Yours to Command

Epilogue: Queen of the Golden Hall

3020. In this year Éomer, King of the Mark, wedded Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. The harvest was plentiful and the Eorlingas prospered. It is said that ever after they called their king Éomer Éadig.

(The Chronicle of the Riddermark).

***

Edoras, August of Third Age 3020.

The fiddler stepped forward onto the floor of Meduseld and played a couple of stanzas of a simple tune. Then he stopped and looked around the circle to see if anybody would accept his challenge. Next to Éomer, the Queen of the Mark wriggled with excitement and tightened her grip on his arm. After a moment's pause another fiddler stepped forward and played the tune back to the first man, picking up the pace and adding a little flourish at the end. The first musician grinned and the two started to circle each other like a pair of fighters, taking turns playing melodies to and fro, each one trying to outdo the other with his skill. The crowd started clapping rhythmically and his wife joined in with open enthusiasm.

His wife. Éomer savoured the words as he watched the enjoyment playing across Lothíriel's face. She had been in excellent spirits all evening, displaying none of the customary nervousness of a bride. Tradition had it that dancing with the queen at her wedding brought good luck and she had been much sought after – but now Éomer had reclaimed her hand and he did not intend to give it up again tonight.

The fiddlesticks raced across the strings and sweat ran down the musicians' faces. Even though the doorwardens had thrown the doors wide open, the air was hot and close with so many people assembled in the hall. He couldn't help wondering if Lothíriel would like to retire soon.

Touching her lightly on the arm, he bent down to whisper in her ear. "Are you tired yet?"

She looked up with a brilliant smile. "Oh no, not at all."

"Are you sure? You had a long journey from Minas Tirith."

"Don't worry, we took it easy." She patted his hand reassuringly. "And after all we arrived here yesterday and I had a good night's rest. How well they play! I feel like I could dance the whole night away."

Actually dancing was not what he'd had in mind, but he couldn't very well tell her so. However, he did not want to spoil her enjoyment of her wedding day, so he just gave a wry grin. "In that case, would you like to dance with me?"

The way her face lit up at his suggestion was answer enough. At least he got to slip his hand round his wife's waist and hold her close whilst they whirled around in one of the Rohirric dances that she liked so much. Feeling the warmth of her body through the thin silk of her dress was a pleasant sensation and Éomer enjoyed the way she trusted his lead, completely at ease. He had expected her to be a little shy with him after their not seeing each other for three months, but she showed no sign of that.

Other couples joined them and he caught a glimpse of Éowyn dancing with Faramir and laughing at something her husband said to her. Well, his sister certainly deserved a bit of relaxation after all the hard work she had put into organising the wedding. Éowyn had also made it plain from the beginning that she very much approved of the future Queen of the Mark, which would hopefully help Lothíriel win the acceptance of the Meduseld household. Not that there had been any objections raised to her, not even by his council. His advisors had been so relieved to get him back alive, even if a month later than planned, that they had agreed to everything without a murmur. Besides, Imrahil's daughter remained a good match, blind or not.

The musicians picked up the pace for the finale and Lothíriel laughed with delight when he spun her round faster. "Tired yet?" he asked hopefully.

But she just shook her head. "Certainly not!"