‘I believe I must apologise to you, my Lady, for the conduct of three of my men,’ he said curtly after greeting her.
‘Not at all, Éomer King. Genting here behaved admirably despite his distress,’ she said rather light-heartedly. Éomer looked thunderous and Lothíriel realised with some dismay that he was taking their transgression far more seriously than she had herself.
He barked an order to Genting to bring Joric and his companion, Frenhelm, into the room. The men were clearly nervous.
‘Accosting two ladies of the court is a most serious matter and I was surprised not to have received an official complaint from you yourself this morning. Not only must I insist on giving you my personal apology, but I offer you your terms on their punishment which at the very least is their immediate banishment from this city in disgrace,’ he growled.
‘May I beg a private word with you, Sire, with Genting present, and then I would be more than happy to pass judgement?’ Lothíriel proposed. Éomer gestured brusquely for the two men to wait outside.
‘Sire, they are perhaps not as culpable as you may think, although I agree their behaviour was reprehensible, just not for the reasons you believe.’ Éomer raised a questioning eyebrow. By the Valar, he is incredibly attractive when roused, she thought with a slight blush, I wonder how he is going to take this. ‘This is not Genting’s fault at all and whatever he may have told you, please believe me when I say that he has nothing to answer for. As for the other two, they cannot stand accused of accosting two women as there was only one woman present and for both my sake and the sake of the other party, I would not have this affair made public,’ she said in measured tones.
‘I do not understand’, Éomer said feeling the pit of his stomach turn cold with the thought that perhaps the scandalous rumours about Lothíriel were true after all and he had been mistaken in her.
‘The friend I was with last night, whom you met briefly, is a man who prefers men, and we spent the evening in the company of other men who prefer men, some of whom prefer to dress as the women they feel they should have been. I believe you understand what I am referring to? I have known my companion all my life and he is my one true friend in Dol Amroth. These are the only friends I have in this city; they are the only ones who accept me as I am. They have no interest in me, other than for friendship, and I do not want to cause them any trouble. You know how other people are with men like this and…. perhaps you are no exception?’
She glanced over to him to see if she could read his face and judge his views on the subject. ‘Joric and Frenhelm only betrayed the same prejudice as many. To be honest, I am not sure which of us is the more injured party: Joric and Frenhelm because they were bested by a woman; or me because they thought I was a man, even though I was dressed as a woman for once!’ Lothíriel laughed, hoping that she had not shocked Éomer too much. She could not tell what thoughts lay behind those piercing blue eyes. He was not looking at her. He was looking down at his desk in thought. She was beginning to become concerned. ‘Éomer King, please,’ she said almost desperately, ‘I have so few friends and so little joy, please do not cause trouble for me or for them over this.’
Éomer had looked up sharply, no longer angry but with sadness in his eyes at her words. ‘What would you have me do, my Lady?’ asked Éomer softly.
‘Let me speak to them?’ she asked relieved at his tone.
Neither man would look at her when they came in, they appeared truly mortified by their actions of the previous night. She stood directly in front of Joric and Frenhelm and waited until both of them looked up at her and she smiled encouragingly at them. ‘I must confess that I admitted to your King that I wasn’t sure which of us should be more embarrassed, you at being bested by a woman or me that you thought I was a man, but in truth I was the only female in the whole group, so your mistake was partly understandable.’
The two men shifted uncomfortably in front of her. ‘We are truly sorry for our mistake, my Lady,’ they both mumbled.
‘Well, most of them make better females than I do. They are certainly more ladylike,’ she laughed self-mockingly. ‘But then, I am a Lady not a lady,’ she said confusing them both even more.
‘There is already too much hate in this world. There should be nothing shameful about love in whatever form that takes…., except when it is forced on another against their will,’ she emphasised pointedly. ‘I have asked your King to be lenient and to allow you to remain here with no consequences. But I would demand on one thing of you in return, that you too show the same leniency and understanding of others who have, after all, done nothing to offend or hurt you. That is all I ask.’
The two men nodded without looking up, their relief overshadowed by their penitence, her kindness compounding their own shame.
She turned to Éomer. ‘If that is all, Sire, I will leave you to your busy day and I am sorry that you have been put to trouble on my account, yet again. I will do my best not to make it a habit.’ She flashed him a smile and bowed before leaving.
Genting opened the door to escort her out. ‘How are you feeling now, Genting?’ she asked first.
‘Much better thank you, my Lady,’ he murmured.
She looked at him with a knowing smile. ‘I’ll happily introduce you to my friends once things have settled down,’ she whispered. Genting was somewhat taken aback but made no objection, returning her understanding look with a bow before re-entering Éomer’s study.
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Éomer dined with his sister that evening as they usually did if they were not being entertained or entertaining guests. Having come so close to losing her, he valued the time he had with her, especially as he knew she would be leaving him for faraway Ithilien in under a year. The date had been set for early-spring 3020 on the day Sauron fell. He needed her to help see Rohan through the winter - supplies had been pillaged and burned, and there was a real risk of hardship if the winter was long and severe.
Éowyn was in high spirits. ‘I took Lothíriel out riding today, brother. Faramir bought her a horse so she would not have to trouble you as she was adamant that she would go out again as soon as possible, although she did admit to being a little stiff from overdoing it two days ago.’
‘Overdoing it! I am surprised she could walk, never mind….’ He stopped himself abruptly. He did not want to tell Éowyn of her secret friendship with her male friends.
‘Never mind that she had a little incident with Joric and Frenhelm? Don’t worry, she told me,’ admitted Éowyn rather amused. ‘She worried that you might not be as comfortable with her choice of companions as you pretended to be…’
‘I am not’, Éomer admitted. ‘It is a real risk for her. They are still men whether they are interested in her or not,’ he said, concerned for her reputation.
Éowyn understood what he had meant and explained, ‘I think she feels that her reputation is so damaged that she can hardly damage it more by their association and besides, once she had explained to me more of their world, I don’t see why anyone should get so upset by it, but she said, generally you had to be a woman to understand that – after all, we are not their target of interest, which is what makes it so refreshing to be with them. Not to have to be on your guard all the time or to have to pretend to be a simpering lady, as she put it! We had such fun, she is the most amusing person I have ever met. I have done nothing but laugh the whole ride, my stomach muscles actually hurt!’ Éomer looked up at his sister indulgently.
‘I am learning a lot from her about Ithilien and Gondor: how all the noble families interconnect; the power dynamics; the history. All of which I am going to need to navigate if I am to be of most help to Faramir,’ Éowyn continued more seriously. ‘We have agreed to go out riding most days. It seems there was a prophecy when she was born about a horse being the end of her or something like that, so they never let her learn to ride. She is, as you said, an absolute natural.’
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Éomer did not know why he decided to go down so early to the stables and paddock that particular day later in the week, but he had spent the last few days cooped up in various meetings and was desperate to get out into the fresh air. He had never spent more than two days without being in the saddle before. His horse, Firefoot, was out in the paddock and the dawn’s soft light bathed the horses in a pink tinge. He saw a lone figure sitting on the fence watching the horses. From the distance, he had assumed it was an elf, but as he approached, his eyes noted the unusual colour of the hair, that specific dark chestnut brown, Lothíriel’s colour. He did not want to shout out a greeting in case he was mistaken.
As he approached the seated figure from behind, he saw Shadowfax, Lord of the Mearas, the famed wild horses of Rohan who suffered none but the heirs of Éorl, the first King of Rohan, to ride them, walking towards him followed closely by another beautiful but ordinary stallion. The Mearas were a breed apart, far larger and stronger than ordinary horses and they roamed free in the lands of Rohan, never leaving their homelands except out of dire need or love of another. Only one as great as Mithrandir could have tamed the Lord of the Mearas, unless it was the King of Rohan himself, and Shadowfax was devoted to the wizard. So rare was it for a Mearas to come close to ordinary men that it was believed in Rohan that the Mearas could only be touched by those of the purest hearts. Éomer looked around him to see if Mithrandir was somewhere in the paddock.
He was not. Éomer could only assume that Shadowfax was coming to greet him, which was an honour he had not expected. However, both horses were deliberately walking towards the seated figure. Éomer watched awestruck as Shadowfax put his nose into the woman’s hand and allowed her to stroke him. His heart had told him it was Lothíriel, even before he heard her voice say, ‘I cannot be so bad if something as beautiful as you comes to give me a cuddle, can I? I cannot be so hateful and damaged?’ as she cradled the white stallion’s beautiful head in her arms and rested her head against his nose.
Shadowfax lifted his head gently from her arms and looked past her directly at Éomer, causing Lothíriel to jump round off her perch and onto the opposite side of the fence. ‘Oh, you startled me. I am sorry,’ she said quickly. Shadowfax had by this time allowed Éomer to reach his hand to his nose in acknowledgement of a greeting before turning away to leave them both. Lothíriel’s own horse came and nuzzled the back of her head, keen to show his interest in a ride out.
Éomer gazed upon Lothíriel transfixed. ‘Shadowfax allows none to touch him except the King of Rohan,’ he said in wonderment.
‘But Mithrandir rides him, I thought that was just a myth I had read…’ she trailed off as she realised from his expression that what had happened was more significant than she had thought.
For Éomer the portent of what he had just witnessed could not be clearer. It matched what his heart was already telling him. The Lady of Dol Amroth was somehow bound to Rohan; if he was honest to himself, he hoped that she was also bound to him, but his instincts warned him as with any wounded animal, she would need time to trust.
Other horsemen were now appearing, and the stables were beginning to show signs of activity.
‘Will you take a ride out with me, my Lady?’ he asked, still somewhat taken aback by what he had witnessed.
‘I fear I would only slow you down, but thank you for the offer. It is kind,’ she answered gently.
‘If you don’t slow my sister down, you will not slow me down, she rides as well as I do,’ he persisted.
‘But perhaps she has more patience…’ she said with a flippant smile, but then raised her hand in a gesture of acknowledgement. ‘Although I grant you, that is unfair, you were endlessly patient during my first lesson, for which I never properly thanked you.’
‘Then please thank me for my efforts now by riding out with me,’ he replied quickly, adding, ‘We will be accompanied.’
‘Éomer,’ she said with a sigh, no longer playing. It was the first time she had addressed him so informally. ‘You must know that I cannot. Even if Éowyn herself were with us.’ She turned to face him thoughtfully. ‘I believe Faramir has told you the details of my past,’ she cast her eyes downwards.
‘He did. I thought you had given me your permission to ask him,’ he answered, seeking confirmation.
‘I did, for Éowyn’s sake. She needed to know this history in full and in your position as King, you needed to be made aware of the political sensitivities of her future connections. I am sorry I brought you into this so heedlessly. I really hadn’t expected you to come down to the stables to teach me to ride.’ She looked away from him pensively. ‘But you needed to know anyway and now I am under Faramir’s protection you will be forced into my company more than I would like,’ she said candidly.
‘More than you would like?’ Éomer shot back at her sharply.
She looked up surprised. ‘Of course - you cannot think I would take any pleasure in you and your family being thought ill of on my account! In Dol Amroth at least all I get now is pity, but here…The people of this city believe me to be cursed. Faramir has been too kind to let Éowyn know what is already being said about you both owing to our friendship. You are the most eligible bachelor in Gondor right now and it will unleash a new level of viciousness if I am seen with you, and they won’t just leave it at me. Éowyn has already upset many of the noble families by taking the grand prize of Faramir from their daughters’ grasp, especially now with so few men to go around….’ she said earnestly.
She heaved a heavy sigh. ‘I gave up fighting this years ago. It started with my mother, I have simply inherited her mantle but with the added delights of my disgrace to make it so much more delectable for them all,’ she said sarcastically. ‘I will not stay here long beyond the coronation, despite what Faramir might wish. It is not fair on him, nor your sister. Please, call your horse and enjoy your ride. I will go out later.’
And without waiting to hear his response, she vaulted elegantly over the fence and left. Her horse whinnied after her as she disappeared from view. Not knowing quite what else to do, but knowing he could not follow her, Éomer held out his hand to her abandoned horse and jumped over the fence to examine him more closely. He was a fine beast, Faramir knew his horses. ‘What are we going to do about this, heh?’ he asked the horse. ‘This isn’t fair. Who are these people who are persecuting her? It cannot be the whole city, despite what she says.’
His own horse, Firefoot, had already walked over to him and was waiting impatiently for him to leave Lothíriel’s mount. ‘Okay,’ he said to his most faithful companion in arms as he lovingly stroked the horse’s neck. ‘Let’s go for a fast ride – we could both do with it.’