Yours to Command

Serpent Tooth

Many years ago there lived in the deserts of the far South a giant Serpent. By day he slept in his cave and by night he went hunting, but at the dark of the moon he would shed his skin and be a man for one night. It happened one day that a maiden lost her way in the desert and the Serpent found her and took her to wife. Out of this coupling was born a son, Ulwarth, who made himself King of the Haradrim. And ever since the brood of the Serpent has held ill intentions towards Gondor and harried her.

(Telemnar: Ancient tales of Harad)

***

The fingers tightened on her own and Lothíriel could hear Éomer take a sharp breath.

"Almost finished, my lord," the healer said.

"Just get on with it."

Lothíriel felt her gorge rise at the thought of a sharp needle piercing Éomer's flesh, but she suppressed the feeling. Being sick all over him would most definitely not help.

"Are you all right?" Éomer asked.

She attempted a smile, but got the impression she didn't really succeed. "Just feeling a little faint."

"Hurry up!" he told the healer.

The man only grunted in answer, but soon pronounced his work to be finished. "Be careful not to strain the arm," he said, "and come and see me at the Houses of Healing tomorrow so I can renew the bandage."

Lothíriel nodded. She would make sure.

"Yes, yes," Éomer agreed impatiently. He squeezed her hand. "Lothíriel, would you like to sit down?"

Just then a breeze sprang up, bringing with it the smell of freshly spilt blood. For once Lothíriel was grateful for being blind, as the courtyard probably looked like a slaughterhouse. Nausea rose within her. "Do you think we could move away a little?"

"Of course!" He hesitated. "I think there is a garden round the side of the house, let's go there. Just a moment."

"Thank you." Suddenly feeling light-headed, she leant into him. Bare skin met her touch, firm and warm. A lot of bare skin she realized after a startled instant and recoiled in confusion.

He steadied her. "I'm sorry! I was just going to say that I have to put my shirt back on first."

"Oh!" Her cheeks heated up and she hoped devoutly that her father had not seen her snuggle against Éomer's naked chest. Where was he anyway? "Have you seen my father?" she asked.

"Fortunately no." A trace of laughter swung in Éomer's voice. No doubt the course of her thoughts was easy to guess. "I believe Aragorn has taken him off to organize the transport of the wounded to the Houses of Healing." He settled her hand on his arm, properly clothed now. "Let me show you the way to the garden."

Lothíriel stumbled a little on the rough cobbles and could not help hissing in pain when she stubbed her toe on a stone.

"Your feet!" he exclaimed. "I'd forgotten!"

A heartbeat later she found herself gathered up in his strong arms. "Éomer, your wound!" she protested.

He was already crossing the courtyard with large strides. "Never mind that. You weigh next to nothing anyway. Doesn't that father of yours feed you properly?"

A laugh escaped her. "He does, but I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast."

"What?" he stopped abruptly. "No wonder you feel faint." He turned round with her still in his arms. "Oswyn!"