A Tavern in Umbar
Lothíriel only had a narrow window of time available. It would be enough. She had made enough of a ruckus that no Corsair would disturb them for at least half an hour. But, sadly, nothing ever happened as planned. Couldn't it have waited a few more minutes? It was rather inconvenient for her right now.
The man who charged into the room was blond. While this alone was exceptional in these parts of the realm, his height was even more impressive. He had to duck his head to not hit it at the ceiling. Well, this was awkward. Here was she, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, dressed in rags and in the middle of assassinating a Corsair lord, and the King of Rohan, of all people, came to her rescue.
"Lady, do you need help?" He barked.
Lothíriel fought with herself. It had taken her weeks to come close to her target. She had lived in the streets and eaten the most disgusting things to maintain her cover. On the other hand, murdering Assus of Umbar in front of King Éomer left a horrible first impression. And the man was bound and gagged, anyway. Slowly, she let her knife sink. Assus fell forward with a soft thud.
"I think I can manage," she answered. "But I shall remember your kind offer."
The King of Rohan looked around in surprise. He made out who the real threat was within seconds and turned his sword on her. The men behind him followed his example.
Lothíriel took a moment to admire the man in front of her. She had seen a portrait and rated him as handsome, but he was stunning in real life. He had an aura of energy and life, his raw emotions were displayed on his face, and his whole body radiated fury and passion. A portrait couldn't catch those things. He looked older, too. On his face, she could make out fine lines where there would be deeper ones in twenty years' time. However, they gave his character depth. He certainly didn't look like some youngling. Darkness lingered in those eyes. Two battles against Mordor and all the struggles of ruling a war-beaten country had shaped him.
If she had chosen the path of a princess, she would have been completely overwhelmed, Lothíriel mused. Gondorian noblewomen weren't prepared for a man as intense as the King of Rohan.
Lothíriel straightened her back.
"Please, don't make rash decisions which are likely to end in my death," she said. "I can explain myself, but I would prefer doing it under more private circumstances. If you would be so nice as to send your warriors away, I'd be more than thankful. I promise not to harm you. I can't promise the same for him." She kicked Assus in the side.
The King of Rohan warily looked at her.
"This isn't possibly some kind of sickening fun between the both of you, is it?"
At her feet, Assus of Umbar groaned desperately.
Since the King of Rohan seemed to be more appalled by the idea that this could be part of a sexual encounter instead of the murder that it was, Lothíriel told him the truth.
"Well, no. He is an enemy of ours. It has taken me some time to track him down. I was about to kill him now, as it would save me many troubles. I don't know if you are aware of who this is. Lord Assus of Umbar, the infamous pirate and slave trader?"
The King of Rohan was thoughtful.
"I know who he is. I came for him, too, although I planned to make peace between our nations, not to kill him."
He watched her closely. Lothíriel held his gaze and tried not to waver. He came to a conclusion.
"Leave." He ordered his men. One of the warriors objected, but King Éomer stared him down. "Guard the door. Don't come in unless I call you, and don't let anyone else get in."
The men silently retreated and closed the door behind them.
The King of Rohan crossed the room with long strides. Lothíriel fought the urge to raise her knife in defense when he came closer. He only passed her and she exhaled slowly. Being next to such a huge man reminded her how small and weak her body was. Usually, it was her advantage, as men tended to underestimate her, but she wasn't sure of her chances against this man, specifically.
The King of Rohan heavily sat down and poured himself a glass of wine.
"Did you poison it?" He asked. "If not, please sit down. Let's talk about what we are going to do with him and with each other."
Dumbstruck, Lothíriel did as he bid. He gave her the glass. "Try it."
That was just dumb.
"No, I most certainly will not," she said. "I prefer the method of killing my victims face to face, but there are many people who wish him dead. Drinking his wine is not the wisest of actions."
The King of Rohan smiled regretfully and put the glass down. The nerves of this man… This was a very fragile situation, and he smiled! Lothíriel couldn't believe her eyes. Had he been as temperamental as it was told, she probably would have been dead already.
"You are right," he said. "Although a drink would have been nice."
Lothíriel surprised herself by offering her own wine. Nobody saw what was in the waterskin – as long as she behaved like some poor tavern wench, it didn't raise suspicion if the waterskin contained the best wine Gondor had to offer.
The King of Rohan watched her take a sip first before he allowed her to pour him some into a new glass.
"May Rohan prosper under your reign, and may your children live in peace and safety."
The King of Rohan raised his eyebrows.
"So, you know who I am," he said. „Well, I don't know who you are or if I should wish you luck."
Lothíriel drank.
"I am Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," she said. There was no sense in denying it. "And I am in service of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. However, please don't announce my name and my connection to anyone outside of this room."
The King of Rohan nodded but didn't let her out of his eyes.
"Gondor, then," he said. „That makes us… allies?"
"I suppose," Lothíriel said.
"Courtesy demands that I introduce myself officially, although you are aware of who I am. I am Éomer, King of Rohan."
He looked at the bundle on the floor.
"Admittedly, you would do me a great favor if you got rid of him. Still, the whole tavern saw me entering the room."
"That's too bad," Lothíriel agreed. The King of Rohan was pragmatic. She liked that. And he didn't trust her, that much was obvious. He would be foolish to do so. If she decided to kill Assus now, he would be easy to blame. He was extremely lucky that she was, indeed, bound to honor and her country. Maybe they both were lucky. If it had been one of the Corsairs barging in, the likelihood of her survival would have been dim.
Lothíriel was tense. She fought to look calm from the outside, but her body vibrated and blood pumped loudly in her veins. Her instincts, still rattled from the sudden interruption, begged her to flee from the strange man.
"We have to make sure that he is seen alive after you left the room," she said.
The King of Rohan groaned and threw her an accusing look.
"I intended to save a damsel in distress, and now I find myself in a situation where I have to plan the secret death of a man. That's not how I envisioned this evening to end. Why can't we just let him go?"
Assus of Umbar nodded enthusiastically. He was unshaven and ugly. Lothíriel was aware that not everybody was blessed with good looks, but his ugliness came from years of self-neglect. His teeth were brown and his hair was greasy, and the only thing clean about him was his sword. It lay in the corner now. She clenched her teeth.
"This man is responsible for the deaths of more than four hundred Gondorian warriors. During the Ring War, he fought on Sauron's side. In the last twenty years, he raided our cities and killed numerous children and women, or worse, enslaved them. Just because he is helpless now, and you find it honorless to kill a helpless man, doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to die."
"The only difference here is that you have to look him in the eyes. In battle, your enemies are just bodies in which you bury your sword. They don't have stories, and you don't know their motives. It is easier to kill hundreds of men and orcs in a murderous frenzy than to deal with a breathing, living, and thinking person. I heard the stories, don't deny it, Éomer, King of Rohan! Believe me, we have tried to negotiate. But this man is evil to the core. And if we let him go now, he will continue to destroy cities and murder innocent people. This time he will want to take revenge on Gondor. I will not let that happen."
Lothíriel had stood up while talking, rage boiling inside her. She nearly forgot how intimidating the King of Rohan was. Then she got a grip on herself. She became aware that the King of Rohan watched her with an unreadable expression.
"I didn't even know that Gondorians train Shieldmaidens, or whatever you are," he said. Distracted, Lothíriel stared at him. Then she slowly exhaled. A plan formed in her mind.
"I got carried away. I apologize."
The King of Rohan waved his hand. Her anger slowly dissipated. The people of Dol Amroth had fought against the Corsairs for their whole life. She had heard stories of Assus since she was a mere child. She didn't know if the King of Rohan knew of the bad relations between Umbar and Gondor, but probably not.
One of the reasons she hadn't grown up with dancing lessons and embroidery was her uncle Denethor. When alive, he had been a ruthless man. There had been the possibility of being married off to some pirate to preserve peace. She'd rather die defending her country than share a bed with one of those barbarians. The Lords and Ladies of Minas Tirith had never understood that there was no way to peacefully unite Umbar and Gondor, but on the other hand, never had they seen pirates burn down a village.
However, the King of Rohan did not know this. It was more important to find a way out of this compromising situation than to explain her point of view. She already had an idea.
"You leave," she said. "And I will give him something to sleep. Then I will leave as well and send someone up so everyone knows he is still alive. Afterward, I will climb up the facade and get it over with. It's not perfect," she admitted. "but right now I can't think of a better plan."
The King of Rohan regarded her closely. Holding his gaze was hard, but Lothíriel didn't waver. She noticed that his eyes were a clear, icy blue. They seemed to bore into her. She shivered but forbade herself to lower her eyes. Eventually, he stood up and bowed.
"That's alright for me," he said. "I trust you to keep my reputation clean. It was an honor to meet you, my Lady."
There was a sparkle in his eyes, but Lothíriel discarded it as unimportant. He left the room. Through the door she could hear him order his men:
"We leave. There is nothing for us to see here."
Lothíriel breathed out, her heartbeat still racing. Loud footsteps went down the stairs until there was nothing left to hear except for the general noise of the tavern- people singing, dancing, and drinking. The room suddenly felt empty. Lothíriel glanced down at Assus of Umbar, who looked nothing like the great pirate lord he used to be.
"Well," she said. "Better get going."
She forced ten drops of sleeping draught into his mouth. After a few moments, his body went slack. Then she dragged him to the bed. He was incredibly heavy, and Lothíriel cursed herself for not letting Éomer do this. Little beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Finally, she put him on the sheets. She undressed him and was revolted by the foul smell his body radiated. The ropes came away and finally, he looked as if he was peacefully taking a nap after an exhausting fuck. She put the sword next to the bed. When she couldn't spot anything suspicious in the room, she left.
Downstairs, she was greeted with hollers and laughter. There were a few blond men in the corner, but the majority of the guests were locals and pirates, who thought she had bedded their leader. Since she had screamed while he dragged her up, it wouldn't have been voluntary. Lothíriel hated the hollering men from the bottom of her heart.
"Assus," she said to the barmaid, feigning weakness in her voice. Then she coughed and continued in a stronger voice, well-heard by everyone. "Lord Assus demands another bottle of your best wine. He got quite thirsty." The men laughed again.
The barmaid gave her a pitying look. "I will go," she offered.
"Thank you," Lothíriel said with a relieved smile. She then left the tavern, but not without being grabbed or slapped on the bottom multiple times.
She was more than glad when she made it outside. There was no moon tonight. She went to the back of the house and waited for about half an hour. The noise inside grew even louder. She saw Assus' room being lit up by a candle and a shadow. Then it was dark again. Lothíriel waited a few more moments.
When she was sure nobody was in the room except for her target, she grabbed the ivy. It was firm enough to hold her. Carefully she climbed up until she reached the window to Assus' room. Silently she got inside and whipped her dagger out. It was a short and messy affair. Tomorrow they would find him with his throat slit open, sheets bloody.
The way down was easier. Lothíriel jumped and landed on both hands and feet. She straightened herself and calmed her ragged breathing. She felt lightheaded, closed her eyes for a second and hoped no one would see her in the dark. Lothíriel found out how wrong this assumption was when she suddenly was grabbed from behind. She gasped but was immediately silenced by a big hand on her mouth.
"Bring her to my room," she heard someone whisper. Of course, it was the King of Rohan.
Lothíriel held her eyes shut and concentrated on her breathing. They carried her down the street and when the air changed, she knew they were inside. Reluctantly she opened her eyes. Rohirric men crowded the room and she didn't even think of fighting them – there simply were too many. Eventually, she was put into a room with a bed and a chair, but no window. The door was shut.
The dizziness didn't subside, and Lothíriel staggered to the next wall and slumped down. She would hate to puke now. She put her head between her knees and deeply breathed in and out. The door opened. Lothíriel was too caught up in her own world to notice it. Suddenly the King of Rohan stood before her and she jerked, drawing her dagger. Strange that they hadn't even taken it.
"Whoa, whoa!" He said and took a hasty step back. "Are you alright?"
What a weird question, Lothíriel thought. Of course, she was alright.
She was startled when the King of Rohan kneeled in front of her. He took her hand and carefully retrieved the knife from her firm grip.
"I will give it back," he promised. "I just don't want to get accidentally stabbed."
Lothíriel only stared at him. There were at least five more daggers hidden in her clothes.
"Oh, come on," he sighed. He leaned forward, never making an abrupt movement, and scooped her up.
Surprised, she clung to his shirt as he carried her to the bed. Today she was carried around a lot, it seemed. Instead of dropping her off, he merely sat down. His arms were still tight around her.
Lothíriel didn't know how long he held her. At some point, the dizziness left her body and the shaking of her hands ceased. With no tension left, she got more and more exhausted. The King of Rohan was a good pillow. He smelled nice, too. Why exactly he embraced her while she was having a mental breakdown was lost to her. Without thinking, she cuddled closer to his chest and his strong beating heart. There was a low chuckle above her, but she didn't open her eyes. It felt as if the rest of the world, everything that had led to this moment, didn't exist. And there was no sense in questioning the events of tonight, anyway.
When Lothíriel came back to her senses, she was mortified. Normally, these panics happened when she was alone, and sometimes they didn't happen at all. There was something about the King of Rohan that triggered her emotions. She looked up and met his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Can wash my hands somewhere?"
There was a wash bowl in the corner of the room and she scrambled out of his arms. Now she could smell the blood on her. It had been necessary to kill Assus with a lot of it, so there would be no doubt that he had died after the King of Rohan had already left him. Unfortunately, Lothíriel was bloodied as well. Oh, she was looking forward to a proper bath.
The water was cold. Lothíriel frantically scrubbed the dirt and blood from her arms. There even was a red drop on her cleavage. Only when she had washed her face, she felt a little bit cleaner.
"Better?" The King of Rohan asked from the bed.
Lothíriel turned around. She knew her cheeks were burning.
"Yes," she confirmed. She took a deep breath. Rohirrim were said to be straight-forward, consequently, that was how she would approach matters.
"Why am I here?"
She sat down next to him. This had several reasons: First; he had lost some of his intimidation when he had cuddled her back to reality. Second; he would be there if she lost her mind again. Third: People didn't tend to hurt people who were physically close to them. Also, due to her small reach, she had to be close to her opponent if she wanted to fight him.
If the King of Rohan was surprised, he didn't let it show.
"Well," he said. "Mostly, I was curious. And it would be foolish to let an assassin run free when I am in town. Maybe I'm next on your list."
"You are not," Lothíriel said immediately. He turned to her and grinned.
"I know that now. If you had wanted, you could have killed me an hour ago. To be honest, while I touched you, I constantly feared to suddenly find myself with a dagger between my ribs."
Lothíriel found it needless to say that she wouldn't have been able to do anything, not to mention hurt him, until a few minutes ago. Apparently, this hadn't been as clear to Éomer. He was a reckless man.
"So, why won't you tell me who you really are?" He said and moved closer. „Somehow I find it hard to believe that you serve under Prince Imrahil."
Shortly Lothíriel considered hiding her heritage. But he already knew her name and where she came from, now lying about her familial affiliations made no sense. Had she been officially introduced at court they would have met sooner or later. Although it was quite a coincidence, making the King of Rohan's acquaintance wasn't completely unpleasant. And, to think of it; it wasn't under the eyes of jealous noble ladies, and there was no need to talk about the weather or other trivial topics. Lothíriel suppressed the urge to smile. Viewed like that, it was great to have met him under the current circumstances.
"Believe me or not, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth is my father, Amrothos, Erchirion, and Elphir are my brothers, and I am Lothíriel of Dol Amroth."
The effect her words had was dramatic. The King of Rohan's eyes widened and he looked so baffled Lothíriel had to laugh out loud.
"You have to be joking," he said. "Surely when you said you were from Dol Amroth, you meant you have family there. A normal family, not a royal one! I mean, you do have this certain elfish look, and Imrahil is also dark-haired and fair-skinned, but you are so… short."
Lothíriel gave him an unbelieving look.
"That came out wrong," he said. "What for Bema's sake are you doing in Umbar, on your own? If you are a member of the royal family? Completely unprotected? I would never let Éowyn do that… I mean, if she would ever listen to me. Can you prove your identity?"
Lothíriel produced her signet ring out of a hidden pocket in one of the rags she wore as a skirt. He stared at it for quite a while.
"I can't believe it," he finally muttered. "Here I unsuspectingly travel the lands of Umbar to negotiate trading conditions and promptly stumble across a princess from Gondor, who, as chance would have it, is murdering a pirate lord for the sake of her country. And I thought that Éowyn lived dangerously. I need ale." As an afterthought, he added: "Do you want some, too?"
Lothíriel declined. The King of Rohan went to the door and spoke to one of the guards. In Rohirric, his voice was even deeper. The "r" was pronounced in a strange, but not unpleasant way. Lothíriel wondered if she was still a captive, or if mentioning her family had bought her free.
The King of Rohan returned with a pitcher. He didn't look tense anymore. Nevertheless, when he headed to her, Lothíriel forced her muscles to stay still. Being directly approached by such a huge man activated her instinct for flight.
"Well, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," he said. "It may take a while until I get used to this. Did you know that I fought side by side with Imrahil at the Black Gate? He never told me that he had a daughter."
"Oh, that." Lothíriel squirmed. "He never mentions me. It's a mutual arrangement."
Éomer sat down. He took off his boots and made himself comfortable on the bed, leaning against the wall. Lothíriel gawked. She had never seen a man doing this. Normally, men jumped on the bed with no consideration for the dirt they brought with them, or they entered the room already undressed. It created a way too familiar atmosphere.
"Did your family cast you out?" He asked carefully.
"No!" Lothíriel exclaimed. The thought alone made her feel miserable. "There is just… you will hear a rather embarrassing story if you ask about me at the courts of Minas Tirith."
Éomer's eyebrow rose.
"Now you got me intrigued," he said. "It's good that I have the chance to ask you directly and don't have to rely on the talk of some chatty noble lady."
He looked at her with puppy eyes. Was that… banter? Lothíriel wasn't sure at which point he had decided that she was a friend rather than a threat to him. Anyway, it was hard to resist when he looked at her like that. Her stomach fluttered and she looked away.
"When I was thirteen, the situation in Dol Amroth worsened. Corsairs attacked our coasts and the shadow in Mordor rose. My father is a wise man. He let me choose, and I, well, I chose against the life of a princess."
"But why?" Éomer asked. "You could have had everything, and your life would have been safe. Traveling the country on dangerous missions doesn't seem to me like something a caring father would want for his daughter."
She sighed. The adrenaline had left, and her head was clear again. Additionally, the serious topic had a sobering effect on her. Maybe the numb state she had been in before hadn't been that bad after all.
"You do know something about politics, don't you?" Lothíriel asked rhetorically. "In Gondor, it's mostly about marrying the right lord or lady to gain political influence. While I see the necessity in it, I don't like to be treated as a negotiation price. I'm the highest-born noblewoman of all Gondor. Who do you think my choices would have been? In the best case, it would have been someone like you. Since you weren't king before the Ring War-"
Éomer grimaced at that. It was amazing how one could see every emotion on his face. She felt sorry for broaching the subject of the death of his relatives but continued nevertheless.
"I was likely to be married off to King Theoden, who was more than twice my age, or to one of our enemies. Speak, a lord from Near Harad or Umbar. If my uncle had demanded it, there would have been nothing my father could have done to prevent it."
"The embarrassing story?"
"I fell from a horse and hit my head," Lothíriel said. There was a short silence in which he thought about the words.
"That's nothing special in Gondor, is it?" Éomer finally grinned. "You Gondorians never learn to ride properly. I bet you ride side-saddle."
Lothíriel glared at him.
"That has nothing to do with it! I'm a passable rider."
Éomer looked as if he wanted to add something. Then he lightly shook his head and closed his mouth. The mischievous expression didn't leave his face, though. Lothíriel fought against a smile and pressed her mouth into a line.
"I will not say a thing." He lightly nudged her in the side. Lothíriel didn't comment on the contact.
"Please, I want to hear the story," he said.
Lothíriel complied.
"My father told Denethor that I wasn't right in the head after the accident. Everyone in Gondor thinks I am being locked away because I am a disgrace to my family. Unmarriageable, you see? And to keep up appearances, my father doesn't talk about it much."
Now it was Éomer's turn to stare.
"Are you … mental? You pretend to be mental so you don't have to marry?"
"It was the right path for me," Lothíriel said defensively.
"Although we didn't plan to have it turn out like this. It escalated," Lothíriel reluctantly admitted. "I needed a purpose. My brothers already had theirs: Elphir is the heir of Dol Amroth, Erchirion is a swordsman and Amrothos is in trades. I wasn't bad with weapons. No one suspects a small girl to be a threat. Since I objected to being locked away for real, I received training and consequently was sent to gather information whenever there was the need for someone inconspicuous. By now, my father trusts me to take care of myself."
Éomer shook his head.
Then he leaned forward and kissed her. Lothíriel stilled and her eyes widened. His lips felt weird on hers. After a moment, in which she didn't move a muscle, Éomer opened his eyes and looked questioningly at her. She didn't speak. He slowly withdrew.
"I should apologize," he said, his eyes locking with hers. "But I just couldn't resist."
It woke her from her paralysis. Lothíriel shook her head to recover. She had to decide quickly. He smelled delicious, of fresh air and nature, horse, and man, but not too much. And, besides his physique, which undoubtedly made women all across the kingdoms very happy, he didn't seem to be a bad man. To be honest, she even had fun with him. The lopsided grin he gave her settled the matter. No way would she let such a man out of her bedroom if he offered himself so graciously.
Éomer cautiously backed away from her. Lothíriel lurched forward, grabbed his hair, and crashed her mouth on his. What she lacked in experience she was eager to compensate with enthusiasm. At first, it was a little bit chaotic and their teeth collided, but when Éomer tilted his head, they fitted perfectly. This was the best kiss she had ever received. Lothíriel nibbled at his lips, and suddenly he laughed.
"That tickles," he said into her mouth.
"Oh, really?" Lothíriel had to giggle. "I didn't even know that's possible."
Éomer put his hands around her waist and pulled her on his lap. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear: "You will have to bite a little bit stronger," before stating an example and biting her earlobe. Lothíriel had a hard time concentrating.
"Oh, I will," she promised him. She leaned forward to catch his mouth again, and this time she had no mercy. She had never felt that relaxed and aroused at the same time. Éomer's hands roamed up and down her body. He stroked her breasts through the thin fabric of her ragged dress. Lothíriel moaned and arched her back against him. He liked that. When he started to unbutton her dress, she came back to her senses and slapped his hand away.
"What?" Éomer asked. He was planting little kisses on her throat. "Don't you want it, too?"
Deep red spilled on her cheeks. Lothíriel withdrew from his mouth and stared at his chest. It was heaving. On the one hand, she was flattered that she had this effect on him, but on the other hand, it scared her. What if he lost control? She didn't know him!
Éomer stroked her cheekbone. His fingers wandered to her chin and he tenderly forced her to look at him. His eyes widened with realization.
"Don't tell me you are a virgin!" He sounded very much surprised.
Lothíriel retrieved her arms from his neck and hugged herself.
"And what if I am?" She asked defiantly. "Just because I travel alone and can defend myself, doesn't mean my… morals are loose, or however you would call it. I was brought up that way. I'm a simple noblewoman after all." She bit her lip. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen."
Éomer regarded her with consideration. He took her cramped hands into his. They were huge compared to hers.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he finally said in a sincere voice. "If anything, I should apologize, for judging you without thinking."
He tried to pull her closer again, but she struggled against him. He avoided looking at her cleavage. The top was shoved down and her breasts were on display, so he carefully put it up again.
"I promise I won't touch you inappropriately again."
Lothíriel gave in and let him hug her. Firmly pressed against his chest, the tension drained from her body.
"You are so different from any woman I encountered I simply assumed… You are easy to talk to and kissing you felt natural… I am sorry if I frightened you. Will you marry me?"
Lothíriel froze. Had he just said what she thought he had said?
"Sweet Elbereth, no!"
His words were like a bucket of cold water over her head. Lothíriel forgot her unease from moments ago and watched him closely. He truly looked hurt.
"Do I look like a woman who wants to get married? With everything I told you, did it give you the impression I'm in search of a husband? I don't need a man."
Lothíriel's voice was strong. She had kissed men before. It didn't automatically lead to marriage!
"I can see how hard it is for you to cope with killing someone," Éomer said. He drew circles on her back. Lothíriel ignored the pleasant feeling and answered.
"I'm not of stone! Of course, it troubles me. But that doesn't mean I don't love to live independently and free."
"Maybe, but I could offer you such a life."
Lothíriel snorted. She knew enough of married life to not be lured into it by hollow promises.
"Oh, could you? I think now you are the mental one. Can you imagine me as the new queen of Rohan? I certainly wouldn't sit around and do nothing except for looking spruced up all day. I don't even speak the language!"
She still sat on his lap. What was he thinking? He was the King of Rohan! They had met less than three hours ago! Did he even understand the concept of proposing and marriage?
She asked him that.
"One does not simply ask a stranger to marry him. Such a thing involves being stuck with each other for the rest of our lives."
Éomer guffawed. His teeth were shining in the candlelight as he threw his head back.
"You are gorgeous," he said breathlessly. Lothíriel didn't know if she should laugh or cry.
"You make me uncomfortable," she said quietly. Éomer immediately became serious.
"I didn't think everything through, of course," he said. "But I am familiar with the concept of marriage, as you have stated it. I think it's a great idea. You have the right heritage, for once."
"Is this the only thing important to you?" Lothíriel asked. For the first time, Éomer looked annoyed.
"Of course not, woman," he said. "Let me finish."
His words stood in harsh contrast to their closeness. Lothíriel felt his breath on her cheek when he spoke. She had given up putting up a fight against his embrace. For the time being, it felt good, and she had more important matters to attend.
"You will find that Rohan is completely different from Gondor. Women are expected to be independent. You would be my wife, never my property. If you want, you could travel the world. But of course, you could also try to get to know Rohan and its people. You could be a queen that wields power. I would choose you as my equal partner, and you would never have to hide again. And, what's most important, I like you and we get along. You aren't afraid of saying out loud what's on your mind, and if you don't agree to something, you voice it. I can't tell you how rare this is to find in a woman when you are king. You are beautiful. However, I wouldn't have mentioned it if I weren't convinced of one thing: I think you are up to it. You are suitable for being the Queen of Rohan."
Lothíriel was a little overwhelmed.
"Please, let me go," she said. "I need to think." Éomer did as she bid immediately. She stood up and brought distance between them. She turned away and silently stared at the wall.
"How many winters do you count?" Éomer interrupted her thoughts.
Lothíriel didn't look at him.
"I am twenty-two, twenty-three in summer. Why do you want to know ?"
"You are so small. It makes it hard to guess." There was a pause before he added: "Maybe I just realized that you could be way younger than you look and wanted to be reassured."
Lothíriel raised her eyes. Although trying to appear unconcerned, she could see that he was tense. The lightness in his voice sounded forced.
"How old are you?" She asked. She knew he had to be relatively young, but when he spoke about serious matters, he seemed much older.
"Thirty," he said. "It's not that bad, is it?" He grinned anxiously. It was adorable. Lothíriel walked away from him to hide her smile.
"No, it is not," she answered. "It's the perfect age for me. Could you give me a week to think about it?" She asked him. "I don't want to promise something I will regret later."
Éomer stood up from the bed.
"I would, if it was possible. My company and I will leave in the morning."
Silence descended.
"Can I accompany you?" Lothíriel asked. "I want to bring distance between this village and myself. When they begin to investigate Assus' death, I would like to be as far away as possible."
A smile lit up his face.
"Of course. We will travel up the coast. If you want, we will bring you home directly."
Naturally, Lothíriel had never traveled with a group of Rohirric warriors. Maybe this was a good way to find out if Éomer's people were compatible with her.
"You are aware I will try to test you in all possible ways? I can be unbearable. And what if you realize you don't want me, after all?"
Éomer came to her and cupped her face. He silenced her doubts with a kiss.
"We will see," he said. "Everything will be alright."
Kissing him felt like the most natural thing on earth. There was no anxiety or fear that she would be clumsy. Éomer towered over her, and Lothíriel had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him. He had his arms around her, but unlike before, he didn't scare her anymore. It was quite the opposite, now she felt protected by his tall body.
Éomer grinned down at her.
"I take this as a yes."
She hit him lightly.
"Not yet. I am just testing the waters."
Three days later, when they camped on the beach, Lothíriel, the Princess of Dol Amroth, accepted the marriage proposal of Éomer, the King of Rohan.