quickly through the Citadel. Otherwise, it would be impossible to get out without unnecessary hassle and pushing off well-wishers and other curious audience seekers.
"Ready?" he asked her, pressing her hand inside his own.
"Yes", she replied and took a deep breath.
They did not quite run through the lofty halls, but it could almost be called so. Lothíriel had to collect the hem of her skirts in her other hand so that her legs wouldn't get entangled. Their movement was certainly not the graceful, dignified glide of a royal pageant, and it showed very clearly on the scandalised looks of whichever courtiers they passed by. A giggle made its way up her throat and then escaped from her mouth before she could hold it. Usually, she was not one for ignoring even the smallest demands of court protocol, but here she was dashing with her Northern wildman of a husband, doing whatever they wanted to, and it was more fun than she had imagined.
The horses were waiting for them in the stables, saddled and ready to go. One of the guards handed a wrapped bundle to Éomer – their lunch, presumably, and he quickly put it inside his saddlebag. Then he helped Lothíriel to mount her horse, a chestnut mare with lively eyes, and leapt in his own saddle in a swift, fluid motion. His Knights also took their own mounts. Then they rode out, and laughter still bubbled on her lips as they made their way through the city. They rode with only a small escort and the King's banner, the White Horse, was not carried before them, which let them pass mostly without being recognised. But Éomer was too well known even without his distinctive armour and his banner, and their ride did not go wholly unnoticed by citizens crowding the streets.
It was a fine day outside, and soon enough they rode through the great gate of the city, reaching Pelennor fields. There one could perceive the busy air of rebuilding and planting and sowing. New homesteads already stood there, with orchards and animal pens and fields, and more were being built every day. It was a hopeful sight for Lothíriel, but when she glanced at Éomer, she saw a grim look upon his face.
"Is something the matter?" she asked him.
"I was just wondering how all these people can bear to live on this land, where so much blood was spilt. It is hard to believe the soil could forget all that suffering. Generations from now, they will still be digging up arrowheads and broken swords and bits of war machines", he said in a quiet, dark voice.
"The ordinary folk living on this land were evacuated before the enemy's armies arrived. Most of them did not even return until all the bodies were already buried and rain had washed away the blood. The horror of that great battle is only a scary story to them, though they honour you and Rohan for what you did for Gondor. I think they probably believe that rebuilding and planting and working the land is the best way to heal it", she replied gently.
"Maybe", he said in a quiet voice, "but I doubt I will ever be able to look at this field and not remember the fire."
She knew she could not erase the memory, and there was little she could do to ease the pain it must surely carry. But she could help him think of other, happier things.
"Race me to the river?" she asked him, smiling slightly. Instantly, she could see his shoulders untensing and his eyes lighting up.
"With pleasure. On three?"
So they flew over the fields, leaving behind those grim places of memory. The sun was shining brightly and their horses were swift and strong; in these things there was joy enough. Lothíriel was certain that Éomer was checking his stallion and letting her win, for she reached the banks of Anduin just before he did. Even so, she turned in the saddle to flash him a victorious smile, and was silently pleased to see that he looked to be at ease again, answering her smile and eyes glinting.
"You are indeed a wonderful horsewoman. But that I knew already", he told her.
Almost at once, she knew what he meant. He was referring to that day back in Emyn Arnen, when she was out riding with Aegdir and his two hapless friends, and one of them had nearly caused the horses to run wild. Somehow, she had been able to remain in the saddle, and to calm down her steed. Éomer had very nearly thrashed the culprit – and his dread over her well-being had made her suspect he cared for her much more than she had realised.
"Thank you. I loved riding even as a girl. I used to steal Amrothos' horse as often as I could, so that I could go riding on the beach and gallop in the surf", she told him, smiling. Éomer chuckled.
"I'm sure he was not very pleased with you."
"Not at all", she replied brightly. "It was him who persuaded Father to get me a horse of my own."
At that, Éomer laughed heartily.
While racing, they had not taken any particular direction, and now found themselves getting closer to the ruins of Osgiliath. Though the ancient city was indeed little more than a pile of rocks and rubble, a garrison was still maintained there: King Elessar did not want anything unwanted creeping into the ruins and making a home in some shadowy corner. A patrol of these guards came across her and Éomer and their Knights, alarmed by their conversation, but they quickly realised who the riders were. One of the guards offered to show them around the ruins, which they accepted. Horses had to be left outside and even visitors on two legs had to watch their step. Ground was often uneven and many of the ruins were unstable; bits of ancient walls and towers falling upon royal heads would be unfortunate indeed.
As they wandered in the ruins, Lothíriel told her new husband of the history of this city, and how it had become such a sad, deserted place. Once it had been the beating heart of the kingdom of Gondor, filled with poetry and song and scholars studying everything between stars and earth, but with war and disease its streets had emptied and eventually become abandoned altogether, save for the garrisons that kept watch over the silent heaps of stone. Still, the great age of the place seemed to astonish Éomer, and that so much yet remained.
When she wondered about this, he cast her a humourless smile.
"I know your perspective of time and past is a bit different than mine, and you have lived your life in cities and palaces of stone. But in Rohan, whenever our enemies came and attacked our homes, all was put to the torch. You'll find no ruins there, and no memories such as this place. For Rohirrim, the past lives only in our songs. It's strange to see this place, ruined though it is, still marking the spot a thousand years later", he explained.
"Sadly, it's not that uncommon for the kingdoms of Exiled Númenoreans. There are many like it in King Elessar's northern kingdom. Dúnedain of the North abandoned their cities long ago, living as Rangers in the wild. Or so it was until the war. I've heard talk that he means to rebuild the north", said Lothíriel as she gazed around herself and tried to imagine the street around them as it had once been.
"So he has told me. It will be a project for a lifetime, but I suppose that is not a problem for one of the Dúnedain", said Éomer, looking ahead. He then glanced at her, and continued, "We will have to build, too. In Rohan, it seems everyone is having babies, and new homes and villages will be required. I don't think I've ever seen so many pregnant women, not just in Edoras but in almost every village I've visited. Hild says it usually happens after a war, especially such a grand one. People are desperate to create new life to make up for those who were lost."
She listened to him quietly, a strange, thrilling sensation growing in her breast. He said, We will have to build. He was already including her in his plans for the future, and she was glad to hear it.
"Building takes great amounts of timber. Do you think Rohan has enough, or should I perhaps make inquiries here in Gondor? I could use my father's contacts, and my own, for I came to know various merchants while I was ruling Dol Amroth. Although, it has to be said that when there's a war, everything is more expensive", she offered, considering.
"If you have contacts, then it might be worthwhile to use them. We have timber but we have to be smart when using it, lest our forests are destroyed."
"I heard you made friends with a certain dwarf during the last war. Would he be willing to teach your people about stone quarrying? And to build homes that are not so easily put to torch?"
"Dwarves can be protective of their secrets, but perhaps stone quarrying is simple enough that Gimli might be willing to teach us some basics. I will have to ask him. However, that is a question for after the campaign."
Lothíriel looked at Éomer, and he met her eyes. A broad smile spread on his face and she smiled, too. There was a promise and understanding in that smile, and something new also. They were now talking not as husband and wife, but as king and queen. And he was willing to listen to her, to give her a chance to rule by his side and not just treat her as a pretty little thing to adorn his hall, bear and raise his children and warm his bed. Future had never seemed as promising as it now did, and she was eager to see it.
Several hours had now passed and after thanking the guard who had shown them around in the ruins of Osgiliath, they decided to go and look for a spot to enjoy some lunch. They found a sheltered place under a willow, and Éomer spread his cloak on the grassy bank. There they sat down and he opened the bundle, which contained enough food for four people and even a bottle of wine. His guards must be in very good terms with the staff at the royal kitchens.
She very much preferred this lunch to some formal meal back at the Citadel.
As the air was mellow and soft, with a gentle breeze blowing now and then, and they were in no hurry to head back to the Citadel, they decided to linger there by the river for a while. Éomer laid himself down, crossing his arms under his head, and she settled down next to him, using his chest as her pillow. This leisure would be a rare pleasure in days to come and she wanted to savour it as much as possible. But there was something in her mind she would have to mention to him sooner or later.
"Yesterday at the luncheon... I happened to overhear some unpleasant words. It seems there is gossip going about why we got married like this, and it's not because your council wants a safeguard. They seem to think something disgraceful took place at Emyn Arnen, and my honour was so compromised between you and Aegdir that I had to be quickly married off before more damage was done", she said slowly.
Éomer snorted out loud.
"I am not surprised. The court in Mundburg has always had a faction that sees Rohirrim as filthy brutes. I have no doubt that even if the courtship was conducted before their very eyes, according to every rule, they would still find something distasteful about it", he said, his tone biting. Softening his voice, he continued, "But I am sorry you had to hear it, and that they would speak of you so grossly. You don't deserve to be abused in that way."
She was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Doesn't it bother you that they speak of you like that?"
"Not really. I've heard worse from much more formidable opponents. And I know no matter what I do, I'll never live up to these people's expectations. So why try to please them? Court life is in many ways false and affected. But I judge others by the same measure I try to hold myself to: the integrity of my actions, the loyalty I show to my friends, and the way I treat those who are less fortunate than I am."
She supposed it was easy for him to care so little about court gossip. He had already shown his mettle, and having lived through fire and calamity, what were words?
"Still, I don't believe King Elessar and Queen Arwen would approve of it if they knew. They seem so kind and friendly, you'd think their court was like that, too", she mused out loud.
"They're still fairly new to the throne, and there's a lot of baggage from before the war. I can't imagine much joy was had then, and dark times breed ill feelings", said Éomer. "I mean no disrespect to your uncle, the late Steward; he had greater concerns than the atmosphere of his court. But whether it's a time of peace or a time of war, there is always gossip."
"Yes, I suppose that is true. And I can't believe it ever got as bad here, as it was in Meduseld. Éowyn and your aunt have told me a little about it. I can hardly understand how you could bear it", she said, glancing up at his face.
His smile was without humour.
"Trust me, I don't understand it either", he told her.
"Either way, I hope Meduseld won't be like that. I want to make it a warm and welcoming place, where people may come together without dread or suspicion."
"With you as the Queen, I have no doubt Meduseld will become such a place again."
She turned and shifted around, so that she could find that extremely nice spot against his side, and he put his arm around her shoulders.
"I wish we could just stay like this. Can't we take the horses and ride off?" she asked him.
He let out a low, rumbling laugh.
"Don't tempt me", he muttered, running his fingers across her arm. "I doubt we would get very far, anyway. Aragorn himself might come after us and there's no deceiving a Ranger like him."
She harrumphed and raised herself on one elbow so that she could kiss him.
The sun was already westering when they rode back to the city. They passed by the site where the Rohirrim had camped: most of their tents were gone now, and only a few remained. This was because the major part of his Riders had already departed for Ithilien, where they would aid in fortifying various strategically important spots and establish patrol routes. Those still remaining at Mundburg would accompany the two kings when they rode out.
"The rest of my people will head back home, but Ceolmund and Lord Dunstan will stay behind to negotiate the marriage contract", Éomer explained to Lothíriel when he noticed her curious look.
His wife cast him a wry smile.
"It feels odd, doesn't it, them debating the contract when we're already married", Lothíriel said.
"Aye, it is unusual, but so are the circumstances. I wouldn't have the patience for it, but those two almost seem to enjoy the task. I hope they don't drive your father's people mad", he said, making her laugh softly.
It was dinnertime when they got back to the Citadel, and so they could slip quietly back to their rooms, without meeting anyone except for guards and servants of the royal household. Éomer ordered dinner to be delivered to the rooms he shared with Lothíriel and also some hot water for bathing; the latter request especially pleased his bride, or so he judged by her smile. He tried not to look very self-satisfied. Perhaps with such acts of consideration, he could help her to feel more secure and confident around him.
While she took a bath, Éomer quickly consulted with one of his guards, and so after dinner he was able to present Lothíriel with a board and a full set of game pieces for King's Table, one of the most popular games in Rohan. He was at first worried whether she would be interested in it, but Lothíriel's eyes lit up and she asked him to teach her. So a pleasant evening was spent by the board, which they set on the bed. She was a quick learner and a stern opponent, insisting him not to let her win for the sake of tender feelings. He did not, and eventually claimed victory over her, but he could tell that with some practice, she would be a formidable player. And he would certainly have to focus more on his own game than watching her face in fascination as she quietly deliberated on her next move.
"That was interesting, and more difficult than I imagined. Did I do very poorly?" asked Lothíriel when he was gathering the game pieces in a small wooden box.
"Not at all. You play better than most beginners. Remember, I've been playing this game since I was a lad", he reassured her.
"Does your aunt play?"
"Of course. She is a masterful player, and very hard to beat."
She cast him a sly look.
"In that case, I will have to train with her, so that I can put up a real fight and make you work for your win", she told him.
"My lady, you are devious", he said, feigning shock. Well, he was feigning it mostly, for he had a feeling that between Lothíriel and Aunt Hild, he would often find himself overruled.
His wife laughed, a bright and warm sound that always made his heart leap. She leant forward on the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Don't worry. I will be gentle with you", she promised sweetly, and then kissed him.
He was pulling her closer to himself before he even knew it. Her warmth, her softness, the enticing fragrance of her skin... it made him light-headed, and he wanted to push her back on the bed and have her, right now. But then he felt the shiver going through her, and he fought his way back from that dizzying depth, reminding himself he could not lose control like this. He loosened the grip of his arms around her, letting her sit back again.
"Sorry", he said, low and hoarse.
"It's fine", she told him softly. She picked up his hand, her fingers soft and light, and in wonder he watched as she pressed a gentle kiss on the palm, a sweet little flutter against his callused swordsman's hand. It was such a small, tender gesture, and yet it made his heart swell with love for her. This seemed to come to her so easily, while he often worried he was too rough and coarse, barely knowing how to touch her like she should be touched. Most of his adult life, tenderness had meant occasional trysts and desperate meetings in the dark after returning from battle. Perhaps it was wrong to even speak of tenderness in that context. This certainly felt quite different, and he understood how much he had craved for simple, genuine connection and a chance to show affection for another.
He probably had as much to learn about marriage as her.
Lothíriel fell asleep quickly that night, curled up against his side, but Éomer lay awake for some time. Listening to the quiet of the deepening night, he reflected on these past couple days.
He was happy indeed, and had every reason to be so. He had Lothíriel. She made him laugh, understood him, challenged him, was patient and calm and kind. Her kiss was the sweetest, the most enticing thing he had ever felt. But he might have been happier still, if not required to wait. He wouldn't have minded spending the honeymoon barely leaving the bed.
But still, he did not blame her. All of this had happened much faster than either of them had expected. Marriage was a change for them both, but much more so for her. He could not ask her to adjust to it more quickly. He couldn't expect her to be as ready for starting a family and building a home as he was; she did not appear to have thought about it much before they had met and she still had something of the youthfulness that years of war and carnage had taken from him. He recalled sensing something aloof about her now and then, and knew it must be because she was the only daughter with three brothers, and her life had always been set apart from theirs: she was used to walking her own path, alone. So was it a wonder that she would need some time to get used to sharing that path fully with another? Without this damned campaign, it would have been much easier. Now the relationship they might have built over months of letters and perhaps a few meetings, had to be developed in the course of a few days and whatever chances he would have of getting away from war.
It would get easier, he hoped, once he could take her with him to Rohan: sharing a life, getting to fully know one another, and building a home in Meduseld. And there would be many happy days to come, even with all the burdens of the realm and ruling it. For that, too, he now had more hope than before Today, Lothíriel had spoken like a queen, making suggestions about how to go about building new homes for Rohirrim. In that regard she seemed to be as ready as one could hope to be, and while the campaign continued, he could ask her to handle much of the business of ruling that required royal approval. He knew she would be prudent and ask for Hild's advice if it were needed.
Hopefully, it would also strengthen her confidence. There had been something uncertain about her voice when she had told him about the gossip that she had overheard. Now he wondered if his words had been enough. He had wanted to encourage her, but perhaps he could not. After all, her position was not like his. He could afford to be indifferent to gossip, it could not wound him. But Gondor was the society where Lothíriel had grown up and she was not yet wholly protected by the armour of royal status.
Éomer frowned, staring at the ceiling above him. It made him angry and frustrated that people didn't see her worth, like he did. How could they be so blind? Or maybe they knew that she was extraordinary, and were envious. If he were there, when such insolent words were being spoken... but of course he couldn't always protect her, and his brand of defending her might not even be to her liking: he could be a beast when he lost his temper, and Lothíriel would never stoop to such level. Well, at least Éowyn and Hild would be with her in the coming days, and both women were so formidable that only a fool would offend Lothíriel in their presence. And like Éowyn had told him, he needed to trust that Lothíriel could manage without him fussing about her.
He let out a long, quiet breath. It was late and he should be asleep already, not lay awake and brooding. And so he turned, wrapping his arm around her and pressing his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair and let his mind wander into sweeter paths.
The next morning, he woke up before Lothíriel – thankfully, as it gave him a chance to get a grip of himself and spare her from moments like yesterday, when he had been quite disoriented and very excited to find a woman in bed with him (and not just any woman, but Lothíriel!). Now he was able to collect himself, and enjoy a few quiet moments of watching her sleep. The calmness of it was soothing and delightful: her tranquil face, the light of morning upon her soft dark hair, and the heavy tangle of limbs in slumber.
But as he watched her, his eyes fell on her shoulder. The light, loose fabric of her shift had slipped off, baring her skin and the mangled ruin of it. The orc's arrow had left her skin red and puckered, a scar as horrible as anything he had seen. A lance of anxiety and distress went through him, even though he knew it was healed and should not pain her anymore. And yet the memory of that dreadful day was now carved upon her skin, and she was forced to carry it – she who should have remained untouched by such horrors. The sight of the scar brought it all back: the sheer terror he had felt when he realised she was in danger, finding her under the tree and thinking for one horrifying moment that she was dead, watching her fight for her life, and all that came after... Éomer gritted his teeth. Had Aegdir been in this city right now, he might well have stormed his lodgings and done terrible things.
His staring and seething must have disturbed her somehow, for Lothíriel stirred and opened her eyes slowly. At first there was that sweet, sleepy look in them, but she must have noticed his disquietude, for her look became concerned.
"What is it?" she asked in a voice husky from sleep.
He was swallowing hard and trying to find his voice again. He managed to get out only a couple of words: "Your shoulder."
She looked startled and her hand went to her bare shoulder, covering the scar.
"It is quite horrible, isn't it? I hoped it wouldn't put you off", she said, averting his gaze.
"Put me off?" he asked, incredulous. "No, it doesn't – not in the way you think, at least. It doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"
"No. It's a bit tender, but not painful. King Elessar said it might take some time before the injury is fully healed."
"I'm so sorry it happened to you", he said quietly.
"It's all right. Things could have been so much worse; I'm lucky that I got away with just a scar", Lothíriel said.
If she thought so, then he should not feel so troubled. It was her injury and her body, after all. Fussing over her could make her feel like the scar mattered in all the wrong ways – that he thought she was damaged goods. But the truth was he loved every inch of her, and the scar... well, it was a part of the landscape of her body now, and it was only the memory of her injury that was ugly.
She still looked uneasy and anxious, and he realised how crudely he was acting, and how unpleasantly he had woken her up. What was she supposed to think, waking up to seeing him staring at her in seething anger? It was no wonder if she thought her appearance displeased him. So, as gently as he could, he pried off her fingers covering the scar. Then he pressed a light kiss on it, to let her know that it was all right. Anyway, his own body was far more scarred and battered than hers, even if his skin bore no traces of injuries quite as dramatic.
"I'm sorry for startling you. It is just – when I think of you in harm, it's hard to remain calm. And seeing the scar on your shoulder, I remembered some things that scare me still", he said, his voice quiet and not very strong. For that was the way of it, and always had been: he'd rather be angry than admit how afraid he was of losing those he loved.
His wife relaxed. Her expression became soft and open, and he knew all was well.
"Would it be easier for you, if I remained here at Minas Tirith while you are in the war?"
He appreciated a great deal that she asked him, though he was not going to tell her what to do.
"I'm sure you'd be safer and more comfortable here, but I can't deny that your presence at Emyn Arnen tempts me, too. It would be harder to make time to see you, if you remained in the city. And the enemy would have to be very strong indeed to break through our lines, and bring down the defences of my sister's home", he said slowly.
"And I might be lonely here", Lothíriel said softly. "I would probably find myself at the mercy of such talk as I told you about yesterday. At least with Éowyn, I would have a trusty friend."
Éomer frowned, but could not deny this. She might be able to endure foolish talk, but that didn't mean she should. And without him there by her side, with his reputation of fierce temper and speaking his mind straight and unafraid even at high lords and indifference against gossip, things could be hard for her. Somehow, he sensed that right now she needed to be close to him – well, as close as it was possible with the campaign.
"Then say nothing more of it. I will try to control my... overprotectiveness. Béma knows that I don't want to smother you with it, no matter what Éowyn says", he told his wife, and she smiled, and put her arms around his neck.
Some cuddling and kissing followed, which was very nice indeed, but the rumbling of his stomach rather ruined the moment. He flashed her an apologetic smile, but she shrugged and said, "I'd like some breakfast, too."
So after one final kiss, clumsy and bearded against her cheek and making her laugh, he got up and sauntered lazily through the rooms, thinking idly of how he could probably use a bath.
But all such thoughts left his mind when at the door he was not met with just the guards, but also Éothain and another Knight of the royal household, named Beornric. Both looked uneasy and serious.
"What's this?" asked Éomer, frowning. An ill feeling crept on him as he took in the expression on the faces of his men.
"We are sorry to bother you, lord, but Beornric here would like to speak to you – after you have had breakfast, of course", said Éothain. The Captain glanced at the Knight, looking a little bit disgruntled. Clearly, he was not happy to disturb their king at such a time.
"Can't it wait?" Éomer asked, although he already knew the answer.
"I'm afraid not, lord. I think we should speak sooner rather than later, and at the very least before we leave the city. The queen should take part as well, I think", Beornric said apologetically.
Éomer suppressed a groan, and was certain his and Lothíriel's day was about to be ruined, but he knew these two men were not the kind who would foolishly interrupt their all too short honeymoon.
"Very well. But this better be as important as you say", he grumbled.
It was hard to enjoy breakfast when his mind was already occupied by his Riders and their request to talk to him and Lothíriel. His wife tried to keep up a light conversation over the meal, but eventually she gave up, having realised he was too distracted. It was frustrating and he was angry with himself for letting all these annoyances and demands spoil what little time they could have with one another. She had already endured too much these past few days, and he could not even give her a chance to get away from it! But it was hard to concentrate when his impatience and suspicions were mounting, and he knew that whatever news Éothain and Beornric meant to bring, it wasn't going to be good.
Once they had eaten and were dressed, Éomer summoned the two men inside. Lothíriel stood by his side. If she was dismayed by this disruption of their morning, she did not show it. Though her gown was simple and her hair was in a loose braid, she still managed to look every bit as regal and dignified as if she was standing in full court dress.
Having stepped into the room, Éothain and Beornric bowed, and Lothíriel smiled at the two men.
"Captain Éothain", she greeted Éomer's second in command, and then gazed at Gutlaf, "Your name I did not catch, though we met at my father's house the other day."
"I am Beornric, son of Brithnoth. Allow me to apologise for disturbing you and the King, my lady, especially at such a time" said Beornric.
"Then out with it. What is so important that you barge in on me and my wife, when I had made it clear that we wished for some privacy?" Éomer asked, much less courteous than Lothíriel. He sat down by the window and stared hard at his two Riders.
They exchanged a look, and then Beornric cleared his throat.
"I really would not have come, had I not thought it would be wise to let you know before you return to society. I might have asked to speak with you yesterday, my lord, but Princess Hild and Éothain demanded you should be left alone at least for one day, and I suppose they were right to decide so", he began to talk, low and serious.
"There was an incident you should be aware of, lord, that took place on the night of the wedding. A few of your knights, myself included, were out in the Court of the Fountain, getting some fresh air. It was getting late and many of the guests had already left, and the King Elessar and Queen Arwen had also retired, and those who remained were drunk, or at least not entirely sober. I will admit we had enjoyed some drinks as well, though as you know we are always careful not to let it get out of hand, in case you or the Queen need our services."
"I happened to notice Lord Erchirion and Lord Amrothos, coming out of Merethrond. I asked them to join us, for they are friends with many of your knights, lord, as well as with you. They came, and I quickly noticed they had both been to their cups, though uncommonly it was Lord Amrothos who seemed more clear-headed. I believe he was meaning to get his brother home, when they happened on our party."
"Lord Erchirion was in a strange grim mood and he quickly started to pick up a fight with me. He was asking why I and a few others had come to his father's house earlier, and what was the point of us singing to his sister the queen. He demanded to know what the song was about, and if it had been to mock her and her family."
"I tried to explain that it was a song of praise, and we had sung it in Rohirric because we don't know any similar songs in the language of Gondor. I told him we only did it because our king himself had told us that his bride liked our music, and we would never have imposed it on her if we thought she would be offended. And I said very emphatically that I have nothing but respect for the whole family of Prince Imrahil."
"But Lord Erchirion is as any man who has had too much to drink: he wouldn't listen to what I said. He started to claim that the marriage was badly done and it dishonoured his sister, and that you, lord, had not done enough to stop it from happening. At this point, I began to lose my patience, and it might have turned into a brawl, if not for Lord Amrothos."
"What had he been doing until then?" asked Éomer, keeping his voice as calm as he was able.
"He had been trying to get his brother to stop and calm him down, though with little success. But when the situation threatened to become physical, he stepped between us. He said something to his brother in the Elven tongue that some of the noble families use here in Gondor. His tone was stern and I could make out the Queen's name. Lord Erchirion fell silent at this point, and said no more. But Lord Amrothos spoke to me then, insisting his brother was too drunk and didn't really mean anything he had said. After offering us his apologies, he finally got Lord Erchirion moving, and escorted him out of the Citadel", Beornric finished the story.
It was only now that Éomer dared to look at his wife. He got up and stepped closer to her, meaning to place his hand on her shoulder. But she turned away, pressing a hand against her face as a quiet little moan escaped her mouth. She was always so in control of her feelings and what she showed to those around her, it was shocking to see this reaction. It could only speak of a very great shock and inner turmoil. He wanted to hold her, but there was something in the set of her shoulders that commanded him to stay away.
So he turned to look at the two Knights.
"And this was late in the evening? Had Imrahil retired, too?" Éomer asked tonelessly.
"Aye, lord. But the next day, he sent one of his people to deliver his apologies. I have not seen his sons since the wedding night, so I don't know what kind of conversations the Prince had with them. I suspect he has ordered them not to show their faces after the incident", Beornric answered.
"Who else was there when this happened?" Éomer then inquired.
"A few other Rohirrim, and various small groups of younger Gondorian nobles. But I think most of them, if not all, were more or less drunk. Few seemed to pay us any notice, even when we started to raise our voices", answered the Rider.
"And what does my aunt say?"
The two men glanced at one another, and then at Lothíriel, who stood still with her back turned to them.
It was Éothain who answered, in Rohirric. Éomer frowned; soon enough he realised his Knights thought they were sparing her, but he still did not like that they excluded her from the conversation, however painful the subject.
"Princess Hild is not happy, lord, but she is not the one you need to worry about; she's making sure that Master Ceolmund doesn't make a hassle. He was wondering why the Prince can't get his son under control. Béma knows what might have happened, hadn't she bullied him into keeping his mouth shut, at least in public", Éothain said uneasily. Lothíriel did not ask what he was saying, perhaps still too upset to pay heed.
Éomer bit his tongue to keep from cursing out loud. He turned his back for one minute...! Still, it sounded like Hild had it under control, and he did not perhaps need to interrupt what was left of his time alone with Lothíriel, although he was certain after this news neither of them were going to take much pleasure in it.
"What of you, Beornric? Are you satisfied with the Prince's apology? Can I trust that you will not be seeking personal revenge against his son?" he asked once he was sure his voice would stay calm. He might have imagined it, but he thought he heard Lothíriel letting out a small gasp.
"I am, lord. And I have no demands for Lord Erchirion, provided that he doesn't insult you in my hearing again", said the Knight.
"Very well", Éomer said at length, sighing. Perhaps he had been too optimistic to think that there would be no more trouble. "Do you have anything else to report?"
"No, lord."
He looked at his Riders, and said, "In that case, I would like to talk to my wife now. Alone."
Éothain and Beornric bowed, and then swiftly made their way out. Once the door had closed behind them, Éomer let out a breath and turned to look at Lothíriel. Momentarily, he wondered at the fact that not once had he felt the danger of losing his temper, but perhaps it was because of her: he needed to keep calm for her sake.
She still stood there quietly, her back to him. He took a few tentative steps closer to her, and then, after hesitating for a moment, he put his hand on her shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
A shiver went through her.
"They promised to me this would not happen. They both promised!" she uttered at last, her voice shaking.
"I'm sure they didn't mean to let it get out of hand."
"It doesn't matter what they meant! They made a promise and yet in the end, they did not care enough to keep it! They didn't care about the humiliation it would bring to me!" she cried, finally turning to face him. There were no tears on her face; her eyes were dry, but there was a hot, furious look in them. He could barely understand that look, for he had never seen anything like it in her face.
And what could he answer to her? How could he soothe her? Her brothers had let her down and there was nothing that he could say or do that would make it better.
"It was selfish and thoughtless", he agreed softly, raising his hand in a calming gesture. "And you do not deserve to be treated that way. If you want me to rough them up for you, I shall gladly do it."
She made a harsh sound.
"And bring even more shame to my family? As if we hadn't already stooped low enough?"
"Erchirion has shamed himself, perhaps, but not you. Anyone who finds fault in your conduct is a fool."
"I am the reason he is doing this!"
"But you are not responsible for him. And what does it matter what anybody thinks? You know it's not the truth."
"It's easy for you to say. You don't have to care about it. You are the King of Rohan, admired and applauded wherever you go. But these are my people, and I can't just pretend that I'm not affected! Why should they respect me, if my own brothers won't?"
"Aye, maybe it's easy now. But I wasn't the King of Rohan always. I know what it's like to be persecuted and driven into a corner; I know the shame of it", said Éomer quietly. This seemed to take her aback, and she fell silent. She frowned and looked down, her hands pressed into tight fists.
He stepped closer.
"I wish I could make it easier for you, I really do. But this is something every man and woman has to fight for on their own, and you are strong enough to go through this, Lothíriel."
"As for your brothers, you should tell them how you feel. Let them know how much their actions hurt you. Only with honesty can you resolve it. What they did was foolish and misguided, surely, but it seems they are just as concerned with the dignity of your family as you. I'm a brother, too, and I understand their point of view to an extent; I too have got myself in trouble when I thought I was defending my sister. Sometimes it brought her grief, and she was not afraid to let me know. But her being honest with me was the only way I could learn to do better, and understand that acting purely on my temper could be very selfish indeed."
Lothíriel listened to this in silence. Her eyes were wide, and still had that dire look in them. But as Éomer continued to speak, he could eventually see a slight tremble in her lower lip. Her expression became more pained, and immensely sad. Still, she would not let her tears fall.
"I shouldn't have to tell them this. I asked them to stand down and not make a fuss, and yet they did", she said, quiet now.
"I know. They should have listened to you. I'm sorry that they didn't, and caused you pain", he agreed in soft tones.
She lowered her face, still fighting the tears. But Éomer stepped closer to her, and wrapped his arms around her – slowly and carefully, so that she could step away if she wanted to, but she let him hold her and press her gently against his chest. Her body felt stiff and tense at first, but gradually she relaxed against him, and her hand pressed into a fist, clutching the soft material of his tunic.
"It's all right. It's all right", he uttered, among other quiet words of gentle nonsense. She didn't seem to be crying, and no tears dampened the front of his tunic, but he could feel the occasional shiver going through her form.
"Promise me you'll never do that. First say you will do or not do something, and then break your word to me", she said, almost too quiet to hear.
"I promise", he replied, running his hand slowly up and down her back. He sensed it would be a grave mistake indeed, betraying her trust; something irrevocable might be broken. Not that he ever meant to do such a thing, but seeing how heavily she took this made him understand how important the bonds of promise and loyalty were to her. Just as it was to him.
When he thought she had calmed down somewhat, Éomer pulled back so that he could see her face. She looked up, eyes dry but her expression drawn.
"Do you want to deal with your brothers today?" he asked her. "I could request their presence."
She frowned and shook her head.
"No, I don't think I do. It's our final full day together, and tomorrow we will be riding to Emyn Arnen. I don't want to waste what time we have left by quarrelling with those two buffoons", she replied. He was relieved to hear this, because even though he would have helped and supported her if she had wanted to face her brothers, it would have been a truly disappointing finish to their short time together.
"Very well. But do you understand that I must have some sort of an apology before we depart tomorrow? Your brother is now toeing a line that is not wise to cross, and anything more will cause a lot of grief to both our Houses. I need to make sure that he is aware of this – and I would have him apologise to you as well", he said gravely. He would send a request to Imrahil to see him and his son and hopefully this time, the point would finally be driven home. It better be, for he had no patience left for any more nonsense.
A pained look flashed across her face, but she nodded.
"I understand. I don't know why he keeps doing this... he always spoke so highly of you."
He smiled wryly.
"Some men are perfectly amiable friends as long as you stay away from their sisters – although I'm sure that is only a part of the reason for his actions. Yet perhaps his attitude would be different if the beginning of our relationship, as it was known to him, had been less troubled", he said.
Lothíriel looked frustrated, and he understood that feeling all too well.
"It wasn't your fault that I got hurt. I would probably have died, if you hadn't found me. One can point it out only so many times."
"Indeed", he sighed.
"You aren't angry, though. He insulted you, and not for the first time", she said warily.
"Aye, but it's foolish to get angry over drunken nonsense, especially when I only have one side of the story. And there are more important things to worry about. The way I see it, the insult against you was worse, though maybe your brother did not quite realise it", he replied.
Lothíriel considered this and eventually she nodded, evidently agreeing with him. With a low groan, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against his shoulder again, and so they remained for a while, until at least some of the anxiety started to vanish. It would not go away completely, and he doubted it would in some time, but that didn't mean they couldn't at least try to enjoy the rest of the day.
So he pulled back and tried to smile. "But that is enough unpleasantness for one morning, don't you think? I would not let it ruin the rest of this day. Why don't we go out riding again, and go a little further away from the city?"
"I would like that. I don't want to spend the rest of this day brooding over this, and having something else to think about would be good", she said softly. Somehow, she too managed to summon a small smile.
"Then I shall tell my men to prepare the horses", he said and gently tipped up her chin so that he could kiss her. Having Lothíriel in his arms, and the feeling of her melting into the kiss, did make him forget about everything unpleasant for a bit.
And despite all, it was consoling to know this: that no matter what coming weeks and months would bring, there in her arms was a solace unlike anything he had ever known.
To be continued.
A/N: Well, that got longer than I thought it would! But I decided not to split the chapter, because the two POVs rather feel like they belong together.
I did not originally think that the little thread with Erchirion would continue further, but here we are. The issue is fascinating. His misgivings ultimately come from not really understanding his sister and certainly, there is a good deal of thoughtlesness in it. The situation is not her fault, naturally. But could she have communicated her feelings better? Maybe, if she had the tools for it, which her family clearly has not provided her with. When writing these parts of the story, I've been thinking of how a family can be loving, but also bad at communication. Underneath there may be a lot of issues and problems that, if you were to talk about them, would never cause such harm. So Erchirion ends up acting in a way that, from Lothíriel's point of view, is selfish and hurtful.
King's Table, the game Éomer teaches Lothíriel in this chapter, is based on the Viking board game called hefnatafl. The rules of the game varied a little, and you could use boards of various sizes, and the number of game pieces would also change depending on what kind of a board you used. Hefnatafl is often called "the Viking chess". It was a game of strategy and warriors in particular played it to hone their skills for battle. Boards and game pieces are also found in Viking graves.
Naturally, Tolkien doesn't go into details like what kind of games Rohirrim or Gondorians played at their leisure, so it's fun to imagine and fill in the gaps. Rohan being a warrior-oriented society, it seems very likely to me they would also have strategy games like hefnatafl, and professional warriors like Éomer would be proficient players.
Stay safe out there! Thank you for reading and reviewing.
Cricket22 - Glad to hear you liked those parts! :)
Also good to hear that it made sense they didn't yet go all the way with the relationship. I did consider it, but I don't think it would have suited the tone of this story, and at least for me it makes Lothíriel more relatable. Even she can't keep her calm always, but gets overwhelmed and uncertain at times. But as to how soon and in what way the big moment comes - we'll see! ;)
I shall try to live up to expectations!
Cathael - Thank you! :)
I'm afraid Erchirion DIDN'T contain himself! :') But yeah, he should get some sense knocked into him!
Simplegurl4u - Oh dear, I'm the one who should be apologising! Your comments have been nothing but lovely and supportive, and not in any way insulting. I think what happened is this: the text editor "ate" the nickname of the person that last part was actually meant for (because the site repels anything that resembles a link), making it look like I was talking to you. I failed to notice that and fix the problem when posting the update. I am very sorry if my mistake made you feel like I was somehow angry with you!
Anyway, glad you liked the last chapter! I really need that Éomer & Aragorn having a boys' night out oneshot. :D
Lothíriel having this resilience and dignity (and the ability to retain it even under pressure) is something I really like about her, too.
If you don't get some Rohirric shenanigans like serenading, then what's even the point! :D
Éomer may not be in all things the most careful or patient man, but I think it speaks in volumes about how much he loves her that she brings out these qualities in him!
Wondereye - Thank you for your comments! I think in some ways Éomer may be overcautious, but it's because he's really that scared of losing her.
imsoproudofyou - Thank you! :)
Melissa Black13 - I think it's ultimately more interesting that they're still holding back, or at least it creates some questions that I am eager to explore. They still have stuff to figure out about one another.
Thank you very much, I am glad to hear you like my stories! :)
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thanks!