A good day to all that is reading this! Many of you probably know me as Mystikal, but since that name was unavailable when I registered, I added a number. I hope you like this story, for it is my very first LOTR story and I am quite fond of it myself. Please read and review, I love hearing feedback and want to know what I can do better the next chapter and what you like. It will not be a long story, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.
Disclaimer: The original plot and characters of The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. Everything you do not recognize is purely for my entertainment and yours.
Fields of Gold
Still, Éomer could not believe that he had a wife.
By the gods, she was gorgeous, but still, he had never imagined himself to marry for political reasons.
The woman beside him at the head of the long table during the meal that broke the night's fast was by far the most beautiful woman he had laid his eyes upon for a long time and perhaps the most docile woman as well. The slanted eyes were a mystifying hazel, her dark eyebrows a perfect arch matching her dark hair that fell to her waist in curls. Her body, Éomer noted once more as his eyes trailed across her completely, was perfect. A tiny waist, she was of medium height and possessed many features that men enjoyed.
The angel had a name, his newly wed wife, Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, the city by the sea. Lothíriel looked to her hands as she felt the eyes of her husband trail over her. She could not bring herself to stare into the intense gaze of the King of Rohan, for each time she did she felt more insecure.
Éomer sat, bewildered that the woman would not as much look at him. Was he that much of a beast? Did he over dominate so that she was terrified at his very look? It was true that they had only been married for three days, and all the traditions had been carried out on the wedding day and night, but ever since that morning, Lothíriel had been distant and wary of his rumbling voice.
What he really needed, Éomer hated to admit, was his sister's advice. He would have to seek her out before those who had attended the wedding departed for their homelands. Éomer and Lothíriel both hated to think of those they loved to leave, especially since they would be all alone afterwards.
The silence was deafening, and Éomer could not fathom to think of what he was to say. It was to both of the new couple's relief when Éothain burst into the room, seating himself beside his friend and king and accepting the food prepared. The young man looked vaguely pleased that his friend Éomer and the Queen were at least sitting beside each other. Éothain's amber eyes sparkled with mirth as he realized he had never seen Éomer as uncomfortable as then.
"A good morning to you, Éomer-King, my lady," Éothain offered with an inclination of his head. Lothíriel nodded. Her eyes were thankful as she smiled to the young man whom had been Éomer's best friend since boyhood.
"It is indeed a good morning," Éomer remarked mildly as he tested the meal that he had beforehand forgotten. Éothain grasped the sentence with an acquiescing gaze, grasping hold of the idea that formed into his mind immediately.
"A find day to ride, is it not, my lord?" he asked potently, his hands falling to his lap.
"Everyday in Edoras is a fine day to ride, Éothain," Éomer commented, laughing, trying to forget his dearest friend was addressing him with such formality.
"Perhaps you and our lady should enjoy this particularly wonderful day riding?" Éothain suggested. Éomer noticed poor Lothíriel's embarrassment and tried to evade the answer as much as she.
"Éothain, where is your dear wife, Forleaswyn? I am sure she would rather hear your aggravation than my wife and I do," Éomer said, the word 'wife' still odd on his lips. Éothain did not get the hint.
"If my resources of the note she left me bear true, she is having her gowns altered once again. The babe within her is growing quite rapidly and I do wonder how for I had always been a small boy," Éothain said, subject dropping for a moment at least.
Éomer laughed and Lothíriel smiled. "Éowyn took your news well enough."
"Béma, I thought I would go deaf with their shrieks and squeals," Éothain said, shaking his head in amusement.
"Perhaps," said Éomer, "you should find her. If I know Forleaswyn, she needs your assistance with at least one task," Éomer finished lamely.
"I shall, my friend, but before I go, should I ask the stable hands to get Firefoot and a mare for my lord and lady?"
The look that Lothíriel was giving her plate caused Éomer the desire to strangle Éothain right there.
"I have counsel meetings, I apologize," Éomer said to both present. Éothain looked as if he was about to persist, but Éomer gave him a look to leave. Éothain consented, half disheartened to leave without fulfilling the task Éowyn and he had decided to achieve. Finishing eating the food that remained in front of him, Éothain hurried, knowing the look he had received a warning that he thankfully grasped.
"I ask for forgiveness, Lady Lothíriel, but I must leave," Éothain said, standing and leaving the King and Queen alone – once again.
Before they could lapse into silence once more, Éomer said to Lothíriel, "I apologize."
"There is nothing to apologize of," Lothíriel said, her voice soft and soothing. "He was merely trying to help a friend… He did not know, likewise."
Éomer nodded. "If you ever wish to…go for a ride with me," he said, his baritone voice so different from her own, "I would call off any counsel, you know."
"Yes, Éomer, I know."
The mere fact that she used his name was a step in the right direction.
"I was thinking of spending the day with your sister, however. She has promised me that she would take me on a tour of Rohan ere she left," Lothíriel said. Éomer nodded, thanking his sister silently that she had the heart to be so kind to the terrified new bride.
"I am going to begin training a horse with Éothain this evening, you are more than welcome to come," Éomer said. Lothíriel nodded.
"I shall come if I have the time."
He stood before her, and helped her out of her chair by outstretching a kind hand. Lothíriel smiled, placing her hand into his and marveling at the strength that he possessed. Why he could surely break her in two!
Éomer walked her in silence halfway to their room, and stopped when he reached the doors leading outside. Lothíriel looked to him in wonder and when their eyes caught, she once more dropped her gaze and looked to the floor. He bit back the anger that her submissiveness gave him.
"I will see you this evening, Lothíriel," Éomer said as she let go of his arm and smiled, the stunning emerald garb she wore accented every curve beautifully. Lothíriel nodded.
"I enjoyed having the morning meal with you, Éomer."
If only it was not a lie that both knew, it would be fine. Éomer nodded. "I did as well, Lothíriel."
The woman nodded, her eyes gazing into his for a mere moment before she turned and closed the distance to her chambers. Éomer turned and left Meduseld to the stables, engrossing him with cleaning Firefoot's coat for the umpteenth time. It was implausible to think that his wife feared both him and horses so much. How was she to rule by his side if she could not hold his gaze for a minute? How could the Horse Lords follow under a Queen who was frightened of horses?
Resolutely, Éomer decided that battles did not only occur outside the home.
"Éowyn, it is not working," Lothíriel commented as she watched the blonde haired woman search the clothing store as if she was scouting for an enemy. Éowyn looked up, holding in her hands a pearly silk fabric after she held it to her skin and smiled at how it complimented her complexion.
"My brother is not a man to express his feelings," Éowyn said reassuringly, "perhaps it is working better than you think."
"No," Lothíriel commented with a low mock laugh, "I do not know one thing about him, Éowyn, except he is devoted to his horses." Lothíriel sank down onto a chair and held her head in her right hand, the sapphire rings on her fingers shining in the sunlight leaking in an opened window of the shop.
Éowyn's tour was temporarily halted when the two women had fallen upon a shop whose owner was ecstatic when the two noblewomen walked inside. The cloth was all beautiful and while Éowyn looked, Lothíriel remembered the awkward night and morning, trying not to cry out of pure frustration. It was horrible.
"Come to think of it," Éowyn admitted, "that is all I know of him as well. That is all to know about him." She laughed. Lothíriel looked even more somber. "I am only joking, Lothíriel."
"Please help me," Lothíriel said. Éowyn looked sympathetic but her words did not seem to match her frown.
"I will tell you only this, for you need to find out what my brother is like yourself, to improve your relationship. Éomer is a righteous man, and he will strive to bring you happiness. He forgets his own happiness at times, and you need to make sure he does not do so too often as I had when I was the only one dear to him. Now that you are his wife, you will find he will protect both you and your name by all means. I am certain that you both shall find love, but you need to speak with him, Lothíriel," Éowyn finished, earning Lothíriel a smile.
"I shall, Éowyn, but I feel so intimidated by him!"
"He is a mountain of a man, is he not? But do not feel fearful when with him, for when you are close to him you are most safe," Éowyn answered. "Come, at night we shall watch Éothain and him train his new horse. I am positive once you see him performing the task he loves most, you will see the true him."
Lothíriel adhered to the request though she was reluctant to go - for she was not sure whether she was more afraid of a runaway horse or a mocking look from her husband. She made her way with Éowyn and sat on the bluff above the training arena that withheld her husband and his brother-in-arms along with a very powerful roan colt. Lothíriel had brought with her a scratch of paper and a quill, deciding to use one of her main talents and to draw the horse the way she saw it after asking Éowyn if the idea was good.
Éowyn had thought the idea to be perfect, for if the woman shared the love of horses, perhaps her brother and she would be better off to fall in love.
"What is the horse's name?" Lothíriel asked as she watched Éomer lunge the horse with a training saddle on and Éothain watched from his spot sitting on the fence.
"His name is Rastus. He has much promise," Éowyn added, "look how smooth his gaits are! Especially for a two-year-old colt he is very quick to learn and he is swift."
Lothíriel looked to the horse's head, bobbing up and down as his legs thundered upon the hard ground in the three-stepped motion. She took up her quill and began to draw, the concentration on her face matching that on Éomer's as he guided the horse to slow and fasten with his shoulders and the Rohirric words emitting his mouth.
The scratching of the quill caused Éowyn to look over and watch Lothíriel draw, marveling at how accurate each stroke of the quill looked. The horse on the paper held the same power, the same majestic force of the horse as Rastus beheld in eye view. In the picture, his nostrils were flared, and he looked as if he were actually moving, the muscles in his legs tense as his eyes were wide with concentration. One ear was turned to listen to Éomer, and the other was back, showing his green knowledge and deep concentration.
Then, Lothíriel advanced to draw Éomer on the paper, capturing his stance and the look on his face perfectly. Éowyn continued looking over Lothíriel's shoulder to watch, and was impressed by how much the drawing equaled the way she saw her brother currently. His looked intense, his eyes narrowed in concentration, his lips moving soft and quickly under his breath in encouraging words.
Lothíriel continued to finish her drawing, and when the men below took a break, she was unaware that they saw her on the bluff.
"She is very beautiful," Éothain remarked as they took a drink from the mugs that they had asked a nearby groom to get them. Éomer nodded.
"Aye, she is. I wish she wasn't so withdrawn – it seems to me as if she does not enjoy spending time with me at all," Éomer admitted as he stretched and watched Rastus begin to graze on the small leafs of the short weeds on the outside of the arena.
"So different from Éowyn, is she not?" Éothain laughed, chancing a glance at the two women, Lothíriel still writing on the paper and Éowyn looking over the other's shoulder to see what she wrote.
"You have no idea," Éomer said, taking a long drink of his water and staring to the setting sun. "I don't think I've talked to a woman like her for some time."
This caused Éothain to laugh. "I agree," he said before he explained further, "the barmaids at pubs do nothing that resembles Lady Lothíriel's demure manners, and neither does Éowyn who is only slightly less wild since her marriage to Faramir. As of my own wife, I forget that she used to be such a peaceful woman!"
Éomer chuckled low under his breath, thinking of the tiny woman who Éothain had married after the War of the Ring and meeting her during his own coronation. Forleaswyn barely came to his shoulder in height and was a wonderful lady of Meduseld as a daughter of a fallen Rider of Rohan. Éothain and his wife had been married for nearly a year when Forleaswyn had declared she held his child, and her manner changed drastically into a fiery tempered tempest that rivaled Éowyn at times.
"Perhaps," Éothain continued, "all you need to do is have a child yourselves and she will become more like Éowyn."
Éomer shook his head decidedly, "No. I am hardly able to live having a wife- a child will surely kill me of today."
This caused Éothain to roar in laughter, nodding as he realized the truth to the words.
"Besides," Éomer added, "of my luck she would only become more withdrawn and anxious of me."
Éothain shrugged and patted Éomer on the shoulder in an attempt to help raise the man's spirits. "Women are a peculiar subject, my friend. I am sure you shall figure her out in due time, however, she seems as if she is having a good time with Éowyn, perhaps your sister shall come to your rescue once again."
Instead of retorting to his friend's ill word choice, Éomer shook his head and turned to look to the beautiful woman he now called his wife, dressed in the new gown she had bought that day, a green dress that draped on her becomingly. Her eyes were drawn to the paper still in her lap, but once every moment she would look to Éowyn, speak of something and smile. Éomer heard her musical laughter from his spot a ways below them. He half wanted to go sit beside her and cause her the same laughter but was wary to frighten her away.
"I suggest you speak with her father or brothers and see what you should do to win her heart over. Perhaps she has a love of flowers or maybe animals or…what else do woman like?" Éothain asked. Éomer chuckled.
"And you have been married a year?"
"A year and a half this past month."
Éomer laughed, shaking his head in incredulously. Finally, he stopped and thought of the words that Éothain spoke. Perhaps he was right. "I will speak to her family of the morrow," Éomer said, "but we must take Rastus to his stall and bathe before dinner because you, my friend, smell."
The two men laughed, getting Rastus and taking him to this stall. Éomer looked behind once before he turned into the stable and looked at his wife, making it clear in his mind that she and he would be happy together soon.