Imrahil's Daughters

Chapter 8

Mechanically Lothíriel tidied up her crates. Éomer had left to check on his stallion before joining her father for breakfast and she knew she should return to the castle too, but at the moment she just felt numb. Taking a broom, she swept a few wilted mulberry leaves out the door. One of the castle cats, which had been sunning itself on the wall, strolled over to rub against her legs. The big ginger coloured tomcat was the undisputed lord of Dol Amroth's feline population and had fathered a large progeny, causing Amrothos to name him after the High King of the Noldor.

Lothíriel bent down to stroke him, finding comfort in the soft fur. "Oh, Fëanáro, what have I done?"

Unsurprisingly the cat did not reply, just purred in contentment, but Lothíriel knew the answer anyway. She urgently needed to learn how to say no to that man! But he had a way of looking at her – of touching her – that just made her want to agree to whatever he wanted from her. As for his smile, it simply played havoc with her sense of self-preservation. She cringed at the thought of what Amrothos would say to this newest plan. Foolhardy? Reckless? Raving mad?

And she wouldn't even be able to fault him – playing Gliwen impersonating a Princess Lothíriel who wanted to remain incognito surely had to rate as one of the more insane ideas she had ever agreed to. How could she hope to keep up the deception when every meeting with Éomer frayed her nerves to the point where she wanted to scream out the truth?

She closed her eyes and pictured him as he'd stood in her tower, looking through her books, touching her possessions. Large, strong hands that had nevertheless handled her things with surprising gentleness. His restless energy had filled the room, yet she had not minded sharing her solitude with him. Where her brothers at best teased her indulgently about her projects, he had shown real interest in her ideas. Lothíriel grimaced self-deprecatingly. Of course she hadn't blown up any bits of Rohan yet, which probably helped.

But what had possessed her to agree to this second outing? Now that he was gone, she could think of half a dozen reasons for declining Éomer's request – or rather command. For one, Amrothos would be in no condition to go anywhere today from what she'd heard from the servants. Having won the swimming contest, he'd been expected to finish his barrel of ale the same night, so she had been unsurprised when her maid had reported him feeling rather poorly. Could she use his absence to excuse herself from accompanying Éomer on his ride? Or would that forceful king simply drag her brother out of bed? She would put nothing past him to get his way.

If only she'd had the strength of mind to deny him. "I won't come!" she said experimentally, startling the cat, who stared up at her through slit eyes. "No!" she repeated with more emphasis, "I won't." Fëanor yawned contemptuously and started to lick his fur. Wonderful, she couldn't even impress a cat; what chance did she have to assert her will against the King of Rohan!

And what did that king want with a humble beekeeper anyway? Amrothos would no doubt have laughed at the question and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Nothing honourable would have been his answer. Yet though they'd been completely alone, Éomer hadn't tried to take liberties. Only at the end had she felt a brief frisson of nervousness, but nothing had come of it. She frowned. Did that mean he didn't find her attractive? Then she shook her head. What was the matter with her today! Why should she worry what Éomer thought of her? She didn't want him to grope her after all, did she? Once had been quite enough!

The kiss in the cupboard that she'd been trying to thrust from her mind for months came back to her. At the time she had felt an odd mix of terror and exhilaration at her daring. She touched her lips. What would it be like to repeat the experience? To have those powerful hands moving upon her, crushing her against his chest as he'd done that night? Holding her helpless while he traced a trail of fire across her skin with his mouth... Her heart beat more rapidly at the memory.