Chapter 4
It became abundantly clear the King of Rohan was uneasy in the presence of the sea. Lothíriel and Erchirion had exchanged at least a dozen glances by midday as Éomer tactfully moved himself the furthest from the water while maintaining his decorum as they toured the wharf. To make matters worse Bellamdir had taken immediately to the King, eager to share his knowledge and show off his mariner skills.
For his part Éomer was gracious and welcoming to the boy, but his discomfort was only thinly veiled from the shrewd eyes of the adults. Finally, after several hours of the docks, Erchirion lead the group away from the waterside toward a narrow tavern patroned by the navy's sailors.
"Would you like to see the rigging I set to the balinger we acquired this spring?" Bellamdir inquired brightly, hardly registering the relief on Éomer's face as they entered the building. Camaen met Echirion's gaze over the boy's head and nodded once.
"Let us give the King some peace. You have your lesson shortly anyhow."
"Oh," the boy's expression fell as a table was cleared for them near the window. He looked to his father then, with a hopeful smile, to Éomer. "I have been joining the mariner apprentices in their training. Would you like to –"
"No, he would not," Camaen interrupted with a kind smile and nudge to his son. "The King of Rohan has other matters to busy himself with."
"Indeed, we have a strict schedule to adhere to," Erchirion confirmed as Bellamdir looked between the men, unable to hide his disappointment. Éomer faced the boy, leaning forward to meet his gaze, a hand placed on his shoulder.
"We part now, Master, but I beseech that you may spare time for us to meet in the stables. I much desire to see your skill in the saddle."
"Yes! I could perhaps adjust my chores today –"
"Bellamdir," came his father's affectionate warning. The boy glanced at Camaen and nodded, returning to Éomer, expression serious.
"Alas, I am committed to my labors, gracious King. But I should like to convene with you at the stables. Tomorrow –" he glanced to Camaen shaking his head, "– we'll be much occupied with the festivities c. But the day after…" another look, which received an approving nod, "I could introduce you to my charger!"
"I will delight in nothing else," Éomer replied with a smile, standing straight as Bellamdir grinned. "Thank you for your time," he addressed Camaen now, who nodded and bowed.
"It has been a pleasure this morning," the Captain answered. "I escort Bellamdir to his lessons then I shall be on deck for the rest of the day, should either of you have need."
"The Captains' assembly is still this evening," Erchirion commented as Camaen began shepherding his son toward the exit. "I want our plans confirmed before tomorrow."
"Aye, that is wise," the other man replied before tipping his head to Éomer and Lothíriel. "Good day."
"You'll forgive young Bellamdir," Erchirion remarked as the pair passed through the door, turning his attention to Éomer. "We treat him more as a nephew than the son of our cousin and with that he is afforded certain liberties."
"He is a well-spoken joyful lad," the King said as a round of ale was brought to the table. "I very much enjoy his company."
"I believe you have eclipsed all of us in his eyes," Lothíriel added with a smile. "I suspect you will appreciate time with him even more with the horses. He is a fine rider."
"I was not jesting when I entreated him to show me the stables. Perhaps he would like to take a ride on Firefoot."
"The very thought would have him swooning," the Princess replied as her brother took a quick swig from his mug before setting it down.
"Such an offer would have any of us swooning, Horselord," Erchirion added as he pivoted his body toward the door. "I must depart on an errand, I'm afraid. Nothing serious," he assured Lothíriel, catching her concerned visage with a smile. "I have final preparations before tomorrow's celebration and my list seems to grow longer by the hour."
"Let me not keep you from your duties," Éomer stated with a cant of his head, which Erchirion mirrored.
"Thank you." The man finished his ale in a final gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before nodding to the pair. "I'll meet up with your shortly. Either here or at the Keep."
Ignoring the annoyed expression on his sister's face as she turned away from Éomer the Prince's son gave them a wave as he backed away. The King picked up his own mug, raising it to the departing Erchirion. Glaring at him until he disappeared out the door Lothíriel released a sigh. She was not anticipating entertaining Éomer alone. Turning back to him she was met with hazel eyes watching her from the rim of his mug as he took a sip.
"Well," she began, picking up her own vessel. "It seems wise if we avoid the waterside for as long as we're apart from Chir."
"You'll hear not protestation from me."
"If it is truly a dilemma you needn't take to the boats during your stay."
"And allow you and your brothers to hang such an offense over me? Nay," the King smiled at her. "You may have to tie me to a post upon the ship, but I will make it out to sea. Though it seems I have at least another day to evade it. Tomorrow is a day of celebration?"
"Yes. Loëndë. The midyear. Have you such festivities in Rohan?"
"Not for midyear but later in the season. I recall this time last year in Minas Tirith folk were reveling."
"Aye, though it was probably equally King Elessar's wedding as it was Loëndë."
"Of course. What may I expect tomorrow?"
"It is a favorite celebration in Dol Amroth, particularly for my father. And with him home it will be wonderful. Songs, dancing, food enough to last the month, wine from our vineyards – a great deal of fanfare."
"It sounds like quite the day."
"It lasts well into the evening, though you needn't be in attendance for the entirety."
She paused as the sound of grumbling filled the silence, the pair locking eyes as a brow rose over a grey eye.
"Hungry, my Lord?"
Éomer looked down with a sheepish grin. Lothíriel smiled despite her previous ire at being left alone with him. She set her nearly empty mug down and gestured him to follow her out of the building. Finishing his ale, Éomer trailed her as they stepped back into the sunlight, the scent of ocean and fish causing him to wrinkle his nose.
"Let us find you something to eat that is borne of the earth." The King nodded appreciatively as they walked down the lane running parallel to the wharf. Occasionally they were offered an item from a roadside seller, though it was both respectful and unobtrusive. Éomer stayed in step with her maintaining a polite distance between them.
"I suspect it is all fish and creatures from below the waves here?"
"Indeed. Though I tempt you to try crab pie. Or a newly shucked oyster, right off the shell. There is nothing more delightful than fresh seafood."
"I can think of a number of things that please me more," he replied dryly, shaking his head as an older woman offered him a bread bowl with strangely colored contents. Lothíriel spoke to her in Sindarin with a cant of her head. As they walked away from the woman Éomer leaned closer to the Princess with a murmur. "What was that?"
"Chowder."
"Chowder?"
"A fish based soup. Made fresh in the cauldron in her shop yonder."
"Forgive me," he entreated her with a glance over his shoulder. "I will endeavor to receive the food of Dol Amroth with more respect. And courage."
"It is only your first day here," she reasoned with a compassionate look in his direction. "Perhaps you'll grow fond of ocean fare by the time you depart."
"I've developed a fondness for things in a much shorter time, so it is possible."
Silence fell then, Lothíriel unsure how to take his comment. She wrestled with her determination to hold him accountable for prior behavior and the pull of his person on her. From the moment she beheld him riding with her father she was reminded of her attraction to the man. And now, as they traversed the streets of her home, she found herself hoping to see him smile and indulge the flutter of her heart when he leaned close to her. The hopes she'd planted a year ago in unfamiliar soil were taking root again and it frustrated her to have no control in the matter.
"Éowyn made mention that you were offered a place in the Queen's court after the funeral."
"Yes," she replied grateful for the change in topic while keeping her gaze trained on the road ahead. "I was deeply honored by the Queen's invitation. I stayed in Minas Tirith longer than I originally planned after departing Rohan. I attended her court for nearly three months before returning to Dol Amroth."
"How did you find it?"
"A pleasure, to be sure. I was not sure what to expect. Denethor's court was complex and treacherous much of the time. My father sheltered me from it, keeping me here even when my Lord Uncle inquired that I attend him at the Citadel."
"How did your uncle receive such a denial?"
"I do not know. I was not privy to the response but I expect he was not overjoyed to be rejected, especially by his wife's brother. Were I a bit older at the time my father might've considered sending me, as my cousins would take care to watch over me. But inland Gondor is – was much different from the coast."
"That much is evident, even in my short time here." Éomer met her gaze, smiling slightly as her brows rose expectantly. "Certainly the way of life is slower than Minas Tirith. Which I appreciate. But even the character of the city itself is distinct. I confess, I have never before seen folk of such dark complexions – at least in peacetime. Your cousin's husband, Elphir's wife, men on the boats."
"Yes, I suppose that is a difference I do not readily consider."
"I do not intend to be indelicate," Éomer said softly, glancing around briefly before continuing. "Are they native to Dol Amroth?"
Lothíriel stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. He looked away, consternation written on his face as she delayed an answer. A pit grew in her gut as she feared he was displeased with the myriad of faces that made up the denizens of Dol Amroth. She watched him with unconcealed suspicion.
"They are as native as I," she replied carefully, unable to hide the frown as it furrowed her brow.
"Are you displeased?" he asked with a note of challenge in his voice despite his brows rising with surprise. She tilted her chin up slightly, leveling her gaze with his.
"I have not determined yet if I am. I would not expect intolerance from you."
"Intolerance?" his eyes widened as his tone then shifted to mildly irate, though his attitude remained cordial. "You evaluate me unfairly, my Lady. I was merely asking."
"It was the way you asked, my Lord."
"I do not understand."
"These folk, as you've singled them out, are well integrated into Dol Amroth's history. And married into the Prince's family, I might add." She began walking again, a scowl on her features as Éomer fell in stride with her.
"I was not criticizing their integration. You misjudge me."
Lothíriel halted again, pivoting to face him with a skeptical countenance. Traces of indignance lingered in his expression as he looked at her, though he softened as she considered his words. Éomer crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her with an air of unease.
"As you saw, we are a single people in Rohan. We've had neither cause nor inclination to broaden our bloodlines. It is a wonder to see so much variety in skin pigment and features here. I did not mean to offend or make spectacles of them." A pause. "Truly."
"Perhaps I am at fault, then," she replied at length, releasing the glower from her face as she took a breath. "I heard only prejudice in your words, and it was my folly. What you say makes sense. I should not have reacted so."
"Do you think me intolerant?"
"No. Far from it. Perhaps… perhaps, I was satisfying my own prediction that someone of your background would speak with a biased tongue."
"You wound me," Éomer stated but he was smiling when she met his gaze. "Surely my prior behavior should tell you I am nothing but congenial and openhearted."
"Indeed," she replied, sharing his smile tentatively. He extended his arm to indicate they continue walking. She acquiesced, the tense air between them dissipating. "I am, mayhaps, overly protective of my people. We are so unlike the rest of Gondor and are habitually discounted in the court of Minas Tirith."
"How could such a thing come to pass? The Prince of Dol Amroth is widely regarded with honor and respect as I understand."
"Yes, it has ever been so. But the city has long been disparaged for its tapestry of faces and diversity."
"Ah," Éomer nodded then, looking sidelong at her. "And you took my question to be a suggestion of that disparagement."
"I did," she confessed, a blush spreading up her neck as she canted her head. "I was too quick to temper. I apologize."
"You needn't. I've said many a foolhardy thing in my time and I was less than diplomatic in my inquiry. Besides," he glanced at her, "it was your sharp temperament that endeared you to me when first we met." Lothíriel held his gaze with raised brows as he smiled gently. "I'll not soon forget the admonishment I received at the bed of my own sister."
"Ah, yes," again the woman wore a pained expression as she recalled the meeting. "Certainly not my finest hour."
"Nor mine."
"Come," her tone shifted to a brighter cadence as the wharf terminated and the road led them further up the hill away from the water. "Let us find your something to eat in the merchant's quarter. And familiarize you with the local wine before you experience it in abundance tomorrow."
"That would be most appreciated."
