35. At Long Last

Éomer and his companions had not ridden so hard or so long in quite some time. But despite being saddle sore, tired, sunburnt and dirty, they pressed on, stopping only long enough to eat and sleep a few hours at a time. Éomer himself would have preferred to forgo sleep all together, had it not been necessary to rest their horses. Faramir laughed frequently at their situation, for they had left with little preparation or planning, but mercifully Éothain was uncharacteristically stoic and left Éomer in peace.

Éomer knew that Éothain had his own business in Dol Amroth. But he was not sure if his friend had come to fetch Brithwyn home, or to tell her goodbye. From what little Éothain had confided, Éomer had gathered a certain change in his attitude toward the woman, as if the devotion his friend had carried for so many years had worn itself out at last. It saddened Éomer, but he knew that not all love conquered everything, and he wished more for his friend's happiness, in the end.

Éomer himself hardly dared to think about what would happen once they arrived in Dol Amroth. Instead, he focused mainly on the act of getting there. For the time being, it was enough to simply ride. But when her face flickered before him, he dared himself to wonder how, and whether, it was possible to make things right. It had to be, he swore to himself. There was no other choice in the matter. He would make things right.

When they finally rode early one morning into the white-washed city, its towers and sweeping turrets framed by the bright blue turquoise of the sea, however, they met with a rather unexpected sight.

A small host of people were outside the steps of the palace, clearly making preparations to leave. Horses were being shoed and saddled. Their approach did not go long unnoticed, however, and a wave of murmurs passed through the crowd as people stopped and turned to face them.

Amrothos stepped forward from among them, recovering quickly after a moment of clear surprise. "Well met, Éomer King of Rohan, Faramir, Prince of Ithalian, and Éothain of the Riddermark. Your coming was unheralded, but on behalf of my family, I welcome you to Dol Amroth as our beloved kin and friends."

Éomer dismounted and clapped Amrothos on the shoulder in soldierly greeting. "We have not come to infringe on your hospitality, but with the intention of escorting my wife home."

Amrothos raised his eyebrows. "Indeed? It seems we are of a like mind, my lord. My sister makes ready this very moment to embark on her journey to Rohan."

Just then, the great blue doors of the palace swung open, drawing Éomer's gaze, and Lothíriel came through them arm-in-arm with her father, her head bowed towards his in deep conversation. She was dressed for travel in her grey riding habit, her raven hair bound elegantly at the nape of her neck.

Éomer sucked in his breath at the sight of her, unable to look away. She was beautiful, like a somber painting, but cold. Still, her movements held a purpose and an energy that for a while she had lost, when he had last seen her.

She had not even looked up, but as she came down the stairs he could see her become aware of the heavy, rapt silence in the crowd and she raised her eyes to look around for its source. When her gaze fell on him, he watched her stop in her tracks and surprise glimmer across her face. He saw his name pass over her lips and linger there a moment too long. She stared at him, her eyes boring into him, as if she could not believe he was there.

He bowed slightly. "Lothíriel Queen," he said. "It appears our timing is either serendipitous or unfortunate. I have come to fetch you home."

He made his way up the stairs to her, for he knew that it would be strange if he did not, and took her hand and raised it to his lips, meeting her gaze intently. He did not blame her as she glanced back at her father. He knew her well enough to know that it was pleading that filled her eyes, though she remained carefully composed.

Imrahil stepped forward then and interjected smoothly, "This is a quite an unexpected but pleasant surprise. Had we known you were coming we would have certainly delayed our departure, but we were in fact on our way to you. We sent word of our coming, but perhaps the messenger did not cross your path."

Having followed Éomer up the stairs, Faramir spoke up. "It is perhaps our fault for not sending our own word of our coming, and for that we apologize. We did not intend to infringe on your hospitality for long."

"You are always welcome here, nephew," replied Imrahil, "And of course Éomer King as well, and any who keeps his company."

"Thank you, my friend," Éomer said.

Imrahil cleared his throat. "You must all be weary. We will delay the journey to Rohan until you are rested. Perhaps several days. Come inside, please. Men will see to your horses."

Éomer inclined his head in agreement, his eyes on Lothíriel, who appeared to have recovered her senses.

"Shall we inside, my lord?" she asked simply, holding out her hand to him. He nodded and placed her hand on his arm to escort her.

"I need to speak with you," he said, his voice low as they followed Imrahil inside.

She pressed her lips together firmly and didn't look at him. "Not here," she said.

"Then where?" he asked, impatiently, raising his voice on accident.

Faramir cleared his throat tactfully behind Éomer's shoulder. "Perhaps we should all bathe and recover ourselves before subjecting our hosts too long to the filth and grime of the road."

Éomer swallowed a sigh and smiled through gritted teeth. "An excellent idea, Faramir."

Lothíriel looked at him sidelong and he thought he saw reluctant amusement flicker in her eyes, but he wasn't sure. "My lord, there will be plenty of time to speak of things later. I beg you, go and rest. You, Éothain and Faramir will be looked after."

"As you wish," he replied in her ear, causing her to start and look straight at him. He bowed to her formally, never breaking her gaze, before turning to depart with Faramir and a manservant who had appeared out of nowhere. Though he didn't look back, he knew that she stood there, completely poleaxed, as he walked away.

—-

Once Éomer had gone, Lothiriel sank onto the nearest bench, her heart pounding. He was here, with a fire in his eyes, demanding answers. She would have to face him sooner than she had expected.

"Are you well, my queen?" said a voice, startling her, and Lothíriel raised her head to find Éothain's concern gaze peering at her from where he knelt at her side.

"I thought I was alone," she said sheepishly. "I am well. It must be all the time spent preparing to travel."

Éothain's face betrayed his skepticism but he did not press her. He cleared his throat. "My lady, I need to inquire about a certain companion of yours."

"Brithwyn." Lothíriel looked at him with dawning realization and felt her heart sink, for Brithwyn's decision to live in Dol Amroth would mean much heartache for Éothain. Unless, of course, he could convinced her to come home. She sighed. "Of course you do."

"Is she well?" he asked, his voice clearly struggling to remain neutral, his hands clasped behind his back.

"She is well," she responded carefully. "But you will have to speak with her. There are… developments in her life that she herself must choose to tell you"

Éothain nodded after a moment, his brow furrowed. "Then would you be kind enough to tell me where I might find her?"

Lothíriel put her hand on his arm. "I will do better. I will take you to her, Éothain, if you would like. But - " she paused indelicately as the scent of him filled her nostrils. " Perhaps you need a little time?"

He shook his head, cracking a half-smile. "I am not afraid to grace her with my unwashed presence."

"Nor your queen?" Lothíriel laughed at him. "It is up to you."

"Do you suggest I bathe?" Éothain looked at her sidelong, looking amused.

Lothíriel grimaced dramatically. "It couldn't hurt, my friend," she said pointedly, and Éothain chuckled reluctantly. It sounded as if he hadn't laughed much in a long time.

"Then it is decided: first I bathe, and then I will find her," Éothain said, grinning a true grint his time.

Lothíriel couldn't help but return his smile gratefully. She had missed this man more than she had realized. She had a true and good friend in Rohan, and for that she was grateful.

—

Freshly bathed and even more impatient, Éomer strode through the sand on the beach with his shoulders tightly squared. Lothíriel was waiting for him on her beloved beach, they had told him, so here he was, trying in vain to contain his impatience and quiet the pounding in his chest. All he had to do was tell her the truth; surely she would accept it. Surely she would believe him when he told her that he had never been unfaithful, except for a while in his heart. Surely she could accept that the woman of his past who had once held his heart and soul so preciously in her hand was now no more than a dearly beloved memory. For it was the truth, and he had rarely been so sure of something in his life.

He was prepared to get down on his knees before her and implore her to listen. Surely she would. Surely he could not be too late.

He saw her from a distance, knowing it was her even before he really looked at her. She was sitting in the sand near the surf, her face turned towards the sea. Her hair billowed around her in the wind, a cloak of midnight streaming against the grey blue backdrop of the sea and sky.

He could not help but smile at the memory of the hair he so loved bound up primly in a contained knot that fateful day on the beach. Even then it had threatened to escape its pins, as if it was just waiting for an escape from the propriety that contained it. Éomer much preferred his wife's hair loose, as it was now, as she had become accustomed to wearing it in Rohan.

Éomer cleared his throat as he came within a few yards of her. Her shoulders stiffened in a freeze as if she knew it was him. "Lothíriel," he said in careful greeting.

She stood with composure, busying herself with straightening her skirts and shaking sand from them, as if she was preparing herself to look at him. Impatiently, he reached out and raised her chin with his hand.

The steel grey eyes that lifted towards his were calm. "You are here."

He cleared his throat and dropped his hand, thrown by the sound of her voice. "I came to fetch you home. I did not think you would already be preparing to come home to me. I had to speak to you, of a matter that could not wait."

He thought detected faint amusement in her eyes as she regarded him but he could not be sure. "Then speak, my lord," she said, gesturing for him to proceed, and she stepped away from him to look out at the sea. "I am listening."

He strode toward her then, angered irrationally by her apathy. He wanted desperately to shake her, to shock her, to get her to respond to him with something other than measured complicity.

"I am Éomer, not 'your lord'," he said, his voice low and gruff as he took her by the shoulders and looked down at her. Her eyes widened with surprise and apprehension that was quickly cut short when he lowered his mouth to cover hers.

Oh sweet, sweet Lothíriel, he thought as her lips froze under his, then melted to meet his kiss. More boldly, Éomer slid his arms around her and ran his hands down her spine to pull her up to meet him. He poured everything he suddenly did not know how to say, everything he had rehearsed along the road from Edoras, wholeheartedly into his kiss. There was sorrow there, and longing, and finally anger. She had not trusted him. She had betrayed him and when he had needed her with him, she had left him alone in the darkness.

"Lothíriel," he whispered, drawing away at last to kiss her forehead. For a moment he thought perhaps he would not have to say anything, until he realized that she was shaking, sobbing in his arms, and that her hands on his chest were not pulling him closer, but trying to push him away.

"Please, Éomer, things cannot be as they were before," she exclaimed as he let her go in shock. "I will return to your side as is my duty and will, but I cannot be your lover. You can no longer kiss me thus. I cannot bear it."

"Lothíriel, please — " he interjected, trying to reach out to her as she turned half-away, her arms around herself. She started away from him and held up a hand.

"Please listen," she said. "I must speak first or I never will."

Éomer shut his mouth immediately and gestured to let her speak.

"My lord, I know now that my place is in Rohan. You are my husband and I am bound to you in duty and in honor. I was wrong to linger here like a child when I have sworn a vow to my own people and to yours. I forgot all this and let my own feelings impede my judgment when I abandoned Rohan, all out of spite for you. You hurt me deeply, Éomer King, and I was too proud to admit it to you. But I have been advised to try and forgive you, in time. I do not know if I can. But return to you I will. I must. But I cannot be more than - a queen - to you. We cannot be as we were."

"You do not understand —"

"Éomer, please! Let me finish." She swallowed and he saw that her eyes brimmed with held-back tears. He nodded and bowed his head, his heart aching at her words.

She raised her chin and continued, "I miscarried after I saw you with another woman. Maybe you know this. I would not tell you at the time for I was too proud. I blamed myself for losing control, and I ran away from that as much as I did from you. I let myself forget that I had a greater duty to fulfill. And for that, I must beg your forgiveness. I should not have abandoned you, as your queen."

He could bear it no longer. "What you saw before you miscarried was not what you think."

She stopped short and stared at him. "You know? How long have you known?"

"Not long. Several days. Éowyn told me everything."

Her face went stormy and she struggled to contain herself. "She should not have done that. It was my sorrow to tell."

"Éowyn is not at fault for this," he retorted firmly, "She did what she thought was best for our country - and for me. Lothíriel, since we left Minas Tirith I have been drifting in and out of darkness and drunkenness and it is all because of a misunderstanding, and that misunderstanding came only because you did not trust me."

Her brow furrowed and she stared at him incredulously, backing away. "I did trust you, Éomer! But you betrayed that trust when you brought another woman into your bed after making me - making me love you!"

He fought the urge to laugh, knowing how the reaction was inappropriate. "No, Lothíriel, there have been no other women in my bed. What you thought was an embrace was me pushing the woman away. There was no more after that."

She let out a tremulous breath. "No, Éomer. I saw you, looking down at her with fire in your gaze as if to kiss her. You were half-naked - I saw you."

He shook his head slowly. "I sent her from my sight. She came to me when I had asked for a bath to be drawn and brazenly tried to seduce me. For a minute I will admit I was tempted, but Lothíriel, I swear to you - " He stepped forward again, and took her face in his hands once more. "I swear to you, I did not make any move to encourage her. Since we wed I have only ever been with you, and that remains. I did not want her and I have not since wanted anyone but you."

She was crying now, shaking her head fiercely. "No, no, no," she murmured. "I saw you and then - "

"I understand how hard this might be to accept, for you have been so certain in what you thought, but Lothíriel, had I known then what was in your heart and mind when you left me in Minas Tirith, I never would have let you go. I would have made things right, I would have kept you with me and we would have healed from this loss. But you did not confide in me, because you - " he stopped, his voice thick with feeling, suddenly unable to look at her.

"Because I what?"

"You did not trust me. You did not respect me enough to come to me, and instead assumed I would dishonor you, and for that I am the one that does not know how to forgive you. I want to - I am here to make amends. But I confess, standing here before you, I know not how."

"I - " she stopped and closed her eyes. "I lost our child," she whispered then, tears trailing down her cheeks. "I lost our child and it was all because I was mistaken?"

She turned away as if lost and he saw her knees go weak and he instinctively was there to catch her before she crumpled to the ground. From behind he wrapped his arms around her and she did not resist, only trembled in his arms as he held her tightly, his mouth by her ear. He spoke to her low and firmly as if to a small child.

"Lothíriel, you must listen to me. The pregnancy was not viable, Elessar told me. You would have miscarried anyway, but the shock you encountered was enough to speed the process. It was by no fault of yours or mine. I thought you knew."

She was sobbing now and he hushed her, lowering them both to the ground until she was quieter. "I should have been open with you, it is true, and you with me. We would not be in such a mess of anger and hurt had we both confided in one another our feelings."

"And what are your feelings, Éomer King?" she asked, pulling away and wiping her eyes. "Besides that you blame me for betraying you, what more have you to say?"

"Have you not listened to the words I have spoken here?" was his incredulous response. "When I have said that for months I have wanted no one but you, what did you think I meant? Lothíriel, I have tried my best to show you the extent of my love but perhaps I should have said it plainly as soon as I knew it. Nevertheless, I beg you to hear me now: I love you. You, Lothíriel. I need you beside me, though you frustrate me beyond belief and still have much to answer for."

"You said you could not love — you said that you were bound by honor to Breya never to love again," she said with wild eyes.

"Indeed, I was a fool to say those things, Lothíriel, for I did not see then the effect you would have on my life. I was determined to keep you at a distance, and even after I felt my heart open to you, I advanced and retreated and perhaps I did give you reasons to doubt me. Once, I asked you for time and you gave it, but surely I disappointed you. I believed that you knew the extent of my feeling for you, but I never spoke openly of it, let alone passionately of it, and for that I am a fool. I think, somehow, that you needed to hear it from my mouth."

"I am not a child that needs constant affirmation," she retorted, "Of course I knew that you cared for me, in your way. Even that you loved me enough to be happy with me beside you. I am not so dense to need words to tell me when a thing is so."

"Nay, Lothíriel, but clearly you are incredibly stubborn when it comes to your view on the world," he said, amused. "In that we are alike. Perhaps you didn't need to hear it from my mouth, but you deserved to hear it. You deserved for me to take you in my arms and kiss you and profess the extent of my love to you in words so plain that none could doubt it. I will do it now, if you let me."

He fell silent, watching her face. She looked back at him, her cheeks flushed with color.

"I will do it now," he declared, standing up and pulling her to her feet, his hands coming to grip her shoulders, holding her there before him. "Whether you like it or not, you will stand here and listen to what I have to say. You will hear how I have changed."

She opened her mouth as if to protest, then shut it again.

"I dare you to tell me that the man you see here is the same one who stood on that beach and told you his sad story. Tell me."

Lothíriel stared at him, silent, her eyes unreadable. She shook her head.

"No? I will tell you, Lothíriel, how I have changed. Before, I never thought I would need to open my mind and heart to your graces. I was content to live with my heart in a grave, and to do my duty here on earth with you as my wife. I was sure, sure that my future was set in stone. But somehow…"

He paused and looked out at the sea. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, closing his eyes to the sudden tears that threatened to spill out over his cheeks. "Somehow, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, you swept in like the tide and carved a new world out from the ruins of my own."

She let out a shaky, labored breath and he saw her soften before him, her eyes gleaming with tears and her lips trembling. "Éomer."

He stepped closer to her, a tremendous weight off his chest even as he spoke those words. "And now I have done what I should have long ago. I have set my burden down and I have recognized the truth staring me in the face. I love you, Lothíriel. You have revived me, when I thought there was no hope. I stand before you prepared to offer myself to you completely, as I should have done many months ago. I need you. I love you. Without you, I am lost."

He sighed. "But now the question remains on whether you are prepared to offer yourself to me as readily as I am to you. If you are not, then I will not press you again. We will return to Rohan and live parallel lives and fulfill our duties. But if you are, then we will go on and live as husband and wife." He searched her face and, finding no answers, smiled tightly before turning to go. "I will let you decide."

Her fingertips grasped his sleeve, just enough to make him turn back. "Wait," she said. "I cannot go on as your wife."

This was not as he expected and he let out a heavy breath in frustration and set his jaw, resigned. Again he turned to go.

But she spoke out again, "I cannot go on as your wife, not like this, not if you do not trust me. I know, Èomer, that you will go on and pretend you have forgiven me, but I fear that if we leave things like this, without acknowledging it, one day we will find ourselves in an even greater rift. I hurt you deeply, my lord King. And you are not the kind of man who brushes off sorrow and resentment, and I do not blame you for that. I have been childish and selfish, unfair to you and I have dishonored your name."

He looked back at her sadly. "Lothíriel, I forgive you all this. I already have."

She shook her head fiercely. "No, you have not." She stepped closer to him and brought his hand to her lips, "But I will beg your pardon, Éomer, for all that I have done, and I will never hide the truth from you again. I swear to you, I will earn your forgiveness and your trust."

"You will," he said, deeply moved, and took her in his arms. He whispered the next words into her hair. "I have no doubt that you will."

She fell silent though, and he could feel her hands gripping his shirt and trembling.

"What is it now?" he whispered.

"I lost our child," she whispered back, a depth of pain in her voice that caused his stomach to twist. He knew right then that their healing would not be swift and that they still had demons to face. But she was in his arms, and that was all that mattered. "How do we go on?"

"Oh, my love," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. He rubbed her cheek with his thumb and pulled her closer with a sigh. "I know the memory of it may hurt for a good while yet, but I promise you that we will be all right in the end. Let me love you as I am ready to do. Let me heal you, as you have healed me."

She drew away to look at him, her fingers finding his lips and tracing his cheek, then his brow. He closed his eyes and nearly wept at her touch. "You have already begun to heal me."

"Then am I right in guessing, Lothíriel mine, that you want to be my wife again? That you, in fact, love me as desperately as I love you?"

"I — " she stopped herself, her cheeks flushing high with color as she looked away.

"What is it, deorling?" he asked, stroking the blush on her face with his thumbs. "What are you hiding behind the red on your cheeks?"

She laughed sheepishly and looked back at him. "It's just that I have waited so long to say these words that it feels strange to speak them aloud. Yes, I love you, Éomer son of Éomund! I think I loved you even on this very beach that day I agreed to marry you, though I did not know it then. I am bound to you, Éomer, to love only you until the end of my days." She reached up and tangled her hands in his hair. "And yet again, if you do not kiss me right this second, I think I might change my mind."

Laughing, Éomer complied, lifting her up and crushing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was almost painful, yet sweeter than any other kiss he had known. He held her tightly, lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist, and he spun her around as her mouth rained kisses down upon him. He swore to himself at that moment that he would never let her go again now that she was in his arms. However, as they whirled around, Éomer lost his balance in the surf and they tumbled into the waves, and came up sputtering.

As Lothíriel emerged from the water, her hair wet and streaming down her back and her gown clinging to her curves and falling from her shoulders, Éomer laughed and reached out to her to escort her to the shore. As their hands clasped in the silhouette of the setting sun, he knew all would be well. They would begin again.

[Dearest readers, if you are still here,

I know I needed to finish this story and I am sorry it took me this long. I can't believe people still read this. To be honest, I am a bit unsatisfied with the ending and somehow it feels abrupt but I know I owe you all an ending - and these two some happiness.

I know I left Éothain and Brithwyn at loose ends. There will be more... I have a story for them that has been written alongside this story for the last 5 years, and I do plan on uploading it.

I am going to cry. I have grown up with this story and can literally trace my own journey to adulthood through each chapter, from the quality of the writing to the characters I created.

Love and so much thanks to those of you throughout this journey who have read, commented, and supported! I am sorry I have probably lost most of you, but I do so appreciate you.

GB]