The Lion and his Lady

Equine Royalty

Lothíriel hesitated in the door of the stables. She must have been mad to agree to this. Stark, raving mad!

Now where? Rows of stalls greeted her, their occupants swivelling their heads her way, ears pricked attentively. She took a step forward and the horse nearest her gave a loud snort, making her jump.

To her relief she spotted old Hallas hurrying her way, a look of surprise on his face. "Lady Lothíriel, you're up early! May I help you?"

She gave a nervous smile. "Yes, I would like to take Míriel out."

"Oh! I'm afraid I haven't got her ready." The stable master scratched his head. "I had no word that you were leaving. Will Lord Imrahil travel with you? How many guards-"

"I'm not leaving," she interrupted him. "I just want to take her for a ride."

"A ride?" He stared at her as if she had announced her intention to fly off the Tower of Ecthelion.

That moment the doorway darkened and Hallas's attention abruptly switched away. "My Lord King!"

Lothíriel whirled round. Tall, blond and unfairly handsome, King Éomer stood on the threshold. He flashed her the smile that had scythed through the ladies of Minas Tirith with such devastating effect. "Princess Lothíriel, what a pleasure to see a lady who appreciates the glories of a summer morning," he said as he bowed over her hand.

She decided not to mention the effort it had cost her maid to get her up in time. "Yes, it's lovely," she agreed. "I'm looking forward to a gallop across the Pelennor."

Hallas's eyes popped. "Lady Lothíriel! You're going for a ride with King Éomer?"

"I'm taking a couple of guards along, Princess Lothíriel will be perfectly safe with me," King Éomer assured him, misinterpreting the old man's alarm.

"Yes of course," Hallas stammered, "but-"

"Could you get one of the lads to get my mare ready for me?" Lothíriel interrupted hurriedly. "We want to avoid the morning traffic."

"No need for that," King Éomer threw in. "I can saddle your horse for you. I used to be the fastest stable boy in Edoras when I was training for a rider."

The idea of the King of Rohan saddling horses seemed to scandalize Hallas thoroughly. "Please, I -"

"It's no bother," King Éomer assured him. "We can manage."

So firmly dismissed, Hallas hesitated another moment, then shrugged helplessly. "As you please, my Lord King."

King Éomer took her hand and placed it on his arm. "So will you show me your mare? Have you had her long?"

"Er, yes," Lothíriel stammered. "A few years." She had no clear memory of when her father had bought Míriel. Before they had added the new library wing in Dol Amroth, or after?

"How old is she?" he asked.

"Not very old."

If King Éomer found her answers uninformative, he gave no indication. Instead he gifted her with another of those smiles that wiped all rational thought from her mind. She had no idea how he did it, just knew that she could deny him nothing when he used it on her – as witness her presence in her father's stables before the sun had properly cleared the horizon. Oh why hadn't she declined his invitation? Madness!

"Will you show me your mare?" he suggested. "What's her name?"

This at least she could supply. "Tar-Míriel." Easy to remember as she named all her father's horses.