Chapter 21
After a noisy, rowdy night with friends, Éomer finally closed the door of his chambers behind him.
Laughter was still bubbling in his throat. He and Aragorn had made their way back to the Citadel arms linked, singing Rohirric drinking songs. It was rare to see his friend let loose like that, but Éomer was glad Aragorn had made an exception tonight – even going as far as disguising himself so that they could celebrate as any normal men would. These days, neither of them had much time or interest in feasting, but it was the night before his wedding and if that did not warrant a party, nothing did.
Not that either of them had let it get out of hand. Tomorrow was too important and neither of them were going to ruin it. Lothíriel would not be the only one disappointed in him but she was the one person he could not bear to let down.
Smiling still to himself, he kicked off his boots and undressed, clumsily dropping items here and there with the heedlessness of a happy evening and toasts that had been drunk in his honour and Lothíriel's. Then he heavily fell on the bed, face down, letting one final chuckle. Béma, it was a long time since he had last felt so light.
But there on his pillow was something that quickly caught his attention. A sealed scroll was waiting for him and he recognised his bride's handwriting soon enough. It cleared his thoughts instantly and he sat up to open the message and read it.
My dear -
Tomorrow is our wedding day.
It is not what I expected at this time, surely, and even now I feel like this is some kind of a dream that will soon end, and then we shall have a laugh about it.
I am a little bit nervous, and wonder whether I would feel brave enough to do this with anyone else. But it will be you waiting for me at sunset tomorrow, and by your side, I dare anything. You always seem so confidentand I admit it makes me feel easier, too.
Even if I am nervous, I also know it is quite needless. I am marrying a wonderful, gentle, loving man who would never do anything to hurt me. Everybody speaks of what a brave and cunning warrior you are, how dashing and daring, but it was your warmth and sincerity that first endeared me to you. I only ask that these things will always exist and thrive between us.
Let us remember that sunlit moment by the river, when you first came to me.
There is a great adventure before us, and I think we have all that is neededto make it something extraordinary. I shall be your loyal companion.
This much I know: I will love you always.
Good night, and good morning, my darling,
Lothíriel
Dazed and gloriously happy, he fell down on the bed again, her letter still in his hand.
Ah, Béma. What a lady she was. What had he done to deserve this? With her, his luck had finally turned.
He couldn't wait to be able to show her how much he appreciated it!
The morning of her wedding day began early. It was grey and quiet in her room when Lothíriel got up. For a while, her feeling was quite unreal: especially in this still moment it was difficult to grasp the fact that this was indeed the day she would wed the King of Rohan. Half the night she had listened to rain pouring down, but it had turned into a gentle drizzle when she peered out of her window. It looked almost more like mist than rain. Lothíriel bit her lip. She hoped that the skies would clear before evening, for the ceremony would be held outside, near the White Tree.
Her maid brought Lothíriel some tea and a few biscuits. She took the tea but did not touch the food. She'd have breakfast with her family, and seeing she didn't feel particularly hungry, it would be difficult enough to get anything down.
After that, it was time for a bath. The maid produced various oils and soaps and the steaming water itself was mildly perfumed, luxurious even beyond the baths Lothíriel would usually take. Once she was seated in the tub and the maid was washing her hair, she could not help feeling like she was being polished and prepared, a prize to be exchanged between Gondor and Rohan.
But then she closed her eyes and summoned in her mind that image of Éomer, sitting next to her by the river, with sunlight upon his golden hair and his face open and honest and sad; he had looked so alone, and yet so full of love.
She trembled with something nameless. Her heart grew easier, for the memory had brought to focus what mattered.
"My lady, is the water too cold?" asked the maid. Lothíriel had nearly forgotten she was not alone.
"It's fine. Carry on", she merely said and picked up her soap and sponge.
After the bath, when Lothíriel had dried off, the maid had her seated by the vanity. Then the maid began to brush her hair with long, even strokes. She kept going until Lothíriel's hair was soft and shiny. Then it was time to dress: it was the first of four different outfits for the day. It was vexing, but Lothíriel comforted herself by thinking that Éomer was probably feeling just as frustrated as her, if not more. At least she was used to it and knew that court events were always performances.
She met her father and brothers for breakfast. Not much was spoken, and each had their reasons to be quiet. Father seemed to be feeling bittersweet, while Erchirion apparently felt it was easier for him not to say anything at all. Amrothos was clearly hungover – he must have taken part in the celebration Princess Hild had mentioned – and for a moment, Lothíriel wondered how he had even got out of bed so early. Then she realised Father had probably made him. Hopefully, Éomer had not feasted as wildly. But she didn't really expect so. He had made it clear he took this seriously and probably wanted to be awake for his wedding. And he respected her too much to make her watch him puking into Queen Arwen's flowerbeds.
After breakfast, she met with Father's retainers. They spoke to her about many things, beginning with what her transition from a lady of Dol Amroth to being the Queen of Rohan would entail. She found out it was a bit more complex than she had thought, and the contracts between her people and Éomer's indeed had to do with more than just property. She was silently glad that she was not needed for these conversations but could trust everything to her father's people. They also mentioned what guarantees they would try to get for her in case her marriage ended in unexpected widowhood; a bleak subject that she thought was quite in poor taste, considering this was her wedding day. After that, they made it clear how much Dol Amroth would appreciate it if she, as Éomer's queen, would find ways to work the union to her former homeland's advantage. She did not doubt it might be useful to put a word in every now and then for Dol Amroth, but it was a narrow path and she would have to walk it carefully, bearing in mind the good of both her peoples. So she listened to these instructions silently while taking her own counsel.
Altogether the session reminded her a little of the council meetings she had attended while her father was fighting in the war. It also took quite a lot of time and afterwards she hurried to her rooms for a dress change.
The day's big event, outside of the actual wedding, was the bridal luncheon her father was hosting. Éomer would not attend it – he was needed at his own luncheon – but she was expected to receive any Gondorian or Rohirric noble that happened to stop at the town house. A lot of them probably would come, for it would not be easy to get close to the bridal couple at the wedding ceremony and the feast afterwards.
After some hesitation, Lothiriel did decide to wear the jewels Éomer had sent her last night. She wasn't sure they matched her blue and silver gown, but she wanted to let him know she appreciated the gift, and she was certain that Rohirrim would indeed appreciate the gesture. Even if none of them came to the luncheon today, there was no doubt a word of her choice of jewels would soon reach their ears. Éomer had hoped to send a message by giving this gift to her, and she didn't mind enforcing it.
When she was almost finished, Amrothos wandered into her room – without knocking, of course. At least he looked better now than in the morning.
"Father sent me to ask if you're ready", he stated as he entered and she looked at him quizzically.
"I am almost done", she told him, checking once more that the jewels were in order.
"You may want to avoid wells and fountains, sister. Wearing those jewels, you'd sink straight to the bottom", Amrothos said, grinning. She threw him a patient look.
"Very funny, brother. I do not know how I shall do without your wonderful sense of humour", she said dryly, turning her eyes back to her looking glass. Her maid was adding finishing touches to her hair: a complicated arrangement of braids that would be changed yet again for the wedding tonight. Thank Elbereth she did not normally need to go through so many dress and hair changes during one day.
"You will be sorely deprived, indeed", he said, grinning. She rolled her eyes and deigned not to answer.
"Brace yourself, sister. It's quite a crowd out there", he said then as he sat down.
"Already?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes. Everybody is curious and wants to be involved. You haven't spent much time in Minas Tirith, so they want to know what sort of a lady you are. And there's no telling how long the campaign will go on, so this could well be the last grand social event in quite some time. Feasting is frowned upon during a war, but at least today it's possible to have some fun", her brother said. It made sense and she nodded. Amrothos could be as clear-sighted as Elphir, when he cared to make the effort.
"Delightful. I hoped we might be able to enjoy this day at least a little, but if it is to be some kind of a public event with Éomer and I as the main attractions..." Lothíriel muttered, her voice trailing off as she shook her head.
Amrothos made an ugly noise in his throat.
"Well, you know what Aunt Ivriniel would say. Weddings are not to be enjoyed, but endured", he said wryly.
She hemmed in agreement. What would her aunt make of all this? Lothíriel couldn't imagine Ivriniel being happy about it, so perhaps it was better that she was not present.
Lothíriel glanced at her brother.
"Is Erchirion all right? He's been very quiet."
Her brother did not answer right away. Not a good sign, she thought to herself.
"He tries to keep his mouth shut, for your sake."
Lothíriel frowned.
"Will you look after him today? I don't want any scenes."
"Of course. I'll make sure he doesn't drink too much tonight", Amrothos promised. She gave him another steady look. Her brother was not always the most reliable person in that regard, but he was not a complete fool either and would understand the need to make sure that everything went smoothly.
"Thank you, brother. It means a lot to me, and I know Éomer appreciates it too", she said and rose to her feet. She already felt a little uncomfortable with the complicated dress, her hair and the jewellery, but like Amrothos had said: it was not to be enjoyed, but endured.
"Let us get going."
Amrothos had warned her that the crowd was something else, but the amount of people bustling in the halls of her family's town house still surprised her. The air was warm and thick with their breath and noises, although all the windows and doors were open. It seemed that representatives of all major houses had come, and many more that she had hard time recognising. Even some Rohirrim were present, although the majority of them would probably be with Éomer. Later on she would learn that many of the would-be guests were turned away from the gates of the town house.
Her arrival created a bit of a stir. Indeed, it seemed everyone wanted to talk to her or at least see her up close. Somehow, Father got through the crowd and thankfully she put her hand on his arm. There was something comforting about his presence, and his calmness helped her to endure all the countless eyes that followed her every move. Such interest was a bit hard to understand, although perhaps it had more to do with Éomer than with her. Rohan allying with Dol Amroth meant that a new power balance was being created, and what this meant – and how it could be exploited – was a foremost question in everyone's minds. Amrothos had not been wrong when he had told her to brace herself: she would have to stay focused and keep a clear head to steer through this event.
Elbereth, if getting married on a short notice was this complicated, she dared not think of the hassle that would have come if they had done this in the usual way.
Many people wanted to meet her and congratulate her, of course. Some even tried to make deals or ask if she could secure them an audience with Éomer. She tried to remain gracious, but at the same time, she wondered whether they truly expected her to pay heed to such requests on her wedding day.
But not all curiosity was positive, or even neutral. There were always those who saw only the flaws, and perhaps there was also some envy and disappointment. There were many noble families in Gondor that would gladly have given their daughters in marriage to the King of Rohan; the lady he chose could not hope to have the love of those families.
Of course, it was another thing to come to her family's home and risk their talk reaching her ears – or the ears of her father or brothers.
"... inexperienced, never been to the court before... did you see how he stared at her, as if something to be devoured – men don't look that way at women, unless he's already had her... would explain why they need to marry so quickly... there was another man, the Lord of Lossarnarch, but he was whisked away after some kind of a fight where the lady got hurt... and there was a scene, and her brother was involved... why do you think Lord Erchirion would confront a royal guest unless something uncouth did happen with his sister?"
It was between a pair of elder courtiers, both of them from minor houses as far as she could tell. Their talk seemingly had not reached Father's ears, and Lothíriel decided to act as if she hadn't heard it either. She did not doubt such talk had made rounds in the society ever since Éomer's return, and the only reason she hadn't heard it until now was because she had either been too busy, or surrounded by Rohirrim who would not calmly listen to any slander about their King's bride. She could not control the gossip, but she could control how she reacted – and hide her true feelings, no matter how untrue and hurtful the words were. If she showed any emotion, it would be held and used against her or her family. She as a person probably didn't even matter. Either she was a victim of political intrigues and savage male attentions, or a cold, calculating vixen who had wagered and won a dynastic gamble.
The truth was only a minor issue. But so it was with court gossip, and against it she had to be steel, hard and impenetrable.
She tugged at her father's arm, and moved to face the two courtiers. Both were too seasoned in court intrigue to look surprised, although Lothíriel thought there was a brief flash in the eyes of one of them. She greeted them pleasantly, and her father did too, and offered some common niceties. Let them make of it what they would.
It was then something happened that she had not expected. There was some commotion further down the hall, near the main doors of the house. The crowd shifted and noise rose. A narrow corridor opened between guests and a group of five Rohirric Knights came, all of them in full armour and wearing their beautiful green cloaks. They were Riders of the King's own company. Murmurs went through the crowd like ripples.
The leader of the group bowed, and his companions did too. He was a tall, smiling man and Lothíriel recognised him; he was one of the Riders who had been with Éomer at Emyn Arnen. His eyes briefly rested on the jewels that adorned her neck. He said nothing, but his smile told her enough.
"My lady", he greeted her in a low but booming voice. "Éomer King sends his regards. We his people would greet you as our new queen, if you permit it."
"Of course", Lothíriel said, although she immediately realised that she might have asked what exactly she was supposed to permit. The Riders did not make her wonder for very long.
The other four pushed forward, and way was quickly made for them; against these broad, armoured warriors it was wiser to just give them the space they required, even if it meant giving up an excellent viewing spot. It was very quiet in the hall as all the guests stared at this unexpected scene, and wondered what was coming.
Of course, they began to sing. Lothíriel almost snorted out loud, asking herself why she had expected anything else. After all, it was said that Rohirrim were always singing, and though their war songs were more famous in Gondor, she knew it was only a small part of all their music. She thought of Éomer singing by her bedside, and wondered if this had been his own idea, or if his Riders had come up with it spontaneously. Either – or both! – could be true.
She did not understand the words, but the tune was lovely and the five Riders had wonderful voices. The song echoed in the hall and more people milled in the doorways, craning their necks to see what was happening. It was quite the spectacle and she was certain nothing like it had ever happened in this house.
Unexpected and unconventional though the performance was, most of the audience still cheered politely when the Riders finished the song.
Smiling brightly, the leader of the group spoke again, "This is a song to praise a fair and noble lady; she is wise and just and beloved of the people. Many of us Rohirrim believe that some things are best said through songs, or poetry. And what better way is there to speak of the grace and beauty of our lord's chosen?"
"I thank you for your song, and for your words. It is a lovely way to welcome me among you. I look forward to hearing more of this wonderful music – and learning to understand it, too. Many of us here in Gondor know only of your battle songs, but you have shown us that there is much more to the northern tunes", said Lothíriel.
"Let me thank you as well. For my part, I am happy to see my daughter welcomed so warmly among Rohirrim", Father added. Whether he personally thought this greeting was appropriate was beside the point: he would not condescend on Éomer's own Riders openly, but show them every courtesy.
The Rider bowed his head.
"As we would welcome any member of the House of Dol Amroth", he said simply.
"Please, stay a while. May I offer you food and drink?" Lothíriel asked, glancing also at the rest of the group.
"We would be pleased to stay, but we must return to Éomer King. Perhaps we shall meet again later", said the Knight.
"Then bring my regards to your lord, and tell him also that I look forward to seeing him tonight."
He grinned.
"We shall, lady."
Sunset was close at hand when the time finally came. Thankfully, rain had eventually ceased and the skies had cleared as the day progressed. Only a few, fluffy white clouds sailed through the sky, taking on more colour as the sun westered. But still the fresh, clean smell of rainfall persisted, as if to signal the start of something new.
With Aragorn by his side, Éomer let out a breath he seemed to have been holding since the moment he woke up. It was happening at last: very soon, the bridal escort would depart Imrahil's town house, and they would bring Lothíriel to the Citadel. She would meet her bridegroom at the White Tree, and there Aragorn himself would perform the ceremony. It was a great honour, but also a favour Éomer appreciated very much.
It felt like this was the longest day of his life, and he had been able to think of little else than his bride, her letter, how it would be like to see her tonight, how soon they could get away from guests... at least his friends understood his impatience, but the sooner the formal part was over, the better.
"Ready?" asked Aragorn under his breath when they took their spot next to the White Tree. His fellow king was in full regalia, and yet he somehow managed to look comfortable. It was a mystery to Éomer how Aragorn, whom he had got to know as the weather-beaten and ragged Ranger, could appear so natural in this environment.
"As ready as I can be", he uttered back, already glancing impatiently to the way he knew she would come.
Doubtlessly, Lothíriel had managed today's formal events much better than him. But she was more patient and graceful, and courteous too. She wouldn't let anyone believe her thoughts were elsewhere, even if she were feeling anxious. As for himself, he was certain that his distractedness today had offended at least a few Gondorian nobles trying to get his attention. Well, it was their own fault for showing up at that damned luncheon they had made him host and thinking that he was capable of coherent conversation. Lord Dunstan had heroically kept up the conversation when Éomer's own thoughts had wandered, and Ceolmund had somehow managed not to insult anybody.
Around him stood family and friends, and also his advisers. Lord Dunstan and Ceolmund stood side by side, both gloating now that the task of getting their king married was close to being finished, although Dunstan was more discreet. Éowyn was beaming too, but he knew her happiness was not for dynastic or political reasons. Hild's smile was a little bit bittersweet. Perhaps she was thinking of Éomund. Éothain and Elfhelm would not stop grinning, but Aragorn, Arwen and Faramir wore their delight with more subtlety.
A group that consisted of Rohirric Knights and Guards of the Citadel stood guard around them. Beyond this ring of watchful warriors the Citadel was filled to the brim with guests and curious locals. The crowd moved almost as restlessly as the bridegroom. The wedding of the King of Rohan here at the heart of the Citadel was a rare spectacle.
Silver trumpets announced the arrival of the bridal escort, and at last he could see them approaching. The group moved with slow formality, almost gliding as they made their way closer to the White Tree. Lothíriel was a vision in white and gold, of course, and Éomer had to hold himself back from just running to meet her. On her neck gleamed the white and green jewels set in gold, which pleased him indeed. Her queenly appearance glowed with certainty and confidence. She looked ready and unafraid, and he felt a little less uneasy for putting her through this ordeal.
His eyes remained fixed on her, and so he barely noticed the rest of the Amrothian party. He was only vaguely aware of Imrahil, who walked next to Lothíriel.
Then they reached the spot next to the White Tree, and Éomer offered his hand to the lady who would soon become his queen. She was smiling when she took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.
The ceremony felt like a dream. Aragorn's voice seemed to come from afar, and the rest of the world was even more distant. The young king was wholly occupied by watching his bride and committing every little thing about her to his memory. The curve of her neck, the soft flutter of her eyelashes against her skin when she modestly shielded her eyes from his very direct stare, the way her hair shimmered under the light of setting sun, the gentle blush on her cheeks and yet the glow of her skin that looked fresh and clear even though she had been wearing heavy court dresses and enduring bridal functions since the morning... he got lost staring at the tender, inviting lines of her mouth, and felt utterly enchanted by the bright grey of her eyes when she met his gaze. He didn't know how it was possible, but every moment he felt more in love with this lady.
He was shaken from this reverie when Aragorn stepped closer, producing a long red ribbon, made of fine silk. Éomer took Lothíriel's both hands inside his own, and singing softly Aragorn began to wrap the ribbon, round and round their hands, binding two lives as one. With a kiss, it was sealed. As with Aragorn's voice, the sound of cheering seemed to be somewhere far, and Éomer only knew the intoxicating wonder of the love he felt for the woman before him. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking, but only so slightly, and he knew how much even her self-control was being tested if this tiny indication still slipped through. But he was shaking too and his knees just barely held under him.
When he was sure his voice would not break, he turned and let his voice carry out: "Behold the Queen of Rohan!"
And his people, those of them who were present, answered: "Westu Lothíriel hál!"
Somehow, it felt like fate.
It was not until after they were in Merethrond that he began to feel a bit calmer. Even if it had not been a traditional Rohirric wedding, and even though they were not in Meduseld, Éomer was still enormously happy. And it seemed Lothíriel was, too. He knew she would not show her true feelings openly before a crowd, but in many subtle ways she revealed herself to him. In her eyes, he saw a light glimmering.
The sun had set, and he hoped they wouldn't have to stay for too long. But he wanted to make sure Lothíriel got something to eat and drink. If the day had been as busy for her as it had been for him, he didn't think she had got many chances to rest and eat a little.
"I think that went fairly well", his new wife commented once he had helped her to sit down and taken a seat next to her. Aragorn was on his left, and Arwen on Lothíriel's right in the King's own table, but both were discreetly leaning away to talk to the other guests.
"Fairly well? Did you expect it wouldn't?" he asked, amused.
Lothíriel's eyes glinted.
"You never know with Rohirrim. I have discovered they have a way of surprising you", she told him.
He let out a soft snort.
"That, I can't argue with, dear heart", he told her and took a sip of wine.
"Although if I'm honest, I am more worried about my own family. I asked Amrothos to look after Erchirion and he promised to do it, but they may both be too eager for drink tonight", she said quietly. A small crease appeared on her brow before she smoothed her expression once again.
"Do you really think your brother could still make trouble for us?" he asked her. As discreetly as he could, Éomer sought the tables for Erchirion's face. Imrahil's second son was seated between his father and brother and he did look a little bit sullen.
"I hope not. We did talk alone and I asked him not to interfere anymore, but everything that has happened lately seems to have impacted him much more deeply than I first realised. If we get through tonight, I think it might be all right. Once the campaign begins, he won't have time to brood", Lothíriel answered slowly.
"Your brother is full grown, Lothíriel. You shouldn't be worrying about him, especially not tonight. It is our wedding, after all, and I wish you could enjoy it", he said to her gravely.
A slight smile touched her face.
"Amrothos and I were talking about it earlier today. He said weddings are to be endured and nothing more", she told him, making him snort.
"Then Gondorians have a very different idea about weddings than us Rohirrim. Although I will admit this is not what I had in mind when I asked you to marry me."
She reached to touch his hand.
"I know. And just so you are aware, you are the one part of this wedding I do enjoy", she told him.
His mouth suddenly felt very dry. It was a deliciously alluring thing to say, and she seemed to realise this as well. She lowered her eyes and he could see a blush on her cheeks. Éomer turned his eyes to give her a moment. He drank some more wine.
"I wanted to ask something", she said then, making him shift to her again, "A few of your knights came today to my father's house. They sang to me before all the guests. Was that your idea, or theirs?"
He gave her a sheepish look.
"Well, you know some friends of mine wanted to celebrate last night. After a couple of drinks, I got the idea of going to your father's house, finding a way inside, and singing to you under your window. To relive some fond memories, I suppose. My friends talked me down of course, and I never told any of my men to go forward with it in some other way, but it seems that the idea was not wholly buried", he explained. "I hope it did not embarrass you."
She smiled and took his hand in her own.
"Not at all. It was a lovely gesture, and you know I don't mind Rohirric men and their singing", Lothíriel told him, eyes glittering with humour.
"Indeed", he agreed, relaxing once again. He had every intention of using that partiality in wily, wonderful ways.
Leaning a bit closer to her, he said, "Thank you for your letter, by the way. It was a very pleasant surprise."
She gave him an embarrassed little smile.
"It was? I was worried that maybe it was quite silly."
"Dear heart, it's much less silly than my idea of coming to sing under your window."
She laughed and squeezed his hand.
"Oh, I do love you so!"
It was hard to describe what he felt just then. This wonder, almost reverence, still came over him in waves. He hadn't known his heart could hold so much for another person who was not his blood. How was it possible that it could go ever deeper, and take on more shades? Béma, did this young woman even understand how completely bewitched by her he was?
Unable to speak, he simply raised her hand and kissed it, lingering in the contact as long as he dared. It was as much tenderness that he thought was proper for the circumstances, though it was not just her hand that he wanted to kiss.
Sooner they could retire, the better.
Lothíriel let out a shaky breath.
She was standing alone in the centre of a large, softly-lid bedchamber. It was remarkably quiet, although occasional noise from outside still carried in now and then, and she felt like she had just stepped out of the vibrant, bustling world of the court society and entered some place else entirely. In her stomach, butterflies were fluttering. This whole day had a dreamlike quality to it, but now more than ever.
Around her she could see Éomer's things. His armour, polished and gleaming in the corner, held her gaze the longest. She had seen it up close before, but she hadn't paid so much attention to how beautiful and detailed it really was. There was no question about the skill and craftsmanship of Rohirric weapon smiths, or the strength of the man who spent much of his time carrying all that metal and leather on himself. Next to the armour, there were also a number of small blades and daggers. She looked at them and wondered if he really carried all those weapons on him on a regular basis – and felt sad to think of the picture they painted of his life. A man would need such a variety of weapons only if death and danger shadowed his every step. Or at least that had been his life before now; she hoped he carried these weapons still because he was used to it, not because he really needed them.
Other, smaller and less deadly items rested here and there, but everything was well kept and in good order. It was the way of professional warriors, or so she had learned from her brothers. She could feel Éomer here, even if he physically was not yet present. Her own things, such as she would need for the brief honeymoon, were also laid out or waiting in a chest brought from her family's town house earlier today.
She knew the Citadel was quite full of guests at this time, and she joining her new husband in the rooms already in his use was merely a pragmatic thing to do, but she still felt something like unease. Or maybe it was just because she was nervous and uncertain and it was really hitting her now how quickly everything had happened?
The maid, one of Queen Arwen herself, had escorted her to these rooms and helped her to undress, leaving her standing dressed in a light shift and her blue robe. Lothíriel had barely moved from the spot. Did all brides feel so very alone? She knew she had nothing to worry about, and Éomer was not a man to be feared, at least not for her. Yet the feeling persisted, filling her mind with self-doubt. What if she was not good enough, and Éomer realised that as well? What if she couldn't do this after all?
It had all felt so much easier back at the feast, when gentle and teasing words flowed freely between them, and his remarks made her laugh, and her hand would often seek his. But the moment she had been led into this room, that ease and warmth in her breast had started to falter. What had she got herself into? How could she even presume to think that she was capable of being a queen?
It was then her new husband entered. He too had changed out of his beautiful, embroidered green tunic and breeches, and came wearing only a loose robe; but while she felt quite exposed, he moved with his usual confident gait. Yet perhaps he read something in her face, because he stopped as soon as he had closed the door behind him, and seemed to be wary of approaching her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was tension in the air between them, something that had not been there since that night in Emyn Arnen when she had confronted him and they had kissed for the first time. Lothíriel swallowed hard.
"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting. Certain people wanted to make toasts and give unneeded advice. They only left me alone when I told them they were literally wasting my wedding night", he said eventually. On his face there was a tentative smile.
"It's fine", she was able to utter.
"I think I'm starting to understand when you said that weddings are to be endured, not enjoyed. Well, at least we're alone now, so maybe it will be a little nicer from here on", he said then.
"I hope so", she replied and swallowed again. She couldn't keep acting like this – she could not give in to her nerves – and tried to pull herself together. So Lothíriel smiled. "It wasn't wholly unpleasant, but I'm glad it's over now. At least my maid didn't bother me with toasts or advice."
He seemed to grow a little easier when she spoke a sentence longer than just two or three words.
"Aye. I'm starting to suspect weddings are not for the bride and the groom at all. It never seemed that way before, when my friends got married – but then, I might have been a part of the problem", he said wryly.
That made her laugh, which appeared to further reassure him that his bride was not five heartbeats away from running off, screaming. So he began to move once again and headed for the table which stood by the veiled window. He gestured at the crystal decanter and two glasses waiting there.
"Fancy some wine?"
"Yes, thank you."
With a glass in hand – and some of the rich red wine warming her belly – Lothíriel felt brave enough to sit down next to him on the bed. It had been made ready, with covers pulled back. But she did not dare to think that far ahead.
"Have I told you that you looked very beautiful today? I lost my breath quite a few times back there", he told her then, watching her with that look like low embers in his eyes that she had noticed often during the wedding and the feast. One would think that at this point she would be more used to his direct way, but it still took her aback at times. So every now and then she had averted her gaze, because in the way he watched her there were things that she was not perhaps ready yet to understand.
Not that she hadn't felt something similar when looking at him today. What a sight he had been, dressed in green and gold next to the White Tree, his figure striking and vibrant against all the white stone that surrounded him! Even if she felt nervous at this point, she was well aware of his considerable charms. He was a wonder to look at, whether he was still or moving. She loved the gold of his hair and how it lived against his skin, the way he'd glance at her and that dangerously tempting smile would ignite on his face, and how he was so confident in his body without making her feel vulnerable, like some large men sometimes did. Even now her eyes wandered and made notice of the muscles moving in his neck and how the robe had opened to expose more of his chest. When pouring the drinks, he had absent-mindedly pulled back the loose sleeves of his robe; breathless, she had stared at his strong forearms and made notice of where small scars shot across tanned skin. There was an unconscious ease in his movements that she could watch endlessly.
"That is a lovely thing to say", she said quickly, recalling that she was supposed to answer. "There was so little time to prepare."
"I think I would have lost my breath, even if you came wearing tent canvas", he said, leaning a bit closer. "But I am glad you wore the jewels today. They suit you well."
"It was a very generous gift. Thank you for trusting me with something so precious."
"You're my queen. Thank Béma there are people sitting on my coffers, otherwise I might bankrupt Rohan showering you with treasures", he said in low tones. That look in his eyes had only grown more intense, and his voice... there was a tone in it that made her heart beat a little faster.
"I would never let you do such a thing. I would go and sit on those coffers myself", she uttered in a small voice.
"That is no good. I had other ideas in mind as to how to use your time... may I kiss you?"
He was so close now. His want was almost a tangible thing between them; she understood she had only seen little glimpses of it before. Now that courtier's words about being devoured suddenly made sense in a wholly new way.
"Y-yes", she breathed, and he closed the small distance between them.
Very quickly she realised it would not be hard to just let go, and let everything happen. His kiss was already sending warm, thrilling waves through her body. She could let him take the lead and most likely she would even enjoy it. And she would have done her duty, just as everyone expected of her.
But just as she was about to commit to this thought, Éomer suddenly pulled back. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her in concern.
"Are you all right? Am I moving too fast?" he asked her.
That question broke her. No, she could not do this to him – she couldn't just lie back and think of Dol Amroth in their marriage bed. She had to want it as much as he did.
"I – I just feel so nervous, and I'm not... I wasn't..." she stammered, but words wouldn't come out, and she didn't even know what she wanted to say. Panic threatened to take her. Had she ruined everything?
He regarded her quietly and in growing dread, she expected to see disappointment appear in his face. But it did not.
"Give me a moment", he merely said and got up. Lothíriel watched quietly, still half convinced something terrible would happen. He made his way to the washing basin, where he washed his face and scrubbed it for a while, and ran his hands through his hair. Then he tied and fastened his robe more tightly again, took their glasses and poured some more wine. He returned to the bed, where she sat quietly. When he offered her the glass, she took it without even thinking.
"Please tell me, did you really agree to do this freely, or did you do it because you felt pressured?" he asked her at last. His tone was not disappointed or accusatory, just gentle and sincere, and she almost sobbed out loud in relief.
He must have misunderstood her reaction, for he touched her hand and said, "You can tell me anything, love."
"I don't know if the answer is so simple. I love you, and there's nowhere I'd rather be than by your side. But everything just..." she said, or tried to say, but once again words betrayed her.
Luckily, he understood.
"But everything happened too fast, and you haven't had time to adjust", he finished for her.
"Yes", Lothíriel said, looking down at the glass that she held in her hands. In a quiet voice, she continued, "I hope I have not disappointed you."
Gentle fingers touched her chin, coaxing her to look up again. She met those dark, gentle eyes and wanted to cry for what she saw in them.
"You could never do that, Lothíriel. I knew I was asking much, and you have every right to feel as you do. But why didn't you tell me before that you didn't feel ready?" he asked her.
"I thought I was ready", she admitted, frowning. "I was so sure that I could do this, and I didn't want to let you down. And now I feel so stupid, because I am with the man I love, and yet I feel more nervous than when my father left me in charge of Dol Amroth."
He smiled wryly.
"I don't think it's stupid. And I don't believe you're nervous about me, but about being vulnerable. About giving up your control of the situation. That is something I can understand", he said slowly.
Relief overcame her once more. Of course he understood her. Why had she ever thought that he wouldn't?
She took his hand in her own.
"Are you sure you're fine with doing this slowly?" she asked him. It didn't seem fair that she would set the pace. After all, a quick marriage hadn't even been his idea.
He smiled slightly.
"I'm fine when I know that you are safe and comfortable. Everything else can come later", he told her. "It's true I'd like to be with you, as your husband, but how could I do it knowing you don't feel secure enough? We would both regret it. And you are too important. If I lost your love and trust, then I would lose my greatest treasure."
What could a woman do in the face of such confessions? Lothíriel felt almost dizzy with emotion, and she very nearly fell into his arms right then. Elbereth, she was so lucky! And she had been so silly to be worried, because she could trust this man above anyone else.
"You are my treasure, too", she told him in a shaky voice, still not quite sure if tears would come or not.
He made a sound in his throat, which might have been a sob. He reached for her, placing his hand against the back of her head, and kissed her again. But it was a sweeter kiss than the one before, something that spoke more of his heart's need than his body's desire. She met and welcomed it fully with her own.
Though the kiss ended, he remained close, his forehead against hers.
"Some wedding night", she whispered at last, and let out a small laugh.
He pulled back just a little bit, so that he could meet her eyes properly.
"I'm with the woman I love, and she is my wife. That is more than I ever thought I would have."
To be cointinued.
A/N: Here is a new chapter! I hope you like it. :)
The final part of this chapter is my favourite. As calm and patient Lothíriel is, she's also a young woman in the middle of a unusual and demanding situation, and I think it was inevitable her nerves would show up when things start to get real. Poor Éomer is really being tested, but that's the measure of how much he loves her.
I also enjoy the idea of Éomer and Aragorn having a guys' night out. That would surely be a story I'd love to read!
Writing the line, "You are my treasure, too", felt very real and significant. I do think men need and deserve to be heard that they are important and loved, and if it were socially acceptable for men to be emotionally vulnerable and show and receive ways of caring that are generally regarded as "feminine", we would live in a better world.
Stay safe out there!
Thank you for reading and reviewing!
LH Wordsmith - I very much agree! But it's one thing for the writer to find such a character, and always such a joy when the readers like them, too. OCs are a fun way to flesh out the world of Tolkien, although I admit I don't much like it when an OC supplants the original author's own character.
We'll see how the relationship between Lothíriel and Hild pans out!
Cathael - Thanks! :)
Glad you liked that conversation! I must admit, writing a talk between Hild and Éowyn even scares me a little bit! :D
coecoe11 - Glad you liked it!
OCs definitely give wonderful chances to explore more situations, and sometimes they shed interesting light on characters native to the story.
Thanks, let's hope the muse remains a bit more active!
Cricket22 - Thank you! Indeed, I think Éomer very much prefers what he knows to be the real Lothíriel, though he may of course admire the dolled up version. But he doesn't strike me as a person who puts that much value on outward glitter.
Hope that this chapter is everything you hoped it to be! I very much enjoyed writing her letter to Éomer. :)
Also big thanks for understanding that updates may take a while!
JennyVDM - Glad you liked that conversation! And thank you kindly for your supporting words. 3
tomato - Thank you!
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thanks!
Simplegurl4u - Interacting with my readers is one of my favourite parts about writing, which is why I try to take time to respond. And thank you for your lovely words! 3
I very much agree - there are some interesting things here to plunge into!
Mrs . Eomer - I'm sorry if the story is not going the way you would like to, but I shall write it however seems right to me, and you are of course free to stop reading at any time.