Éomer stood by the entrance gate to the stables, Firefoot's reigns in his hand, irritably tapping his foot on the wooden frame. "Where in the world is Uffe? We have been waiting here quite enough already."
"Calm down, brother. Remember, we are going on a nice relaxing summer ride, not into battle," Éowyn teased him with a well-meaning smile.
Éomer didn't acknowledge the remark and simply kept staring at the square impatiently. He didn't like when people made him wait this long. Uffe had disappeared in one of the alleys already some time ago and hadn't returned yet, despite his assurances that he only had a small matter to take care of.
Éomer wasn't the only one who was kept waiting. Lord Léofstan's entire family - including his wife, two daughters and Uffe himself – had decided to take a trip to a nearby pond to catch a refreshing break from the increasing summer heat and invited him and Éowyn along. Éomer wasn't too inclined at first, remembering the ever increasing stack of paper scrolls on his desk that required his attention, but Éowyn insisted that if he didn't take a day off, he would eventually go mad, which seemed like a fair enough point. Every single one of them was ready to depart, except for the chief organizer of this outing. Of course, Éowyn was right – there was no reason to hurry and he could relax and take it easy, but thinking it and actually turning it into practice were two very different things.
At last, he registered movement at the far edge of the square in front of the stables. Uffe seemed to be accompanied by someone, but he couldn't quite distinguish who it was at that distance. As the two figures came closer, he saw to his surprise that Uffe's companion turned out to be Méav. A warm feeling spread in Éomer's chest; his irritation gone in an instant.
"Apologies for the delay, but it took me quite some time to persuade Méav here to catch a bit of a break with us," Uffe proclaimed as soon as they were within earshot.
Méav seemed equally as shocked as Éomer when she saw the company in front of her. "Please accept my apologies, if I had known you were all waiting…" she trailed off shyly as she delivered a deep curtsy in their direction.
"I thought it was going to be a nice surprise," Uffe exclaimed jovially. "You can practice your horse-riding outside of the city gates."
Somehow Éomer thought Méav wasn't quite as excited. Of course, she would never openly say so, but he had learned by now that her face unconsciously betrayed even the tiniest of emotions.
"I really don't wish to be a bother," Méav said, visibly uncomfortable.
"Nonsense. It was actually my father's idea to bring you along," Uffe said, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.
"Yes, it's true. My son has been telling me about your riding lessons and I wanted to hear more of your thoughts on our majestic horses, Méav," Lord Léofstan said teasingly, making sure his allusion to their first dinner conversation was easily understandable to everyone.
"That is very kind of you, my lord. Sadly, I have to admit the horses are decidedly more majestic without me on their backs."
The entire group laughed at her self-deprecating joke, but in a few short moments they all witnessed Méav was not exaggerating in the least. Although they had been training with Uffe a few weeks already, she showed considerable difficulty even mounting her mare. After a few unsuccessful tries, Éomer stepped forward to help her get on her horse, but Uffe was quicker – he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her effortlessly upwards until she was comfortably seated.
"Why are you frowning so much, brother?"
Éomer tore his gaze away from the scene in front of him and turned to his sister. Did Uffe's innocent touch really annoy him so much that it showed on his face?
"It's nothing, Éowyn. Let's get going." He grabbed Firefoot's saddle, pushed himself up onto his stallion's back and motioned the whole group to follow him.
The weather was truly perfect for a short getaway from the stuffy dusty city. The sun felt hot on Éomer's face, but not uncomfortably so; there was a strong breeze blowing on his cheeks whenever he sped up his stallion and raced past his companions. He realized it had been quite a while since he took Firefoot for a long ride outside, and so he decided to make the best of the day. At first, he wondered whether it wasn't too impolite to leave everyone behind and go off riding on his own, but then again, he was king, wasn't he? What use was his title if he couldn't indulge himself once in a while?
And so, he sprinted his horse along, relishing the feeling of freedom that always came to him when he was on horseback; focusing his mind on the pure excitement of riding, his body in sync with his stallion, leaving all worries behind in the city towering above them in the distance. After a while, he reached one of the clear ice-cold streams that ran along the foot of the White mountains, out in plain sight up to the point where it entered a forest huddled by the base of the mountain. Although Éomer couldn't recall the last time he took this route with his horse, it used to be his favorite spot for a day out, back in his relatively carefree days as Third Marshal; before the looming war overshadowed the lives of everyone. The small forest was a welcome change in the landscape, a strong contrast to the grass plains enveloping the hill Edoras had been built upon. It would be especially so on a hot day like this, the trees providing much needed shade for the exhausted horses as well as the travelers on their backs.
Éomer decided to wait for the rest of the group here. He jumped off Firefoot and let him enter the shallow water to drink and refresh himself to his heart's content. Éomer himself splashed the cold water on his face to clean off the beads of sweat that popped up on his forehead. Then he simply sat down on the green grass, leaned back on one of the trees and relaxed.
It took the others surprisingly long to reach the spot where he had been waiting. Was I really riding so fast? He would have expected them to arrive much quicker; all of them, including the women in the party, being experienced horse riders. As he watched the group approaching though, he realized they all adjusted their pace to their slowest member – Méav. She and Uffe were riding at a considerable distance behind the rest of the group, despite them all going at no more than a gallop. He felt a tugging sense of irritation rise in his belly again; he should have stayed behind with her, not Uffe. He aimed to rectify his mistake by immediately jumping on his horse again and re-joining the rest of his companions.
"I thought you have outridden us for good, brother," Éowyn said with raised eyebrows as soon as he appeared by her side.
"It has been so long since I had time to ride Firefoot outside of the city," he explained. "He needed to properly stretch his joints again."
"Yes, I'm sure he needed it," she said with a hint of playful sarcasm in her voice.
"Well, I might have taken a bit of pleasure in it myself," he admitted with a smirk.
"I can't say I'm surprised you raced off, your grace," proclaimed Mildrith, the older of Lord Léofstan's two daughters. "We have been advancing at an excruciatingly slow pace. We should have been there already." As she spoke, she cast a sideways glance at her brother and Méav, who were still some distance away from the waiting group.
"I am sure you will forgive our guest, Lady Mildrith; she has started learning how to ride a horse only some weeks ago," he said with feigned politeness, at which she blushed and averted her eyes.
Without any further word, Éomer spurred his horse and galloped in the direction of the two remaining members of the party. He half expected to find them engaged in lively conversation, laughing and chattering the journey away, at which the slight irritation he felt since the morning only increased. However, to his surprise, the only person chattering away all on his own was Uffe. Méav appeared to be listening at half an ear only.
"There you are, Éomer-King! I haven't seen you most of the journey," Uffe exclaimed in good spirits as soon as he had approached them.
"I took Firefoot for a swift ride," he explained.
Éomer turned his eyes to Méav again. Seeing her from close up, he noticed she was visibly nervous, clutching the rim of her saddle with the reins in her hands, seemingly concentrating all of her willpower on simply staying upright on her horse. "Is everything alright, Méav?"
She looked up at him as if she noticed his presence for the first time. "I'm just a bit nervous, your grace," she said with a forced smile. "Elfflaed is not very cooperative, I'm afraid."
As if in agreement, the ebony mare neighed loudly and shook her head up and down, nervously tapping her hoofs on the ground. Méav let out a loud squeak and clutched the saddle even more tightly until her knuckles turned white.
"She can feel you don't trust her," Éomer said and reached out his hand to stroke the beautiful young horse. "If you calm down, so will she."
"I've been telling her the same thing," Uffe said. "Méav, just imagine you're riding around the stables, like you always do. There is no difference."
"Well, with all due respect, there is a big difference," she replied sharply, but immediately lowered her tone again. "We are riding much faster than I've ever tried before. It's scary."
"There is nothing to be afraid of, Méav," Éomer reassured her. "We will go at your own pace."
"That is very kind of you to say, your grace, but if you went at my own pace you wouldn't reach your destination in your lifetime. I'm just slowing everyone down. You would have a much nicer trip without me." She sighed, resignation written on her face like on a piece of paper. She turned to Uffe and said: "It was a nice idea, Uffe, it really was. But I think I will turn back now, very slowly, and let you enjoy yourselves."
"Don't be silly, Méav!"
"I'm not being silly. It's no use. I just can't do it," she mumbled frustratedly.
"Alright then," Éomer stepped in. "There is no reason why a perfectly nice day should go to waste. If you're too afraid to ride on your own, you will ride with me."
Dead silence followed his words. Éomer wondered whether he was being too forward, remembering the ridiculous social rules and customs of the Gondorians. Then again, she is not in Gondor anymore, she had better get used to our way, he thought. He jumped off his horse and reached out a hand for her. At first, she didn't move and only eyed him uncertainly.
"Well? Let's go," he said with an encouraging nod.
Méav took his outreached hand and cautiously slid of her mare, leaning on him slightly as she did so. Without a word, she accepted his help getting on top of his own horse, which proved a bit more challenging as the ash-gray war horse was considerably larger than her slender mare. Once she was securely in place, Éomer jumped in the saddle in front of her and took the reins in his hands.
"You will take care of Elfflaed, Uffe?"
The young man nodded in response.
"Méav, you should hold on to me so you don't fall off," he said, turning his head sideways so she could hear him.
"I will, your grace," she half-whispered back.
At first she seemed reluctant and only gently placed her hands on his back, but as soon as he spurred Firefoot onwards and the stallion responded by flexing his muscles and increasing his speed considerably, she gasped in shock and instantly wrapped her arms around his torso, probably more scared to fall off than embarrassed at the intimate touch.
The rest of the group followed them as soon as they saw them set out again and so they all rode on together under the comfortable shade of the trees, following the narrow stream towards their destination, now at a much more bearable pace.
ooOOoo
Lothíriel tried hard to concentrate on the nature around her - the splish-splash of the water, the chatter of the birds, the beating of Firefoot's hoofs on the mud and grass beneath them – and pretend the circumstances in which she had found herself left her unaffected and aloof.
Pretend for whom though? Myself?
Of course, she had to promptly admit such a task was well beyond her capabilities. Try as she might, it was impossible to ignore the closeness of the man sitting in front of her, the strange intimacy of their touch. When he pushed her up on his horse, she could feel the eyes of the whole party on her, and she felt as if they were watching them still. She couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that a closeness like this was not appropriate, that it required a certain level of privacy they didn't have; despite the layers of clothes separating them both she felt somehow naked, her palms burning hot where they touched his waist. Despite her best efforts to push the memory away, she couldn't help but remember the way his skin felt on her fingertips when she was stitching up the wound on his side, the strong muscles underneath...
Lothíriel took a quick glance around her, feeling as red as a beetroot, yet she found no one paying her any attention whatsoever, the King included, and once more she had to remind herself that for the Rohirrim, social boundaries went far beyond what she was used to. Besides, deep down, she knew her uneasiness was not caused solely by her uptight Gondorian upbringing – she actually enjoyed his nearness and found herself longing for the absent privacy, just her and him, which was equally scary and exciting.
However, soon Lothíriel was mercifully spared of any further discomforting thoughts when their journey finally came to an end. After one last sharp turn in the road, they reached their destination at last – they exited the cover of trees and came out onto a large meadow whose center was formed by a picturesque pond. Here, the playful stream whose waters they had been following for a portion of the journey terminated in a small cascade and replenished the deep dark pool of water. Soon the horses were tied to a large oak tree by the pond, blankets spread and baskets full of pastries, fruits and bottles of wine laid on them. The company was seated in a circle under the shade of the lush green leaves and before long, lively conversation resumed where it had been interrupted by the long-awaited fast paced ride on the last portion of their journey.
"There's no better place in the entire world on a hot summer's day like this," Uffe proclaimed as he sat up from the grass where he had been lying until then.
"I must respectfully disagree, my lord," Lothíriel protested playfully, grateful for an opportunity to join the conversation.
"Is that so?" Uffe asked with raised eyebrows.
"I would say there is no place better on a summer's day like this than the seashore," she explained. "Sitting under the shade of the olive trees, taking a dip in the cold waves… there's nothing quite like it."
"Is that how the people of Dol Amroth spend their summers?" Éowyn asked with interest.
"Many of them do, yes. Dol Amroth is blessed with many beautiful beaches."
"Well, this is as good as it gets this far north, unfortunately," Uffe shrugged apologetically.
"So Méav, tell me - why did you actually move away?" Lord Léofstan jumped in.
Lothíriel instantly regretted joining the conversation and mentally cursed herself for even mentioning Dol Amroth in front of this man. She knew better than that by now – she had bumped into him a few times in Edoras and what had started as polite small talk inevitably turned to a close personal cross-examination every single time. Lord Léofstan seemed to be a well-meaning man, probably genuinely interested in the things he asked about, but a little too Rohirric for his own good.
"I moved to Minas Tirith to study as a healer, my lord," Lothíriel replied in the same rehearsed way she did countless times before. She immediately shot a glance at the King who was sitting opposite her, feeling slightly ashamed at the obvious lie. Lothíriel regretted for the hundredth time that she had disclosed the real reason to him that day in his study, and prayed he would just keep it to himself. To her relief, he just eyed her with a knowing expression on his face, but didn't say a thing.
Lord Léofstan didn't seem to notice the meaningful look and continued unabashed: "What about your family? Did you get to see them often?"
"We're not really very close, my lord. I haven't been in touch with them for a long time."
I need to find a way to change the topic, Lothíriel thought. She couldn't bear for the questions to get any more personal, and as far as she knew Lord Léofstan, they would soon enough.
The King seemed to sense her discomfort and thankfully jumped in before Lord Léofstan even had time to open his mouth again: "I have personally never been as far south as Dol Amroth. Imrahil has however mentioned several times that I should come visit, and if the seaside really is as amazing as you say, I might as well take him up on the offer."
"That's not at all a bad idea," agreed Lord Léofstan. "Plus, I hear Prince Imrahil has an eligible daughter, your grace."
Lothíriel's heart jumped in her chest. To her surprise though, it wasn't the mention of herself that caused the reaction, but rather the fact that the King seemed to be looking for a bride. For a split unconscious second, she found herself wishing she still was the eligible daughter of Imrahil again, offered to be the Queen to his good friend in order to strengthen the relationship between the fresh allies… Stop it, Lothíriel! she had cut the thought short.
"Imrahil never mentioned a daughter," the King said neutrally, with a hint of discomfort on his features.
"I heard someone mention her once. Princess Lothínuel, Lothíriel, or some such," said Éowyn.
It had been over three years since Lothíriel heard her name spoken aloud. She clenched the grass that her left palm was resting on and tried to concentrate on the damp feeling of the pondside earth beneath her nails to control the wave of emotion ignited by the familiar sound.
This topic seemed to pique the interest of Wulfrith, the youngest of Lord Léofstan's offspring, who had been quiet until now: "I heard the princess disappeared all of a sudden a few years ago. It seems nobody knows what happened to her."
"Oh, that's just plain gossip! How would you know that?" scoffed her older sister Mildrith.
"Actually, I was told by the daughter of a wine merchant who had just come back from Dol Amroth at that time," Wulfrith explained, offended. "Apparently, it was the number one topic in the whole city. But if you don't believe me, ask Méav – I'm sure she knows more about it."
All eyes turned to Lothíriel in expectation. "I will have to disappoint you, my lady, but I left Dol Amroth a long time ago and haven't had much news from there since."
Did she sound convincing? Doubtful.
"Well, you will just have to go and see for yourself, brother," said Éowyn jokingly to lighten the mood. "Maybe you will even find a princess or other to marry on the way."
"Maybe I will," the King replied with a grin.
Thankfully, the debate soon shifted to entirely different topics and the rest of the day went by quite pleasantly – the wine had been drunk, pastries and fruits eaten without even a crumb left and those who wanted even got a few refreshing dips in the ice-cold pond. Around the late afternoon they packed up their things again and set out on their journey back to Edoras, to make sure they arrived before nightfall. Lothíriel accepted the King's offer to take her back on his horse without a word of protest this time, coming to terms with the fact that she would never make it back on her own anyway. They rode through the gates of the city just as the sun was about to set beyond the mountains. The bright orange light illuminated only about half of the small square in front of the stables by the time they dismounted their horses and took them back to their boxes to be groomed after the tiring journey.
As soon as she touched the ground with their own two feet again, Lothíriel turned to the King and said: "Thank you, your grace. I hope I wasn't too much of a bother."
"Not at all, it was a pleasure," he replied. "However, I do wonder whether I shouldn't look for a different riding teacher for you."
"Oh no, it's not Uffe, your grace. He is great. I'm afraid horses are just not my thing," she smiled apologetically.
"Well, I hope you will at least give it another try. I'm sure once you get to know Elfflaed and learn to trust her, you will become an excellent horse rider."
"I don't know whether I will be here quite long enough to manage that, but I will not give up just yet."
His eyebrows contracted slightly at the remark.
"You know, the Mark can be a beautiful place if you just give her a chance. Even for a Gondorian," he winked. Then, as if on impulse, he grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "Goodnight, Méav."
"Goodnight, your grace," Lothíriel managed to respond, sure the shade of her face matched that of the setting sun.
She watched him as he turned his back to her and walked inside the stables to take care of his stallion, despite the army of stable boys ready to do the job for him if he so commanded.
You are in deep trouble, Lothíriel.