A/N: To those who are reading through this for the first time: Welcome! To those who are returning: I have consolidated the chapters on this and added in a couple more scenes. It moves slowly forward. :) I hope you enjoy it!- Cognisance
Fae Bonds
By Cognisance
It has long been known by the elves that within the world there are those souls which are connected, entwined despite obstacles such as distance or time. Fated to find each other. Fated to love.
Chapter 1
3000, 3rd age, September
Éomer looked around warily. What was this room? Never in the nine years of his life had he seen such a style. Graceful arched windows, white stone walls glittering in the darkness, and out the window…He let out a quiet gasp. As far as the eye could see, wave upon rolling wave of deep blue shimmering in the moonlight.
A small whimper recalled his attention. His eye was drawn to an alcove where a babe lay in a crib frowning in sleep. Éomer stepped over, smiling as he remembered his first time seeing Eowyn and her ferocious cries. "Your hair looks like silk, little one," he whispered as he reached out and ran one finger lightly across it. The babe sighed softly.
Éomer awoke.
_OOOO_
3004, 3rd age, June
The sun beat down on the sand, burning Éomer's feet and he shifted uneasily as he looked around. "Am I dreaming?" He bent down and picked up a handful of the sand, marvelling at how very real it felt before letting it drift out of his fingers and into the wind. His eyes followed it's movement until they caught at aquamarine waves and a white sea wall. -Where is this place?- He started to walk down the beach when he spied a small figure in a shift with a mop of black hair sitting in the waves and laughing. He edged his way over slowly.
"Hello?"
The little girl looked up with a delighted grin, "Mae 'vannen, Melonin!" Grey eyes glowed at him and he felt himself answering the smile.
"Where are we?"
The girl waved her arm back towards the shore, "Home." Éomer smiled at her simplicity as he turned to look, his amusement quickly changed to wonder at the site of an airy castle rising like a dream from the cliffs. Off to the side, as the hill wound down to the sea, row upon row of slate tiled houses stood in neat formation, down to the harbor where small fishing sloops bobbed and great warships were anchored.
A large wave splashed up to his knees and Éomer stumbled as the force of it hit him. He heard a coughing splutter next to him, and turned to see the girl caught by a wave frantically trying to find her feet as she was pulled out to sea. Her eyes caught his and he could see terror flickering through them. Quicker than thought he plunged in after her.
"Hold on! I've got you." Diving towards her he caught her by the stomach and got his feet set against the wave. As the suction lessened he lifted her to his shoulder and carried her back to the shore. Back on dry sand he set her down and kneeled by her as she rolled to her knees and coughed in spasms.
"Are you ok?" He asked once the paroxysm was over. Her head bobbed twice before he was surprised by her flinging herself at him, and small arms wrapping around his neck. He caught her hug awkwardly.
"You're safe now," he murmured in her ear. Eowyn flashed through his mind, the embrace reminding him of comforting her after nightmares, after a scare, after their father's and then mother's death. "It's ok. You're safe." He ruffled her hair lightly, and another memory struck him, a moonlit night and a babe with hair like silk. He shook his head to clear it as the girl untangled herself to stand before him and said, "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Éomer tilted his head to look her over, "Who are you?
"Thìri. Who are you?"
"Éomer."
"É-mer." He snorted a little at her pronunciation.
"Where is-" He started to ask when a loud knocking reverberated through the air. Confused he looked around as the scene began shattering apart like glass shards and the knocking echoed in his ears louder and louder.
Éomer awoke.
_OOOO_
3008, 3rd age, May
Éomer walked through the wide white hallways quietly. Their beauty did not catch him this time, it felt cold. He shivered involuntarily as he stepped through a large arched doorway. A casket lay in state at the end of the room. Arrangements of flowers in the purest white covered it and filled the air with a nauseatingly heavy perfume. Éomer's eye fell on a slight figure in white in front of the casket, and he made his way to her. Not wanting to startle her, but unsure of how to gain her attention he knelt beside her.
"Thìri?" She turned unseeing eyes to him.
"Naneth is gone."
Her blank stare frightened him, so he took her hands in his. -So cold- chafing them gently to warm them up he said quietly, "I am sorry."
She shook her head, "She's never coming back." Her voice took on a tinge of panic and she began shivering violently. He pulled her into a hug rocking her back and forth.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured. Éomer held her there, calming her as he had years before. Slowly, her shaking stopped, her breathing evened out, and Éomer realized she had fallen asleep. Easing her off his shoulder he curled one arm behind her neck and slipped her into the crook of his arm. "I wish I could take your sorrow, little one," he whispered as he sat and held her close.
Éomer awoke.
_OOOO_
3009, 3rd age, September
Éomer strode into his room, banging the door behind him. "Idiot Eothain and his idiot jokes," he grumbled as he took his cloak off and threw it onto a chair. He turned and stopped abruptly.
"Thìri?"
The girl from his dreams stood in his bedchamber, eyes wide with surprise, one of his carvings clutched in her hand.
"Éomer?"
He grinned, "I see you can pronounce my name now. Though I'm surprised you remember it."
She shook her head, "Where are we?"
He watched her glance around the room, before grinning again, "Home."
She snorted, "And where is home?"
He stepped over to the window and swung open the screen, "The Riddermark."
She stepped up and gasped. He watched as her eyes traveled over the expansive waves of grass bending and rolling in the wind.
"Oh! It looks like a sea of green! How beautiful." He felt a swelling of pride.
"Yes. It is."
"Look! Horses!"
His gaze followed the pointing of her finger and a fierce grin split his face.
"Maeras." He breathed. She looked awed.
"I've never seen horses like this before."
"I'm surprised we're seeing them now, even if this is just a dream."
"This doesn't feel like just a dream." Thìri stated.
"No. It doesn't."
They watched as the Maeras circled around at a trot before cantering over the hill and out of sight.
Éomer took a step back as Thìri let out a sigh and turned to him, "It's my birthday today."
"Is it? I'm sorry I don't have a present for you."
She smiled up at him, "This is my present. I wanted to see you again."
He laughed, "That's a pretty easy present." He stepped easily over to his bed, "It doesn't seem enough-" He turned to sit and stopped abruptly. She was gone.
Slowly he moved back over and refastened the window, the wind blew a bit chill today. He then picked up the small carving that had fallen to the floor. Slowly he traced the lines of the Maeras he had carved before setting it back on the shelf by the others.
Eomer awoke.
_OOOO_
3009, 3rd age, October
"I think I've figured it out."
Éomer started and stood from his desk, turning as he did so to see who had snuck into his room. "Thìri?"
She smiled. "Yes." She bounced excitedly on her toes.
"What have you figured out?"
"How this," she waved her arm vaguely, "works."
He grinned down at her, "Oh? And how does it work? When you want me, you call and I have to come?"
She laughed, "No. After all didn't I come to you this time?" She motioned to the room.
Éomer shook his head, "It was only at your wish though."
She frowned at that and tossed her hair back. -Like the proudest of fillies- Eomer thought with a hidden grin.
"I guess-" She started to say when she stopped and cocked her head as if a sudden thought or sound came to her. Before he could ask what it was, she was gone, and he was alone in his room.
_OOOO_
Chapter 2
3012, 3rd age, June
Éomer stepped into a garden. Riots of color in the sunset assaulted him along with the low buzz of insects and a thick perfume from the flowers. There was a narrow curved path in front of him, and he followed it, ducking under branches from a small tree, and stepping over vines that had escaped the confines of the border to crawl along the path.
"Over here!" He looked up as Thìri called to him. She was standing by the railing, looking out over edge, waving him to come forward.
"I thought you might like to see a better view of the sea…I don't think I've shown you before, and I've come to the Riddermark so much more…" Her voice trailed off as he stepped up beside her and looked on the sun setting west over the sea. The sea sparkled with deep blue, pinks, yellows, and reds shimmering along the trailing edge. Ships were lying peaceful in the harbor and the seawall looked a blinding white flecked with yellow and orange along its top edge. He grinned appreciatively.
'"This is beautiful." He let his eyes wander over the view, taking it all in slowly, after a moment he added, "although, I have seen a moonlit view like this once before," remembering the first time he saw her.
She frowned in confusion, "You mean you've been to the sea before, but only passed by in the night?"
He shook his head and let out a low short laugh, "No. It was actually the first time I met you. You were but a babe in the cradle, and you were in a room with a window that faced the sea."
"You saw me when I was a babe? You must be very old."
Éomer laughed again at her frank bluntness, "I am not that old. I have only seen one and twenty summers."
"Oh! That's how old my brother Erchirion is. I guess that's not so old, it's only nine years older than me."
"Thank you for that allowance, Thìri."
She grinned at him, "It's actually Lothìriel. But you can still call me Thìri."
"Lothìriel." He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, it was too long of a name for me to say when I was little, but my real name is Lothìriel."
"Oh. Why didn't you-"
"Formally speaking I am introduced as Princess Lothìriel of Dol Amroth, although my father rules over more than just Dol Amroth. But I get so tired of having to be formal all the time."
Éomer tilted his head to peer at her, "Wait. What?"
"I think it's boring that we always have to use titles-"
"No, go back to what you were saying about your father."
"Oh, my father, Prince Imrahil, rules over more than just Dol Amroth?"
"Yes, that. So…you live in a castle, in Dol Amroth with your father who is a prince…" His voice started to trail off and she continued.
"Prince Imrahil who rules Dor En Ernil for Gondor. And my brothers live here too, of course."
"Of course. How many brothers do you have again?"
"Three. First is Elphir, then is Erchirion, then Amrothros. And we do live in the castle here most of the time, but we spend a month or two at our house in Gondor every year so Father can take care of business with Uncle Denethor."
Éomer shook his head to clear it. Fate had thrown him into what felt like a waking dream with a princess, whose father ruled almost a third of Gondor, then the import of what she had just said hit him. "Wait, you go to your house in Gondor to visit…Denethor?"
"Yes, my uncle. He's the Steward of Gondor. I prefer seeing my cousins though. I wouldn't mind if we didn't see uncle at all, he's grumpy." Éomer smiled bemusedly at hearing someone call the haughty and sarcastic man grumpy.
"Yes. He's always seemed that way to me too. Although I could never say that of course."
She looked shocked, "Of course not. I can not say it either. Except to Amrothros and Erchirion sometimes. But not to Elphir, he is too proper." Placing her hands on the rail she jumped lightly up, settling in, swinging her legs back and forth over the drop.
Éomer leaned on the rail and regarded the young girl, "It feels like you probably should have told me all this before."
"We've never really had this long before. It's only been a few minutes at a time." Her voice trailed off in thought before she added, "I wonder what changed…"
"When you figure it out, let me know." Éomer smiled, "And how to get into this in the first place."
She smiled brightly at him. "But then-" her voice stopped abruptly, and she frowned, "I think this is goodbye for-" And just like that she was gone.
_OOOO_
3013, 3rd age, January
Éomer rubbed his face tiredly, then looked around. Was this Thìri's -no Lothìriel's- room? It was as large as three of his bedrooms put together. A large bed stood against the back wall, centered in the middle between two large windows facing East towards the sea. It was a four poster bed with filmy flowing curtains, and a delicately knit white coverlet. Off in the corner was a comfortable looking chair and divan with a low table in front. A floor to ceiling bookshelf filled one wall, and books, shells, and trinkets were scattered around. Paintings of seascapes hung on the wall and -he was surprised to note- two tapestry's of the Riddermark, showing Éorl the young with Felarof and one of Aldburg with the mountains in the background. A small sigh struck his ears and he turned to look for Lothìriel. Nothing. Moving forward slowly, and feeling like an intruder, he peered around. Still nothing. "Lothìriel?" he called softly. There was no answer, but a slight movement caught his eye. Looking toward an archway he hadn't noticed before he saw it led out onto a balcony. He walked over towards it, "Lothìriel?" She turned, her eyes looking red. "Éomer…" she paused and rubbed at her eyes, "I don't think I called you…"
He shrugged, "You must have, for here I am. Are you ok?" He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, peering into her eyes. She dropped them and turned back towards the view.
"I," she swallowed thickly, "I will be."
"What happened?"
"Elphir is getting married."
"Shouldn't that be a happy occasion?"
"Yes." She added nothing more.
He began to feel a bit of frustration, really all he had wanted this night was sleep. Taking a breath, he continued the conversation. "So why is it not?"
"Because. She does not like me or approve of me." She swung up and onto the edge of the balcony, resting her chin in her hand and looking moodily out.
He stepped a little closer, "Maybe you should not be on top of the ledge? That's quite a fall."
"It is a dream. I can't get hurt anyway."
He frowned, irritation spiking, "Lothìriel. I-"
"Why do you call me Lothìriel now? Why not Thìri? I told you that you could."
He closed his eyes and huffed a breath, sending a short prayer up-Bema, help me!-
"Because you are not just any girl, you are a princess and-"
"Well, I'm tired of it! I don't want to be one any-"
Éomer snapped, "Quit it, Lothìriel! The world is bigger than you and your petty concerns." He dropped his head with a groan as she stared wide-eyed at him. Straightening again after a moment, he rubbed a hand over his face again, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that."
She spun around so her back was to the sea, and he had to restrain himself from pulling her off the ledge. "It probably is true, though it feels big enough to me," she said in a subdued tone, the petulance from a moment ago gone, "What's wrong?"
Éomer leaned on the railing avoiding her eyes, "Why do you think something is?"
It was her turn to snort, "Oh, come on, Éomer. You've never spoken like that before, and I know I've been more irritating than this."
He sighed, and stared unseeingly out, "It's probably not something you should hear."
"Please? Maybe it will help if you can talk about it some?"
He rubbed his hand over his face again. "Alright." There was a brief pause as he collected his thoughts. "I know I told you that they made me a Captain?" She nodded. "Well, this past week I got my first chance to lead my men by myself after a smaller band of orcs that had branched off the main group with some prisoners." His voice thickened a bit and he fell silent, she waited for the long moments it took for him to regain speech. "It. I cannot speak of all of it. But they turned back and thought to trap us, we overcame them, but not in time. It was not a pretty sight, Thìri. They had killed the prisoners shortly before we got there." His stomach twisted, remembering the gruesome scene, anger rose again. "If we had been but half an hour sooner," his voice broke and he fell silent.
Lothìriel slid off the ledge, he didn't turn to look at her. "Éomer, I-"
The knocking started and the vision began to fragment around him, for a brief moment he felt her hand upon his.
Éomer awoke.
_OOOO_
3013, 3rd age, June
Éomer stood on the hill outside Aldburg. The grass around him cropped short from the sheep and goats that had grazed this way the week before. With brisk strokes he brushed the dust from the shining coat of his father's horse, Helmfast.
"Mae geovannen, Éomer!" He turned to see Lothìriel behind him.
"Westu Thìri hal," He greeted her back, "It's good to see you to-" he paused, "tonight."
She laughed as the sun shone down on her, her eyes sparkling as she answered, "Yes, it is very pleasant to see you this night." She stepped up next to him, "Is this your horse?" She held out the back of her hand as Helmfast turned his head to inspect her. He snorted softly before nudging it. "Sorry boy, no treats today," she murmured lifting her hand to pull at his forelock.
"No." Éomer felt a fist clench his heart, as he was hit with the realization of Helmfast appearing to him, "No. He's not mine."
"Who-"
Éomer shook his head, "Not yet, Lothìriel." She looked at him questioningly but stopped. The query unasked.
"Come sit with me," he commanded as he flopped onto the grass.
"Do you ever ask anymore? Or has being a Captain started to go to your head." She raised an eyebrow as she settled beside him.
He frowned, "I am not rude, Lothìriel."
She turned her head away laying it on her knee, "It was a joke, Éomer." He grunted in response.
Silence reigned for a few moments before she tried again, "I'm glad we've been able to meet more these last few years."
He snorted, "You mean you are glad you figured out how to call me."
"Is something wrong?"
He shook his head, but then sighed, "I think this might be lessening our rest. I don't know what these dreams are, but I feel as if I am getting half the sleep I need on the nights we meet."
Sorrow filled her features, "Oh, I'm sorry that I'm bothering you."
"Thìri. That's not what-" Éomer stopped. It was what he meant, wasn't it? He shook his head his thoughts feeling muddled, and ran his hand through his hair and over his beard.
Lothìriel looked up at him, her shoulders hunched a bit as if bracing for a blow, and muttered low, "I can stop coming. If you'd prefer."
Éomer squinted at her unsure if he had truly heard her say that, "What did you say?"
"Nothing."
He startled as she jumped up.
"Can we ride him?" She motioned to the horse. Éomer climbed to his feet too.
"He's a warhorse, Thìri. Not one of your-" He stopped as she poked him in the ribs.
Her eyes were flashing "I know that. But this is a dream, right? Even if something happens. It's a dream. Please, Éomer?"
Éomer rubbed at his beard, "Fine. You can ride behind me, but hold on. I don't want to see you get hurt. Even in a dream." Her eyes shining once more Thìri flung her arms around him in a quick hug before waiting for him to mount.
"One more ride, Helmfast," he whispered as the horse nosed him. Grabbing a handful of many he swung himself up before reaching down and taking Thìri's hand to help her scrabble up behind him. Starting at a walk they rode over the cropped ground until Thìri begged to go faster. Her arms felt like a small band of iron around his middle as they cantered up a hill and he could hear her laughter echoing behind. Helmfast slowed as they reached the top and turned off to the right. Éomer felt the wind go out of him, and without saying a word dismounted, pulling Thìri off as well.
"Why?" He looked into Helmfast's eyes as if he could read the answer. He felt a faint sense of sorrow as Helmfast nudged him towards two stone markers set next to each other on the ground.
"Éomer. Where are we?" Thìri tried to catch his eye.
He shook his head not looking at her.
"Who's horse was that?"
He turned to see Helmfast trotting away, fading into nothingness.
"He was my father's."
He watched feeling as if ice were coating his insides as Thìri walked forward to the markers and traced her fingers over them.
"These are your parents' graves." It was not a question.
He nodded anyway, his throat too thick for words.
She turned towards him, eyes full of sorrow.
"I'm sorry. Sorry that they're gone."
He turned away, "There is nothing for you to be sorry for." He heard her steps coming towards him, felt a feather light touch on his arm, and for a moment resisted shrugging it off.
"You comforted me when-"
He did shrug her off then, and turned to face her, eyes hard. "I don't need comforting. This should never have happened." He flung his arm out, pointing at the graves, "Orcs and the evil that spawned then should never have existed let alone had their evil press this far." Anger welled up in him and he paced in a tight circle,
"Éomer, you can't-"
"I can't what! My father and mother died at their hands and I will not rest until every orc that dares cross the Riddermark-"
"You can't live for revenge, Éomer!" She snapped, eyes flashing anger and pain. He stopped pacing and stared at her.
"Fight for the living. Not the dead. If you fight for the dead it puts you too close to them. You're becoming reckless, Éomer." Her eyes burned into him, but he hardened his heart against the searing conviction in her voice. Her eyes softened and she held out a hand towards him, "You can mourn for your parents and-"
Sorrow and rage warred within him and he bellowed, "No more!" as he took a step towards her. He saw her eyes glisten, and a lone tear slide down her cheek, saw the fear flicker through compassion and build as he towered over her, and then she was gone. And he was standing alone on the hillside facing his parents' grave.
His heart clenched as his mind raced.
She was gone.
He had scared her.
She was gone.
And?
And, she was right.
A pounding sound echoed throughout the dream, and he watched as it shattered around him in familiar shards.
"Captain Éomer! The Third Marshal has called for the èored, orcs have been sited past the village Eastlen and we are to ride."
Éomer flung himself out of bed, "Tell him I'll be there shortly." His shoulders slumped as he began putting on his armor, his esquire raced into the room to help him chattering excitedly about the scouts' words, but Éomer stayed silent; his mind still circling around the dream then trailing back to the tension that had been building in their recent meetings; replaying his every cross word and irritable feeling.
Will she come again?
_OOOO_
Chapter 3
3016, 3rd age, September
Éomer blinked in wonder at the vision before him. A young woman sitting on a bench built into an open arched window, her feet tucked up under her, her face turned slightly away from him, moonlight shimmering over pearly skin and inky black hair softly framing her face and falling in a waterfall to pool around her feet. The white arches of the window casing echoing the delicate slip of the nightgown she wore. His heart began to pound in his chest, and he clenched his fists, over three years. Three years since he had last seen her, and she… She had grown up.
"Thìri?" He whispered, wanting to go to her, to take her in his arms, to apologize.
She started at the sound of his voice, "Éomer?" her voice cracked as she turned to look at him. His eyes widened and he froze as she stood. Slender as a young willow with an elven ethereal grace, she moved toward him as if he was the vision. Soft hands framed his face as he stared down into endless grey depths. Time stretched into eternity and then snapped back as her arms closed around his waist and her head was buried in his chest and shuddering sobs overcame her.
One hand went around her waist, the other caressed her hair as he buried his face in it, the faint scent of lavender filling his senses.
"I'm sorry, Thìri. I'm so sorry," he murmured as he pulled her closer, they stood in that moment a countless while as she gained control of herself. She pulled back to smile at him then, cheeks flushed and eyes starry.
"You came." The inflection of amaze in it bothered him.
"Didn't you call me?"
She shook her head, "I…I don't think so." His shoulders slumped as he searched in her eyes.
"But, but you wanted me to come?" He couldn't stop the question, the hopeful tone in his voice.
Shifting her gaze downward she nodded quickly. "I did. I desperately did. But. I didn't want to. I didn't wa-"
Éomer reached out and tipped her chin up. Cupping her face in his hands he said again, "I am sorry, Thìri." He swallowed hard as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, "You were right. I've been waiting three years to tell you that." A second tear followed, and he pulled her in again, "Please don't cry." He felt her pull in a shuddering breath. And then she pulled away again, taking a step back.
"It's so good to see you."
"You too." He grinned a little, "You've grown up." He gestured towards her, let his eyes slip down again. His breath caught as the moonlight behind her silhouetted her form under her thin shift. She reddened under his gaze, and he turned his head away, embarrassed, as longing flooded through him.
He pulled farther away to gain control of himself and walked over to the window looking out at the waves crashing endlessly on the beach, and farther out beyond the harbor, the seawall. "So how has your life been?" His voice still sounded a bit hoarse. He heard a whisper of fabric then she was stepping up beside him, a short robe covering her shift. She sat again on the window seat, leaning back up against the smooth stone and pulling her feet up under her.
"Life has…gone on…" her voice trailed off for a moment, "Ercherion has been made 1st Captain, under Admiral Lifgan. With the threat of corsairs so continuous, he is never home. He commands the Dol Amroth Gwenylin. And Amrothros is Caption of the Eastern Swan Knights, they're headquartered in Pelagir so I see him less than Ercherion. And," her voice faltered a bit here, "I told you Elphir got married." He nodded. "Well, they have a little boy, named Alphros who is sweet and adorable."
"How are you and Elphir's wife getting along now? Last I heard she was," he paused, "difficult?"
"She succeeded in gaining father's permission to turn me into a proper princess," she twirled her hand around listlessly. "I can now plan our dinner engagements, sew a beautiful hem, embroider birds and flowers, keep the palace accounts and be in charge of the servants, and, you'll be pleased to know, ride sidesaddle."
He snorted at that, "A truly worthwhile expense of your time." She didn't even smile.
He raised an eyebrow quizzically, -where had his Thìri gone?-
"And?"
"And I hate it." She said it with no fire in her voice, and that worried him more than any words could.
"I'm never enough for her, she won't be happy until she's crushed my soul. I am a pretty little bird in a gilded cage and I can't even sing except by their orders." Lothìriel looked up at him with wide scared eyes, "Éomer. She's gotten father to agree to find me a husband."
Éomer reeled back, "But you're not, you're only..."
"I am sixteen, and if they betroth me now I can be married in a year." She looked out the window again her hands twisting her robe, sounding lost.
Éomer grabbed her hands stilling them, "Thìri. Look at me." She raised her head and caught his gaze and a surge of protectiveness flooded him. "You can't give up." He willed fire to show in her eyes again, "This is not you. You are light and laughter and joy and hope…" his voice trailed off.
"A lot can change in three years."
His heart broke with that.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been here for you," his voice went hoarse again. He sat next to her, sliding his arm over her shoulders, "Thìri. When there was nothing in life for me but revenge, you showed me differently. Let me help you now. There is life for you yet, beyond the sorrow. A life where you will live uncaged, singing as you will." He pulled her in closer breathed in deeply. "Can you fight this? Can you put them off for awhile?"
He felt her curl into him, "I will." It was a whispered promise.
He softly dropped a kiss upon her hair in response, "Thank you. And," he paused, "And we will visit again? You will come to me? You forgive me?"
She twisted to look up at him, "I will…I will come. If you are sure you want me to." Éomer leaned his forehead against hers, "I am sure. I would that you would not doubt that."
"I do forgive you. I missed you…" Slowly she pulled back. "Do you want to go back? I don't want you to be tired-" he put his finger on her lips.
"Shhh. Tonight I want as long as we have." A hesitant smile lit her face, and Éomer's eyes fell on her ruby red lips, he felt desire flood through him again. Glancing up at her, he saw her eyes widen again as the heat from his gaze struck, he cupped her cheek again, his thumb gently grazing down. "Thìri, I…" He leaned forward slowly, giving her time to retreat if she wanted to. Softly, tenderly, he pressed a gentle kiss upon her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as her hands crept up his shirt to wrap around his neck. He felt her fingers tangling in his hair and he groaned as he felt answering passion rising in her. They parted for air, and he began to trail kisses along her cheek before catching the bottom part of her ear with a gentle bite. She let out a gasp and her eyes flew open as he trailed his tongue along the upper edge of her ear.
"Éomer-"
He looked at her and grinned at her wide-eyed expression, "Yes?"
"Eomer, what-,"
He brushed her hair behind her ear and let a gentle finger trace it again, enoying the way her eyes darkened and her breath caught.
"Desire, min swete. This is desire." His eyes searched hers again, "But if there is no love…it is no more than lust of the flesh."
"Éomer, I-" her voice broke a bit, "I do not know what love for a man should feel like."
He nodded, not letting her eyes flit away, holding her in his gaze, "And I do not know what love for a woman feels like."
Her brow furrowed at that. "You've never been in love? But surely, you're five and twenty now, aren't you? My brothers are constantly talking about some woman or another…" her voice faded out and she tried to look away. He caught her chin in his hand again.
"I may have had a kiss or two, Thìri, but always in my mind were haunting grey eyes bidding me wait. I would swear to you upon my parent's graves that I have never loved or lain with a woman." He let his hand drop, and rubbed it through his hair, before grinning down at her again. "Mayhap we shall learn what it means together." A flush spread over her cheeks as she ducked her head, smiling.
"Mayhap." It was a whisper that filled his soul with hope.
_OOOO_
3017, 3rd age, January
Lothìriel knocked on the door to her father's study, once, twice, three times.
"Enter." With a quick prayer to Illuvatar she opened the door and slipped in.
"Ada. You sent for me?"
Prince Imrahil glanced up at his youngest child, "Lothìriel, yes, I did. Sit." He pointed to the chair in front of him. Lothìriel obediently sat, and began smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress as she waited for her father to begin.
"I have something for you."
She looked up in surprise. "You do?"
Prince Imrahil smiled at her. "It is the New Year." His eyes softened as they rested on her face, and he stood, picking up a small wooden box and going around the desk to kneel in front of her, "This was your mother's." Slowly, he pulled the lid off, and she gasped as the afternoon light caught the delicate filagree of silver set with sapphire and diamond.
"Oh, Ada, it's beautiful!" Reaching out, she traced the design lightly. With a faint smile he reached in to pick it up.
"Almost as beautiful as you." Standing, he moved behind her and draped it around her neck before hooking the clasp with care. "You have grown into a lovely young woman, Lothìriel." She felt his hands on her shoulders, "which is why I've decided that it is time to announce your eligibility for marriage." Lothìriel felt herself stiffen, "But Ada, you said I could have more time," she protested.
"And I gave you more time, daughter." Already he was speaking in a tone of voice that brooked no disagreement.
"Ada, I am not rea-"
"Enough, Lothìriel." He moved around to the front of the desk again and stared at her, "the decision has already been made," taking a breath he pinched the bridge of his nose, "this is not me forcing you into a betrothal. You will be able to choose who you wish to marry, it is just time to begin to look." Lothìriel blinked back the tears that had sprung into her eyes.
"Yes, Ada." She bowed her head.
"I will escort you in to supper tonight and announce it then."
"I'm sure Lavinia will be pleased."
"Watch your tone, Lothìriel."
Lothìriel bowed her head again, "Yes, Ada," she whispered, "may I go now?"
"Yes. Do not be late, Lothìriel." Lothìriel nodded dumbly as she stood and left the room.
The sand felt cool under his feet, all the warmth of the sun having been chased away by the darkness. With only the faint light of the new moon to light his way it was difficult to see.
"Éomer?" He frowned as he turned towards the sound, her voice sounded like she had been crying.
"Lothìriel? Are you ok?" Taking a few steps forward, he breathed in relief as she came out of the gloom and into his arms.
"Are you ok?" He repeated as she buried her face in his chest.
"Ada said that I have put off the possibility of courtship long enough."
"You mean he is looking for a husband for you?"
Lothìriel nodded, "Yes." Although he did say that it would be my choice." Éomer froze as the possible import of her words hit him.
"Were those his exact words, Thìri?"
She pulled back slightly, looking at him in a bit of confusion over his tone.
"Yes. He said that this was not him forcing me into a betrothal against my will. Then he said that I would be able to choose who I wished to marry."
Éomer felt a grin forming on his face.
"So he gave you permission to choose who you would marry."
It was Lothìriel's turn to freeze, she blinked, before tilting her head up to catch Éomer's smile as he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.
"Thìri, would you be my betrothed?
_OOOO_
Chapter 4
3019, 3rd age, February 1st
Éomer walked the white hall again. And again it seemed cold to him. The large open doorway filled him with dread, and he put his hand on his sword to steel himself as he walked through it.
It was arrayed differently. No casket held the place of honor, and while there were white flowers with a heavy perfume, they were in elegant vases tastefully scattered about the hall. Éomer walked to the middle of the room and spun around slowly. A hall for a banquet. A hall for-his eyes caught on the instruments in the corner-a hall for dancing. And still dread fell over him, thick and viscous like orc's blood on his armour. He spun around again. Surely this was Dol Amroth. Where was Thìri?
"Thìri?" He called low.
There was no answer.
He began to pace the outer edges of the room looking for her. Never before had the dream felt this foreboding. "Thìri?" He called again, louder this time.
Still no answer.
He fought down rising panic, his hand moved back to his sword. As he came around the far end of the room a flash of blue caught his eye. And there he found her. Out on the balcony staring out at a raging sea as the wind blew about her.
"Thìri, what is wrong."
She turned and smiled, a tired smile that didn't really reach her eyes. "It's been too long since I've seen you."
"I know. We have been out on patrol, I've been standing watch too many nights." He paused, "I was hoping you would come tonight…or I would," he shrugged, "whichever is fine." Taking a step closer, he pulled her into his arms and softly kissed her brow. "What's wrong," He whispered this time, "I can feel something in the air."
"My father decided it has been too long."
Éomer froze.
"He announced my engagement tonight. To Lord Deglariand." He felt a shiver go through her. And his throat went tight. He wanted to curse. To rail against Wormtongue for blocking his efforts to appeal to Denethor for an arranged marriage with her. Against Boromir for not coming back, or sending him word after he had spoken with him. At Prince Imrahil who had, for all he knew, ignored the few missives Éomer had sent privately to him. But. Now was not the time for letting his anger control him. He swallowed it down with difficulty and purposefully took a deep breath, relaxing the tension in his body as he breathed it out.
"War is more than threatening with Saruman. It is only a matter of months, if not weeks before a full out assault is imminent. I cannot leave my post right now." She nodded into his chest, but he was not finished. "You have told me that the darkness grows in the east. And that your father says the same about a war with Mordor." She nodded again. "Surely you can put off a wedding until after the war…" he tilted her chin up searching her eyes, "until I can come to you?"
She buried her face in his chest again, "I will try, Éomer." It came out muffled.
He shook his head, "Thìri. If you can't promise more than try, we need to figure out something else," his voice became hoarse, desperate, "I cannot, nay, will not lose you to another, min leofe." He nuzzled her hair, breathing in deeply of her scent.
She turned tear filled eyes up to him, "I am afraid."
His heart wrenched within, his arms tightened instinctively as his mind raced. There must be something more they could do. Something that would give her courage to face this. He rubbed a hand through his hair, then licked his lips nervously as a thought came to him. "Thìri…we've been promised to each other for over two years now," her eyes searched his, wondering where he going, "I know that I love you, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
She nodded, "And you know I feel the same."
He brought his hand up to stroke her cheek, "We have also long said that this dream feels too real to be just a dream." She nodded again, eyes still questioning. "Thìri. In the Riddermark all that is needed for a marriage is for me to lay my cloak over you, for you to accept my love and protection and agree to respect me in return…Would you," he swallowed hard, "Would you marry me? Now. Tonight?"
Her eyes widened, brightened, and a smile split her face as she threw her arms around his neck, "Yes, oh Éomer, yes!" He whirled her in a circle grinning as she laughed in delight. Slowing down he leaned in to kiss her hair, but she tilted her head and caught his mouth with her own. Passion thrummed through him and he deepened the kiss. They pulled back after endless minutes, breathless. He started to tug his cloak off, but she stopped him.
"No, not here."
He raised an eyebrow in confusion. But she shook her head and grabbed his hand, "Follow me." And stepping forward he found himself holding her hand on the hill outside of Aldburg. He looked around in disbelief.
"How did you-" She leaned forward and kissed him again, effectively silencing him.
"It doesn't matter right now."
He grinned. "Right, my lady." Taking a breath, he stepped back from her, and holding her gaze, he slipped his cloak off his shoulder before gently laying it around hers. Taking her hands in his, he kissed the back of each before speaking.
"I, Éomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshal of the East Mark do this day pledge my love and protection to you, Princess Lothìriel of Dol Amroth. For as long as there is breath in body, I belong to you alone."
A tear glittered on her cheek, and he reached up to brush it away as she spoke, "I, Princess Lothìriel of Dol Amroth, do this day pledge my love and respect to you, Éomer, son of Eomund. For as long as there is breath in my body," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I belong to you alone."
Éomer tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before sliding his hands down to her waist and pulling her in to him.
"I love you." He said simply.
"And I you," she smiled up at him, "and now. Now I am yours."
His breath hitched, "Now you are mine. Min wif."
Slowly and softly he pressed a kiss upon her brow, then trailed down to her lips and tasting of her, he felt desire flood through him. Gently he captured her hand, pressing another kiss upon her knuckles, "Thìri," he whispered, his other hand traced along her cheek then slowly down her neck to follow the line of the low collar of her dress. Her breath caught as his light touch skimmed over the top of her breast, "Thìri, come lie with me." He pressed in, catching her lower lip between his teeth before sliding his tongue along it. Her breath hitched again and her fingers fisted in his shirt. Her eyes were starry, cheeks flushed, and she answered him not with words, but in that moment, no words were needed.
And as they lay together, even though 'twas in a dream, something deep within them was changed, and the two became one.
_OOOO_
3019 3rd age, February 2nd
Éomer groaned as a loud knock sounded throughout the room. "What is it?" He called as he reached out to catch Lothìriel's hand.
"Scouts reporting in, Sir." Eomer frowned, patting his hand over the bed, the bed? Weren't we…where is she?
"Sir?"
Éomer sat up and looked at where Lothìriel should hav- reality rushed in as the view of the empty spot came into focus. Absently he rubbed a hand over his heart.
"Sir?"
"What?"
"The scouts?"
"Oh. I'll meet them in my study in a few minutes." The sound of boots clunking away drifted through the door and Éomer swung his feet off the bed, a feeling of disappointment flitted through him followed quickly by elation. I am married. Thìri is min wif! A faint echo of joy flashed over him and he startled before looking around curioiusly. That was odd. Éomer stood and slipped his shirt on before going to the fire and stirring it up and adding another piece of wood. A quiet hum of joy and contentment hung at the edge of his senses, and he looked around again. Stepping over to the wash basin, he quickly splashed his face with the frigid water and dried it roughly with a towel. "Onto the day, then." He muttered as he began to move towards the door. A strange tugging sensation grew within him the closer he got. Whirling he looked around again, what in Bema's name! Testing the feeling he took a step forward, the sensation lessened. He backed up towards the door, two steps, quickly, and felt like he was being pulled in two for a moment. What in Bema's name! Understanding flooded his senses then. I can feel her. Walking towards the window the tugging sensation lessened and became instead the feeling of a thin string drawing him over the mountains, towards the sea. He unclasped the shutters and opened them, before placing his hand over his heart. If only I could. He stared at the mountains, feeling an indescribable yearning to forsake Aldburg, to take Firefoot and ride straight as an arrow to her.
"I cannot." He whispered it softly and the joy and contentment was edged bittersweet. I carry you with me now though. And some day…
Slowly he closed the shutters, and ignoring the tugging as best he could, walked to his study to begin his day.