Cushions, Chapter Eight; Who's That Girl?
Here is the next chapter of my Éomer/Lothiríel story. I'll post today's bit of the Decememe with tomorrow's.
Cushions
Chapter Eight - Who's that Girl?
Éomer/Lothiríel
Rated PG
Word count, this chapter - 1,970
Previous chapters are HERE
Éomer might have thought to begin the ride back to the Riddermark straight after Aragorn’s coronation but it was not quite that simple in practice. At least half the Rohirrim in the city would have been too hung over to even mount a horse the next day, apart from anything else, and also there were formalities to go through and farewells to be said.
All in all it took almost a week before the chosen morning saw the éoreds mounting and gathering outside the city walls.
In that intervening week Faramir had sought out Éomer. Probably he had been tipped off as to her brother’s whereabouts by Éowyn, as the King of Rohan had been doing his best to avoid such an interview. The outcome was an agreement so diplomatic that Éomer knew both his uncle and his cousin would have been impressed, and a little amused, by his negotiating skills.
Faramir had agreed that no formal betrothal was possible between him and Éowyn, at this time, as both were in mourning. Éomer had agreed that, should Éowyn still wish it, a betrothal between her and the Prince of Ithilien could be announced once Théoden King was entombed. Éomer had made clear, in a less formal conversation with Éowyn, that he needed her to return home with him and, as Faramir was required to stay in Gondor, any courtship over these next months must be done in writing.
With these agreements reached, Éomer thought, he had a good chance of seeing this romance fade away. Éowyn would be at home, surrounded by her own kind, and free to court any Rider who managed to catch her eye. And her brother knew well how much she disliked writing; likely she would need to use a scribe so that her own hand did not disgrace her to the more scholarly Faramir. He reckoned it would take only a month or two for her to tire of such a courtship…
……………………….
In the days between the coronation of King Elessar and the departure of the Rohirrim, Lothíriel and Éowyn formed the friendship that Lothíriel had made tentative overtures towards back in the Houses of Healing.
Being totally honest with herself, Lothíriel thought this was now more to the benefit of both; she could not deny (privately) that she found Éowyn’s brother very attractive and Éowyn, with an eye to a marriage with Faramir, would find a friend in Minas Tirith helpful. But in fact both found that they had more in common than they had expected.
Both had older brothers and a tendency to emulate them when possible, and older male cousins of whom they were very fond; both had been brought up motherless. Éowyn’s uncle sounded more approachable than Lothíriel’s had been, but Lothíriel had always had her father. Éowyn’s past few years had been more shadowed personally than Lothíriel’s, but there had been the ever-increasing threat of Mordor here in Minas Tirith, and raids by corsairs when home in Dol Amroth.
They had their differences as well, certainly, but discovered that they could laugh together very easily; although watching some of the aristocratic women making eyes at Éomer amused Éowyn more than it did Lothíriel!
It was this burgeoning friendship that was to shake Éomer’s carefully constructed reasoning as to why he was in no way attracted to the Princess of Dol Amroth.
………………..
“If you haven’t ridden outside the city walls for so long,” Éowyn said, “why not join your father and brothers, and Aragorn, as they escort us on the first few miles of our journey? To be honest I would be glad of your company to distract me as we ride out, across what was the battlefield, especially as Faramir is not part of the escort but is kept back, by duty, in the city.”
This sounded so much better than simply standing near the city gates, waving in a genteel manner, that Lothíriel asked her father’s permission to do what the Lady Éowyn had suggested. This time, since her healer raised no objection, Prince Imrahil welcomed her company.
………………..
It was good to be in the saddle knowing that they were on their way home. Mundburg might look impressive, but now, even though it would not be a purely joyful home-coming, he longed for a glimpse of the sun catching the roofs of Édoras. He would think of the widows, the orphans, and the weight of kingship later, though; today he would enjoy riding with his men and, he smiled in her direction, with his sister.
The éoreds were forming and Éomer, with Éowyn beside him, made his way to their head. The men looked well. They had all made an effort to look their best, armour and weapons polished, even though it might not be the beautifully matched equipment of the Swan Knights who were forming part of the guard of honour through which they would all ride as they began their journey.
Éowyn had discarded the borrowed armour and helm, in which she had ridden to war, and wore a Gondorian-styled riding habit. It certainly made her look a lady through and through. Éomer reckoned it might last the day, but would lay money on it being replaced by a pair of breeches by the morrow.
Ah - here came the Gondorian royal escort, Aragorn behind them with the princes of Dol Amroth at his side in their house colours of blue and silver, and…
“Lothíriel!” Éowyn called, in a slightly less than lady-like fashion, waving at the young woman at Imrahil’s side. A young woman who was keeping a fine-looking gelding well under her control despite the cheering crowds and the multitude of other horses.
Éomer blinked a couple of times but the figure was still there and still seemed to be Lothíriel of Dol Amroth.
Aragorn’s escort joined the ranks of Swan Knights whilst the King of Gondor, himself, rode to Éomer’s side; accompanied by Legolas with the ever-present Gimli behind him. Beside Legolas rode the twin sons of Elrond, who would not turn back with their foster-brother, later in the day, but continue with the Rohirrim, for they were heading back to Elven lands and their route took them in the same direction.
Hardly had Éomer welcomed this group when Prince Imrahil and his family approached. Her father and brothers all seemed to think Lothíriel being on horseback was perfectly normal. Aragorn greeted her by name with no expression of surprise; as did the elves, although they rarely seemed surprised by anything. One of the identical twins spoke to her, admiring the gelding, and her answer implied she knew the horse well. It was very strange.
There was no time to consider the puzzle further - the éoreds were ready to move, and it was time to head for home. Éomer waved an arm and began to make his way between the lines of knights and guards; Aragorn at one side, Éowyn at the other.
They rode slowly across the Pelennor Fields and, as they passed the place where Théoden had fallen, and Éowyn and Merry had stood against the Lord of the Nazgûl, they paused briefly and bowed their heads. Éowyn moved Windfola so that he almost touched Firefoot and Éomer reached out and took her hand in his. Then they moved on, and soon the formal order began to break apart, with people moving to ride beside first one person, then another, as conversations sprang up.
Éomer hung back a little allowing Éowyn to ride ahead accompanied, now, by Lothíriel. This manoeuvre was, of course, simply so that he could discuss with Éothain a couple of practical things to do with the setting up of camp. It certainly had nothing to do with admiring the back view of the princess as she rode. Despite what Éothain said.
“She has a good seat, your princess.”
He was still so puzzled by that very thing, and rather taken with admiring the way in which Lothíriel moved with her horse, that he simply agreed and only a few minutes later did he realise he had forgotten to deny that she was his princess.
………………..
Lothíriel really enjoyed that day in the saddle even though she knew she would suffer for it, the next day, as she had not ridden since before her accident. The sound and sight of hundreds of men and horses riding together would remain with her for a long time. Flowing manes and tails, and a fair amount of flowing blond hair, sunlight glinting off metal armour and weapons, the jingle of tack, the whickering of the horses, and the cheerful conversation (once past the Pelennor Field) were all new to her. Of course she understood little of the conversation, as it was in the tongue of Rohan, but she liked the rhythm and the rise and fall of the words even so.
Éowyn insisted they ride together and Lothíriel wondered whether Éomer would avoid them both. At first it seemed he was trying to, as he moved from one éored to another, but then, to her surprise, he joined them as they rode with Elrohir and Elladan. And, even if Éomer’s conversation revolved mainly around the twins’ fine black mounts, he smiled at Lothíriel and included questions about her own horse as if he expected her to know about the gelding’s blood-line, and the ways in which her saddle differed from a Rohirric one, and nodded with the hint of a smile when she answered.
An hour or two after noon the company halted by a small stream and very soon tables and chairs were set up, for the two kings and their guests to dine, and a fine repast was set out. This would be the parting of the ways. Éomer and Éowyn, at the head of their people, would continue onward; the Gondorians would turn back to Minas Tirith.
This was the last chance for conversation and everyone seemed to be taking advantage of the opportunity. Whilst the King of Gondor spoke quietly to his brothers, the King of Rohan was talking to Prince Imrahil, and Éowyn was bemoaning, to Lothíriel, that she had spent too long out of the saddle and would be stiff by night-time.
“You should have asked Lothíriel if you could borrow one of her cushions, before we left the city, as she no longer needs so many.” Amrothos had joined them unnoticed.
Lothíriel managed to combine her giggles with a sisterly glare in his direction. Éowyn simply replied that she was sure she would find something soft for the night, and then the conversation moved on to the terrain ahead, and where the Rohirrim would be likely to reach before the need to make camp, as Amrothos, of course, knew the area well.
But before the meal ended Éowyn brought up the subject of the cushions. She hoped Lothíriel didn’t mind her asking, but she had wondered why Lothíriel had carried them with her when they had met in the Houses of Healing and, as a bond of their new friendship, Lothíriel told her of the embarrassing, and painful, injury that had resulted from what was, in hindsight, an almost amusing incident.
Éowyn was still laughing at the image Lothíriel had painted verbally of the cat and dog careering through the kitchen, upsetting everything in sight, when Éomer joined them.
“It is time for farewells, Éowyn, Princess Lothíriel, for we must be on our way.”
He held a hand out to Lothíriel and she proffered hers for him to shake. But, instead, he lifted it quickly to his mouth, kissed it fleetingly, and then spun around and moved on.
All the rest of the day, and even as she lay in bed that night, Lothíriel thought that she could still feel that fleeting touch.
Cushions
Chapter Eight - Who's that Girl?
Éomer/Lothiríel
Rated PG
Word count, this chapter - 1,970
Previous chapters are HERE
Éomer might have thought to begin the ride back to the Riddermark straight after Aragorn’s coronation but it was not quite that simple in practice. At least half the Rohirrim in the city would have been too hung over to even mount a horse the next day, apart from anything else, and also there were formalities to go through and farewells to be said.
All in all it took almost a week before the chosen morning saw the éoreds mounting and gathering outside the city walls.
In that intervening week Faramir had sought out Éomer. Probably he had been tipped off as to her brother’s whereabouts by Éowyn, as the King of Rohan had been doing his best to avoid such an interview. The outcome was an agreement so diplomatic that Éomer knew both his uncle and his cousin would have been impressed, and a little amused, by his negotiating skills.
Faramir had agreed that no formal betrothal was possible between him and Éowyn, at this time, as both were in mourning. Éomer had agreed that, should Éowyn still wish it, a betrothal between her and the Prince of Ithilien could be announced once Théoden King was entombed. Éomer had made clear, in a less formal conversation with Éowyn, that he needed her to return home with him and, as Faramir was required to stay in Gondor, any courtship over these next months must be done in writing.
With these agreements reached, Éomer thought, he had a good chance of seeing this romance fade away. Éowyn would be at home, surrounded by her own kind, and free to court any Rider who managed to catch her eye. And her brother knew well how much she disliked writing; likely she would need to use a scribe so that her own hand did not disgrace her to the more scholarly Faramir. He reckoned it would take only a month or two for her to tire of such a courtship…
……………………….
In the days between the coronation of King Elessar and the departure of the Rohirrim, Lothíriel and Éowyn formed the friendship that Lothíriel had made tentative overtures towards back in the Houses of Healing.
Being totally honest with herself, Lothíriel thought this was now more to the benefit of both; she could not deny (privately) that she found Éowyn’s brother very attractive and Éowyn, with an eye to a marriage with Faramir, would find a friend in Minas Tirith helpful. But in fact both found that they had more in common than they had expected.
Both had older brothers and a tendency to emulate them when possible, and older male cousins of whom they were very fond; both had been brought up motherless. Éowyn’s uncle sounded more approachable than Lothíriel’s had been, but Lothíriel had always had her father. Éowyn’s past few years had been more shadowed personally than Lothíriel’s, but there had been the ever-increasing threat of Mordor here in Minas Tirith, and raids by corsairs when home in Dol Amroth.
They had their differences as well, certainly, but discovered that they could laugh together very easily; although watching some of the aristocratic women making eyes at Éomer amused Éowyn more than it did Lothíriel!
It was this burgeoning friendship that was to shake Éomer’s carefully constructed reasoning as to why he was in no way attracted to the Princess of Dol Amroth.
………………..
“If you haven’t ridden outside the city walls for so long,” Éowyn said, “why not join your father and brothers, and Aragorn, as they escort us on the first few miles of our journey? To be honest I would be glad of your company to distract me as we ride out, across what was the battlefield, especially as Faramir is not part of the escort but is kept back, by duty, in the city.”
This sounded so much better than simply standing near the city gates, waving in a genteel manner, that Lothíriel asked her father’s permission to do what the Lady Éowyn had suggested. This time, since her healer raised no objection, Prince Imrahil welcomed her company.
………………..
It was good to be in the saddle knowing that they were on their way home. Mundburg might look impressive, but now, even though it would not be a purely joyful home-coming, he longed for a glimpse of the sun catching the roofs of Édoras. He would think of the widows, the orphans, and the weight of kingship later, though; today he would enjoy riding with his men and, he smiled in her direction, with his sister.
The éoreds were forming and Éomer, with Éowyn beside him, made his way to their head. The men looked well. They had all made an effort to look their best, armour and weapons polished, even though it might not be the beautifully matched equipment of the Swan Knights who were forming part of the guard of honour through which they would all ride as they began their journey.
Éowyn had discarded the borrowed armour and helm, in which she had ridden to war, and wore a Gondorian-styled riding habit. It certainly made her look a lady through and through. Éomer reckoned it might last the day, but would lay money on it being replaced by a pair of breeches by the morrow.
Ah - here came the Gondorian royal escort, Aragorn behind them with the princes of Dol Amroth at his side in their house colours of blue and silver, and…
“Lothíriel!” Éowyn called, in a slightly less than lady-like fashion, waving at the young woman at Imrahil’s side. A young woman who was keeping a fine-looking gelding well under her control despite the cheering crowds and the multitude of other horses.
Éomer blinked a couple of times but the figure was still there and still seemed to be Lothíriel of Dol Amroth.
Aragorn’s escort joined the ranks of Swan Knights whilst the King of Gondor, himself, rode to Éomer’s side; accompanied by Legolas with the ever-present Gimli behind him. Beside Legolas rode the twin sons of Elrond, who would not turn back with their foster-brother, later in the day, but continue with the Rohirrim, for they were heading back to Elven lands and their route took them in the same direction.
Hardly had Éomer welcomed this group when Prince Imrahil and his family approached. Her father and brothers all seemed to think Lothíriel being on horseback was perfectly normal. Aragorn greeted her by name with no expression of surprise; as did the elves, although they rarely seemed surprised by anything. One of the identical twins spoke to her, admiring the gelding, and her answer implied she knew the horse well. It was very strange.
There was no time to consider the puzzle further - the éoreds were ready to move, and it was time to head for home. Éomer waved an arm and began to make his way between the lines of knights and guards; Aragorn at one side, Éowyn at the other.
They rode slowly across the Pelennor Fields and, as they passed the place where Théoden had fallen, and Éowyn and Merry had stood against the Lord of the Nazgûl, they paused briefly and bowed their heads. Éowyn moved Windfola so that he almost touched Firefoot and Éomer reached out and took her hand in his. Then they moved on, and soon the formal order began to break apart, with people moving to ride beside first one person, then another, as conversations sprang up.
Éomer hung back a little allowing Éowyn to ride ahead accompanied, now, by Lothíriel. This manoeuvre was, of course, simply so that he could discuss with Éothain a couple of practical things to do with the setting up of camp. It certainly had nothing to do with admiring the back view of the princess as she rode. Despite what Éothain said.
“She has a good seat, your princess.”
He was still so puzzled by that very thing, and rather taken with admiring the way in which Lothíriel moved with her horse, that he simply agreed and only a few minutes later did he realise he had forgotten to deny that she was his princess.
………………..
Lothíriel really enjoyed that day in the saddle even though she knew she would suffer for it, the next day, as she had not ridden since before her accident. The sound and sight of hundreds of men and horses riding together would remain with her for a long time. Flowing manes and tails, and a fair amount of flowing blond hair, sunlight glinting off metal armour and weapons, the jingle of tack, the whickering of the horses, and the cheerful conversation (once past the Pelennor Field) were all new to her. Of course she understood little of the conversation, as it was in the tongue of Rohan, but she liked the rhythm and the rise and fall of the words even so.
Éowyn insisted they ride together and Lothíriel wondered whether Éomer would avoid them both. At first it seemed he was trying to, as he moved from one éored to another, but then, to her surprise, he joined them as they rode with Elrohir and Elladan. And, even if Éomer’s conversation revolved mainly around the twins’ fine black mounts, he smiled at Lothíriel and included questions about her own horse as if he expected her to know about the gelding’s blood-line, and the ways in which her saddle differed from a Rohirric one, and nodded with the hint of a smile when she answered.
An hour or two after noon the company halted by a small stream and very soon tables and chairs were set up, for the two kings and their guests to dine, and a fine repast was set out. This would be the parting of the ways. Éomer and Éowyn, at the head of their people, would continue onward; the Gondorians would turn back to Minas Tirith.
This was the last chance for conversation and everyone seemed to be taking advantage of the opportunity. Whilst the King of Gondor spoke quietly to his brothers, the King of Rohan was talking to Prince Imrahil, and Éowyn was bemoaning, to Lothíriel, that she had spent too long out of the saddle and would be stiff by night-time.
“You should have asked Lothíriel if you could borrow one of her cushions, before we left the city, as she no longer needs so many.” Amrothos had joined them unnoticed.
Lothíriel managed to combine her giggles with a sisterly glare in his direction. Éowyn simply replied that she was sure she would find something soft for the night, and then the conversation moved on to the terrain ahead, and where the Rohirrim would be likely to reach before the need to make camp, as Amrothos, of course, knew the area well.
But before the meal ended Éowyn brought up the subject of the cushions. She hoped Lothíriel didn’t mind her asking, but she had wondered why Lothíriel had carried them with her when they had met in the Houses of Healing and, as a bond of their new friendship, Lothíriel told her of the embarrassing, and painful, injury that had resulted from what was, in hindsight, an almost amusing incident.
Éowyn was still laughing at the image Lothíriel had painted verbally of the cat and dog careering through the kitchen, upsetting everything in sight, when Éomer joined them.
“It is time for farewells, Éowyn, Princess Lothíriel, for we must be on our way.”
He held a hand out to Lothíriel and she proffered hers for him to shake. But, instead, he lifted it quickly to his mouth, kissed it fleetingly, and then spun around and moved on.
All the rest of the day, and even as she lay in bed that night, Lothíriel thought that she could still feel that fleeting touch.