Chapter 28
Of those terrible days spent in the wild Éomer did not much care to reminisce, or talk beyond what was necessary. To Lothíriel he would eventually reveal some things: the cold and the hunger, desperation that he felt not just for his own life – and by extension, hers – but also his loyal Riders, and the deeds of almost impossible courage that it had taken to navigate the dangerous cliffs and narrow ledges. Even getting back to the woods had been a feat he did not think he could achieve again, and he couldn't say how they would have found their way back safely if Erchirion had not found them.
But alongside the desperation, there had also been this feeling, a stubborn sense that he had to survive. It wasn't just about his own life anymore. There was Rohan and all those lives depending on him. There was Éowyn, whose future would be ruined if he died, and Aunt Hild who had already lost enough of her family. And there was Lothíriel. The thought of her was something beyond courage and endurance and will.
He could not leave her like this. He could not fail her and the faith she had in him.
So he kept on going, holding his Guard together, and by his will and their fighting spirit they were able to survive until Erchirion's company found them. And although Éomer had seen some truly dreadful and dangerous battles in his time, this was still one of the most difficult things he had survived.
When he reunited with his Gondorian friends, their relief was great indeed, and Aragorn allowed himself a rare public show of emotion when they met and embraced. Imrahil was also clearly quite beside himself, and no wonder: his daughter's happiness was a matter close to his heart. Amrothos was as gleeful as he ever had been – and angry with his brother for not being invited to join the quest.
It seemed his friends were reluctant to let him leave their sight, and were not glad when he said he would ride before dawn. They relented when he explained his reason: the three women who were very dear to him, still waiting and wondering whether he was alive, and he'd rather bring the happy news himself. He was so anxious to see them, and knew he would not be at peace until he had held them in his arms.
So, after just a few hours of sleep, his company took to the road again, and they travelled with as much haste as Éomer had heart to demand after their ordeals. The closer they got to Emyn Arnen, the more burning became the thought of his family, and Éomer had to restrain himself not to just go galloping wildly and carelessly. For some reason he felt like he should not waste time to get to his women and release them from doubt and worry.
They reached Emyn Arnen after sunset. He raced to the familiar courtyard, his eyes already looking for the faces of those he loved. And there came Lothíriel, running as if her life depended on it. The look on her face was something he had never seen before. Gone was her calm and reserved self-control and instead, her raw and intense emotion was open for all to see. She was crying, violent and powerful tears streaming down her face that could only come when a very great agony is relieved.
He had never seen her cry, not even when she was injured and in serious pain.
She came so fast that it was as if her feet did not touch ground at all, and she flew into his arms with force that momentarily sent him off balance. And when Éomer was still adjusting his steps, Lothíriel was already covering his face with rapid kisses and overflowing tears. Her relief released his own anxiety and before he knew it, he was crying too. Only now was he able to admit even to himself how much he had dreaded the possibility of not living long enough to see her again. He had survived his fair share of dangerous battles, but only after the greatest calamities of the War of the Ring had he felt such powerful reprieve.
He had barely had time to process this emotion when Éowyn and Aunt Hild came, their joy no less than Lothíriel's. Éowyn gave him one of her crushing hugs and Hild's calloused hands gently pressed against his cheeks, as if she was checking that all parts of him were preserved. The old Shieldmaiden's eyes glistened with tears that she would not let fall. He had known she was much softer inside than she usually let on. All the same, the voices of these three women he loved were like sweet music to his ears.
When food and beds had been found for his well-deserving Riders, Éomer himself was seated and late dinner was laid before him. Between bites, he and Erchirion described the events of the past week. Hild and Éowyn asked many questions, but Lothíriel was more quiet. She sat close to him, her hand gently resting on his knee. Though she did not say much, whenever he glanced her way, her bright grey eyes spoke louder than any word ever could. Perhaps she would be more comfortable to speak once they were alone; while she seemed to get along very well with Hild and Éowyn, he knew Lothíriel did not always open up even in the presence of those she loved.
So, while he was glad to be with his sister and aunt, he was also impatient for some private time with his wife. Hild must have known this, for she helpfully provided them with an excuse to retire.
A small but relieved smile flashed on Lothíriel's face, revealing she was just as eager to be alone with him. She then took his hand and led him to their rooms, gripping his hand tightly, as if even now she feared that he would vanish again. His wife was still quiet, but the silence between them was comfortable. At any rate, his chief desire at this moment wasn't really to talk, but to simply hold her tight and maybe... well, he'd be respectful of her of course, but perhaps tonight she too might feel open to more intimacy than just cuddling.
Not that Éomer was going to cuddle his refined wife or anything else before he had scrubbed off this past week's sweat and filth. He immediately set to this task when they got to their rooms, where a bath was waiting. After stripping, he began to wash right away, as pleasant as it might have been to sit back and enjoy the heat. His mind was still preoccupied with Lothíriel, and he thought of how quiet she had been, and that she seemed more thin than the last time he had seen her. And in some unguarded moments, he had spied something on her face... he wasn't sure what it was, but perhaps talking to her would help him to understand. Maybe he could send someone to find out if there was any wine or liquor to spare, as a drink might help them both to relax.
When he was finished washing, he asked Lothíriel to hand him a towel. But what he got was something other than he had expected: for she walked next to the tub, wearing nothing but the fire's light on her bare skin and the fall of her long, shining hair. So suddenly revealed in all her naked glory, she was one of the fairest things he had ever seen.
His mouth fell open at the sight, and he was still trying to take it all in when she climbed into the tub with him. He made space for her as much as he could, and being still quite in shock for her bold presentation, fumbled clumsily until she was sitting in his lap. And she was so lovely! Tendrils of her black hair floated in the soapy water around them, her skin was so soft, her neck slender, and the lovely fullness of her breasts just above the water... her thighs pressed gently against his and her hands, looking for a comfortable position, lightly brushed his chest. He felt half-drunk with want and thought of how easy it would be to just have her, right now. She was so close…
But there was this look in her eyes, something he could only call vulnerable, and yet also trustful. He knew then that tonight, he could not just mindlessly give in to impulses, but be as tender as he could, and take care of her. As he was thinking of this, his eyes passed over the mangled skin of her shoulder, where the arrow had hurt her. It still made his stomach turn with an awful feeling, but something else emerged now too. For here she was in his arms, about to join him as generations of men and women had joined to love one another and bring forth new life. And wasn't that just the perfect representation of hope enduring beyond deathly pain?
Whatever fragility he had seen in her eyes, she did not kiss him timidly. The kiss was deep, holding something of the tension of anxiety and fear and the release of these emotions at their reunion. In the course of the kiss she became more relaxed in his arms, and he knew he could now proceed.
Her skin felt incredible under his hands, so soft and so smooth, and she trembled and sighed at his touch. Her breathing became heavier when his hands carefully traced their way across her inner thighs. Then she jumped against his fingers, gasping into the kiss, and gripping his shoulders tightly. Soon enough he found a rhythm that seemed to please her, and she pressed closer to him. In fascination he watched expressions of wonder and pleasure flash across her face, and it was intoxicating. It also made his own desire almost unbearable.
It was time to take this tryst to the bed. His wife got up with some effort, but her knees seemed to be weak and her eyes hazy, which pleased him very much indeed. If she had felt nervous before, her mood was now entirely different. There had been some moments, he couldn't deny it, when he had even wondered if she did not feel the need for a physical relationship with him, but desired a less tangible connection. But the way she looked at him now was indeed carnal and eager, and his very blood sang with desire.
They tumbled on the bed and his fingers sought the intimate path again, until she was squirming and pleading, and the sound of her voice was like a song. And when she was still riding that high tide of bliss, he positioned himself between her legs and joined their bodies in a motion that was part joy, part relief. What bliss! He had not been with a woman since after he had met Lothíriel, and in those first moments was not certain how long he would last in her arms. Certainly he did not think it would be very long, because she felt so exquisite, and her thighs pressed against his hips, and the way she kissed him... it was little bit clumsy, perhaps, but there was joy in this union that he had only rarely felt, and that was all it had to be right now; they would have all the time in the world to get to know each other as lovers. He had been right to think it would feel special to be like this with the one he loved, and the way she moved, each little sound she made, was like a revelation. It was not long that her voice calling his name sent him off the edge.
It took him a while to compose himself and catch his breath. Lothíriel had already rolled close to him, and one of her arms was slung across his chest, and she wedged her leg between his. Éomer turned slightly, so that they were even more intimately pressed against one another, and their limbs more entangled. She let out a contented little sigh, her breath brushing against his jaw.
He was so glad, it felt almost like some kind of a delirium. To share this with her, along with everything else, was an even greater happiness than he had expected.
"Hmm. That was a wonderful welcome, indeed. Though I hope you liked it, too", he murmured at length. It felt somehow wrong to disturb this blissful peace, but he still wanted to talk to his wife. She had said so little until now, and he needed to make sure she was all right.
"Very much, my darling. But I also feel so stupid for feeling so nervous before", she replied, slowly running her fingers across his side and hip.
"No need. You had every reason to take your time", he reminded her, and she hemmed in agreement.
"I'm just glad you were not hurt", she whispered. "I don't know what I would have done if..."
Her voice trailed off, and he felt a small shiver go through her body. She held him a little bit tighter.
"I'm sorry for causing you worry", said Éomer gravely. "Please tell me... are you well? You have had to endure so much as of late, and I know my vanishing cannot have helped."
She was silent for a while, and part of him was nervous of what she would say. But then she spoke softly, "There are things I must tell you, and the answer to your question is one of them. However, could we maybe talk about it tomorrow? If it's fine with you, tonight I would just like to love and cherish my husband."
True enough, his curiosity was not satisfied by this answer and he wondered what lay beneath her words. On the other hand, perhaps she was right and such talks were better had in daylight. She seemed to be well enough tonight, calm and content in his arms. And he could not say that he didn't appreciate her loving and cherishing him.
"Well, if you put it that way..." he muttered, shifting so that he could kiss her again.
"Just don't ever disappear like that again", she told him sternly before melting into the kiss. He groaned in response, pulling her closer. She rolled on the top of him, and quickly he forgot about everything else.
They made love two more times that night, and eventually his wife passed out completely exhausted and content in his arms. He basked in the peaceful moment for a while, until he too succumbed to a sweet and gentle rest.
When morning came, it was soft sunlight on his face and Lothíriel's fingers whispering against his abdomen that woke him up. Seeing he was awake, she murmured "good morning" and shifted closer to trail her lips against his neck.
Éomer made a low sound in his throat and turned to face her, his hands eagerly reaching for her naked body.
It was a good morning, indeed.
Light grew in the room. The world and its troubles were far away and Éomer was glad to cast it all out of his mind. Eventually he would have to return there and pay heed to the endless demands of managing a campaign, but this one golden morning he let himself forget the crown. In her arms, he was just a man who loved his wife very much. The strain of a hard week was now gone, replaced by the languid warmth and contentment after lovemaking.
His lady, too, seemed to be in a perfectly blissful mood. Whatever anxiety he had sensed last night was gone, although he wondered if it might return once the first flush of intimacy had passed. But they had agreed to talk later, and right now they were both glad to simply delight in the joy of being together.
Eventually he had to get up to pour himself something to drink. He sauntered through the room, enjoying the loose feeling in his muscles, and cast a smile at his wife. She was lounging on the bed, face turned to the strip of sunlight streaming in the room and the upper part of her body completely exposed to his eyes. She returned the smile and stretched pleasurably, and light danced across her skin.
"Mmm. Can we do it again?" she asked him in a soft, warm voice and gave him a heavy-lidded look. And he was quite seriously tempted, because she looked so beautiful and enticing and he now knew how eagerly she could respond to his passion. He very nearly pounced right back at her.
"My dear, you are very hard to resist but might we eat some breakfast first? I am famished – thanks to you and your enthusiasm", he told her, grinning.
Lothíriel pouted and shifted, presenting her nakedness even more temptingly.
"It was always insinuated that you Rohirrim are quite uncontrollable in your desire to ravish us delicate Gondorian ladies!" she protested, eyes glinting.
"Who insinuates that? Who's telling you these things?" he asked, interested. She coloured delightfully. His grin widening, Éomer continued, "I promise I will continue to ravish you, but I am just a man and need sustenance to do it!"
She let out a soft laugh, a sound so happy and warm that it made his own heart sing. Béma, he had never thought he could feel such complete happiness!
Ordering breakfast meant, unfortunately, that they also needed to dress. He found his robe in his travelling chest, and Lothíriel slipped on her shift. She also picked up her hairbrush and began to idly comb through her rather dishevelled hair. They exchanged a smile and Éomer made his way to the door, where he fortunately found two of his Riders standing guard. He gave orders to get him and his queen some breakfast, and sauntered back to the bed, where he took a comfortable position to admire his lady as she brushed her hair and hummed a gentle tune in her breath, and to simply enjoy this domestic bliss. Even now, it was still difficult to believe that such a thing could indeed be his. But here she was, glancing and smiling at him now and then, and his heart ached for how happy he felt.
Food came, and was enjoyed by them both with a good appetite. Éomer made no comment, but he was glad to see that Lothíriel ate heartily; he had noticed that she had lost some weight since their last meeting. Often she looked up and smiled at him, her grey eyes glittering with a light that, he realised, had been subdued for some time now.
He fully expected her to bring up the ravishing again after they had eaten, but Lothíriel's mood had grown more serious again, and putting down her cup of tea, she said, "I was thinking... we still need to talk, and the servants should probably come in and clean up the room. So why don't we wash, get dressed and take a walk together?"
"Aye", he agreed, although he was not particularly keen to leave the room – or the bed – until it was absolutely necessary. But she was right, and much as he enjoyed exploring this new side of their relationship, it didn't make the other parts less important. He continued, "I should probably talk to my aunt, too."
So they got up to wash by the washing basin, although it was a challenge indeed to keep his hands off of his wife, and she appeared to be doing her damnedest to distract and tempt him. Éomer had to close his eyes and hurry up with his washing, and think about cold mountain springs just after winter, in order not to give in to her alluring presentation. He was glad that she had got over whatever doubt or modesty had held her back, but Béma, he had not guessed just how weak for her he would be!
They dried off and began to dress, and he let out a small breath once she had pulled on a fresh shift. Talking would be much easier with clothes on. He picked a clean tunic and his heavier cloak, for though the sun was shining outside for once, her rays provided little warmth this late in the year.
Once Lothíriel had her cloak as well, he offered her his arm, and side by side they stepped outside. His guards were standing by their door, but they fell behind at his gesture. For one, he wanted to speak to Lothíriel alone and it didn't seem likely that his or his queen's lives would be threatened at this place swarming with both Gondorian and Rohirric warriors.
After walking outside for a while, they found a secluded spot in Éowyn's garden, away under a few trees. There was a bench, perhaps set there by the lady of the house when she wished to enjoy the wind in the trees and a pleasant shade from the sun. The branches were bare now, of course, but the day was warm enough for them to sit down without getting cold. Éomer made a mental note of having to find out whether Lothíriel too would like to build a garden at Meduseld – or if she'd like to have one made for her.
But when they were seated, the mood changed. His wife was now sitting quietly, her fingers idly working at the embroidered edge of her cloak. Her face was downcast so that Éomer could not see her expression.
"So, there was something you wished to tell me?" he began, keeping his tone as gentle as possible.
Lothíriel was silent for a moment and then let out a small sigh. Suddenly she started to speak and words flowed out of her mouth, although there was uneasiness in her tone. And the longer she spoke, the more his heart ached. Deep down he had felt that something troubled her, and had for some time, but to hear it spoken out loud and knowing he had not been there when she needed him, was painful indeed.
She described the nightmares that had plagued her ever since the accident and the phantom pain of the already healed wound, her struggles to keep up with her duties and the shadow that lingered over her every mood. Then she spoke of that terrible day when she had heard of his disappearance. Her voice trembled when she described how close she had come to utter despair, and that which is beyond it. Hearing this, he wanted to put his arms around her and hold her tight, but he let her continue. When she told him about her Aunt Ivriniel's visit and of Ceolmund's intentions, Éomer gritted his teeth and bit back a growl that threatened to steal out. How dare they harass her like this! She hadn't deserved any of this trouble. And yet she had tried to carry it all alone!
Lothíriel fell silent. She was still staring down in her lap, as if she had just revealed something that made her ashamed. And maybe it did. For she had always felt so strongly about being able to do her duty, even at her own expense.
His heart ached for her. She had endured all this without him by her side. And as if the pain of her accident was not enough, he had gone and let her think that he was dead! Lady Ivriniel's visit and Ceolmund's intentions made it clear in just what a difficult position it would have put her, if he had died indeed. It made him sick in his stomach to think of how much worse she might have suffered.
She suddenly continued, "I know it's so little compared to all your troubles, and how you were fighting for your life out there. After all, I was safe all this time. I should not be complaining..."
Éomer almost laughed out loud, but thankfully he was able to stop that sound from getting out, for she might not understand it. No, he did not see humour in the story, he was just feeling so incredulous that she'd actually be apologising for her pain. And to him of all people! Was he not the one who had found her under that tree, injured and bleeding? Hadn't he seen how she had fought for her life? If anyone should be able to understand her, it was him.
But he kept those thoughts to himself at this time. Gently he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and leant closer to her. How he wished for a calmer time when no troubles, be it war campaigns or difficult relatives or politics disturbed them! He wished to take her away from here, far to the free fields of Rohan, and wander there until all her nightmares and unhappiness were lost between the green earth and wide sky.
"I think you may have suspected this before now. Why did you not speak to me?" he asked her gently.
"I... I thought you needed to focus on the campaign. I didn't want to bother you with something that... that I hoped would go away anyway. And I was worried that maybe you'd think I was not up to my duties as your queen", she uttered, her voice just about audible.
Maybe such a thought was inevitable, what with the extremely competent women around her. But what Lothíriel had failed to comprehend, even if she did know it on some level, was that both Éowyn and Hild were exactly like her in this regard. They knew and understood her better than most. Then Éomer recalled that Lothíriel had grown up with brothers, feeling alone most of her life, and had not truly realised how well she could relate to Éowyn and Hild, and how they could relate to her.
He pulled back so that he could see Lothíriel's face. Her eyes were wide as she stared back at him.
"You must never think such a thing", he told her firmly. "I have known you since that day we sat together by the river, and that is who you are to me even now. Some things don't change. I knew it then and I know it now. We will get through these troubles. If anything, I think this means you will grow to be more."
Lothíriel let out a small sob, and then she threw her own arms around him. She pressed her face against his chest and he could feel her shaking. So they remained for a while, clinging to one another.
"I was so afraid of disappointing you", said Lothíriel after a moment. "Because I know that you need my strength as much as I need yours. I can't be a liability."
"You won't be. I know it. One day you'll mend yourself, and be stronger for it", he told her gravely, and he had to focus on keeping his speech in Westron, because something in him said to speak in his native tongue. While she had been learning his speech, he didn't know if she could yet hold a conversation.
She let out a trembling breath and he could feel her fingers pressing against his back, tightening.
Éomer pulled back and moved his hands to cup her face. A flush was on her cheeks and her eyes stared back at him, damp and bright and earnest.
He shifted, pressing his brow against her. This was his woman no matter what.
"Aren't you angry that I wasn't open with you when we last talked, and you asked if I was all right?" she asked him softly.
"How could I be, when I know that the only reason you weren't open with me is that you were not open with yourself?" he asked back.
Tears were brimming in her eyes, but her expression told him the source of these tears was not sadness.
"And you don't think I'm broken?" she asked him in a shaking voice.
"You are no more broken than I am", said Éomer, and somehow his own voice faltered when he said those words. For there were numberless cracks, going back to Théodred slain at the fords of Isen, and beyond to that night when his father's dead body was brought back to Aldburg and the way his mother had screamed and collapsed and how nothing was ever the same again... all the death he had seen, homes burning and shadows growing longer as the might of Isengard and Mordor waxed and he had felt like no matter what he did, it was never enough... but Lothíriel was the sweetest and fairest thing in his life and he had been so alone before meeting her. She had given him hope and a new direction, and for this alone he owed everything to her. So what if they were both broken to some degree? It was better being broken together than alone.
And somehow, she had the exact right words for it. She pressed her own trembling fingers against his neck, leaning closer. Her voice vibrated against the surface of his lips, their breath mingling.
"Then let us heal together. Let me fill whatever is broken in you, and hold me together where I cannot do it myself."
"... it would be my honour."
It took them a while to compose themselves, but after their conversation Éomer felt a curious sense of peace and hopefulness. Her confession had made their understanding more profound. He knew that living with such scars would not always be easy or peaceful, but in his mind it made their bond still deeper, and perhaps would allow them to build something truly extraordinary. To be so open and vulnerable before one another was a wondrous thing: it made him feel so relieved, but also stronger than he had ever been. With it came such immense tenderness for her that there were no words to describe it. He had thought he could not love Lothíriel more than he already did, but apparently such a thing was still possible.
It was also relieving to see the change in her. She had been quiet and reserved before their conversation, and last night, before she had joined him in the tub, he had felt her unease. But now as she looked at him her eyes sparkled and her relief was almost a tangible thing. It might not last long beyond this golden afternoon, and it may well be their companion in days to come, but knowing they both understood and pledged to stand by one another was a rock on which they could plant their feet and there withstand any storm.
After their talk, Éomer was not keen on any official business, but he had promised to talk with his aunt. Considering his long absence, there was plenty of royal correspondence he ought to respond to – unless he wanted both Ceolmund and Dunstan coming here to bother his ladies. So he and Lothíriel made their way back inside, but her hand was tightly clasped inside his own and they often shared smiles and secret looks.
Aunt Hild did not seem surprised to receive them both, although she was discreet enough not to comment on it. Quickly she began to go through official correspondence, as if this had been her duty for many years and not just the short time she had advised her nephew. The life of Rohan went on in his absence, but there were matters that demanded the king's attention even in a time of war. It also appeared that his marriage, hastily made as it had been, had caused a stir in the Mark. Ladies of the court were excited about their new queen, and were already busy at preparing the royal chambers to receive her. It also appeared his folk expected to have a proper wedding feast upon the return of their king with his new consort. Hild was smiling when she spoke briefly of this matter; while it was perhaps not the most pressing thing, it still pleased Éomer to hear that a warm welcome was waiting for Lothíriel.
All the same, it was incredibly hard to focus on Hild's words, especially because it became clear quickly that she had no truly urgent matters on her list. So it was not long before Éomer's attention was wandering and he was stealing glances at Lothíriel. How lovely was her neck! He knew now some of the tender spots one might trace with one's mouth. And there was her hair, so dark and glossy and so soft. The way it fell against her skin, and her breasts... when he began to think about his wife's breasts, everything else became quite distant.
Lothíriel at least tried to focus. She was listening to Hild with quiet concentration, but the longer he stared at her, the more her focus began to break. Then she began to glance at him too, her eyes darkening.
Thankfully, Aunt Hild realised quickly that it was a fool's errand to try and keep them engaged in official business. With a slight smile, she told him she could draft the answers to the letters, and ask for his signature later on.
Lothíriel had the grace to blush, but she did not refuse when he offered his hand. They left Aunt Hild's company quietly but swiftly.
They got to their room. The servants had come and gone: the tub had been removed and the bed was freshly made. Lothíriel turned to look at Éomer, her eyes wide and bright.
What followed was not a frenzy of passion and desperation. It was a coming together, a wonder and a tenderness. It was something they had both felt since their meeting by the river, a connection that ran deeper than words. And he was hers. For what else could be said of the belonging that he felt, or the solution this brought to all the desperate and anxious nights of his life?
It grew dark in the room again. Somebody brought them food and they ate, but he hardly paid attention to what it was or how it tasted. At some point the room darkened with sunset and Éomer knew that in the morning, he'd have to ride out again. But now he had his wife in his arms. sprawled in a comfortable tangle of limbs, and she was warm and soft, and his heart was full. This new closeness with her was indeed sweeter than anything he had imagined even in those painful days when he had thought she was lost to him.
He had no desire to end this blissful peace, but he would have to ride out early in the morning, and there would be little time to talk seriously. So, after a while he shifted in the bed and spoke.
"Lothíriel, there is one more thing I must ask. Earlier, you told me about Ceolmund and his plan to come here to interview you. I suppose he might change his course, if the word of my return reaches him in time. But if he's already on his way to Emyn Arnen, then it is possible he doesn't learn the news before he gets here. Either way, even I can't say for sure how he will confront you now that the circumstances have changed", he said slowly, frowning in the darkening room. "What I need to know is this: do you think you are up to facing him? Or do you need me to kick his sorry self back to Rohan?"
She was silent for a while, her grip on him momentarily tightening. Then she sighed and replied, "I can handle him. I think I must. If he's coming here to try and get evidence to pressure my father and his people, then it means he doesn't trust me, or respect me. And he never will, if I try to use you as my shield."
He opened his mouth to speak, but her soft fingers gently brushed against his mouth.
"I know, you are my husband and to shield me is your duty. But as your wife, and your queen, it is mine to stand up so that you don't have to", she told him, soft but unyielding.
A breath went out of his mouth instead of the words he had meant to speak. She was right, of course, and as much he hated not being able – or allowed – to protect her, he also loved that she had this insight and discernment even now.
What a queen she would make!
"You are certain?" Éomer felt compelled to ask.
His wife raised herself so that she was on the eye-level with him. Even in the dim light, he could see her smile.
"I am. Let me deal with him. You focus on winning this war, so that we can finally move forward."
"Hmm. As much as I appreciate that, I'm not moving anywhere tonight", he told her, relaxing and snaking his arms around her once more. She melted into his embrace, her lips barely touching his own.
"You make a compelling point, my king", Lothíriel whispered, and not much more was said after that. They still had the whole night with one another, and he meant to enjoy it to the fullest. The sweetness of it would sustain him for many a long night, until they were reunited again.
To move forward. Aye, he wanted it, and now at last he could have it.
Morning came, cold and unwanted. It was harder than ever to let Éomer out of her arms, but go he must, and so he did with a promise that he would be more careful from now on. From the purely calculating point of view, it may be that he now left with his heir in her belly, but Lothírield did not think of that. The two nights she had spent with him meant more than just the making of heir for Rohan.
Before he left, he went to speak to Aunt Hild, and to sign any such papers that she had drafted and needed his confirmation. Lothíriel used the time to talk to Erchirion. The meeting with her brother was a little bit awkward, because things were still not as they used to be between them, and because he was busy making ready for the road. Even so, he told her again that he was sorry, and she decided that was good enough for the time being.
Time would heal all wounds, and what is broken may become whole again. That much she believed after her conversation with her husband.
Their goodbye was unlike any before this one, raw and poignant, and for a long time Éomer remained in her arms. But eventually, Captain Éothain cleared his throat. Her husband pulled back, cast her an apologetic smile and promised he'd be back as soon as he could. Even as he moved away, she held his hand in her own, until his fingertips passed from her grip.
It was hard to let him go, but she also felt something that she could only call hope.
The King of Rohan and his Riders lead their horses through the gates and gradually, the courtyard quieted again. The guards bearing the livery of the White City returned to their posts and servants continued their tasks.
It was time she got back to work as well; now that the great weight was lifted from her heart, perhaps it would be easier to focus on her duties. On the other hand, her husband had given her entirely new reasons to think about him to the point of distraction. This brought a warm feeling to her cheeks. Well, at least she didn't feel like she was on the verge of collapse anymore, so maybe Éowyn and Aunt Hild would not mind it much.
Lothíriel was startled from these thoughts when she heard the familiar sound of the cane tapping against the paved courtyard. She turned to see Aunt Hild approaching.
"I take it my nephew has already gone? Pity. I thought to come to see him off – not that I am certain he would have time to notice me, while in the presence of his lady", said Hild, smiling slightly.
The warmth on Lothíriel's cheeks grew more intense, but she tried to feign a sober mood.
"You should have stayed indoors, where it's warm. This damp chill can't be good for your leg", she noted gently, but Hild waved her hand.
"I am quite used to it, dear child. This is rather mild compared to how it can get in Rohan", she said dismissively. She then gave a keen look to the younger woman, and continued, "It seems your mood has much improved since your husband's return, which is well indeed."
Lothíriel smiled slightly and lowered her gaze.
"We resolved some things that have weighed on me. And knowing he is safe, I am at ease", she said softly.
"Then are you amenable to dealing with a much more troublesome guest?" asked Hild, and when Lothíriel looked up curiously, she smiled wryly. She went on, "Master Ceolmund arrived late last night and asked to see you. I told him you were with the King, and if he thought it a good idea to disturb the two of you, then that was his business and I would not have any part in it. He took the hint, thankfully. If you don't want to see the old bugger, I can send him back to Mundburg."
"I will have to face him sooner or later. Better to do it sooner, before he decides to stir up some new trouble", said Lothíriel, sighing.
Hild nodded, looking satisfied.
"In that case, I'm sure you know how to handle him", said the old princess.
"Let us get back inside, then."
When she felt composed enough to face Ceolmund, Lothíriel sent one of the servants to fetch him to Éowyn's solar. Herself, she did not hurry to make her way there; she knew full well that this was one way to establish her power, and thought that Ceolmund needed a reminder of it.
He was sitting by the window when she arrived, but appropriately he got up when she arrived. He looked much the same as she remembered him, perhaps even more hale than when they had last met. She wondered if he actually somehow enjoyed arguing and haggling with her father's retainers.
"Master Ceolmund", she greeted him, giving him a tiny nod of her head.
"My lady", he greeted her, bowing courteously.
"So, I gather you wanted to talk to me?" she asked, taking a seat but giving him no leave to sit down as well. A small way of letting him know she was not pleased with him.
"Aye", he replied, shifting awkwardly. As blunt as he had been upon their first meeting in Minas Tirith, now he wore his discomfort as clearly. He must know that his quickness to rise to suspicions and accusations about her marriage to Éomer had backfired. She watched him expectantly, wondering what would be his strategy: would he speak plainly and honestly, as Rohirrim were said to speak, or would he try to find a way to talk himself out of this awkward position? She decided not to make it any easier for him, and remained silent.
He cleared his throat, hesitated, and then at last began to speak.
"My lady, I beg your pardon. I came here to see you because word reached me that Éomer King had gone missing, and I had... certain concerns. You must realise his council is rather anxious about his well-being while he has no heir. But when I arrived last night, I was greatly relieved to hear that my king had returned and was in perfect health. So the reason for my visit has indeed ceased to exist", he explained, choosing his words rather more carefully than she had expected. Then again, he probably knew already or had guessed how things stood between her and Éomer – and now that the joy of marriage consummated was upon the King, he would be more ferocious to defend his lady than he ever had been. Ceolmund had enough common sense and instinct for survival to understand the power Lothíriel now held in her hands, whether or not she would use it.
"We are all glad that he is safe and well", said Lothíriel. "But do you not think you were rather hasty in your anxiety? However well-founded your and the council's concern for my lord husband's safety is, it was not very wise to expect the worst while there was still a chance that he'd find his way back."
"In hindsight, you are right, of course, my lady", Ceolmund conceded. "But with all due respect to Éomer King, the peace and stability of Rohan stands on a more delicate balance than he comprehends. I do not blame him: he is a young king and new to his throne. He came to it in the most extraordinary circumstances, and perhaps still believes and acts like a Marshal of the Mark would do. And that is why his council keeps track of these things for him. We must also protect the throne he represents in all circumstances, especially if the worst possible chance should fall and he is lost to us."
"Yet your lack of faith in him, and your appearance here without an invitation in a dire moment might be just as harmful for that peace and stability. Do you deny that until last night, I was a pawn on your board of King's Table, and you meant to use me to your own ends?" asked Lothíriel, staring at the old adviser with unblinking eyes
"I will admit that I let my anxiety get the better of me. I should have waited for news before making a move. If I have caused you trouble, I duly apologise", he said slowly, frowning. "You are a lady of keen insight and I realise it is useless to deny the truth. Aye, you were a pawn on my board, but it was not personal. Even as I prepared my move, I was painfully, miserably aware that the loss of Éomer King would be also the loss of you – a lady who has what it takes to become one of the great queens of the Rohirrim. But understand, my lady, that my first love and loyalty is always given to Rohan, and to guard her safety and her fortunes I would twist your arm and your father's."
"Then I say to you, others too love Rohan – my lord husband chief among them. You know your king, and you know he's not a man who would wed a conniving woman. I fully expect that by loving him, I come to love his land as well. Is it not better to work for the good of Rohan as friends?" asked Lothíriel, raising one eyebrow.
Ceolmund bowed.
"You speak wise words, my lady."
It appeared they both were satisfied enough with this exchange, and while Lothíriel knew she could have reprimanded the old adviser much more harshly and elaborately, she chose not to do so. By antagonising him, she might achieve temporary reprieve for her pride, but also make an enemy before she had even set foot in Meduseld.
She also decided it was better not to reveal her full insight of him, but let him think for now that she was mild and malleable. The implications were clear enough to her: he was her ally as long as he believed that her intentions were for the good of Rohan. However, to fully trust him would be a mistake, and she would always have to watch her step around him. She could understand his motives, and believed him to speak truthfully. But such a conviction could be dangerous, especially if one began to believe that only he knew what was right and good. Then again, Éomer had shown himself to be a strong leader and if anyone could keep character like Ceolmund in check, it was him. As long as Lothíriel had her husband's love and support – and she did not expect to lose these – she would be safe, but even then, to lower her guard would be a mistake.
It seemed that once her life as the Queen of Rohan truly began and she was in Edoras with Éomer, there were choppy political waters waiting for her. At least now, she was not too worried. Knowing her future was not lost, and having Éomer by her side, she was glad for the challenge.
Was this not a chance to rebuild herself and grow into something she had not even dared to imagine?
To be continued.
A/N: Well, this update took much longer than I thought it would, but finally it is here! I hope you liked it.
Considering the ending of last chapter was so satisfactory (pun entirely intended!), I really wanted to show their reunion from Éomer's point of view, too. After all, I think it was a very big moment for him and really wanted to see what was going on inside his head.
It also felt very good to let him and Lothíriel to talk things through, and reach an understanding that brings them even closer together than they have been until now.
As for Lothíriel, she's again back in Ceolmund's good graces. I thought at first she might reproach him more severely, but then felt that she's still in a bit sensitive frame of mind. She is also mindful of not making enemies before she has even entered Rohan. However, I think she knows Ceolmund will be in for a tongue-lashing once Éomer gets to the old bugger. :')
I expect there will be one or two more chapters to this story, as I feel I've said most of what I got about this particular tale.
Thank you for reading and reviewing!
Cathael - :D Well, I couldn't refuse the temptation to tighten the noose just a little bit! But thankfully her meeting with Ceolmund is much less difficult than it could have been.
Glad you liked their reunion! I really enjoyed writing it as well.
Boramir - Thanks!
I would say that Éowyn's greater resilience is because she is mentally in a very good place, and thus her ability to wait and hope is stronger than Lothíriel's, who is already struggling.
Indeed, Éomer is not going to long tolerate any harrassment against his wife, and I think if he had been present, he would have been quite harsh with Ceolmund. But Lothíriel is perhaps more subtle when it comes to politics, and being a new queen, she careful not to burn any bridges before she is more familiar with the key players and has found her place in Éomer's court.
I don't know if Ivriniel had an unpleasant marriage, but it certainly was not a love union like Lothíriel has with Éomer. Ivriniel's view on marriage is very practical. It's a transaction where both parties get things that they want, and for a woman it's a way to gain certain freedom in the society. It probably has not even occurred to her that Lothíriel actually loves her husband very much, and even if it did, she'd most likely assume it's just a passing infatuation.
NightBlossom - Glad you liked it! I must say, it did feel good to give her a break. And what better way than in Éomer's arms. ;)
xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thanks!
Simplegurl4u - Yeah, poor girl has had a really hard time! But now the sun is shining again. Glad you liked it!
Guest - Here you go!