Black Eyes

Aftermath

While heading the profit of my counsel, avail yourself also of any helpful circumstances over and beyond the ordinary rules. According as circumstances are favourable, one should modify one's plans.

(Eldacar: The experience of battle)

***

"Lothiriel?" the voice was soft and gentle and she sighed, unwilling to open her eyes, now that she was warm at last.

"Lothiriel, wake up." She gave a yawn and stretched her arms, luxuriating in the heat given off by the nice soft cushion she was leaning against.

"You know, you really shouldn't do that." Somebody pulled her covers close around her again and Lothiriel tried to burrow deeper down. It was so cosy and comfortable, she just wanted to stay put where she was. It felt right.

"What's the matter?" she asked drowsily.

"I think your father's men have found us at last."

"Tell them to go away," she muttered.

Her cushion shook with laughter and she mumbled an incoherent protest. Her father's men? What did they want of her? Dim memories started to come back to her of the morning's events. The desperate scramble down the cliff face, warning Éomer, their narrow escape onto the little island...

She sat up with a start, abruptly realizing just what her warm soft cushion was – or rather who. She remembered now, they had been talking, he had told her stories about Rohan, and she must have fallen into a doze at some point. Lothiriel felt heat flooding her cheeks and when she finally dared to look up saw him watching her with an amused smile on his face. Then she caught her breath in distress. His left eye was looking truly horrendous by now, completely swollen shut and the whole area around it puffy and blackening rapidly.

"Your eye!" she exclaimed.

He lifted a hand to his face, but did not touch it. "Does it look bad? It certainly feels so."

She nodded and bit her lip, feeling thoroughly guilty. A too-long silence ensued.

"Did I fall asleep?" Not the most intelligent of questions.

"You did," he nodded and stretched his arms, as if he was cramped, "I was wondering when to wake you up."

Lothiriel watched the muscles rippling across his chest and remembered the feeling of resting her head against his comforting warm solidity. When she looked up again his expression was unreadable, the former amusement completely gone.

She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry I fell asleep against you like that."

"That's all right," he reassured her, "I don't mind at all."

"You should have woken me up when it got uncomfortable."

Again that slow smile. "But it wasn't uncomfortable..."

Why did she have the feeling she was rapidly getting out of her depth? She decided to change the subject.

"Did you say something about my father's men?"

He motioned towards the shore. "I think they've found us."

Squinting her eyes against the sun she looked up at the cliff top and made out several riders. Even as she watched, one of them turned his horse to canter back the way he had come, no doubt to tell her father that his missing daughter and guest had been located at last.

"Anyway," Éomer added, "I think we should be able to leave our island soon."

Lothiriel got up to glance down at the water and calculated with a shock just how long she must have been asleep for it to recede to the level it was at now. Indeed they could probably be on their way quite soon.