Chapter 20
Three days before the wedding
Éomer was reluctant to let her go, and it was only after a few more kisses and her father calling for her again that Lothíriel was finally able to leave her bride-groom's arms and bid him good night; there was a hesitation in the final brush of his fingers against hers, as if he had to force himself to let go of her hand. Her mind was still calm, but stepping into the lowly lit entrance hall of her family's town-house, she did feel a bit unreal. She could only imagine what it felt like to Éomer.
Nothing more would happen tonight, but change was coming either way.
"There you are, daughter. I was starting to wonder if I would have to come get you."
Father was there, holding a message scroll open in his hand and watching her with a wry little smile. She returned it, shakily. Of course, he knew straight away something was afoot.
"What is it, daughter?" he asked her.
"I told him yes, Father", she replied simply.
His eyes widened. At first, he looked like he didn't know how to respond. Then he dropped the message on his hand on a table nearby, came to her and gave her a tight hug. It was not often her father showed physical affection, by which she knew he was really quite beside himself.
When he pulled back, he rested his hands on her shoulders.
"Very well, my dear child. I wish you all the happiness and fortune in the world. You shall manage, of that I have no doubt, but I will always help you in any way that I can", he told her seriously. It made her throat feel tight and her eyes burned, and so she wrapped her own arms around him again. It seemed to take him aback at first, because she didn't hug him often either, but then he untensed in her embrace, and returned it. The moment was pregnant with emotion and many unsaid things, and both of them understood that a tremendous change was coming indeed. For all the talk of past few days, the prospect of her marriage to Éomer had not felt quite as real as it now did.
Moments later, when both were in control of their emotions again, Father cleared his throat.
"I shall speak with my steward in the morning, and make sure that funds are available to you. We are in a time of war, but you will need to set up your own household as befits a queen. I will not have anyone say that Dol Amroth sends her only daughter into the world without all due dignity", he said in firm tones.
"That is correct, perhaps, but I don't think I will need much at this time. It wouldn't be prudent, anyway", Lothíriel said.
"I shall leave that to your judgement, daughter. But tell me, should I contact some of my nobles in Belfalas, and ask which of their daughters might be available to act as your ladies in waiting?"
"Not yet, Father. I will have to talk to Éomer first, and Éowyn too, but I think I would like to stay at Emyn Arnen while the campaign continues. I wish to make myself useful in any way I can, and be as close to Éomer as possible. But I shan't be holding court there; one or two maids is the most I will need. We'll talk about ladies in waiting afterwards", she said. Even if marrying her horselord had now become more real than before, the idea of actually being a queen in The Golden Hall still seemed like a far-off thing.
"I suppose that is sensible. But are you certain you wish to stay at Emyn Arnen? Aragorn means to make it the base of operations. Life will be very restricted and everyone will be expected to work hard", Father said carefully.
She gave him a faint smile.
"I have some idea, though I also know it won't be the same as holding Dol Amroth in your absence, Father. I'm not worried about having to work or following strict rules. This is not going to be a stroll in the garden, but I never expected that when I chose Éomer", she told him calmly.
"But you will not get to enjoy the delights of a new marriage. He will be off in only a few days and even if you stay at Emyn Arnen for the campaign, it will be crowded with soldiers and your husband's time will be in great demand."
"There will be time for that later. Of course it would be lovely to be able to celebrate properly, but we can do that once the campaign is over. I want to be there for him, Father, and the easiest way to do that is if I'm his wife", said Lothíriel. There was no way she could adequately explain this to her father. At this point, she did not feel like she could even say it to Éomer himself. She knew he did not expect her to do anything, least of all for his sake. But even then, deep down he was not convinced he wouldn't be left behind again; she had felt it in the air between them just tonight. And she had decided to be the one who stayed.
She wasn't going to do it because anyone expected it. Her reason was simple: she loved him. And that emotion held all the indescribable and overwhelming things she had felt when she had confronted him and he had kissed her with the urgency of one who can in no other way explain how deep their feelings run, or when she lay bleeding to death under that tree in Ithilien, and he had come running for her beyond all her hope, and how it had felt like to hear that he had barely left her side when she fought for her life, and the sound of his voice when he played the harp for her and sang, and a countless other things that she could, maybe, explain only to herself.
Father opened his mouth, about to say something, but then seemed to reconsider. Perhaps he realised nothing more needed to be said. A sad little smile touched his features and he bent his head to kiss the top of her head.
"So be it, daughter."
Two days before the wedding
As expected, the news was very well received among the Rohirrim. His own Knights knew it the moment he wandered out of the courtyard of Imrahil's town house, grinning like some sort of a lunatic. From them, the happy tidings spread quickly, and in the morning reports came that the éoreds camping near the city's walls had celebrated until small hours; the sound of their merriment had reached even the city and caused great astonishment.
Éomer himself, once he had calmed down somewhat, had spent a couple of hours writing instructions for his retainers in Edoras. Even if Lothíriel decided to stay in Gondor for the time being, as he guessed she would do, there was much to prepare for her coming. The Queen's rooms were in a pitiful state, but his own quarters would also benefit from a thorough cleaning and refurbishing. He was not going to make his new wife live in grim, dusty rooms that probably still held mouse droppings from Morwen Steelsheen's time. It was not going to be anything as grand as Lothíriel must have had in Dol Amroth, but she had never suggested lavish things were important to her. Éomer had been loath to change anything at his new home after his uncle had died, or even take up the King's chambers, but Lothíriel's arrival seemed to have changed all that. Now he felt eager to chase out the past and its ghosts.
He also sent a word to Aragorn, to be delivered in the morning. It was already late and to barge in on Aragorn and Arwen to announce the happy tidings would probably be quite rude, and he instead wrote a giddy note for his friend: She said yes. He knew his fellow king would receive this news with all due joy.
The next morning, he made his way to the Steward's House to have breakfast with Éowyn. She had already heard the news, too, and was full of questions for him. He guessed it was going to be more of an interrogation than a conversation.
Perhaps that was the reason Faramir did not join them. Or he just wanted to give them a chance to spend some time alone together. Éomer had considered inviting his aunt, too, but he had abandoned that idea quickly. There was uneasiness between the two women, for Éowyn thought their aunt had abandoned them and to Hild this seemed like quite the unfair judgement. As for himself, Éomer felt he understood both parties. At certain points of his life Éomer had thought very much like his sister, but Éowyn's ordeals and Théoden's death had offered him a new perspective. He was not in a position to judge Hild and her choices. But he knew this was not something he could resolve for his two kinswomen if they did not wish to make peace.
A small table was set in Éowyn's solar and they sat down to eat, although Éowyn had so many questions for him that it was a wonder he had time to actually eat anything. To some of her detailed queries he had no answer, because he and Lothíriel had not yet talked about it. Thankfully, Éowyn offered no criticisms. He had half expected that she would not support this course of action, but if she had such thoughts, she was not telling him. Perhaps she had decided he had enough to worry about as it was without her adding to the burden.
After some more detailed questions, his sister cast him a studious look and asked, "Well, how does it feel like, brother mine? You're getting married in just a couple of days."
"At this point? Mostly unreal. I still have a hard time believing that Lothíriel agreed to do this. She told me it's fine and I believe her, but..." he answered slowly, then trailing off.
"But you are worried it's not fine. That it's all happening too quickly", Éowyn finished the sentence for him.
"Something like that."
She considered for a moment and sipped her tea.
"I think you're worrying too much, brother. You did not choose some frivolous or changeable courtier, but a woman of solid character and integrity. If she thinks she can do it, then we better believe her", Éowyn said, her tone even.
"I know. It's not that I disbelieve her or doubt her capability. But it's a difficult time to take up such a duty, and especially when I can't be there to support her. I will have to leave her almost as soon as we are married, and it troubles me", he explained. The thought had been there, lurking under the surface, but only last night it had emerged fully.
"Surely you're not sending her back to Rohan, though?"
"Of course not. She'll still need time to prepare. As far as I'm concerned, she may decide where she will stay after the wedding."
"Then you are not abandoning her. If she stays here in Gondor, which I assume she will do, she'll still have familiar things around her and a chance to get ready. Why not ask her to come to Ithilien and stay with me? Some company would be nice while Faramir is away. It would be good for us both: I can teach her about Rohan, and she could explain to me all these Gondorian customs and protocols", Éowyn offered, smiling slightly.
"You would do that for her? And for me?" Éomer asked, leaning back in his chair. If Lothíriel stayed with Éowyn... well, that would be one less concern for him, and he might see her more often and easily than if she remained in Mundburg. Of course, assuming his bride agreed.
"Absolutely. It's the least I can do to support you. Both of you, actually", Éowyn said.
"Even if it means hosting our aunt?"
"What do you mean?"
"I have had my misgivings from the moment my council came up with the request. I was worried of how Lothíriel would cope while I'm gone. Hild agreed to keep her company during the campaign, probably because she hoped to reassure me. But doubtless she also wants to make sure that the new Queen of Rohan knows what will be expected of her."
His sister made a face.
"You should have said that before I offered anything. You know that Hild and I have had our troubles", she said, frowning.
"It's not like you gave me a chance", he remarked, sighing. "But if you are not comfortable with it, I will tell her she may return home."
"What does Lothíriel think, though?"
"She is interested in Hild and wants to get to know her. She hopes to become a part of this family", he replied slowly.
"Of course she does, she's a sweetheart and would probably even endear a foul-tempered orc to her. No wonder you're so smitten with her", Éowyn said, snorting.
"I'm sorry, Éowyn. I didn't mean to put you in a difficult position."
"I know. You've got plenty to worry about without adding family issues to it. In such a time, we should all be working together and not let our private problems distract us", she said, waving her hand.
"Are you sure you are comfortable with it?" he wanted to know, watching his sister keenly.
"Doubtless I shall be too busy to be uncomfortable", she said, smiling faintly. He had thought she might not take this so well, but he supposed her flippant tone was because Éowyn felt that she owed him something, and tolerating Hild for his sake – and Lothíriel's – was the least she could do to make up for leaving Rohan. Moreover, there seemed to be a wordless understanding between Hild and Éowyn to give a wide berth to one another, and if they had been able to keep it up in Edoras, doubtless they could do it in Emyn Arnen.
"Thank you, Éowyn", he said, returning the smile. Then with some caution, he added, "She's not terrible, you know. Hild has had her own problems, like all of us, and she dealt with them the best she could. It was not easy for her after she was injured. There are so few of us left, we win nothing by holding on to grudges."
Éowyn frowned.
"With all due love and respect, it's different for you. You're her favourite, because you're so much like our father, her best friend. It's like she got him back through you. But I? I wouldn't pursue her dreams or seek to become a Marshal under your command, but decided to look for healing and the joy of growing things", she said.
"Perhaps the friendship she had with Father has something to do with it, but I don't think it's the whole truth. You are his daughter, too, and I'm certain that means a lot to Hild. The two of you are not that different, Éowyn. She might understand you better than you guess", he pointed out carefully.
She gave him a warning look.
"I know you mean well, Éomer, but let's leave it at that. If our aunt wants to stay with Lothíriel, that's fine. But I'm not ready to forget the past quite yet", Éowyn said tersely.
Realising it was time to back down, he sipped his tea and changed the subject.
"There's something I wanted to ask you. You know Lothíriel has no female kin in Mundburg; her mother died long ago and Lady Ivriniel won't be able to get here before the wedding ceremony. I was thinking... I have plenty of friends to talk to, both here in Gondor and among my own company, but I wonder if Lothíriel has anyone she could ask for advice. In her position, I think she probably has some questions. The kind that someone like you is better able to answer, if you would be agreeable", he said slowly, struggling for the right words. He felt a little awkward about it, but thankfully, Éowyn was not in a mood to tease him.
"Of course. I know what you mean. It is very thoughtful and for my part, I must say I would have loved to talk to someone from Gondor before Faramir and I were wedded. Women of Rohan could only tell me about what to expect from our own menfolk, but some of their ideas about Gondorian men were frankly absurd", she said, shaking her head.
"Thank you. Not just for helping out, but for being such a good friend to her. I appreciate it more than you know", he said, meeting her eyes gravely.
She met his look, just as serious.
"It's the least I can do. If you love this woman, as you clearly do, then it is my dearest wish that your life together begins as smoothly as possible. And... I won't deny it may grant me some peace of mind, knowing you're not alone anymore", she said softly. They rarely spoke of this, but he knew his sister was not oblivious to the pain he had felt over her leaving – even the uglier parts of it.
"Just... look after her while I'm gone", said Éomer, and seeing his sister's expression, he added, "I ask this more for my own sake than hers. I know she's strong and can manage, but you know me. I can't help but worry."
Éowyn's look softened again.
"Very well. But you've got to learn to let go, Éomer, for both your sakes. The lady has a mind of her own and sooner or later, she will no longer welcome your... beg your pardon, your over-protectiveness", she said gravely.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"I know. But it's more easily said than done. I'm not sure I could take another loss, and after what happened in Emyn Arnen..." he said, his voice trailing off as he recalled Lothíriel fighting for her life. A violent shudder went through him at the memory. It made him want to spring up and rush to Imrahil's town-house, where he could make sure she was safe. But Éowyn was right. Even Lothíriel's patience might not endlessly endure such irrational, overbearing treatment. He didn't know what would be worse: losing her through some horrible accident, or by his own hapless actions.
"None of us knows what tomorrow brings. But I understand why you feel this way", said Éowyn gently. "Still, I think you would do well to show your lady that you trust her. If you do, then others will follow your example. It may not be crucial if she will remain here in Gondor while the campaign continues, but it would be wise to prepare for any surprises."
From her look, he knew his sister was also thinking of unpleasant or outright grim surprises, although she didn't say it out loud. He sighed again.
"You are right, of course. I will take this into consideration."
Éowyn reached to pat his hand and gave him a smile.
"Don't worry so much, brother mine. You're getting married! Uncle would be so glad. He always thought a sensible lass would eventually sort you out, and I have no doubt Lothíriel will take care of it in no time"
He raised an eyebrow.
"'Sort me out?' Dare I even ask?" he wondered out loud.
His sister laughed.
"You'll see soon enough!"
After the breakfast, Éomer had just about enough time to get back to his rooms and change into a more courtly array. A joint invitation by Imrahil and Aragorn had come, asking him to meet his bride in the Tower Hall for announcing the news and to signing the initial marriage contract; a frustrating bit of formality, especially when everyone's time would be better spent preparing for the campaign, but such things could not be avoided. Back in Rohan, Éomer would have dealt with the matter very differently, but he understood things were different in Gondor. Aragorn perhaps agreed with him but tradition and protocol tied his hands too, king or not.
As he prepared quickly, Lord Dunstan was explaining the event: he would meet Lothíriel and her family before the court, Aragorn's herald would declare the news to the assembled nobility, and before these witnesses they would make such pledges to one another as was appropriate. Normally, this event would be followed at least a few more months of waiting, but circumstances at this time were not normal. Next to Dunstan, Ceolmund kept rolling his eyes. His opinion on the sensibility and usefulness of this use of time could not be more clear. His aunt, too, seated by the window, looked critical.
Once Éomer had fastened the heavy green cloak he usually saved for occasions like this, he gave a long look to his advisers.
"I know we could all use our time in other ways, but this is how the Gondorians want to do it and we shall play along. Keep your thoughts to yourself. I will not tolerate any offences against my bride – and I assure you that any demonstration against this event will be regarded as such. It's up to you not to shame your king before your future queen, and her people", he informed them. Dunstan probably did not need this instruction, but he wasn't so certain about his aunt or Ceolmund.
"Very well, lord", said Ceolmund, bowing.
"For your sake, not theirs", Hild simply said. Éomer frowned, wondering if it had been such a good idea to bring her. But she was his aunt, and who could he trust if not her?
"As for Lord Erchirion, I will not have any of you humiliate him after this. Let his family take care of disciplining, if that is even necessary still. Coming days will be hard enough for my lady Lothíriel as it is and if any of you add to her burdens by demeaning her brother, I will have you mucking the royal stables for three months. Are we clear?" he said, giving each of his advisers a hard look.
"Aye, lord."
"Good. Let us get going, then."
It was not a long way to the Tower Hall from his lodgings. His advisers and his aunt, and Éothain and Elfhelm and a few other senior knights of his Guard, came with him. Morning was still rather early, but the Citadel was already bustling. Those not permitted into the Tower Hall had gathered outside, and there were some of the Rohirric entourage, too. They cheered when Éomer passed, and Hild too got her share of friendly whoops. She smiled, well used to attention.
He heard the low murmur of the court before they entered the Tower Hall. It was almost packed full, despite the time of day. But apparently this event promised enough entertainment and curiosity to bring even lazier nobles to attend.
His arrival was announced by silver trumpets – a bit much, if he was asked, but he was not – and then the herald's voice declaring his titles and honours, and those of his nearest company.
The Tower Hall was full lit by morning's light, which glittered upon the crowd and their jewels and gold as if the great hall was a dragon's hoard. The murmur rose and many eyes fixed on the King of Rohan – the man who had won the hand of the most eligible maiden in the kingdom. Did they wonder what such a lady could possibly want from this alliance? Granted, he was a war hero, and highly eligible in his own right, but Éomer was well aware there were still many who did not look approvingly on unions where Númenor's blood was mingled with other peoples. Such talk had certainly reached his ears when Éowyn had married Faramir. But Éomer quickly decided he did not care. In this issue, the only person whose approval meant anything to him was Lothíriel.
He lifted his chin and walked the rest of the aisle, hardly seeing the countless faces staring at him. If that earned him a haughty reputation – well, let them make of him what they would.
Aragorn was not seated upon his high throne, but met him with Arwen at the feet of his royal seat. His friend was smiling, but from the corner of his mouth, the older king whispered, "Sorry about this."
"It's fine. I expected there would be some posturing anyway", Éomer whispered back.
Again the trumpets sang, and the herald's voice rose above the ongoing murmur of the crowd. The young king turned his eyes back to the way he had come, saw the vision slowly approaching, and felt like he couldn't breathe.
Béma, what a sight she was! Her deep blue gown caught sunlight on its surface like living water, and she was as if carried upon its wave. Ropes of pearls adorned the bodice and her long dark hair, which freely fell down her shoulders. She was walking slowly by the side of her father, already as queenly and fair as any lady who had graced these halls, save perhaps Arwen Undómiel herself. But though she looked as beautiful as she ever had, there was also a quiet reserve about her – very different from the tenderness and intimacy of last night, when she had looked at him anxiously, struggling to deliver the words that would change her life forever. Only now did Éomer understand this difference between the faces that Lothíriel showed to the world. These finely dressed courtiers around them would only see this gently-bred maiden, who glided quietly by her father's side to do her duty. But he had seen behind that demeanour and knew that beneath the surface, there were deep waters indeed. And lovely as she was today, he knew he loved not this graceful, regal thing, but the maiden who sat by the river with her bare feet in the water, and reached into his heart with simple gentle words and the warmth of her eyes.
She met his gaze, and there it was: that look he knew and loved. The look which had made him hope that perhaps life had more to offer than just loneliness and endless toil.
His knees felt weak, his throat tight.
Following her and Imrahil came Erchirion and Amrothos. The latter was beaming, but the former had fixed his eyes on the polished floor before him, his mouth in a thin line. A few Swan Knights escorted them. The crowd's voices rose again; it felt like the hall was buzzing with many voices.
Then the Amrothians reached the company that was waiting for them, and without a second's thought, Éomer offered his hand to his bride. She met his eyes, lit with a deep inner gleam, and let go of her father's arm. Then her soft fingers pressed against his hand, small and slender in comparison to his hard swordman's grip. A sigh went through the crowd. Despite what anyone thought, it had to be an evocative sight: the lady of Westernesse giving up her family and her former life, and accepting his offer of a different path.
He hardly heard what the herald said, knowing only vaguely that the news of the initial wedding were being declared. Éomer himself was too busy staring at his bride and thinking of how much he'd like to kiss her, even here before the whole court watching. He hated that he couldn't. Last night, she had melted into his arms so easily, meeting each kiss eagerly. Afterwards, he had worried if he had been too excited in his joy and relief, and if such intense affections would put her off. But there was no unease in the way she met his eyes, perhaps just a little bit of modesty and daze that he'd stare so openly at her in the front of so many people. Yet even if his very direct gaze took her aback, her hand remained steady and tight in his own.
"My lord, the contract…?" Aragorn said mildly, which startled Éomer back to his senses. Only now he noticed the nervous-looking scribe holding the quill and the easel upon which a highly decorated piece of parchment rested. It was by no means the final contract, additional clauses would follow once his retainers were done talking to Imrahil's people, but apparently it had to be signed before the wedding could take place. Gondorians.
Éomer made a non-committal sound and let go of his bride's hand. She was not smiling, but her eyes glinted with gentle humour. He had to force his eyes away in order to focus.
He picked up the quill and quickly signed his name on the parchment. His fingers brushed hers when he handed her the quill – no accident, of course – and a soft blush appeared on her cheeks for the first time. Her signature was much more graceful than his own, made in fine flowing script, but then again that was no wonder. Éomer was the first one to admit that it was but one thing where his bride was his superior.
The scribe bowed and retreated, soon to deliver the document to the parties that would continue to negotiate the royal marriage. Imrahil pressed his hand against his breast and bowed his head, silently acknowledging that the deed was done and the departure of his daughter from the bosom of her family had now formally begun.
Aragorn stepped forward, his face beaming. This was an important moment for him, too. A marriage so advantageous and a promise of an heir some time soon, promised greater stability for both kingdoms.
"My queen and I are pleased to host the wedding in two days' time. It will be a day of great celebration for both our peoples, for the union of Rohan and Dol Amroth brings us closer together than ever. I give my heartfelt congratulations to King Éomer, my esteemed friend and brother in arms, and to Lady Lothíriel, who is foremost of the noble maidens in our realm. Happy tidings are always welcome, but never more when war and strife looms ahead", he spoke to the court, who softly hummed in agreement. Doubtless there were also some reactions to King Elessar holding Lothíriel so high among the ladies of Gondor, although the young woman herself showed no reaction to being raised on this pedestal. Her calm, tranquil look remained unchanged.
With the formal part now over, Éomer moved a little closer to his bride.
"Well, that was something. I'm sorry I can't stay for much longer. There will be another meeting to plan strategy", he told her, grasping her hand in his own again. "You look lovely, by the way."
She smiled, emotion appearing from behind her mask of calmness.
"Thank you, dear", she said, pressing his fingers. "It's all right. I have a meeting of my own with Queen Arwen. She has promised to help with preparing the wedding."
The wedding. Some moments, it still overwhelmed him. He had a hard time believing that such fortune would come his way.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, too taken with emotion to say anything at first.
"You have made me a happy man, Lothíriel. I can't wait for when this is over and you come home to Edoras with me."
His direct words seemed to take her aback a little bit. A soft blush coloured her cheeks. No matter what face she showed to the world, he could always penetrate that mask, and it still filled him with wonder. But it was nothing less than her own ability to read him and take down walls that nobody else could. They were well matched indeed.
"Let us hope it will happen soon."
One day before the wedding
The two seamstresses fluttered around Lothíriel like a pair of over-excited birds. Their skilled hands worked over the shimmering fabric of her gown, making some final adjustments as she stood on a low stool. Queen Arwen herself had provided the dress and the seamstresses, though where and how she had found such a beautiful thing in her size and in such a short notice, Lothíriel could not say; some sort of Elven magic was involved, perhaps. Either way, the white and gold fabric, soft to the touch, seemed almost to have its own inner light. The neckline was moderate, covering the mangled skin of her shoulder. Lothíriel was thankful for the Queen's consideration, as it meant having one thing less to worry about – though perhaps it was also meant as a small gesture to make the ceremony a little more special, considering there was not much time to arrange the wedding.
While the seamstresses worked, Lothíriel herself was going over everything she would still have to do before tomorrow. The ceremony would be held at sunset, there would be a feast which King Elessar and Queen Arwen would host, and the newly wedded couple would be given a honeymoon of just three days. On the fourth day, Éomer would ride with King Elessar, and make their way to Ithilien; the first companies of Rohirrim and Gondorian footmen had already set out, and would begin to build fortifications in the woods. It felt surreal, and there were moments she expected to wake up to discover all this had been only a strange dream, but at this point things were proceeding with the unstoppable inevitability of a landslide. It was difficult to even imagine what the days ahead would be like.
They were close to finishing when a servant of the household announced the arrival of Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien. She had sent word earlier, asking if the bride had a moment or two to spare. If the request had come from anyone else, Lothíriel might have turned it down, but Éowyn's visits were always welcome. She also knew that her friend was too sensible to be needlessly bothering her at such a time.
Moments later, Éowyn entered. A bright smile lit her face when she saw her friend.
"How beautiful you look! My brother will not believe his eyes; he will have hard time leaving you in just a few days. And the rest of them shall marvel at how Dol Amroth has provided a bride so stunning in such short notice", she said, stopping a few paces away to admire the dress. The seamstresses said nothing, but Lothíriel could tell from their expressions that they were well aware of their own part in the matter, and took delight in the White Lady's praise.
"That is hardly our achievement, if you mean the dress. Queen Arwen provided it", Lothíriel said, smiling wryly.
"I am certain you would be lovely even if you wore a potato sack", said Éowyn and waved her hand dismissively. "I know I must be disturbing you, but I was wondering if you had a moment to spare."
"For you, always", said Lothíriel, smiling. "But let me first change. It is a pretty dress, but not the most comfortable one."
"Of course. I am in no hurry", Éowyn replied.
A little while later, Lothíriel had changed into her regular blue gown and the two women were seated. She had offered her friend some tea, but Éowyn had refused.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" she asked now.
Éowyn gave her a long, thoughtful look.
"I came on the account of my brother, actually. He's ever the fuss, you see, and he was thinking about how none of your female kin will be present for the wedding. So I promised him that I would talk to you, in case there's anything you want to ask. Your life is about to change and it would be quite understandable if you wanted to talk about it with someone who has had a similar experience", she explained slowly.
For a moment, Lothíriel knew not what to say. Even now, it took her aback how easily these two siblings cared for her. It was touching – and more meaningful than they might understand. She knew that for most people involved, the wedding was something to get over with before the campaign started. It helped to know that for Éomer and Éowyn, the matter was as significant as anything that would come afterwards.
"That is very thoughtful. Thank you, you and him both'', she said, smiling. She guessed there was another practical reason behind Éowyn's words. Them being Rohirrim, they probably were not certain just what the bride's understanding of marriage was. But Father had made sure she was not ignorant, years ago. At his request, the wife of his steward had explained some of life's realities to Lothíriel just after her fifteenth birthday. So she knew well enough what to expect, and having listened to plenty of women at the court of Dol Amroth gossiping about their husbands and sweethearts, she was aware that a wife's duty was not necessarily unpleasant. Her encounters with Éomer so far rather suggested she had nothing to worry about in that regard, and she was certain he would not be a cruel husband.
Either way, she was grateful Éowyn was offering to give her the talk, although perhaps her friend viewed the matter with much less fuss than the well-meaning but prudish wife of Father's steward.
Having collected her thoughts, she now spoke.
"There are some things I'd like to talk about, though if you were thinking you would have to tell me about what goes between husbands and wives in private, you need not worry about it; I think I know all that I need to at this point. But you've lived in Rohan and Gondor both, so perhaps you could tell me what it's like? How does it feel to join your life with someone whose language and culture are different from your own?" she asked.
Éowyn considered this for a while.
"I can only speak for myself, really. I suppose the change was great, but my world had already shifted when I first met your cousin. I desired that change – needed it, even. We spend most of our time in Ithilien, surrounded by capable people who have come there to help us cleanse and rebuild the land. It's a different life than here in the city, or back in Edoras. And Faramir... he is a wise, wonderful man. We understand one another as much as two people can; I have never felt that our languages or cultures are a problem. It takes negotiation, of course, but with an open mind and the willingness to listen to the other, it's not impossible. But I would think that is the key to any successful marriage", she explained.
That was good advice, indeed. Of course it was required that both parties were committed to listening to the other, but Lothíriel did not think it would be an issue, either. Not even inside her own family had she felt such ease at communicating her innermost feelings as with Éomer, and she had no doubt he'd always be completely open and honest with her.
"Anyway, I don't think you need to worry about how Rohirrim will receive you. If you can win Ceolmund to your side, you shouldn't have a problem with the rest of them. Doubtless there will be wariness first, and you will need to prove yourself, but being Imrahil's daughter already gives you an enormous advantage", Éowyn continued. Lothíriel had not had much time to worry about how her new people would receive her; as for now, she did not yet know at which point she would even travel to Rohan. Either way, it was a small consolation in itself to hear she needed not to expect anything worse than Ceolmund.
"Are you certain you're comfortable with me and your aunt Hild joining you in Emyn Arnen, though? I don't want to impose", Lothíriel asked carefully.
"I am comfortable with you, and with my aunt, I shall manage. I owe at least that much to my brother. It is good to have company while Faramir is away, although I do hope you are prepared for hard work."
"Of course. I wouldn't be here if I was worried about getting my hands dirty", Lothíriel said, smiling a little.
"No, you wouldn't be", said Éowyn with a strange, faint smile.
"Another thing I was wondering about was Meduseld. What is it like running the household there?"
"Well, I would say that certain truths apply to running every big household, and in all practical ways you are well prepared. But every household is also different and so is Meduseld. It can be noisy and chaotic, and sometimes the job is very much like putting down a lot of small fires. But the people there are loyal and reliable, and they love my brother. Éomer brought much of his own people from Aldburg when he took over, and it was necessary because so many of our uncle's household had died with him. Still, he's also made a point of taking care of the family members of the fallen. You'll find plenty of capable people and they will show you the ropes in time", Éowyn said, a fond look on her face. She let out a soft sigh and continued, "I do miss it sometimes. Gondorians insist on doing things by the book, but Rohirrim are more pragmatic. And I am curious to see where my brother will take it. What kind of a court will he make for his dynasty."
"What do you mean?"
"You see, the past few years have not been the brightest Meduseld has ever seen. While our uncle declined, so did his court. It lost its life, its lustre. Fear took over as Wormtongue's power grew. Once, Meduseld was the beating heart of Rohan, where all manner of people from nobles to craftsmen and poets and wandering minstrels gathered. There was music and singing and laughter everywhere you looked. All that ended with Wormtongue; people became wary and mistrustful, staying away from the court if they only could. I cannot even begin to tell you how dismal it got before Gandalf came and restored my uncle. Of course, he had no time to clean his house. But Éomer wants to make Meduseld as bright and full of life as it once was, and while he had no wife or family to dote on, it has been almost his sole occupation outside ruling. I have no doubt that with your help – and your eye for finer things in life – the Golden Hall will once more be worthy of its name", Éowyn explained.
A gentle shiver, or a sudden thrill, went through Lothíriel. What her friend was speaking of sounded like a challenge, but the kind that she would take on with enthusiasm. A sense of urgency rose in her: she couldn't wait to begin this task. She knew there would be so much work to do, and it would not be easy. It was a job that would probably take the rest of her life. But in that lay much of why it was so intriguing. With Éomer, she had a chance to shape the face of a new world.
But beside these lofty thoughts, she had other, more personal concerns.
"Is there any advice you'd like to give me about this marriage, and what is expected of a wife in your land? What does your brother expect?"
Her friend considered this for a minute.
"I can't say there's anything particular. I think he'd tell you, if there was. But you're not marrying just any man of Rohan. Our family has of old ties with Gondor, and we have had dealings with the nobles of your land, so I think we are a bit more savvy in your customs than most Rohirrim", she replied, much to Lothíriel's relief.
"Speaking of Rohirrim... your brother and I... I was wondering, are there some old sweethearts I should know about, or rivals who might not be so eager to greet me?" Lothíriel asked at length. She hated how awkwardly the words came out, but this was something she had to know. She had some idea of what the answer would be, because even with her limited experience, she didn't think a man kissed like Éomer did unless he had some experience in the art. From her two famous cousins she knew how admirers would flock around a celebrated, striking warrior. However, her betrothed had made it clear he was eager for something permanent and serious, and his fidelity was not something she doubted. But those who had previously enjoyed his attentions might not be so eager to give it up. She could relate all too well.
Éowyn made a face.
"I suspect my brother would rather answer that question, but I understand why it's easier to ask me. As far as I know, he's had some relationships over the years, but not once did he introduce anybody to me. I take that to mean he never allowed it to get very serious – both for practical and private reasons. And I guess he was also trying to be prudent for our uncle's sake. Théoden hoped we would make suitable matches, although he did also wish for our happiness. So the answer is no: you need not to expect that kind of opposition once you begin your lives in Edoras. In my opinion, if anyone was so foolish as to challenge your position as my brother's chosen one, he would make that person's life very unpleasant", she answered. As she spoke, eventually a wry little smile appeared on her face.
This, too, was a relieving thing to hear. It might be different if she was meaning to travel to Rohan after the wedding; if anyone was inclined to test and bully her, it would be most likely during Éomer's absence. But with him by her side, Lothíriel knew she had nothing to fear.
"Thank you for telling me. Understand, I don't ask because I doubt him. But... he's more charming than he realises, and it's easy to be enthralled with such a man. And I personally know how painful it would be to let go of him", she said softly. She averted her gaze, because she suddenly felt very much exposed. She knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but to speak of what she felt for Éomer, even when the one listening was Éowyn... the only way she could explain it was she might be able to talk about her feelings more, if she did not love him so much.
Her friend's eyes were soft as she regarded her.
"I'm glad. More glad than I could ever tell you. I've felt such guilt over how alone my brother is, now that even I've left him. It's good to know that after tomorrow, it will change. I trust you, Lothíriel. Not just with my brother, but with Rohan."
The night before the wedding
On that final evening before she would be married to Éomer, Lothíriel was making sure with her maid that all would be ready for the coming day. Bundles from seamstresses had arrived only this afternoon, new soft linen for her own sewing purposes, and other such things that would be needful in her first days as a married woman. Lothíriel had kept a level head while shopping: in a time of war, modesty was expected even of new brides and her dowry would be sent to her once she and Éomer had settled down more permanently.
A servant of her father's household interrupted the task. It so happened that Princess Hild had come and was asking to see her nephew's bride.
Lothíriel masked her surprise. She had expected the grand old lady would approach her sooner or later for a private talk, but had not thought it would be tonight. But perhaps it made sense that Princess Hild had wanted to meet her before the wedding. For Éomer had said his aunt had not initially endorsed this union, even if she appeared to have changed her mind since then, and she must have wanted to get to Lothíriel alone just as much as Master Ceolmund.
So, although she was not sure of what the tone of the meeting would be and if there was a chance that the Princess might still harbour some doubts that she had not revealed even to her nephew, Lothíriel decided to meet the old woman. If she accompanied her to Ithilien and would remain to teach her, then they would have to adjust to one another at some point; this was as good as any.
The tapping of the cane announced Hild's approach. Then she entered the room, arriving with an air that made Lothíriel think of a great warship that emerges from the mists of the sea. Her look was calm and collected. Up close, the resemblance between her and Éowyn was even more apparent. She too had been a beautiful woman and traces of that beauty still remained upon her features, though it was clear she had spent most of her life outdoors at the mercy of changeable weathers. But in the way she held herself, and in some of her expressions, there was something that reminded Lothíriel uncannily of Éomer. She wondered if the aunt and the nephew were at all aware of it.
Lothíriel got up on her feet to curtsy.
"Good evening, Princess Hild", she greeted the aging woman.
A faint smile appeared on that weathered face.
"That is quite unnecessary. Tomorrow you will be the Queen of Rohan, and outrank me."
Lothíriel returned the smile.
"But today you are still the Princess of Rohan, and I your nephew's bride from a far southern land. Please, have a seat. May I offer you something to drink?"
A moment later they were seated and Lothíriel's maid was on her way to fetch them tea. There was a brief instance while neither of the two women spoke. The old shieldmaiden gave the younger woman a long, thoughtful look.
"I hope I have not interrupted anything important. I expect you are busy, with so little time to arrange everything", she said at length.
"Not at all. It will be a fairly modest occasion, not in any way beyond Queen Arwen's considerable powers. She has been a great help", said Lothíriel with a slight smile. "Your nephew and I have talked about it, and we shall have a proper celebration after the war."
"That is sensible. But Éomer says you are a very level-headed young lady. I think perhaps he is more disappointed about there being no proper feast, as is the custom in our land", Hild said wryly.
"I am not indifferent to it either, my lady."
"But you do not wear your feelings openly, do you?"
"It is better not to in my position. Although I seem to be unable to hide them from Éomer."
Hild let out a low little laugh.
"We all have our weaknesses", she commented, leaning back in her chair.
Tea arrived and a few moments were spent in serving the fragrant drink. Then, holding the small cup in her hands, the old shieldmaiden gave Lothíriel another penetrating look.
"I'm sure various persons from my nephew's company have already hounded you with more questions than you care to answer. But tell me, are you ready for the task that lies ahead of you?" she asked. It was frank and direct and Lothíriel had expected nothing less.
"I don't think I can truly know. I hope I am. The world rarely asks anyone if they are ready and in the end, I don't know if that is even the point", she answered just as frankly. "Do you think your nephew was ready for what happened to him?"
"I suppose he always knew there was a chance he'd one day become king. But I don't believe he expected it – even less hoped for it. He's a dutiful lad, though, and would give his life and blood for his people. Rohan is in good hands, even if he might have been happier with a simpler life. But perhaps you feel differently, and have ambitions that will endanger what little chance of happiness he still has?"
There was a keenness in Hild's voice, and her eyes were like bright needles.
"My lady, I would sooner wish harm on myself than bring any misery to your nephew. It is true I don't want a small or uneventful life, and perhaps there will be times when I will have to rein in my ambition. But more than any earthly glory I love Éomer, and in him I see embodied so many things that I desire. I feel for him, just as I have since our first serious conversation, and I dearly wish to see him happy. Only now do I understand how alone I felt before I met Éomer, and I think he did too, though perhaps in a different way. He gave me his hand, as a man and as a friend, and I take it – take him – gladly and with an open heart."
The Princess regarded her for a while, eyes glinting. It was as Éomer had said: she was subtler than her nephew, whose open features so often reflected his feelings. From Hild Lothíriel got very little, be it good or bad.
"Very well. I will admit I had my doubts when I first heard of my nephew's intentions of marrying you. There are some in Rohan who have no warm expectations for a Gondorian queen, even one from the House of Dol Amroth, but you do seem committed. I've watched you handling even the prickly characters such as that old scarecrow Ceolmund, and I see no haughtiness in your manner. Éomer is smitten with you indeed, but he lives his feelings so strongly that I wondered if it had blinded him. Young men can be so enthusiastic when they fall in love. I should know; I watched his father go through the same thing", said the old shieldmaiden.
She paused. A far off look briefly held her face, and Lothíriel knew the Princess was remembering, walking some distant paths of memory where Éomund still lived. But quickly Hild's eyes focused again on the younger woman's face.
"Clearly, I need not worry whether this union is based on mutual understanding. It is a good thing to know. My family, or those who still live, is small. I myself am old, and feel older than I look. I have no interest in fighting or scheming. It is my wish that we work together and support one another. Rohan needs it more than you know. But have no doubt: should you ever let Éomer down, you shall see that there is fire yet in these old bones."
"And I expect nothing less. I have no interest in intrigue, my lady", said Lothíriel, meeting Hild's bright, piercing eyes evenly. In a way, it reminded her of how Éomer always seemed to look through her, although there was a coolness in Hild's eyes that she had never seen in his. All the same, there was something similar in aunt and nephew, even if they did not think so.
"Very good. There has been enough of that in Meduseld. My nephew speaks very little of the time when his predecessor was in the thrall of that loathsome little man they called Wormtongue, but I know it is a wound that has not wholly healed. We need no more of that nonsense", said Hild, her eyes flashing. It was telling she did not speak of King Théoden more directly. Sore wounds seemed to be something all members of the royal house of Rohan had in common.
"In any case, I did not come to visit just so I could lecture you, though I'm glad you have borne it so gracefully. Naturally a private word between the two of us was necessary, but I am also running an errand for Éomer. I have one of his Riders standing outside. Would you mind calling him in?" said Hild then, glancing at the door.
"Of course", Lothíriel answered, and a minute later, a Knight in polished armour and fine green cloak stepped inside. In his hands, he carried a parcel wrapped in fine red wool. He bowed and placed the item on the table between the two women, and then took his leave.
"Please, open it", said Hild, wearing a faint smile. Lothíriel reached to untie the careful knots that held the packet together. While she was undoing the wrappings and discovered a fine, white fabric inside, the old shieldmaiden continued to speak.
"Éomer asked me to give this to you. He would have delivered it himself, but I'm afraid his friends have already cornered him and whisked him away to a party. A silly old custom between over-excited males, though perhaps it will distract him from pining or doing something foolish. Anyway, he was very emphatic and asked me to make sure you know this is not supposed to be some kind of a ransom paid for your consent to marry him. He'd have given you these even if you had decided to delay the wedding."
Lothíriel listened to Hild's words while she was opening the packet. She already had an idea what it contained, and quickly saw she had guessed rightly. There in the lap of soft white fabric gold glittered like sunlight upon new snow, and jewels as green as spring's first grass and white as stars. There was a necklace, earrings and even two different bracelets, all gleaming softly against the wrapping. The arrangement of jewels and gold was delicate and beautiful, the craftsmanship as fine as anything she had seen in Gondor. A small gasp of wonder escaped her mouth before she could stall it. She was certainly not marrying Éomer for the prospect of such gifts, but the beauty of the jewels and this generosity still surprised her.
"These are the heirlooms of the House of Eorl, which belong to the Queen of Rohan. I know, it's quite a bounty to be carrying around, but I believe my nephew is not just showering his bride with royal jewels in a bout of infatuation; he is also making a point. I've heard that in your home, silver and pearls are treasured above other riches, but I'm sure Éomer would not be the only one of the Rohirrim who would be pleased to see you wearing our colours", Hild continued conversationally. She had probably noticed that Lothíriel was still too taken aback to say anything, and was tactfully providing her with a moment to recover her speech.
At length, she raised her eyes to meet the old shieldmaiden's eyes.
"It is generous indeed. I hardly know what to say. I have no such gifts for him", she said at length. Hild smiled wryly.
"Lass, if you ask me, in his mind you've already given him gifts beyond anything he had dared to hope. And considering how little time you've had to respond and adjust to recent happenings, nobody expects you to answer in kind. I have no doubt Lord Dunstan and that old bugger Ceolmund will make sure Dol Amroth appreciates your match with my nephew to the proper, royal degree. Those two haggle like their lives depended on it", she said, waving her hand dismissively.
For a moment, Lothíriel considered asking if such jewels should rather go to Hild herself or Éowyn. But then she decided against it. Hild might think it was contempt and arrogance, and that Lothíriel did not appreciate the generosity of her bridegroom. And Hild had said these were the Queen's jewels, and refusing them would probably go against old and important tradition.
"Thank you. I shall take care of these jewels and wear them proudly", she said at last, which judging by the faint smile on Hild's features was the answer she had hoped.
"I am sure you will. And you must realise it is an issue of pride for certain people, letting our Gondorian friends know that we Rohirrim are not just your poor and haggard neighbours. It may sound silly, but these things often are", the princess said and shook her head.
"No, I understand. We Gondorians also take our pride quite seriously", Lothíriel said, smiling.
"Very good. Understanding will take you far in the first months, I think. And especially when you come to Rohan", Hild remarked and finished her cup of tea. She straightened on her seat, and continued, "Well, perhaps that is all for tonight. I assume you still have things to do, and prepare for tomorrow. I shall see you at the banquet afterwards, if my nephew can be persuaded to let anyone else except for himself talk to you."
"Before you go, may I ask for a favour, my lady? Earlier, I wrote a message to him and was thinking about how to deliver it. Could you make sure he gets it?" Lothíriel asked. She had seen Éomer only briefly that day, and somehow it felt necessary to get some words to him before they saw one another tomorrow. Her message was probably mostly excited nonsense, but she knew he would appreciate it.
Hild smiled.
"Ah, yes. I think his friends are going to keep him busy tonight, but I'll see to it he gets it by morning. That should please him very much indeed."
The old princess took the sealed scroll in one hand and her cane in the other, and rose up on her feet.
"Well then, I think I have used up enough of your time, lass. You should rest before tomorrow. There will be plenty of time for us to talk more."
With those words, the two women bid one another good night. Then Hild began to make her way outside, and Lothíriel stayed behind to reflect on all that had been said.
That night, Lothíriel dreamt not of happy days to come when Éomer was back from war, but again of the tree in the woods of Ithilien and the arrow lodged deep in her shoulder.
To be continued.
A/N: Well, that was an update at last. I was not happy with the initial version of this chapter, and still am not entirely satisfied with it, but at this point I simply need to be done with it. Past couple months have been difficult for various reasons and I have not had much energy for writing. I do know where I want this story to go, but for some reason this chapter was hard to put together.
Anyway, my favourite part is the conversation between Hild and Lothíriel. Funny, how you grow so fond of original characters like Hild: they appear almost fully formed and it feels like they take very little work to find their place within the story. Such characters are also difficult to give up once the story is over. I still miss writing Ceolwen from A Light that Endures, although I finished writing it years ago. I have no doubt Hild will be such a character.
Thank you for reading and reviewing! The coming parts of this story may take a while for me to complete, and I am glad for any reader who sticks along, no matter how long it takes for me to update.
almythea - :D I think it was close to 10 000 words, though!
Cathael - Glad you liked it! :)
Hild's story has been one of my favourite things int this part of the story, so it's nice to hear that my readers like her, too. And it's always a good feeling to let Éomer experience some happiness, though I admit I also enjoy torturing him. :')
Thank you, take care you as well!
Cricket22 - Happy to hear you enjoyed the chapter! Her telling Éomer was indeed a sweet scene to write. Meanwhile he still has hard time believing that his luck in family matters might finally be changing.
Lothíriel has had generally very good interactions with Rohirrim, and even Ceolmund was not wholly unpleasant, so I think her heart and mind would be rather open to the rest of them. And she would try to be open, considering these will be her new people.
Hope you liked her conversation with Hild!
Wondereye - Glad you liked it!
Simplegurl4u - In that case, I do hope you liked the part in this chapter where they have a chance to talk alone. :) I very much liked writing that part!
It's indeed heartbreaking that he'd be so ready for the disappointment, but I think it's his way of protecting himself. So many of his loved ones have left, so why should this time be different? Poor lad is a hot mess.
I think Lothíriel's agreement to marry Éomer should have quieted down any rumblings. I did mean to write more about it, but this chapter was so hard to finish, and I simply couldn't get anything written about Erchirion and his mess, at least nothing that I'd care to publish. :')
Tibblets - Thanks! I should think those two ladies meeting would be quite interesting.
Loes5928 - Thank you! :)
imsoproudofyou - Always glad to hear that something I wrote made someone feel so strongly! Your review was so sweet, it reminded me again of why this hobby of writing is so important to me. 3 It really helped in a hard spot. That feeling of being inside of LOTR is such a special feeling for me as well, I am humbled if I have invoked something like that for you!
LH Wordsmith - I'm glad you're back! I shall have to check out your story. :)
Lothíriel is a very independent girl, isn't she?
JennyVDM - I know that feeling all too well! Life has been pretty busy for me, too.
That final scene is my favourite as well.