"I will not have you sell me off to a barbarian!" came the clear strong voice of a woman beyond the doors. Eomer turned to his cousin with a clenched jaw.
"You will serve your country as your brothers do!" an older male voice responded.
The doors flung open and a dark haired girl nearly crashed into the pair of Rohirric men and their escort. Her eyes went wide, but she shoved past them without even a mutter of apology.
Eomer had had his reservations about this journey, but his uncle had insisted that he and Theodred respond to the request of the Steward of Gondor for a visit. He had been under the impression Denethor wanted to discuss the growing worry and orc population, but perhaps he had ideas to strengthen the bonds of their two lands.
The servant with them stepped into the black and white chamber, announcing the diplomatic visitors. The two men were greeted and no mention was made of the young woman throughout their discussions of Mordor and the dark that seemed to creep out from that corrupted land.
Eomer was introduced to the woman at the evening meal, attended by far too many elites who looked at him and his cousin with disdain. Princess Lothiriel, niece of Denethor, barely looked at them at all. Keeping her eyes down, she seemed to struggle to keep a neutral expression on her face, though she did let a scowl loose when she looked at her uncle.
"That stuck up brat," Eomer commented to Theodred as they left for their rooms.
"Which one?" Theodred sighed.
"The princess who won't be sold off to us barbarians."
"We are very different from the people she has grown up around." Theodred patted Eomer's shoulder. "Do not be too harsh on her."
"She has insulted you and our people with her words and behavior!" Eomer's head felt hot. "And yet we are expected to be polite in the face of such disgust. If this were Rohan…"
"But it is not."
"How can the steward think that girl could be your queen?" Eomer would never bow to her, that was for sure.
"He has not even broached the topic, cousin."
"I do not think I will be capable of diplomacy if he does."
Theodred yawned. "Then let us hope that she has persuaded her uncle over to her opinion on the matter."
Eomer grunted. He was anxious to leave this city of cold stones and cold people.
June 3019
"Thank you for accompanying us, Eomer," Elladan said as they rode.
"Of course, friend. I am glad to offer additional protection for your kin."
Elrohir pulled his horse alongside his brother. "Is that your reason? Or perhaps it is to settle a debate with a dwarf?"
The pair of elves smiled the same smile and Eomer's jaw tightened in response. He opened his mouth to respond, but Elladan pointed ahead of them.
"There!"
Eomer squinted his eyes, but could make out only grass. Damn elf eyes. Still, he increased their pace, trusting the brothers' superior eyesight.
As annoyed as he was that the two knew of his disparaging comments about their grandmother, he was intensely curious to see this woman who had so completely bewitched Gimli with her beauty. Not to mention, he was anxious to see her granddaughter whom Aragorn had worked so hard to claim.
He was jolted from his thoughts as cries erupted from the éored.
"Orcs, my lord!"
He could see them now, the sleek and swift horses broken into two groups and pursued by a black mass. The remaining orcs were growing reckless if they would attack in such a way!
His men needed little direction as they shifted as one to their full speed, their spears and swords at the ready. His heart pumping, Eomer couldn't help but relish the thrill of another fight. He had been stuck with diplomacy and dancing and negotiations for far too long.
They reached the first group of elven riders, flowing around them as a river of horses, and continued advancing upon the evil creatures who had finally realized they should flee. Eomer would make sure not a one was left breathing.
The second group of elves directed their horses towards the Rohirrim, but Eomer watched as an orc took a desperate swipe at the maiden closest to his wicked blade. She tried to dodge the blow, but her horse reared, flinging her into the tall grasses near her attacker. Eomer urged Firefoot to find even more speed. The orc must have known he would not escape, for instead of running, he descended upon the young woman who tried to drag herself away, injured as she was.
Eomer reached them just in time to launch himself off Firefoot and lodge his sword through the back of the knife wielding orc. The woman screamed in surprise and Eomer shoved the corpse onto the ground away from her, his sword and body and mind all ready for any remaining fights to be had, but the battle was over. His riders had taken care of the entire band in minutes and he felt a surge of pride at their skill and efficiency.
His attention went back to the woman on the ground.
"Princess!" Eomer was grateful his helmet mostly obscured his face from her eyes, though it would have been more effective had it also kept her from hearing the loathing in his voice.
Lothiriel tilted her head to the side in confusion and Eomer reached up to pull off his helmet.
"Lord Eomer!" she cried. "I am so very glad to see you!" She looked down at her bloody left leg and winced. "Though I will admit that I would have been even more pleased had we seen you just a few minutes earlier." She attempted a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Eomer scowled. He had saved this brat's life and she could only criticize him for not doing it quickly enough.
He extended a hand and Lothiriel took it, but yelped and collapsed as she put weight on her injured leg.
"I landed on it when I fell," she said through clenched teeth.
"Did the orc's blade cut you?" he asked. He had known too many men who had been pricked by poisoned orc weapons.
His men had shifted to surround their king and after wiping his blade and sheathing it, he leaned down to examine the woman's injuries.
"I think only a bit. I maneuvered away and he struck Baraheth more than me."
Eomer lifted her skirt to her knee, batting away her hand that reflexively reached to fix it. "Still, we need to clean it quickly." There was a gash on her calf, deeper than he would have liked, but nothing they couldn't handle as long as no poison was involved. When he touched her ankle, though, she screamed and jerked away. "Your ankle may be broken."
He'd seen enough. He grabbed a bit of cloth from his pack on Firefoot and gently wrapped her leg. Now he wanted to get her away from any potential hidden attackers. The elves would likely be able to tend to her wounds better than he could anyway.
Eomer put his helmet back on and leaned down to scoop the princess up into his arms.
She cried out again, but this time it seemed to be more in protest to him touching her than pain.
"I am quite alright, my lord," she said as she tried to wriggle out of his arms.
He feigned dropping her. She screamed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Stop your nonsense or I truly will drop you."
She settled, but glared at him. "I just needed a hand is all."
He scoffed at her assertions.
Lothiriel's horse had run off in the chaos, but Eomer doubted she'd be able to ride very well anyway. He handed her to Eothain and climbed up onto Firefoot before reaching down to pull her up in front of him.
Her protests resumed immediately. "I certainly do not need to be held like a child!"
Eomer rolled his eyes. "Do you have a spare horse by chance then, my lady? Because yours will need to be caught and I am not sending my men to chase her down until we are assured all the orcs have been dealt with."
Lothiriel cleared her throat. "Of course. I didn't think of that." She shifted and sucked air between her teeth.
"We'll ride to a village nearby and tend to your injuries there."
She nodded, but as they began to move, she grimaced and her body stiffened.
He began to apologize, but the word 'barbarian' flashed into his mind and he choked back the sympathy.
Eothain appeared quickly once they had reached the small group of homes and extended his arms to take the princess down off Firefoot.
The villagers gathered and a home was quickly offered for the princess to be tended, two of the elves following to offer their services.
Eomer made the rounds then, checking on the state of his men and the visitors. He soon found himself face to face with two elves of surpassing beauty, though they seemed to be two sides of the same coin. One was all light with yellow hair that shone, but the other had dark hair that glistened. These could only be Galadriel and Arwen.
Eomer realized that he was standing in silence and finally cleared his throat, bowing low.
"My ladies, we are honored to have your presence in Rohan. I am Eomer King and welcome you."
A slap on his back brought him upright and he found himself flanked by Elladan and Elrohir. The pair seemed amused by how flustered Eomer had become, but at least kept their jests in their mouths.
The lady Galadriel smiled, overwhelming the mortal man all the more.
"We are grateful for your assistance," her voice rang like perfect silver bells. "Does Lothiriel seem to be greatly injured?"
She asked the question in such a way that Eomer suspected she not only knew the answer to her question, but also how all their lives would play out. She was acting out her part in the rituals of their limited mortal minds.
Before he could find enough composure to answer, one of the elves who had gone with the princess approached.
"Father, how is she?" Arwen asked.
This must be Elrond. Aragorn had spoken so highly of his soon-to-be father-in-law.
"The princess will be fine in time. The wound was not very deep and I do not believe it was poisoned. The ankle is not broken, but very badly bruised and sprained. She will not be able to walk much as it heals." He turned to Eomer. "We have splinted the leg, but I am afraid it would be unwise for her to accompany us on the rest of our journey."
Eomer held back his expression, but only just barely. He bowed his head. "She is welcome here as she recovers." He looked up and found Galadriel's eyes burrowing into him and he quickly looked away. "Can she be moved to Edoras?"
Elrond nodded. "Yes, I believe so. It will not be pleasant for her, but she comes from a strong line."
Lothiriel's horse was recovered while Eomer's men checked the area and piled up the bodies of the dead orcs. The poor girl had gotten a gash on one of her back legs, but they all agreed she could be saved. Eomer found himself with significantly more sympathy for the horse than its owner, though that was fairly typical for him. Horses were much easier to understand than people, particularly women.
In short order, they were ready to depart again, with Lothiriel on a borrowed horse while Baraheth was left without a rider so as not to exacerbate her injury. Eomer kept an eye on the princess during their ride. He may not think very highly of her, but she was still his friend's daughter as well as a guest in his country. Before long, he noticed her face looking increasingly pale and finally called the company to a halt for her to rest.
"I do not need any rest, my lord," she said in a strained voice.
Eomer bit his tongue and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her down off the horse before she could object.
"Could you refrain from manhandling me quite so much?" she spat out.
Eomer was surprised she could be quite so venomous while looking ready to pass out.
"If you weren't so stubborn, I wouldn't need to," he responded only loud enough for the lady to hear.
She looked at him in surprise and started to push away from him, but gave up the fight quickly as she hissed in pain. Eomer found a rock and set her down, not quite as gently as he could have.
He chastised himself as she grabbed at her leg, though, the foot looking considerably more swollen. Why did she make him so intensely angry? She had insulted them, yes, his cousin in particular, but many of the people of Gondor had made it clear they had similar opinions about those of Rohan.
As she rested, the lady Galadriel approached Eomer.
"Perhaps it would be better if she rode with you again," she said in her bright voice. "She could perhaps then elevate the leg in front of her, but not risk falling off."
Her eyes sparkled and Eomer wondered what game she was playing. Still, he couldn't refuse her suggestion. He may have no problem speaking bluntly to the princess, but he would never dream of doing the same with this unearthly woman in front of him. He nodded dumbly and she passed by him to speak with Lothiriel.
The young woman also seemed to be struck silent by the suggestion, though she did find her voice as the elf commented on Lothiriel being left behind in Edoras.
"Surely I can still make the journey," she insisted.
"We must all follow the paths that are laid before us, young one."
Lothiriel nodded. "I am only disappointed to delay my reunion with my family."
"And yet meetings must occur so that reunions may follow."
Eomer saw his own confusion reflected in the princess's face.
Galadriel smiled kindly. "Your own path may lead you to reunions unsought, but welcome."
"Oh," was all Lothriel could manage to say. Eomer shared her speechlessness.
They set out again, Lothiriel now in front of Eomer with her ankle carefully propped up on Firefoot. Eomer kept a hold of her and as the miles wore on, he had to agree with the wisdom of the advice given. Lothiriel was struggling more and more to stay upright and he would be grateful when they arrived at Meduseld and she could be taken care of properly.
Normally, this closeness would require conversation, but Eomer was somewhat grateful that the princess seemed in no way up for talking, all her strength going towards keeping silent. He was surprised at her grit. He'd heard the rumors in Gondor about her, how she'd fled in cowardice as war descended. That probably contributed to his dislike of the woman. Her brothers fought valiantly and many of the women of Gondor had worked to care for the wounded and feed the men. They'd been invaluable support to the efforts to protect their lands, and yet she had disappeared off to live with elves it seemed. How could siblings be so wildly different in their sense of duty?