11. To Gondor
Éomer galloped towards the citadel with his company. It was an impressive site that always left him feeling a little in awe. Éowyn had left for Gondor two months prior to prepare for her winter nuptials. She presently resided in the palace with King Elessar and Queen Arwen. Éomer would stay there till he and his sister formally rode to Ithilien where Éomer King would present his sister to Lord Faramir for marriage. Éomer sighed at the thought. All this formality! The ancient Rohirrim had it right…find a girl, wrap her in your cloak and let someone discover you in the morning. The King could not contain his smile.
"Something amuses you, Sire?" Gamling asked from the King's right. The Captain had long ago earned the right to be familiar with the younger man, but he often kept up pretenses just to irk Éomer.
"Besides that the beautiful Aglaril—who needs no man to provide for her—is choosing to forfeit her freedom for an old war horse like you…"
Gamling growled at his king. "She has fine taste."
This caused Éomer to laugh aloud. "Forgive me old friend. You are indeed a catch worthy of the blacksmith's daughter, but that is not what truly crossed my mind. I decided that the Ancient Ones had it right—give me my cloak and the woman of my dreams and I will leave the door unlock so someone can find us. It is simple, requires no travel in the frigid winter snows..."
Aglaril maneuvered her horse closer so she could address Éomer. "So, my lord, you do not wish a wedding feast of your own? Feasting and dancing and a bride looking so beautiful she takes your breath away?"
"Éowyn would have your hide if you denied her the opportunity to meddle in your wedding feast!" Gamling said with a laugh.
"So would his bride-to-be," replied Aglaril.
Éomer ignored them both. Yet, in the far reaches of his mind he realized that he would like a wedding feast; that thought in turn conjured images of glossy obsidian hair and eyes like the summer sky. He came out of his musings as he heard his companions chuckling. He did not look at them, fearing the blush on his face would send them into fits of uncontrollable laughter.
Finally reaching their destination, Éomer dismounted and approached Gondor's King. Before he could bow and offer greetings, a blur of silk and blonde hair launched its self at the startled man. Éomer found his little sister in his arms and he hugged her tightly. Time apart always pained him and this time…well, she was not coming home. Kissing her cheek he let her go and greeted the King Elessar and his Queen with a low bow.
"That is not necessary, my friend," Elessar said, moving to hug the younger man. "It is good to see you again."
"And you. Lady Arwen," Éomer said, kissing her hand.
The stately she-elf smiled warmly. She had always like Éomer and although she was well aware of Éowyn's initial interest in her Aragorn, she held no ill feelings. Why should she? Everything worked out as it should…now if only things would work so well with Éomer and Lothiriel. But if her little plan worked, they would be able to spend some time together-- albeit publically—without the irritating Lady Beriedis interfering.
"You cannot be serious!"
"I am. Please? Éomer and Lothiriel belong together—I know it!"
"Since when have you had Father's gift of sight?"
"Always," the Queen admitted to matching stunned faces. "It is not like his visions, so clear and detailed. They are more like dreams but the feelings in them are real. Those two belong together but Imrahil is so wrapped up in Dol Amroth that he is not in touch with his daughter's feelings and desires. He leaves it up to Lady Beriedis and she thinks only a man from Gondor, specifically Dol Amroth, is worthy of the Princess. Éomer does not stand a chance if that irritating peahen goes to Imrahil first and rejects Éomer as a suitor! Imrahil has given her full reign to find a suitable match for his daughter!
Slate grey eyes regarded his sister. "You should know better than meddle."
"And so should we," the other twin answered.
"I knew I could count on you!" she hugged the twins in a most un-queenly fashion.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.