A Forbidden Love

A/N: As I stated I might do when I originally posted this story, I am reposting this story into just two larger chapters with multiple scenes per page. I have tweaked it a bit more, but in essentials the story is the same. Feel free to note grammatical or spelling errors, I don't have a beta and would appreciate specific advice. While not the happiest of tales, I hope you enjoy it. -Cognisance

Alternate Universe but doesn't change the main storyline.

Trigger Warning: Miscarriage.

Rating is M for allusions to sex and the miscarriage.

This story is a fan fiction using Characters from The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. I own nothing but the plot line and am writing this story for entertainment purposes only. I am not profiting from this story.


A Forbidden Love

_OOOO_

Scene 1

Éothain stood from the chair on the other side of Éomer's desk and stretched. "We've been cooped up here for days, Éomer. The sun is finally shining. It's market day. I don't care if you want to, but I'm headed out to see prettier faces than yours."

Éomer raised an eyebrow, "The quarterly reports are due, Éothain, as my second it's your duty-"

"Duty be-" Éothain halted his words at the scowl on Éomer's face. "How about a compromise. You come with me now, I'll treat you to a quick lunch, and we'll come right back to finish. And if that does not give us enough time, I'll stay after supper."

Éomer sighed and sat back, considering.

"Come, come," Éothain prodded, "It is important for the people to see you too, a duty, if you will, to the people to give them some of your time."

"Give them a chance to complain, you mean?"

Éothain laughed, "Not all of them." He winked at Éomer, who reluctantly grinned back, before standing.

"I guess we could go, as long as we complete the reports today. I am looking forward to being done with them for another few months."

_OOOO_

A gentle breeze blew past as they made their way down the hill and Éothain sniffed appreciatively, "Fresh berry tarts!"

Éomer grinned, "Most put on weight over the winter, but I do believe you gain your pounds once the berries are ripe." Éothain laughed even as he reached over to punch Éomer's shoulder, "You should speak, rhubarb and currant will be made soon."

Éomer blocked the punch easily, but the retort died on his lips as a dark-haired maiden appeared out of a market shop and headed down an alley. His mouth felt suddenly dry and his heart beat uncomfortably fast as she disappeared around a corner.

"Éomer?"

He came back to himself to see Éothain a few steps ahead and staring at him quizzically.

"Are you alright?"

He shook his head to clear it before asking, "Did you see the girl?"

"She looked to be from Mundberg?"

"Aye."

"Pretty enough, but I prefer our redheads."

"Do you know who she is? I've never seen her before."

Éothain shrugged and began walking again. "I don't. Contrary to what you may believe I do not know every bit of gossip about every person in the Aldburg."

Éomer jogged a few steps to catch up, glancing over his shoulder at the shop one last time, "I'd like to find out who she is."

"And I'd like to eat, come Éomer, what is a girl to a fresh berry tart! Besides wasn't it you who wanted to hurry back." Éomer groaned at the reminder.

"Right. The reports. Well, I'll be done with them soon enough and then I'll find out who she is."

_OOOO_

"Idril. She's a merchants' niece, moved here with him last year, about a six month ago, just before winter set in."

Éomer looked up in surprise as the door to his study banged open.

"Who? What?"

"The girl you were interested in yesterday. My sources have told me that she's the niece of an overprotective merchant who moved here about a sixth month ago. Her name is Idril."
"Idril," Éomer tested the name aloud, he liked it, "Is the uncle the reason we haven't seen her before?"

Éothain nodded, "Seems like. I was told she did not even have leave to go out of the house until this past month. Though part of that may have been that she did not have the proper clothing for the cold weather." Éothain rubbed his chin, considering, "They must not be too well off though if they cannot buy a warmer dress or cloak." He looked down to see Éomer staring off into the distance and slapped his hand on the desk loudly. Éomer startled.

"Did you even hear me?"

Éomer grinned, "I got the important part. She was lovely. I can see why he kept her close."

Éothain shook his head, "As for that, I'd be subtle if I were you, or he might lock her up again."

"Aye…I think you have the right of it, Éothain."


_OOOO_

Scene 2

Éomer grinned down at Idril as he pulled her in a little closer for a spin. "I'm glad your uncle finally agreed to let you come to the great hall for a supper." She smiled back, her clear grey eyes shining in the torchlight, "Me too. Although, to be honest I've only asked twice. With uncle, if I show too much interest the answer is sure to be 'no'. I just happened to catch him in a good mood today."

"At least he's not curtailing your visits to the market."

He felt Idril falter a bit and steadied her.

"That may be because I have not told him that I am meeting anyone there."

"Well, and you are not. We just happen to run into each other there with increasing frequency."

Idril laughed, "That is what I keep telling myself. At what point does this shade into dishonesty?"

"When I begin asking to meet you instead of just informing you of my possible whereabouts?"

They spun again, and Éomer caught sight of Idril's fairly constant shadow. "So that is your…cousin?" he asked for clarification.

She smiled back up at him, her hair flaring out to wrap around her waist, the silky feeling of it brushed his hand, entrancing him. "Distant relative would be more honest. But he watches over me like a brother."

Éomer raised an eyebrow at that, "Hmm…I'd say not. Not like a brother…" his voice trailed off and he looked puzzled for a moment. The music ended with a flourish, and they were jostled closer together in the crush of dancers switching partners.

Éothain swung up beside them, "'lo Éomer, mind if I take the lady off your hands?"

Éomer moved his hand to Idril's waist. "Sorry, Éothain, but I think the lady and I could use a drink."

"I'm sure you're parched from all your dancing. What's this make it? Three with Idril alone?"

Éomer shrugged, "She's a fine dancer, and I hadn't had the pleasure yet." The first part of his statement was more than true, and yet another thing that niggled in the back of his mind. Where did a shopkeeper's daughter learn to dance like an elvish maiden if she's never let out of the house?

Keeping his hand at her waist, he guided her around Éothain throwing a grin back to him as he did so, "I'm sure you can find another comely lass to swing around."

With practiced ease, he led Idril back to the table with the drinks on it, "What is your wish, my Lady, ale or mead?"

Idril scrunched up her nose, "Mead, please, I'm having a hard time getting used to ale instead of wine."

"Ah, then I will have to have the housekeeper bring up a couple bottles the next time you sup with us." He grinned, "Usually I keep it for visiting dignitaries, but I will make an exception for a lovely lady." Idril blushed and sipped at her mead effectively hiding her face.

"Are you overheated, my Lady?" Éomer said, purposefully misconstruing her flushed cheeks.

Idril nodded, "Perhaps the dancing was more intense than I realized."

"Shall we step outside for a moment then? There is a bit of a breeze blowing, I'm sure it will be refreshing."

"When is there not a bit of breeze blowing here in the Riddermark?" She laughed lightly and Éomer grinned.

"Only when it is a gale instead." Slipping his hand onto the small of her back, he again guided her again through the throng and out a side door, noticing as he did that Idril's 'distant relative' was keeping them in easy following distance. "Don't look now, but I think mayhap your relation doesn't trust me." He murmured as he led her to a corner of the wide porch, and, keeping his hand at her waist, he turned to face her.

"Would you trust a handsome man such as yourself with your sister?" She blushed again as soon as the words left her mouth, realizing too late the unwitting compliment.

Éomer grinned down at her and cupped her cheek in his hand, "No," he said simply as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. She froze for a moment. He brought his other hand up to frame her jaw and fire ran through him as he heard her small moan and felt her respond with pure innocence. Time seemed suspended as he tasted the honey of the mead off her lips and breathed in her light floral fragrance, hazily, his mind added in the question of what scent she wore to the puzzles that seemed to multiply around her. A loud cough broke through the haze and they both pulled back.

"Well," Éomer swallowed hard, "I guess we saw how far we can push your guard." The words were out without thought, yet as soon as he said them, he felt the rightness of it, knew it to be true.

Idril's eyes widened and she blinked rapidly, "How, how, did you, please, you can't-" words tumbled out of her mouth so fast that no sense could be made of them. He grabbed her hands to stop her, pressing them gently.

"I didn't know that he was a guard," he spoke low, "It slipped out. But it fits too well-" Their conversation was interrupted by the guard clearing his throat again and stepping forward. "'Scuse me, Idril, but we should really be getting back. Uncle will be waiting up for us." He cast a hard look at Éomer but moved away again immediately.

"Of course, Degrin." Idril began to move away, but Éomer caught her hand.

"I'll be at the market tomorrow. Perhaps I shall run into you there?" He kept his voice quiet, his tone light, even though he felt an undercurrent of uneasiness running through him.

She looked back, nodding as she caught up to the guard and took his arm.

"Goodnight, my Lord." She curtseyed briefly to him in farewell.

"Goodnight then, my Lady," Éomer sketched a short bow in return as she turned and they faded into the night.


_OOOO_

Scene 3

Humming the tune Éomer had been teaching her while they walked through the town, Lothìriel began to descend the stairs. She stopped upon hearing raised voices in the kitchen.

"You have to tell her now." Degrin... What do I need to be told?

"We cannot. We told Denethor that we wouldn't inform her until her eighteenth birthday and that is still three months away. "

"Commander Eglarion." She heard Degrin's voice go cold and grew cold herself at the realization that he thought this serious enough to argue against orders, "Would you rather have an incident between our countries over her becoming engaged to someone other than her betrothed or risk the slight possibility that Denethor would find out within the next three months that you told the princess early."

She heard Eglarion laugh, "She would not dare. Not yet eighteen and with no male relative around. You worry too much, Degrin."

"I tell you she is falling in love with him!"

"Pish, girls this age do not even know what they feel. She will do her duty, marry the prince, and not even remember this brief interlude." Lothìriel froze, feeling her heart drop, her hands began to shake, and she burst through the kitchen door.

"No! This cannot be!"

Degrin and Eglarion both turned to stare at her. Eglarion's face flushed red and he glared at Degrin.

"You fool. You bloody fool. On your head be it."

Lothìriel looked at Degrin, her eyes pleading, "Please, please say it isn't true."

Degrin gulped and his gaze dropped, his voice a sympathetic whisper, "I'm sorry, Princess, but it is true. You are betrothed to Prince Thèodred already and the announcement is to be made on your eighteenth birthday."

"Why?" her voice broke, "Why wasn't I told before?"

Commander Eglarion's supercilious voice grated through her, "Lord Denethor thought that secrecy at this point would lessen the chances of something happening to you. The reasons for coming here as a merchant's daughter were real, but he was also afraid of trickery from some in Rohan."

"But why wasn't I told?!" her voice rose.

"Lord Denethor did not trust you to keep it quiet." Bitterness swept through Lothìriel and she felt her shoulders slump.

"There…there is no changing this? Éomer is Third Marshal, the King's sister son, and descended from royalty on his-" her voice trailed off as Commander Eglarion shook his head violently.

"The contracts have been signed by Lord Denethor and Thèoden King. Lord Denethor would never allow you to lower yourself that much."

"What of my father? Surely-" She stopped as Commander Églarion again shook his head.

"Your father's only stipulation was that you were not betrothed before eighteen. It was a high concession from Denethor that the wedding has been put off this long." Tremors moved from her hands up to her shoulders and chest, and Lothìriel hugged herself as tears filled her eyes and panic swept through.

"Surely there is-" Again Commander Eglarion was shaking his head. Lothìriel felt like screaming, a tight band formed around her chest, she turned away to hide her tears and one thought came to her mind. Éomer. Without a glance back, she ran from the kitchen and out the front door, not even bothering to put shoes on her feet. Up the hill towards the hall she flew, up the steps and past astonished guards. Éomer. Straight to his study she ran, and without knocking flung the door open.


_OOOO_

Scene 4

Éomer was sitting at his desk, when suddenly the door was slammed open.

"Idril?" He exclaimed in surprise as she burst into the room flying straight to him. Standing just in time, he caught her as she flung herself at him. As soon as his arms came around her, she began to sob.

"Hey, what's going on?" Shaking her head, she only cried harder. Gathering her up, he sat back in his chair, and pulled her onto his lap, stroking her hair to calm her.

As her sobs began to lessen, he placed his fingers under her chin, and tilted her head so he could look her in the eye. He pressed a kiss on her brow, "What is the matter, Idril?" She dropped her eyes and buried her face in his chest.

"If I was Idril, there would be nothing wrong." Sorrow and bitterness laced her words, and he felt the fluttering edges of real fear touch him.

"What do you mean?"

"I. Well. You know that I came here to hide, because I was not safe," she hesitated for a long moment.

"Yes."

"I found out that," her breath hitched, "I…found…out," she buried her head deeper, and he could feel her struggling to keep the tears down.

"Shhh, shhhh, it'll be alright," Éomer trailed a line of kisses down her cheek, nuzzling her ear and pulling her in closer, "Let's start from the beginning. You are not Idril. I knew that. But I don't know who you are. So?"

"I am Princess Lothìriel of Dol Amroth." Her muffled words hung in the air and Eomer sat stunned for a moment, breath half drawn, hand paused on her hair. Letting out the breath, he dropped deeper in the chair.

"You are Princess Lothìriel of Dol Amroth."

She nodded.

"The only current royal Princess of Gondor."

She nodded again.

"Daughter of Prince Imrahil and niece to Lord Denethor."

"Yes."

"Cousin of Boro-"

"Yes!"

"Okay," he took a breath, his mind racing, the fluttering edges of fear wrapping a tighter hold on him.

"And you," he paused as her words came back to him, "this has to do with me. With us."

She raised her head to look at him, her usually clear grey eyes were cloudy, "Yes."

He nodded.

Then, deliberately, he leaned forward and kissed her. He felt her hands slip around his neck to tangle in his hair, and he pulled her closer, taking the kiss deeper until there was no more time, or thought, only feeling and passion.

His lungs burning and his chest aching, he broke it off and stood with her. Setting her on her feet and leading her to the door, he slid the latch, locking it, before taking her to the couch and sitting again with her beside him.

He faced her, trailing his fingers over her face taking in every detail.

"Tell me."

Tears filled her eyes again, "I," she took a breath, "My uncle," another breath, "betrothed me…" Éomer held up his hand to stop her, "You are already promised to another."

She nodded, "Uncle Denethor set it up long ago."

"And you found out how?"

"I...overheard Commander Eglarion and Degrin this morning. They argued..." her voice trailed off again as her eyes met his. Éomer's mind scrambled to pick up the threads, to see how they fit, which was the most important.

"Your uncle won't allow you to choose, even if your heart is attached to another?"

She let out a bitter laugh, "What does the heart matter to Denethor? Power is all he desires." Éomer blinked.

"But why Rohan then?" As soon as he said it, he could see the tapestry unfurl, "Thèodred!" he gasped out, his face going white. He jumped up to pace the room as Lothìriel began to cry again.

"Blood and ashes! You're betrothed to Thèodred," he spun around to pound his hand on the desk, "Why did he never tell me? Why would he keep this secret?" He moved back over beside her and knelt in front of her.

"Your uncle…no, the commander? He gave you no hope for us?"

"He said there was none." No longer fluttering at the edges, fear clenched his heart tightly. He gripped her fingers.

"I will try. I will talk to Thèodred and the Thèoden King."


_OOOO_

Scene 5

Éomer heard a step behind him. He ignored it. A moment later Thèodred joined him to stare out at the plains of Edoras,

"I can't be your witness," Éomer said thickly not turning to look at him, "it wouldn't be fair to any of us."

"You are sure she returns your love?" Éomer stiffened. He shot Thèodred a glare and Thèodred flushed.

"It is not that I doubted you before. But she is to be my wife, Éomer. You must see how difficult this is for me as well. You cannot blame me for hoping that it may have been but a passing fancy-on her part at least!"

Éomer watched the wind rolling through the grass, allowing his mind to blank for a moment, before purposefully relaxing his shoulder and unclenching his fists.

"I am sorry, cousin." Thèodred's voice was pained, "I tried. Truly, I did. Would that I could change this for you, so that you two could wed instead."

"I understand. A future king for a princess. 'Tis a much more fitting match." Éomer turned, "Only a couple more months?"

Thèodred nodded, "Would you like me to have them removed to Meduseld?"

Éomer shook his head, "'Tis no matter, I will stay away from her. And I doubt the commander will let her stray from the house." He took a step towards the Golden Hall, "Maybe I'll double my patrols for a bit. It wouldn't be a bad thing, fall is here and with the floods that ruined so many crops this year, Dunlending and Orc have been more forward." He paused as he passed by Thèodred.
"You'll forgive me, but I think I need to be alone for awhile. Perhaps I will see you at supper." Thèodred clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Of course, Éomer," he paused, "I truly am sorry," he added in a low tone, as Éomer walked up the steps and into the hall.


_OOOO_

Scene 6

Éomer stepped out of his room and towards Thèodred's study. With his head tucked and running through a list of what he and Thèodred needed to discuss, he didn't see the figure before him until he ran right into her.

"Oh, excuse me," he began, looking up quickly. He stopped abruptly. Lothìriel stood before him, eyes wide, hand pressed over her heart.

"Lothìriel," he breathed out, "I. I didn't see you."

He could feel his heart starting to race, she looked lovely, the deep green of her gown setting off the color of her eyes. A vision that will never be yours. Remember your cousin. He backed up a step and ran a finger around his shirt collar.

"Éo-Éomer," Lothìriel backed up a step also, "I was just headed to the great hall for dinner…" her eyes studied him wistfully, "You are…you are well?"

He shrugged and with difficulty pried his eyes off her looking to a tapestry on the wall instead, "As well as can be expected," he swallowed, "might I walk you to the great hall?" He offered her his arm and she hesitantly took it. They walked in silence almost the length of the corridor. "How fare you?" Éomer finally asked.

Her step faltered a bit, "I, I am content." She glanced up at him, caught his eye, and time stood still for a moment. Longing and sorrow warred through him, and he dropped his gaze just as she did as well.

"I will leave you here," Éomer said thickly, "I see my sister is awaiting your company and I have business to discuss with Thèodred." He briefly waved at Éowyn and bowed to Lothìriel before turning with a heavy heart to meet Thèodred.

He entered without knocking, and found Thèodred leaning up against the window casing, back towards the door. Thèodred spoke first.

"I saw you with my wife." The words were cold.

Éomer's heart twisted, "I accidentally ran into her in the corridor. I escorted her to the great hall. That was all."

"I saw the look she gave you, like she would memorize your very essence for fear of forgetting it."

"Thèodred, I swear, we didn't plan…we didn't do anything."

Thèodred turned then, his eyes rimmed faintly red, "Do anything," he snarled, "You have already done it. My wife loves another, and I…I love her." He pounded his fist on his desk, "Do you know what I would give, Éomer, to see her look at me as she looks at you?" His voice rose, "Still, over a year later, she looks at you. Will you never stop tormenting me?"

Éomer's shoulders slumped and he rubbed a hand wearily through his hair. "I am sorry, cousin. I never

wished for this either. And I would to Bèma that I could turn back time and change it so we could all have peace."

There was a long moment of silence, then Thèodred pulled out his chair and dropped into it, "No." He sighed, resting his head in his hand briefly, before sitting up again, "No, I am sorry for speaking so harshly. I know this is not of your doing." He pulled a piece of paper towards him, and fiddled with the edges of it as silence reigned again. Éomer stood uneasily by the door, until with a wave, Thèodred motioned him into a chair.

"Éomer, orc movements have been increasing near the Fords of Isen and Hornburg. My visits to Edoras will be fewer and hastier after this. I don't think that I will be bringing Lothìriel with anymore."

Éomer sat for a moment, taking it in, to not see her at all? His heart ached. But he said, "That would probably be for the better," he rubbed his hand over his beard, "Éowyn will miss her. But I'd be glad to see one of them staying out of Wormtongue's view-if not mind."

Thèodred nodded, "Yes. Grima is disconcerting," his face twisted, "He reeks of something foul, and with father becoming more ill, well, I wish he had another councilor that he would turn to instead." Éomer looked up as Thèodred paused,

"You have something more to say?"

"Yes. It is just…hard…to bring it up. I never told you that Grìma was in the room when I asked father of the betrothal." Éomer flinched, his mind replaying the agonizing wait at Aldburg after he had sent the missive to Thèodred.

"Éomer?"

Éomer looked up and nodded, "No, you hadn't mentioned that before."

"Grìma hadn't heard of the betrothal before, Éomer, and he was furious in that quiet thin-lipped way of his."

Éomer startled, "Uncle kept it secret from Grìma even? No wonder he has been so testy since, I bet that was quite the blow to the worm."

"Aye, but Hama and Elfhelm both knew of it. It makes me wonder what has changed that he is now the only one privy to the King's secrets and the only one allowed to speak for him when he is feeling unwell again. And this bring me to my point, Cousin. Grìma is gaining in power, and I fear he is also putting spies among us. There have been times in council lately that he has seemed to have prior knowledge of my plans and used that to circumvent them."

Éomer nodded, "It is curious, and I have noticed the same thing. Clever wording has been needed to ensure that while we follow the king's law, we also do what is right for the people." He rubbed his hand over his beard and sat back, "Well, we shall need to be more circumspect in whom we trust at the least. I wish we knew what he intended. Do you have a hint of it?"

Thèodred shrugged, "As of yet, I am unsure. But it looks deeper than just some game to gain power with the council. I fear though," he leaned forward speaking lower, "I fear he is in league with Saruman. Orcs with the white hand have begun rampaging in the West Mark."

Éomer's eyes hardened, "I heard rumours of this, but hoped for them to be idle tales. This is ill news."

A knock sounded at the door, and Éomer abruptly stopped talking. Thèodred shot him a warning glance before calling out, "Enter!"

A young maid entered carrying a tray, "My Lords, the ladies Éowyn and Lothìriel thought you might prefer to keep dinner here and, as it's almost over in the great hall, sent me with a meal for you."

Éomer relaxed back into the chair again as Thèodred smiled at the maid, "That was a happy thought. Thank you, Gilda." The girl set up the tray on Thèodred's desk and curtseyed her way out of the room as the men continued talking.


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