Yours to Command

Protector of the Weak

What ought to be the rules of conduct for a prince? I say: he should be generous in thought and deed, just and true to his friends but unyielding to his enemies, yet always ready to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

(Mardil Voronwe: The Prince)

***

The servant bent down to whisper in Prince Imrahil's ear. Too polite to eavesdrop, Éomer nevertheless was pretty sure he heard Princess Lothíriel's name mentioned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his host freeze in the middle of lifting his wine glass to his lips. Then Imrahil got up so abruptly that he nearly sent his chair flying.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" he said to Éomer. "A small domestic problem has arisen that requires my attention."

"Yes, of course," Éomer replied civilly, but he did not think the prince heard him, for by that time he was already halfway to the door leading out of the dining room.

Éomer watched him go with bemusement. Until tonight he had considered his friend completely unflappable. They had stood together at the last battle outside the Morannon, and even when facing certain death and the possible end of all they held dear, Imrahil had been calm and dignified, determined to do his best by his king and die in a way worthy of his ancestors.

Now, within the space of one evening, he had seen the Prince of Dol Amroth disconcerted several times. First of all, when Éomer had accompanied the princess in from the garden, his friend had looked very much taken aback and had not been his usual composed self for some time afterwards. In retrospect, Éomer wondered if Imrahil had been upset at his discovery of his daughter's blindness, or more worried about what she might have said to him. That there could be no dependence on the Princess of Dol Amroth sticking to the kind of unobjectionable topics of conversation that the other Gondorian ladies favoured, had become clear soon after.

Éomer had nearly laughed out loud at Imrahil's face when his daughter had innocently outlined her solution of how to control the canine population of Dol Amroth. In a way it was quite comforting to find that he was not the only male thrown into disarray by her choice of subjects.

The servants were impeccably trained and now served up an impressive collection of sweetmeats, ranging from familiar honey cakes over sugared almonds to exotic looking delicacies imported from the far south. Lady Annarima and Elphir valiantly kept up a rather desultory conversation about last night's entertainment up at the Citadel, but Éomer noticed that they kept throwing nervous glances at the door through which Imrahil had disappeared. As for Amrothos, he had given up all pretence of listening to them.

When the door opened shortly after, everybody stopped talking and looked up expectantly. However, it was only the same elderly servant who had fetched Imrahil. This time he stepped up to Elphir and whispered in his ear.

"I'm coming," the prince nodded, a frown appearing between his eyebrows.

When he got up, his wife rose from the table as well.

"If you'll excuse us, my Lord King," she said smoothly and took her startled looking husband's arm.

He was left alone with Amrothos. The door closed with a soft click behind the Prince and Princess of Dol Amroth and the servants silently refilled their glasses. Éomer's eye fell on the wine stain, which had resulted from Princess Lothíriel's earlier mishap. It was almost dry by now. He wondered what his sister would make of her witness. This was not the first time he had been invited to dine at Imrahil's table, but he had to admit tonight had been by far the most entertaining. Instead of the usual rather formal talk about the court of Gondor, the conversation had been animated and varied. The two youngest offspring of the family seemed to have an enlivening effect, even if they didn't always intend to.